#riki

Is the first thing your friend says when you tell her you have a new job and you’re starting on monday. She leans closer, eyes a little too wide in your opinion and shakes her head like she’s just heard the dumbest thing ever. Which, granted is a sane reaction giving the bomb you just dropped on her, but if she knew the story behind it, she’d be even more shocked.

It all started a couple days ago in the subway. A bit Squid Game themed if you’re being honest, hence the weird feeling you’re still nursing. You were on the phone with your cousin, waiting for the next wagon to arrive and talking about the awful rent prices. Having just been fired from a corporate job for—and I quote—“not being smiley enough and using way too much sarcasm” (in your defense you only use it when someone’s being actively rude to you), you were left with unpaid debts and way too many bills. So you spent the entire commute shit talking the HR with your cousin, occasionally getting nasty looks from old people passing by.

At some point, the wagon started emptying and when your stop came, you were left alone in the station with a man in a suit. You didn’t pay him any mind, busy spewing nonsense about how the HR ‘had ugly eyebrows and a micropenis anyway’, but when you headed for the exit, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You remember turning around and having to look up because of how tall the man was. He was carrying a leather briefcase like he was headed to work and when his hand dropped to his side again you clocked the expensive-looking watch on his wrist.

“Excuse me?” he said, all serious.

You looked at him up and down, tilting your head to the side so he could see the very obvious phone pressed to your ear—your way of saying ‘read the room’. But he didn’t in fact ‘read the room’, instead his hand dove in his suit pocket and he dug out a square-shaped piece of paper. It was some sort of business card, a yellow piece of paper with the words ‘Hotline 1OO9’ in the middle and a name on top. Park Jongseong. He held his hand out and adjusted his tie with the other one.

“Let me call you back hold on.” you told your cousin, scoffing before you hung up and put the phone in your back pocket. “Yes?”

The man gave a curt nod and spoke, “I don’t want to come across as weird or sound like a creep, but I’ve been listening to your voice on the subway and I was really interested by the rasp—”

“I’m tired, I wanna go home, so if this is a scam i’m really not in the mood and you can fuck off.” you cut him, sighing aggravated.

“It’s not. I run a freelance company, we work over the phone with clients and I really found your voice interesting, with all due respect. So I decided to just come talk to you, see if you were interested in the whole thing. I’m not really big on scouting people in the street because this is delicate but we’re a…sex hotline company. But you just sounded too good for me to walk away, I hope that’s not disrespectful.” the man explained, lips coming in a tight line.

You rolled your eyes, slightly offended that he thought this was a good idea and you grabbed your phone again, ready to leave, “I’m not interested, thank you.”

He must’ve felt the prejudice in your eyes when you heard the sex work part so he drew his hand back, giving you a little more space, “Its not a cam-girl company or anything. Our staff is mainly men and they only interact with clients on the phone. But i’ll leave you alone, have a good day.”

You nodded, lips drawn in a tight line and you reciprocated the farewell, turning around to head for the exit. But before you could walk up the stairs, the man spoke again.

“It pays well. You know, rent is getting awfully high these days… and my company takes this into consideration. How does 5O,OOO a year sound?”

The bastard.

Needless to say you took the business card, feigning indifference, and the second you got back home you turned on your computer.

You were jobless and on a very thin line money wise, so naturally you had to look into a it a little bit, or else you’d risk ending up in the streets because no company voluntarily seeks out a girl with a diploma so weak. A generic business diploma from a low-ranked private school wasn’t going to cut it, you knew it—so desperate times called for a little reddit deep dive.

The several Google searches didn’t give much detail, just a cryptic website with a phone number and a list of employee names with no picture whatsoever. But when you saw the date of creation of the company, you deduced that it was a very new one and so the website was new aswell.

It was weird really, that guy—you assumed his name was Park Jongseong— was fairly young, why would he go out of his way to create a sex phone line company in 2026? It was pretty much a dead practice, no one sought it out anymore and preferred watching porn or cam girls. What was the point of competing with only fans and trying to revive a dead business?

You typed the company name on reddit anyway, trying to see if this had any sort of Squid Game resemblance, if you were getting yourself into a dangerous survival game or something. But nothing much came up, just a 2 weeks old comment saying,

‘I’m surprised they still do these sex hotline things, I was interested and booked an appointment out of curiosity and as a 63 year old man, it brought so many 80s memories! The downside is that there’s only one woman worker there. But for the homosexual folks, the guys sound very hot ;)’

Well. At least it wasn’t a man-only company—in the optics of you reaching out to them. But only one woman worker sounded a little bit sketchy, not something you’d generally go for. You entered the redditor’s account and found he had fortunately posted something else about the hotline.

The calls are a bit expensive, i’ll give you that. But it’s really worth it, even if you’re not calling to jack off. My favorite one is Jake, you can tell he’s naturally submissive and not just acting. Refreshing to see submissive men in that industry!

You sighed when you found yourself in a dead-end. There was nothing else about that company, and for all you know this could be a staff member self promoting under a spam account, but for some reason it felt like you could give it a try. Not out of selflessness—the moral compass was dead—more out of desperation. It only accentuated the dilemma when you closed the tabs and found yourself starring at the dismissal notice your old employer had kindly left in your inbox.

You tilted your head and looked into the mirror across the room. You smiled at your reflection, wide, teeth and all, and cringed at the unnatural sight. When you tried again, you made it less dramatic and tried grinning with your eyes too.

Fuck them for saying you weren’t smiley enough. You could smile alright.

Your friend now looks back at you, leaning with her elbows on her thighs. “So you just took the job? Do you have a fucking survival instinct y/n?”

You shake your head, “I’d rather work a sketchy job than loose my independence and have to crash at my parents’ place.”

She raises both eyebrows, incredulous, “Well hello? I’m right here, I have a spare bedroom youu know you can always count on me, girl.”

“Did you hear the part about independence baby? You know i’m grateful though, right?” you say, playing with a hair band on your wrist. “It’s not the topic, like I know you’d take me in but I’d rather not loose my apartment at all, you know?”

She makes a small approving sound and leans back on the couch, “Yeah, nevermind. I just never pegged you for the type to work at a sex line, it’s really out of character. You’re always talking about pervy old creeps and stuff…”

You raise a finger, tilting your head like in the cartoons when they have a smart thing to say, “Well, guess what? They have a very specific way of working. You’re not allowed to fake it, if you’re uncomfortable and not into the call you can always say no. The caller will be reimbursed and that’s it. And also apparently the guys who work there are always listening and making sure their colleagues are not weirded out and stuff. All about consent and boundaries.”

Your friends snorts, “Damn, it’s a little crew of woke sex workers.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at her, “I don’t know it just gives me good vibes you know? After all there’s some very lonely people who want to talk you know? And if they wanna have a wank then be it, as long as they don’t ask me to like.. bark for them or something.”

“And what if they do? What happens then, huh?” she muses, tilting your chin towards you. “You’re not gonna just cancel every phone call, cause let me tell you something, there’s a lot of guys who like submissive women.”

“Well, I don’t know, I have boundaries you know? Submissive is…fine, I guess. As long as they don’t call me their slut I’ll be fine.” you shrug, snapping the band on your wrist.

She giggles, bouncing on her seat like a manic, “I definitely wanna see that. I can’t even imagine it, that shit’s gonna be so funny. You’re like the most dominant girl I know.”

Well, turns out capitalism is the one dominating you. You’re not really on top of the sex food chain anymore because the cost-of living-crisis is fucking you in the ass. A sandwich costs 12 dollars at the subway station near your new job, so you decide to go to work with an empty stomach because there’s no way you’re going to spend your last couple bucks on a chicken sandwich. You’ll eat at lunch anyway.

The company is fairly close to your apartment, only a couple subway stops away in a wealthy neighborhood. It’s surprising how nice the little building looks—although of course they only rent out one floor it seems like they get enough clients to be in this part of town.

You straighten your clothes and buzz at the door, your paperwork in hand. A couple seconds later, the door beeps open by itself and you’re step into a small corridor that leads to an elevator. The buttons all have a name for each company, and it turns out Hotline 1OO9 is on the 3rd floor, under a Japanese food brand. You press the button and fix your hair in the mirror, putting a small clip on the smallest hairs at the front of your face.

The second the elevator doors open you’re in a dimly lit hallway with the ugliest yellow walls ever. You look around, waiting for someone to receive you, but you quickly find a sign on the door that says, “Please do knock on the door, we don’t have a receptionist yet.”

You do just that, and a few seconds later you hear rapid footsteps and a man’s voice saying something inaudible. When the door opens, it’s a tall lanky guy that comes out, he’s wearing a suit but apparently slacks weren’t an option because he’s replaced them by oversized pajama pants with small cartoon imprints on them. He sees your eyes track down to his legs and cringes.

“Oh fuck—sorry. Hello, you’re y/n right? I’m sorry, we were doing photos for the website and I didn’t want to put slacks on, we didn’t get the aircon yet so it’s so hot inside.” he looks down at himself, embarassed. “Come in come in, i’ll call the boss.”

The first thing you think is that it’s so different from a corporate job, you’ve never seen an employee talk so casually inside the company building, much less show up to work in pajama pants. Secondly, when you take a quick glance across the room you notice the lack of desks, there’s only a couch and beanbags, an open kitchen and a big door with a sign that says, “don’t interrupt sexy time”.

“So, I heard you didn’t even need to do a job interview or anything? Boss just found you in the street and decided to hire you.” the guy makes small talk as he heads towards said door.

Come on, what would Park Jongseong even have to ask you in a job interview. If you’ve ever had phone sex? If you’ve ever made a guy cum?

You nod, “Yeah basically.”

The young man opens the door, he silently pads inside and you’re left alone in what seems to be the break-room/reception. There’s a coupe moving boxes—you suppose they haven’t had time to unpack everything yet—and a big pile of paperwork on the coffee table near the sofa. You instantly get closer, trying to see if they’re court filings or something of the sort. You can never be too sure. But it turns out it’s just forms and electricity bills.

When you hear footsteps you instantly straighten up and hold your own documents closer to your chest. This time the tall guy is accompanied by none other than the boss.

Jongseong is wearing a suit (with the slacks) and the same watch he had the other day—which if you look closer looks like a Roblox. He looks at you with a pleased smile and holds out his hand to shake yours.

“It’s nice to see you y/n,” he briefly squeezes your hand, “This is Nishimura Riki, he’s our main guy, everyone requests him. I’ll introduce you to everyone and then we’ll do a quick meeting in my office, how’s that sound?”

You walk past Riki, following him in the room. The walls are fully black inside, theres a couple of pods aligned like little telephone booths with pink neon lights all over them, it looks like a strip club with just a little hint of office elements such as a printer and a bulletin board. That’s it, the rest is neon lights and apparently…5 guys and a girl standing in the middle of the room.

They seem oddly out of place, is the first thing that comes to your mind. All of them are in suits and the girl in a professional looking dress, one of them—a tall guy who looks a bit like deer—holds a camera in his hands.

“Oh god..” Jongseong sighs as he sees one of the guys dusting off crumbs from his suit, mouth full of chips. “Everyone this is y/n. I count on you to treat her with respect and to show her around the office, explain the basics and help her out if needed.”

The guys nod, all 5 of their eyes raking over your whole face and body, and the girl smiles until her teeth show. You feel a little bit exposed so you let out an awkward laugh. “Hi, nice to meet you.” you bow politely.

It’s a mishmash of simultaneous answers, a couple ‘hey’s and smiles, then Jongseong walks to them and taps each of their shoulders as he introduces them, “This one’s Lee Heeseung” he’s tapping on the guy with a camera, “this one’s Yang Jungwon, this is Sim Jake, this is Park Sunghoon and this is Kim Sunoo.”

They’re all pretty in their own ways, Heeseung has big eyes that look like they have some kind of special effect lighting in them, Jungwon’s face is very expressive, Sunghoon looks a bit more reserved but still gives a shy smile, and Jake just grins all the time like he’s genuinely just a happy guy. But the prettiest one is definitely Sunoo—they’re all insanely attractive but he catches your eye immediately with his doll-like face.

“And this is our only—well second female staff now, her name’s Haejin.” Jongseong points to the girl. She looks gorgeous, she has these big black eyes and when she looks at you, you can already tell she’s going to be a sweetheart.

See if you would’ve been working in an office with only hot people at your last job, you would’ve made an effort to smile more.

2 hours in, you learn that despite its lack of internet presence Hotline 1OO9 is a fairly successful new company. As soon as the staff is done with their website photoshoot, they instantly get back to work in their little phone cabins, diligently picking up calls. It’s a surprise that there are so many customers really—in your mind this was a very underground thing that only Patrick, 63 year old on Reddit knew about. But no, it seems like the customer are just very secretive with what they choose to do in their free time and don’t go out of their way to recommend it on social media.

There’s a friendly atmosphere in the office, like they’ve known each other for a long time, they joke around and it doesn’t really feel like the typical workspace. Refreshing.

In Park Jongseong’s personal room you go over paperwork, the whole hiring process ordeal and a couple of rules that sound totally innate to you. The boss sits in a leather chair across his desk and hands you some forms to sign.

“Okay, these are confidentiality clauses and a couple other things I need you to go over. This one regards your paychecks and this other one I also need you to sign.”

You grab his pen and start going over the documents, knee bouncing over the table. Jongseong observes you quietly, chin propped on his hand like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re uncomfortable or not.

“Are you okay y/n?” he goes.

“Yeah I’m fine, just a little nervous about messing this up is all.” you admit, putting the pen down and sliding the documents over to him.

“Mmh, I know, a lot of my employees felt the same way the first time. So here’s what I had in mind, how about I assign you to a phone call with a female customer? She’s very respectful and nice, a long time client. Only if that’s okay with you though, if women aren’t your preference or anything that’s fine.” Jongseong offers, a thoughtful look on his sculpted face.

Ah, if only he knew.

“That would be very good actually. I think I might not feel that much pressure with a girl.” you nod.

“Perfect, then it’s settled. But if you have any doubts or need any guidance you can always talk to the rest of the employees, they’re really nice you’ll see. They can even give you a few lessons.”

A while after going through basic stuff, including whats required in calls, prompts etcetera, you’re walking inside the neon room along with Nishimura Riki who kindly guides you to a phone cabin. His blonde hair sits messy on his head and the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned due to the lack of aircon.

“Call me if you need anything okay?” he winks before shutting the glass door and walking away.

You pick up the phone that’s dangling from the wall, it’s a hot pink case that looks like the ones in those 80s sitcoms. There’s a little leather chair at the corner of the pod, you take a seat and look at the wall. You tell yourself that this is fine, that it’s for the money and that there’s no shame in such a work but really your main concern is embarrassing yourself on the call and not knowing how to entertain these people. You’ve been in a couple relationships and phone sex was a recurrent topic but talking dirty to strangers is a whole other topic.

When the phone in your hands rings, you almost jump, startled.

On the other side of the glass door, you spot Sim Jake watching you from his own pod. When he sees you jump, a small glint of amusement flashes in his eyes before he quickly looks away.

You pick up the call, relaxing in your seat to give the impression you know what you’re doing and you smile, hoping it’ll make your voice sound warm. “Hey, welcome to Hotline 1OO9, this is y/n, how are you doing today?”

The voice on the other end is low, the kind you’d get flustered by in real life. “Hi y/n, I’m good how are you?”

“I’m doing great thank you. This is actually my first time so I hope this will be enjoyable for you.” you say, fiddling with the fabric of your skirt.

“Don’t worry, you have a really pretty voice so this is already going well. Plus I’m not that demanding, I’d like to know your limits and boundaries if that’s okay?” she asks.

“Thank you, you sound very pretty too. For the limits i’m practically open to anything, feel free to talk about any topic.” you tell her.

She chuckles on the other end, “Okay, if you say so. But let me know if i’m saying something that makes you feel uncomfortable okay?”

She sounds really kind, so you hum, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know, but i’m pretty sure I won’t need to. So, tell me a little more about what you’re hoping from today?”

“Honestly just a nice little chat, I’m…well I live in a very small town and I’d be a pariah if I ever came out of the closet so you know…I can’t really date girls there. The first time I called Hotline 1OO9 it was mainly to have phone sex, i’m no liar. But I talked to Haejin a couple times and it felt so comforting. I felt much less lonely, so I don’t really mind if this stays sfw you know?” the girl chuckles.

“I get it, I’m sure we can figure out the vibes throughout the call. Just know i’m open to both, whatever you need sweetheart.” you smile, genuinely this time.

When you look outside the pod, you find Heeseung and Jake watching you curiously. They’re leaning on the wall of their own pod and as soon as you spot them they quickly look away.

“Thank you, that’s nice to hear. Have I already told you how pretty your voice sounds?” she responds.

You look back at the wall, “I’m sure you did a couple seconds ago, but I liked it. You know when you can tell someone is pretty by the sound of their voice? That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

The girl chuckles, “Is it weird that sweet girls turn me on so much? I must be so deprived.”

“Well if that’s what you like I can be even sweeter. I bet I can even come up with sweet things to say if you tell me what you’re wearing right now” you tease, confidence coming easier than expected.

Turns out you’re a natural…?

“I’m wearing a tank top and my underwear,” she says, and you hear the phone move a bit.

“Mmh, soft little tank top? Is it tight?” you ask.

“It is, what are you wearing y/n?” she pushes back, tauntingly.

“I’m wearing a tank top too, and summer shorts.”

You’re not. You’re actually wearing office attire but she doesn’t have to know.

“Cute. Before anything, do you like being called a good girl y/n? Is that something you’re comfortable with?” you hear her take a soft panting breath, is she already turned on? Did you do good?

You’re tempted to ask her if you’re doing good, for the first time of your life you’re seeking approval. You contemplate the question for a quick second. You’ve never been called that and you’ve already unconsciously made up your mind about it, for some reason. It’s not something you’d ever ask your partner to call you, but it would be a stretch to say it makes you uncomfortable.

“You can call me anything you want pretty.” you respond, one leg crossing over the other.

“Mmh, atta girl.” she smiles on the other end. “I just want your voice and your attention. Can you do that?”

Well damn it if she doesn’t sound hot. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Soft voice for me, please. You’re not in charge right now. You’re just here to listen and answer when I ask.” you feel her get more and more comfortable but your habits get the best of you. You’re not used to being what she’s asking for.

“Alright, soft voice. I’m sorry,” you apologize, shifting in your seat.

“That’s better. Tell me how it feels, hearing me talk like that?” she rasps.

“Strange. I keep wanting to flip it and ask what you’re doing. It’s harder than I thought to just… stay quiet and follow.” you admit. You can tell she noticed the stiffness in your voice.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to find it hard. You’re still doing it. You’re being a good girl just by trying.”

“…Thank you. I’m not used to hearing that.” you swear you feel something in the pit of your stomach when she utters those tempting words, and your thighs squeeze together for a brief second.

“You don’t have to know how to answer it perfectly. Just take it, okay? I’m gonna touch myself while I talk to you, but you stay still. Hands where they are. No touching.” she orders.

When she hears you hum, she presses, “Words baby. I need words.”

You almost gasp, clutching the phone tightly, “Yes, hands staying put. I’m sorry I don’t really know how to—”

“Shh, it’s fine. You’re doing good.” the words send sparks down your spine until they reach your core. “You’re fine. Tell me you’re my good girl.”

You take a deep breath. Outside, Heeseung and Jake are still pretending they’re not quietly observing, but you can tell they’re seeing your state. It should be embarrassing because they’re complete strangers and you’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been sexually, but it isn’t. You like them watching, probably speculating in their heads, wondering if you’re aroused or extremely uncomfortable.

Truth is, both are mingling together in your head.

“I’m your… good girl?” you reply.

It comes out with a little interrogation at the end, and you instantly feel as stupid as ever. First day on the job and you’ve probabl already lost a client.

You didn’t expect to come out of your very first call with soaked panties and a dizzy head.

It’s funny how a confident woman can turn the sassiest girl into an embarrassed mess. But you can only admit you liked it, liked the attention and the care. Even more when she reassured you and praised you. That made you feel things you’d never felt before—as silly as it sounds—you’ve never expected to feel this way about a complete stranger.

Your panties are uncomfortably clinging to your pussy as you exit the pod, closing the door behind you. How much of a horn dog are you to be turned on by your job?

Heeseung and Jake instantly get off the wall and clear their throat, “Hey, how did it go?” Jake says with a small smile.

“It went good,” you reply before reframing, “Actually it went kind of bad. I hope I didn’t make us loose a client on my first day.”

Heeseung lifts an eyebrow, “How bad?”

You let out a self deprecating scoff, “I didn’t really know what I was doing, like at all. I expected her to let me lead but it was the opposite.”

Jake observes you, eyes trailing down to your bare legs involuntarily. He catches the tension there and quickly averts his gaze.

“Oh don’t worry, you just have to learn. Jungwon was like that at first but he got better and now he’s comfortable with a lot of different things.” Heeseung reassures you, lightly touching your forearm.

“What about Jungwon?” you hear a voice say behind you.

Turning around, you fall face to face with Yang Jungwon himself, holding a cup of coffee and a cookie wrapped in tissue.

“I was telling y/n about how it took you a while to learn the whole sub thing.” his colleague explains, leaning back against the wall lie he was earlier.

“Oh yeah, it was so weird at first. Random men telling me to be a good boy and take it, eugh. But I learned to enjoy some sides of it and not take it too seriously.” Jungwon explains.

It sounds a little bit off, like he shouldn’t just endure it because it’s part of the job, but you don’t say anything. Instead you’re surprised when he holds out the cookie in his hand before you.

“Here, I got this for you.” he smiles.

You take the sweet in your hand, “Oh thank you! You’re too sweet,”

It’s a caramel and black chocolate cookie, one of your favorites, and it tastes like heaven when you eat a piece of it. Jake mumbles something like, “what about me? I wanted a cookie too,” but you’re the only one who seems to hear.

“Don’t worry about it, how did your first call go?” Jungwon asks, siping on his coffee.

“Awkward. For her definitely. I was a mess, i feel like I wasted her money.” you admit with a self deprecating chuckle.

“I’m sure it’s fine, she can complain to customer service but trust me she won’t.” Jake affirms. “If you ever need pointers, stuff like that, you can let us know.”

Jungwon nods vehemently, “Totally, I’d be happy to help you out. I remember when I was a newbie Riki helped me out a lot and it went smoother afterwards.”

“Love you too man,” a deep voice cuts in.

It’s Nishimura Riki entering the room. He’s changed into casual clothes and ditched the cartoon pants, his hairs a little messy and he looks unfairly good.

“What’s up y/n? How was it?” he asks, almost like an old friend.

“Well, let’s just say I need some help.” you finish your cookie, wiping your mouth with the little tissue.

Riki clicks his tongue, “Anytime,” he looks at you up and down shamelessly, not even bothering to be subtle, and he smirks. “We can talk over lunch. Haejin and Sunoo are gonna eat out but we’ll all be here in the break room.”

A couple hours later and another two more calls in your record, you slip out of your booth. It went somehow smoother. The first guy was just a lonely guy who ended up crying instead of jerking off—which almost triggered your tears because of how sensitive you are—and the second guy was submissive at best, vanilla at worst.

The neon room is empty and everyone seems to have gone to the break room to grab lunch. You open the door and see that they’re already there.

Riki and Jungwon are sitting on a red leather sofa, Jake’s thrown on a beanbag along with Heeseung who’s on the floor eating chips, Sunghoon’s on a metallic chair with a rubik’s cube in his hand, laughing at something Riki’s saying.

“Oh y/n, come sit, come sit.” Jungwon lifts his head up and smiles. “We were just talking about Riki’s next client and how you could maybe listen to their call to get the hang of it.”

You take a sit on the only spot available which is next to him on the couch. Jungwon makes some space for you and hands you a paper towel and chopsticks when he sees you open your bag and take out a tupperware with last night’s meal.

“That would be awkward wouldn’t it? And what if the person doesn’t want that?” you cringe.

Riki responds, “Nah, she won’t mind. She’s a regular and she’s kind of into the whole humiliation and being heard thing. I’ll let her know beforehand though.”

You hum, considering it, but before you can say anything Sunghoon buts in, “What’s the problem though, when you do it what do you find hard?”

You dig into your meal, relaxing on the back of the couch like you’ve known these people for a long time. “Everything. Like to submit in general, I’ve never been… I hope i’m not oversharing but anyway, I’ve never been told what to do and I’m not sure how to respond or what to do, you know?”

Sunghoon nods comprehensively, “If you freeze or don’t know what to say, it’s completely okay to admit it, you know? You could say ‘I’m not sure what to do right now’, some people even like that, the honesty.”

“Yeah, and keep your responses short, just focus on listening and following one small instruction at a time. That’s already submitting.” Heeseung adds, eating his salad.

You feel insanely integrated already, almost like in preschool when you talk to people and instantly become friends with no need for introductions. Except well, you’re ‘bonding’ over bdsm right now, as insane as that sounds.

“Sounds easy but my brain becomes mush when I’m in the moment.” you shrug.

“How did the other two calls go?” Jake asks, now lying on the beanbag.

“First guy ended up crying. Wife left him and he’s lonely. The second guy was okay, he let me take the lead.” you explain.

“Oh so that’s why, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your eyes get teary.” Heeseung chuckles. “I was walking by, almost knocked cause I thought you were gonna cry because of him.”

“No, I almost crying with him. Kinda caught me off-guard” you smile, recalling his sad voice. “But then I thought ‘what if his wife left him because he was an awful dude’ and got my shit together.”

Riki gives an amused smirk, “Perks of anonymity. I always wonder who’s on the other end—like imagine I’m dirty talking to someone who’s on an FBI watchlist?”

Everyone laughs as they finish their food and when all meals are practically empty, Park Jongseong emerges from his office.

“Already laughing together? That’s good.” he smiles, heading towards the open kitchenette and opening the fridge. “How’d it go y/n?”

You tell him about your first experience and the rest of the morning while Jongseong sits on the chair Sunghoon gives him. He listens and gives the same advice the others provided, before suggesting—just like they did—that you listen to one of their calls.

You learn after a bit of talking that he prefers to be called Jay, that Jongseong’s his official name but it sounds too serious. Everyone shares their age, and it turns out you’re right in the middle, Heeseung being older than you. You all chat cheerfully until Jay’s phone rings loudly in his office and it breaks the moment, calling the end of lunch break.

“Alright, sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Riki says as he opens the door of his phone cabin.

You do just that, sinking down on the little armchair on the conrner of the pod while he takes the other one. Riki extends his legs before him, man spreading on the chair as he grabs the phone in hand.

You think he’s going to say something but his eyes wander outside the pod and his eyebrows cock. “Nosy fuckers.” he mutters.

You follow his gaze and find Heeseung and Jake peeking inside, their hands on the glass like two kids. Do they have some sort of curiosity problem?

Riki gets up and reaches for something on the ceiling of the pod, his shirt lifting and revealing a hint of skin and what looks like a tattoo on his hipbone. This is the type of man you’d gush over outside of work, tall, lean and tattooed. But you have to focus on the task at hand.

He unhooks something and a thick curtain suddenly covers the glass door and plunges the room into darkness. “Shit, didn’t think this through.” he mutters, reaching blindly for the wall.

You stand up to help him find the the light but only end up bumping into him in the process. You feel your forehead hit Riki’s chest and when he finds the light switch you’re entirely too close. You swear you see him smirk as he sits back down on his armchair, spreading his legs like he owns the place.

It should infuriate you—you hate men who do that—but he looks good doing it, and as opposed to the men on the subway he’s doing it on his own armchair and not bothering anyone. Or yeah, maybe he’s just hot and that excuses it.

When the phone rings, Riki looks at you for a second, trying to read your face before he hits the button. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah yeah, go ahead.”

“Good girl,” Riki rasps.

You immediately freeze eyes narrowing in confusion, but the tone of his voice sends shivers running down your arms for some reason. He starts chuckling, clutching the phone on his lap, “Relax, it was just to set the mood.”

When you roll your eyes, avertin your gaze, he says a quick ‘Alright, just listen.” before he picks up the call.

“Afternoon,” Riki greets, a smug little look on his face like he just knows hes gonna do some damage.

You don’t hear the conversation at first, so you wonder what the point of it even is, it’s not like you need lessons in being dominant…

“There you are, how are you tonight?” he asks, one draped over his lap in a way that makes him look even manlier—if that’s even possible.

You see him nod before he replies to whatever she said, “Good. Before we start, I have someone here with me, she’d love to hear what a good girl sounds like when she’s being led. And I know you’re a good girl so you’re the perfect example she could get, am I right baby? I’m gonna put you on speaker so she can listen, you comfortable with that?”

There’s a pause during which she says something and he listens attentively, but his eyes are set on you. It’s like he’s silently making sure you’re giving him your full attention. The lesson’s gonna go really well if he keeps looking at you like that.

“Mmh, I thought you might. Say it clearly for her.” Riki smirks, a playful glint in his dark eyes. He clicks on the speakerphone button and puts it between the both of you.

“I’m okay with her listening, sir. I like being heard.”

She sounds young, in her late 20s and is already slightly out of breath. Very much like a specific someone… just not exactly for the same reason. You’re struggling to breathe because the room is a bit narrow and you’re bordering claustrophobia right now. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself instead of admitting you’re intimidated and also never thought your first day would go like that.

“Good girl. She’s sitting quietly right now, just observing. You’re going to stay honest and clear for both of us. Understood?” Riki continues.

And you feel his words in your stomach, cutting thought the barrier of embarrassment and principles because apparently you’ve left those out the door this morning.

“Yes sir.” the woman answers obediently, and you wish you could say you’re taking mental notes but really you’re focused on the 6ft something man whose gaze is bored into you. You know he’s trying to ‘set the mood’ or whatever, but it sure feels personal.

“Tell me where you are and what you’re wearing.” he questions.

“I’m in my bedroom… on my knees beside the bed, like you usually want. I’m only wearing my panties. Nothing else. My hands are in my lap like you said last time.” she replies, breath hitching like she’s getting turned on by her own submission.

“That’s good, hands stay in your lap ‘kay? You’re not touching yourself until I say so. You’re just gonna kneel there and answer me while she listens to every word. Clear?”

Yeah it feels personal. You cross your legs, feeling way too exposed and your hands fiddle with your skirt nervously.

“Yes sir, clear.”

“Then start by telling her what you are when you’re on the phone with me, baby.” Riki toys with the cord of the phone, looking at you all the while like he’s seeking your full focus.

“I’m a desperate slut who needs to be told what to do, sir.” her voice comes out smaller, you take notes on the tone and the specific words.

Riki clicks his tongue, “Louder. She’s right here. She needs to hear it properly.” The woman repeats it louder and he hums in approval, “Better. You’re doing good. You gonna keep being good for me okay, now spread your legs nice and wide. Keep your hands in your lap— don’t touch.“

There’s a small rustle of movement on the other end before she says in a small voice, “They’re spread sir.”

“That’s a good girl, does it feel nice being heard like that?”

You’re captivated by this stranger under the weirdest circumstances of your life. The way he talks sends warmth pooling in your lower stomach and you feel like an intruder.

The woman hums, “It feels… humiliating. But in the way that makes me wetter.“

Alright, too much information, you think, looking up at the ceiling to try and escape his gaze. The longer you listen the more you ge the hang of it, she doesn’t try to perform, she just does as she’s told, it’s not that complicated. Your thighs press together on the seat, and you’re pretty damn sure Nishimura Riki has noticed it but at least he has office etiquette and doesn’t say anything about it.

Not that anything about this screams ‘office’…

You stand up, legs a little wobbly. No kink shaming but this isn’t really your thing, and you don’t want to start hearing her flick the bean, as much as you’re curious about how Riki would sound talking her through it—

“Going?” the young man’s eyes follow your figure.

“Yup, think I got what I needed,” you whisper, low enough that the customer doesn’t hear.

The next few days are better. You slowly get the hang of it until you’re on a call with a man on your third day, and things go a lot smoother. It starts coming naturally, the pace, the words, everything starts being a little easier once you imagine it’s Nishimura Riki on the phone—

Major slip-up. What you meant is that Riki’s such a good mentor that it feels reassuring to imagine him because he’s not a stranger anymore.

Or at least that’s what you’ve established after eating together for a whole week straight on lunch breaks, sharing details of your lives with the other colleagues and joking around. They’re all extremely friendly and you quickly learn that they’ve all had some sort of financial problems which led to them being desperate for a job.

They’re not even surprised when you share that you were suspicious of Jay when approached you in the subway like the recruiter in Squid Games. They say he likes to do funky stuff like that for the love of the game and joke that he probably had a crush and didn’t know how to shoot his shot so went with the business approach.

You find that hard to believe since Jay hasn’t really talked to you all that much these past few days, but it’s not like it’s important anyway.

You begin noticing that Haejin is the sweetest person alive, she’s genuinely kind and means well—a nice upgrade from your old colleagues who didn’t hesitate to talk shit about you in front of the male staff just to get their attentions—she’s soft spoken and gives amazing advice on how to make the dirty talk flow. Granted that’s not something you thought you’d ever talk about with a woman you’ve only known for a couple days but she’s got a way of making you feel at ease, so much so that you end up telling her over the course of lunch, that you haven’t sex in a few months.

“How do you even live?” Haejin groans like she’s been hurt.

You snort, knife digging in your reheated steak, “I’m doing just fine. Kind of tense with all that sex talk all day long, but it’s fine.”

Haejin nods avidly, “I know right? I was just like you when I first started working here. But then I just became the horniest bitch ever. There’s no other way to put it.”

You chuckle at the curse word coming out of her sweet sweet mouth, “Its like i’m having foreplay all day but no real sex.”

“Oh I totally get it. Even the guys weren’t like that when I first met them. We all came here around the same time and I remember Jake for example, he was so calm and sweet. Now he’s gone mad, one time he even got a boner in the neon room. But don’t repeat it though, or he’ll be embarrassed.” Haejin whispers secretively.

Jake is sitting across the room on one of the beanbags, his phone in hand. He’s wearing jeans a t-shirt that really brings out the color of his eyes and—

Yeah, to be honest it’s just a white t shirt, nothing to do with his eyes. What it brings out though, is the outlines of his broad chest.

“I feel like that’s just natural, it’s basically sex all day long, how can you not react?” you reply, one hand covering your mouth like a true gossiper.

“Er, yeah. You’re probably right. He’s not even the only one, it’s like working with a bunch of sexually frustrated guys. Thank God they’re respectful though.” she affirms.

You look around the room, only Jake and Sunoo are here, Sunoo on the red leather couch doing god knows what on his phone. The rest of them are in the neon room probably working and Jay is out of town for a meeting.

“What you got this afternoon?” Haejin asks you, her fork raised in the air.

“A call with the guy who cried the other day and then a new client. The rest I don’t know yet, I’m waiting for the boss to send in my schedule.” you tell her.

“I’ll get you some tissues jeez, that one’s gonna be tough. Sometimes all these guys need is a therapist I swear.” Haejin rolls her eyes amused.

Before you can even answer, the phone rings on the front desk—or more like the kitchen aisle that Jay has transformed into a reception desk for the lack of one. Haejin grunts but you stand up before she can, “Don’t worry I got it.”

You pick up the call, it’s a delivery guy telling you there’s a package for Hotline 1OO9. “Yep, i’ll be here in a second, let me just get someone.” you reply when he tells you that they’re heavy boxes.

You put the phone down and look at Haejin who’s currently finishing her poke bowl, Jake and Sunoo are also munching on a sandwich so you decide to go call someone else and let them eat in peace.

A couple seconds later you’re softly opening the door to the neon room and peeking inside. It’s practically silent but you can see Riki, Sunghoon and Heeseung are in their respective sound proof booths on a call. In the corner of the room on a little chair he’s probably moved, Jungwon’s sitting with his phone, chin resting on his fist.

“Jungwon.” you whisper shout, hoping he’ll hear.

His head snaps up instantly and his once bored face turns into a smile. “What’s up?”

You point behind you and he understands, standing up to come join you he closes the door behind him. “There’s a delivery guy with some heavy boxes, can you come help me?”

Jungwon nods, following suit as you head out the office. In the elevator there’s a long silence before the doors open to the main entry and you fall face to face with 6 big boxes—screw that, huge boxes. They’re stacked haphazardly in the middle of the main entryway, practically blocking the doors. For a second, you just stand there, staring at them.

“What the heck is this? Did the boss even say anything about some packages?” Jungwon blinks several times, arms already tired just with the sight. He greets the delivery guy and signs the receipts.

“Not to me anyway.” you say when he leaves, crouching in front of one of the boxes and looking for a tag. When you find a tiny tag with an eggplant drawing you instantly understand. “That’s a box of penises.”

Jungwon snorts, surprised. “What?” he crouches next to you, his arms brushing yours and he takes a look at the side of the box. “Yeah that’s definitely a penis box.”

You chuckle, bumping his elbow and standing up to grab the boxes but he doesn’t, “Wait, let me see what’s inside before.” he says.

Before you can even tell him not to, Jungwon rips open one corner of the box and peeks inside—no literally shoves his eyes in the little gap.

“Yeah, it’s dicks.” he states once he comes up.

“How many of them?” you puff out your cheeks, fighting an incredulous laugh and Jungwon shrugs.

“Probably more than a hundred, judging by the number of boxes. Why are they sending hundreds of dildos here?”

You go towards the other box, ripping the corner but more gracefully than Jungwon did. Inside this one there’s a ton of wrapped up pocket pussies, other male sextoys and business cards. “This one has different ones. Who is this even for?”

“Probably for the clients, like freebies or something…?” Jungwon shrugs, bending to lift one of the boxes. The muscles in his arms flex as he hauls the heavy weight, his jaw clenching. The second you bend down to grab one of your own he tuts, “Let me do it, they’re heavy. I don’t want your back to hurt.”

You roll your eyes—although you secretly find it endearing—and you lift up the box, “I’ll be aight. I’m a big girl.”

Jungwon huffs a laugh, “Oh I know you are.”

And what does that even mean??

You practically melt on the spot—though you never show it—and you head towards the elevator careful not to snap your whole body in two with the hefty weight. It’s the goddamn job they do, it’s making them all hot and filthy and you’re starting to become just like them, sensitive to the smallest details and interpreting everything in a weird way. You need to get a grip.

After hauling the boxes inside the elevator, Jungwon gets in beside you and wipes the little bit of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, and of course, his shirt rides up on his v-line. Because it wouldn’t be funny otherwise.

When he catches you looking involuntarily, he smirks, eyes narrowing as the smirk becomes a full on smile. “You okay? Your back hurt?” he asks when you move and subtly wince.

“I’m good—” but you don’t have time to say anything before he gets behind you and places a hand between your shoulders.

The elevator seems to take 20 years to get to the third floor as Jungwon presses between your muscles, softly massaging the flesh, “See, you’re a liar, there’s tension there.”

You scoff, half amused half…turned on? Whatever the heck is happening to your body these days needs to be blamed on the job. “I’m fine, you worry about your own shoulders.”

You turn around at that—big mistake—and end up facing him. He’s taller so you have to look up and when you do, his eyes are slightly hooded, like he’s faded. Your brain screams, ‘dick dick dick dick dick’, so much so that you end up laughing in his face. You’ve completely lost it.

“What’re you laughing about?” Jungwon gives a curious smile, looking down at you.

Blessed be the elevator, you’re saved from having to come up with an answer when it finally stops on the third floor. Thankfully, Sunghoon and Jake are already waiting in the hallway, ready to help with the boxes.

“Boss just called, he’s ordered some freebies for the regular customers.” Sunghoon informs you, grabbing one of the packages effortlessly.

“Is there candy inside? Or like merch?” Jake asks, his eyes widening at the size of the boxes, cocking his head.

“Jake be for real man.” Jungwon chuckles, grabbing a box too, “What kind of merch could he be sending out to these people?”

“It’s dicks and pussies” you add, helpfully.

Jake’s expression turns into one of exaggerated disgust, “Jay’s just gonna send out sextoys?”

“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t tell girls and boys to stroke their shit and talk them through it all day long,” Sunghoon laughs, rolling his eyes.

“What happened with sex toys?” Haejin butts in as you all carry the boxes inside, she holds the door open and looks over curiously.

“It’s for the regular customers,” Sunghoon explains, stretching after he drops his box on the floor.

“Hello, I’m a regular customer.” she bows dramatically, “No jokes I hope we get to have one too.”

Jungwon laughs, “Just take one, I’m sure he’s not gonna spend an hour counting sextoys.”

Best believe Haejin does take one, she even invites all of you to do the same but only Sunghoon seems unbothered enough to suit himself. As for you, it’s not like you’re ashamed of using sex toys but holding a dildo in your hands in front of three buff guys isn’t not something you’d really like to experience today.

A couple minutes later, Riki and Heeseung emerge from the neon room and sit next to Sunoo on the couch. The oldest throws his head back until it hits the wall and groans, “I’m so tired.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks him.

“The girl I just got a call with wanted me to call her my ‘little horny slut’.” he grunts, burrying his face in his hands.

“Why the fuck are you complaining right now?” Sunghoon blurts, incredulous, “I just spent 20 minutes on the phone with a girl who wanted me to call her ‘bad little gold-digger’.”

Riki snorts, one hand covering his mouth, “I usually don’t kink shame but how the fuck is that enjoyable.”

Before anyone can start venturing into this embarrassing topic, one of the phones in the neon room rings loudly, starting everyone.

“Oh shit, fuck. Forgot about the crying guy.” you say cryptically as you hurry towards the room.

You forgot you had work. Perfect.

You hear Haejin chuckle, “What is she talking about?” she asks when you’re out of sight.

You slip inside your pod and quickly grab the phone. In a hurry to pick up you press the button a couple of times and speak into the microphone, “Hello, this is y/n, good afternoon.”

But no one answer, it’s just a mess of static and creaking noises so you push the button again. “Heeello, this is y/n good afternoon.”

Crickets.

You put the phone down and make a beeline for the break room, once you’re there all of their heads snap up to you. “Can someone help with my booth, the phone won’t work I can’t hear the other person and there’s like static and stuff.”

Everyone turns their heads to Jake at the very same time, like he’s the assigned handyman of the office. Well apparently he is, you learn when Sunoo says, “Ask Jake, he’s always the one who fixes the phones. He knows his way around electronics.”

Jake stands up promptly, dusting off his jeans and looking over to where you stand with a sheepish smile, “I’ll help you.”

He follows you into the neon room and inside the pod, crouching in front of the cables. “We always get technical difficulties these days, I don’t know why Jay won’t just change the phones. Were you only hearing static?”

You nod in response, crossing your eyes with furrowed eyebrows, “I picked up and couldn’t hear a thing.”

Jake tweaks some buttons, a very focused look on his face, and once he estimates he’s done he looks up at you from where he crouches. “Try calling him back now, tell me if it’s fine.”

You do just that, sitting at the edge of the armchair you dial his number and wait. Once the ringing stops you finally hear a voice,

“Hello?” you call.

“Oh, finally, I thought you—” the rest is completely inaudible. You look down at Jake and give him a thumbs down. “Do you hear me?” the man tries again.

“I can hardly hear you, my colleague is trying to fix the issue, I’m so sorry.” you apologize, a little self conscious, “can you try and speak again for me?”

There’s a little bit of static before you can finally hear the man again, “—worry, you’re worth the wait. Take your time but—”

You curse under your breath as the line cuts again, and Jake messes with the cables, eyebrows pinched together, “Can you repeat that for me darling?” you tell the other man.

But Jake snaps his head up with a small, ‘huh?’ cheeks flushing like he thinks you were talking to him.

“Not you, dummy.” you whisper, pointing at the phone with a chuckle.

“I said don’t worry you are worth the wait, and to take your time but to not hang up on me.” the other man repeats.

“I won’t hang up on you, my colleague’s working on it as we speak.” you assure him, “How about we start? I don’t wanna waste your time.”

You hear him hum, pleased, “Whatever you like, I’d wait for you anyway.” he says, sounding a little desperate already.

You didn’t catch that side of him the other day because he unfortunately started crying midway through the actual dirty talk, but right now he sounds a little bit needy. He’s a divorced millenial but he seems particularly submissive, so a win is a win.

“You’re cute,” you fake-chuckle seductively, well aware that Jake is a couple of inches away, “What are you doing right now?”

You hear the sound of fabric ruffling and the smallest groan, “I’m in bed right now, I have my—”

The static starts again and you softly tap on Jake’s shoulder, “It’s cutting again, what should I do?” you whisper.

Your colleague holds a cable in his hand and looks up, “Just ask him to repeat and keep going while I figure this out, tell him he’ll get a price reduction or something.”

You nod, “Can you repeat handsome? I’m so sorry I couldn’t hear you.”

“It’s okay mommy, I said i’m in bed and I have my dick in my hand, hope that’s okay.” the man says, big emphasis on the mommy part.

You cringe, rubbing the corner of your eye as you fight to maintain your composure in the awkward situation. There’s a 50 something year old calling you mommy on one side and a very handsome puppy-looking boy on the other.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” you get back into character, leaning back against the armchair.

You see Jake’s shoulders twitch imperceptibly as he continues working but he doesn’t turn around or make a sound. On the end of the line, the man lets out a pathetic little moan, “I’m sorry mommy, i’m sorry. I’ll be better.”

Oh my days, you think to yourself.

But what cancels the second hand embarrassment is Jake’s reaction when you speak next.

“Look at you apologizing, that’s a good boy. Now don’t touch it until I say.” you tell the old guy in a low voice.

You swear you see Jake’s cheeks turn completely red, his hands slightly shaking as he works the electronics. And somehow that’s so much more thrilling than a guy calling you mommy. You think about what Haejin said earlier when she mentioned the state Jake was in ever since he started working here. The idea of toying with him seems so amusing, because as unprofessional as it sounds, what is even professional about this job in the first place?

“Yes mommy, I’ll—” the other man says, the line glitching again. You assume he’s saying what any submissive guy would say, which is ‘I’ll be your good boy’, it sounds coherent so you don’t even bother asking him to repeat.

“Mhh, that’s right. You’re doing so good f’me” you answer, eyes fixed on the back of Jake’s neck, which is completely flushed red. “I bet you want to touch that cock real bad, don’t you?”

You hear your colleague take a sharp intake of air and his fingers almost slip off the cables he’s working on. He’s pulled taunt like an elastic, nervous and fidgety, and you just want to mess with him all day long if that’s how his reactions escalate.

“Yes yes, please,” the man whines on the phone, fabric rustling as he most likely moves on his bed, restless. “Please, I’d do anything.”

“Aw, you’d do anything?” you taunt, voice progressively getting lower, “what if I say you can’t touch yourself today, would you do that?”

Jake’s breath audibly hitches and he drops his head closer to the wall, trying not to loose it. You can tell he’s a weak weak man in this moment, but he’s genuinely trying to make it seem like he’s fine. He messes with the buttons a couple of times before quickly standing up, dusting off his jeans once again. When he raises a thumb in question, he still doesn’t quite meet your gaze. You hum in response, noticing that the static on the phone has finally disappeared.

You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ and smile at him but he doesn’t reply, just blushes madly and scrambles out of the pod. You don’t even hear what the man is saying on the other end, toofocused on Jake’s retreating figure.

He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him, which is why seconds after you hear Sunghoon’s voice saying, “Man, what happened to you? Don’t tell me you—…oh you horny motherfucker…”

A couple weeks go by, during which you do nothing but have fictional sex with strangers over the phone and hang out with your colleagues like you’re still in high school.

Nothing about it is professionally really, just a bunch of touch deprived idiots cracking jokes in between calls because it saves you from going insane over the fact none of you are getting laid.

You tell your friend everything when you’re outside of work, and she listens with a slightly incredulous look. She’s never heard of such an—and, I quote—“perfect job.”

She seems to think working with 7 hot men, a beautiful woman and talking about coitus all day long is the ideal job.

And while you’re grateful for getting paid doing absolutely nothing, it’s also starting to take a toll on your health. You’ve been having incessant wet dreams these past few days, to the point where you come into work pent up and frustrated, and seeing a bunch of fuckable men doesn’t help in the slightest.

The calls go smoothly with occasional little incidents such as a weird client asking for way more than he should be asking—pictures, because yes apparently he’s entitled to pictures because you work for a sex hotline—but other than that it’s all routine by now.

You find yourself spending more and more time with Heeseung, grabbing coffee before work in the morning, talking about life and office gossip. He even introduces you to photography and sneaks a couple picture of you when you’re not looking. One day Haejin even says he looks like he likes you, but you don’t think much of it, everyone’s desperate and pent up in that office after all.

You eat lunch with Sunoo a couple of times, he’s a very sweet guy, a little sassy sometimes but never mean. He lets you in on all the lore, inside jokes and stuff you’ve missed since they all started working together; he tells you about the time Riki’s ex called the hotline so he would give her another chance—after she cheated mind you—and you laugh for hours about a video of Haejin running and bumping into Jay by mistake.

You quickly become friends with them, though sometimes you question if ‘friends’ is an accurate description for your relationship. It’s not crazy really, but at times you’re left wondering if getting turned on by a so called friend really makes it a friendship.

Like that one time when everyone else had work to do, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the break room—or more specifically, on the sofa.

You recall your thighs touching and neither of you moving away even though Riki and Sunoo had vacated their spots. Sunghoon was tired when he threw his head back against the wall, extending his legs in front of him and lifting his arms up in a stretch; you remember seeing his shirt lift up to reveal a small line of hair that led straight into his pants and your thighs pressed together in a matter of miliseconds.

Averting your gaze you noticed his protruding adam’s apple, the shape of it so beautiful you had to completely look away. But then you felt his eyes burning into the side of your face, you had to look out of curiosity.

Sunghoon was gazing at you with a lopsided smile, his eyes hooded. It almost took the breath out of your lungs—blame it on the deprivation—but you held his gaze, a challenging glint in your orbs.

“You have nice eyes.” he said, the fatigue almost making him sound high.

The corner of your mouth lifted in a small smile of your own, “Why are you saying that?”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty. Is that a weird thing to say?” Sunghoon replied, deliberately lifting his arms higher before dropping them to his lap.

“My eyes and now me in general?” you teased.

“Come on, you know you’re pretty. Everyone’s been saying it.” he chuckled, eyes dropping to your lips for a second.l before going back to your eyes.

“No one’s been saying that.“

“Well yeah, they didn’t say it to your face. But trust me they did. Especially Jake, he’s been all weird lately.” Sunghoon affirmed.

You swore the tension was going to kill you right then and there, the way he was looking at you was making you feel like you were bare in front of his eyes. You didn’t even know him all that well, you’d talked to him a lot over lunch but it was superficial, nothing too intimate. Now he was looking at you for the very first time like he wanted to devour you. How weird.

“Well that’s sweet, thank you.” you smiled, your eyes unable to leave his. And while the knowledge that Park Sunghoon thought you were pretty didn’t really change anything, his gaze said a couple hundred things in only a few minutes.

Lord have mercy for you were close to sinning.

“And he went like ‘tell me who’s pussy this is’, erm bitch not yours??” Haejin takes a deep imitating voice.

She’s perched on the arm of the sofa, making big movements with her arms as she narrates her last call and everyone listens. You’re crammed between Heeseung and Jungwon, Jake falling asleep on the beanbag while Riki sits on the floor in front of the couch.

“The audacity to say that to a sex line operator.” Sunoo comments. He looks almost peaceful if you didnt look closely and noticed his leg bouncing and his jaw slightly clenched.

The thing is, you’ve kind of had suspicions that the two of them—Sunoo and Haejin—were somehow involved together. Maybe it’s the way they often eat alone together, or how they’re extremely touchy with each other, constantly brushing their hands together and sneaking glances when the think no one’s looking. You’re not falling for it though, you can tell the difference between friends and people who have fucked.

The sneaky bastards.

“I know it’s just dirty talk but I wanted to laugh so bad,” Haejin continues.

“You’re so strong cause I would’ve been laughing already.” you snort.

Heeseung bumps your arm playfully, “You would’ve been laughing cause you don’t usually like it, there’s a difference.”

You raise an eyebrow looking over at him, “who says I don’t like it?”

There’s a silence in the room and you almost think you said something out of line, but then again what’s ‘out of line’ in here?

Heeseung huffs a laugh, “I thought you weren’t into that shit?”

“Doesn’t mean I’m against it.” you answer. “I like a good surprise.”

His eyes trail down your face to your lips and his tongue darts out to lick his. He’s being so obvious yet it’s so enthralling you want to melt into the couch.

The moment is cut short when Haejin clears her throat and waves a hand between both your faces, breaking the spell. “Hello? Get a room please.”

Sunghoon groans, “Whole room horny.”

Heeseung smiles, throwing his head back on the back of the couch while the whole room sounds like a bunch of desperate teenagers. It’s almost time to go back to work but everyone’s dreading the prospect.

Riki brings in his 2 cents, “I say we should go to the club and all get laid this weekend.”

“100% agreed,” Jake says, voice muffled by the beanbag he’s currently lying face down on. “I can’t go on like this.”

No one has time to give their opinion because the door to Jay’s office opens and he comes out holding a stack of papers, a pair of serious glasses perched on his nose.

“I don’t know if you guys remember this conversation we had a couple weeks back? Yn you weren’t there yet so I’m just gonna brief you in on this idea.” he starts, “We talked about implementing duo calls to our list, so you guys would be paired up on calls depending on the requests. I received a couple requests for Y/n and Riki and also Sunoo and Haejin this afternoon, how does that sound to you guys?”

You look around and find Riki’s eyes already on you, he seems to be just as surprised as you are. Since the other day, there’s been a slightly tense atmosphere between the two of you, like you’ve walked in on an intimate moment even though it was professional.

You can still hear his voice and it sends shivers down your spine whenever you’re catapulted back to that moment. Now to know the boss wants you to both participate while sitting next to each other in those narrow cabins is somethjng else. Sure, you’ve done it in front of Jake but it was just to mess with him, now you have to be serious and somehow collaborate in your dirty talk, if that makes sense.

“But like, how would that work? What would need to do?” Haejin asks, cocking her head.

Jay holds out a peace of paper, proud. “That’s why I printed these out, I’m gonna need you to go somewhere together in pairs. I gave you each a specific scenario and I want you to rehearse okay? These people are willing to pay a good price for this, so i don’t want it to be rushed.”

“Customer is male, he likes the idea of cuckholding but wants to be involved too. What can you do to make it sound authentic while also interacting with him?” Riki reads.

He’s sitting across from you in his booth, legs spread as he lounges on his armchair. You agreed to rehearse with the curtains drawn for maximum privacy because you both know how curious the rest of the staff can be, but the con is that now the cabin feels so much smaller and Riki’s playing right into it.

He’s got bedroom eyes, always looking at you like he’s trying to say something with them and he plays with the knowledge that he can get you flustered easily.

“First of all, you’re gonna have to come closer to me since we only have one phone. Then we should give him a lil show, talk to each other, imply we’re doing actual things to each other etcetera.” Riki says, folding the sheet in half, “Can you fake moans?”

You almost snort, “For 300 dollars yes I can.”

Three hundred is the price the man is offering to pay to hear you both. You’d almost be flattered…in another world.

“We don’t wanna risk it though, let me hear you.” Riki insists.

You shake your head immediately, “I’m not gonna just moan out of the blue. Trust me I got this, I’m gonna do good.”

Riki’s smirk widens, his gaze darkening, “Oh I know you’re gonna do good y/n.”

You’re tempted to look away, his gaze too heavy on you, but his words are what do it. You’re a whole different person around him and he seems to notice, seems to find it amusing, really. You look down at your shoes, tapping them on the floor distractedly.

“Come here, let’s rehearse before he calls” he cuts through your silence, beckoning you with his finger. It’s with hesitant legs that you stand up, not really knowing where to go, and stand awkwardly next to his armchair. “Just come sit here, we can’t be too far apart or he’ll notice.”

You zero in on his pointer finger tapping his thigh and your eyes widen a little bit. That was never in the job description—though you should’ve expected it with how comfortable everyone is. You bury your embarrassment somewhere your brain can’t find and you lower yourself to sit on Riki’s lap.

“That’s it mama, sit down.” he encourages in a low voice. His hand comes up to your hip, touch light and respectful in order to steady you.

“Mama?” you chuckle nervously, back pressed against his chest, amused by the nickname.

“I’m rehearsing aren’t I?” Riki says against the back of your neck, his breath fanning on your sensitive skin. “Come on, dont be shy, gimme a moan. You have to make him believe it.”

You shake your head, hair brushing his shoulder, “It’s gonna sound awful.”

But Riki doesn’t seem to care. You can feel him getting closer by his breathing against your neck until you’re sure his lips are merely inches away from your skin. “No it’s not, you can do it.”

You huff a laugh but it comes out oddly weak as your head lolls involuntarily. Every part of your body is stimulated by only the feeling of his breath, how pathetic does that sound? You’re so deprived that the thought of his lips being so close brings you to utter weakness.

“I cant just moan like that, what if I sound off?” you say, breathless.

Riki doesn’t reply, instead you feel his lips brush your nape and your eyes flutter shut as you fight to stay focused. He trails a path down to your shoulder, pressing his lips over the fabric of your top until he finds a bare strip of skin. Simultaneously, his hands lightly squeeze your sides, and when you shift on his lap he squeezes harder. Your breath hitches and he seems to hear it because his fingertips travel to your ribs before settling on your stomach. Riki traces circles on the part that’s not covered by your top, his lips playing with neckline of it.

The moment he leaves lazy open mouthed kisses all the way to your jaw from behind, you gasp, clutching the hem of your skirt with shaky fingers.

“There you go. Sound so pretty. Is that all it takes?” Riki teases, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I knew you could do it, I’m just gonna have to keep you right here all through it.”

You feel his tongue dart out to taste the skin where jaw meets neck and you instinctively brace yourself with hands on his thighs, to which he reacts to with a low hum. You don’t even know what this is, what you’re doing, but it feels too good to stop. It’s like being denied water for months and finally getting to drink. Except Riki’s like Mountain Valley Spring Water.

He squeezes your hips, fingers venturing into the skin of your exposed thighs. “You can do better can’t you?” he rasps against your neck.

You’re left lightheaded and unable to reply so he only makes it worse. Riki squeezes, traces patterns all the way to your inner thighs and stops right there. That’s when you nod, needing his touch like air. You can’t bear to feel him stop.

“Good girl, show me then.” he praises, teeth grazing your skin.

The next thing you know, Riki spreads your legs on his lap and his hands settle on your inner thighs. He’s touching one of your most sensitive spots and you just cant control the moan that comes out of your mouth.

It’s a mix of a pant and a moan, low and soft, and Riki seems to react physically to it. His hands squeeze the fat of your inner thighs and wander higher, right where your skirt bunches up.

“What if I just slip those panties to the side,” he emphasizes by hooking his finger to the hem of your panties, never actually touching you. “and have you sit on my cock all through the call. Would that make you moan alright?”

Your breath goes wild as you throw your head back shamelessly, you’re pretty sure he’s managed to get your panties soaked with only a few PG 16 touches. “You’re crazy,” you whisper shakily.

“Am I? The door’s closed and we’re supposed to put on a show for him anyway.” Riki chuckles lowly. “If you don’t want to it’s alright mama, I won’t push.”

You shake your head and nod simultaneously, completely out of it. You don’t even know what you want except that you need to feel something.

You could cry if you’re left on the edge once again after enduring it for weeks.

“That a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, pretty?” the bastard laughs again, amused by your state of evident arousal. He lifts the hem of your panties and snaps them back into place, his other hand stroking the skin of your hip.

“Yes, yes.” you gasp, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Riki hums, but he doesn’t rush to take them off, instead he cups your cunt through the fabric and presses his palm against your clit. He presses in pulsing motions, until your legs are closing around his hand and he has you boneless on his lap.

That’s when you feel his bulge pressing against your ass, thick and rock hard, and everytime you shift in pleasure, it twitches through his jeans.

“You’re soaking right through the fabric, pretty.” he whispers against your ear, fingers toying with the wet patch in the front of your panties. “Gonna take these off now, that okay with you?”

You nod instantly, spreading your legs for him to access. The second you do, he tugs your panties to the side, and the air hits your sopping cunt. Your walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him, and Riki takes his sweet time, grabbing the phone in one hand and unbuckling his pants with the other. “A shame I can’t see your face like this mama, turn around f’me.”

You obey, on shaky legs you turn around and sit on him, facing him. Now you can clearly see his face, his flushed cheeks and messy hair, hooded eyes and the thick bulge in his pants. It looks like it hurts when he palms himself, buckle in hand.

“Go for it.” he rasps, bringing your fingers to his zipper.

While you unzip him, Riki strokes your cheek and tugs gently at the hair in the back of your head. When you’re done he lifts his hips a bit and tugs his jeans down to his knees along with his Calvin Kleins. His cock slaps against his lower stomach when he frees it, tip weeping precum all over his pelvis. It’s already fiercely erect, standing out proudly against his happy trail, pressing upward toward his stomach.

Before you can do anything, the phone rings in his left hand and he sighs shakily. “Come here then, sit on it.” he rasps.

You look at him through your lashes as you wrap a hand at the base of his cock and lift your hips, angling him below your pussy. You feel your thighs shaking as his tip brushes your clit, and you brace yourself on his chest, eyes closing.

The moment you sink down and take the head of his cock in, Riki groans, gripping your hip. “Such a good girl— fuck…look at you.”

He looks down at where your bodies meet, your pussy accommodating his thick length as best as you can, and he shuts his eyes, adjusting to the intense suction. When you take more of him he whispers, “Can I pick up the call now?”

You nod breathlessly and when he’s all snug and entirely inside of you, you moan. Before pressing a button and accepting the call, Riki takes one last look at his cock stretching you open.

“Hello, this is Riki and Y/n for Hotline 1OO9, how’s your day?” he says with a steady voice, except or when you listen closely to his messy breathing.

Riki presses the speaker button and holds the phone between you both. How are you even supposed to come up with words when he’s stretching you like that? You can only clench around him until you feel every ridge and every vein like they’re memorized.

“My day’s good, thank you for picking up.” the guy on the other end says, his voice a little bit shy.

Your head falls forward on Riki’s shoulder and your forehead rests there. At the sight, his cock twitches inside you and he pushes in deeper, trying to reach the deepest part of you. To that, you moan, nails digging into his arms. You want to move so bad, you wanna fuck yourself on his cock and finally reach a long awaited orgasm.

The customer must hear every little sound you make because he asks, “Are you close to each other?”

Riki chuckles, one hand grabbing your ass and kneading it, “Got her on my lap, must be why she sounds so breathless. Don’t you baby?” he kisses your jaw.

You hum, weak all over. But Riki won’t have it, he grabs your chin and puts his thumb on your lower lip, “Use your words. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, “yes, yes.” and he rewards you with a sharp slap to your ass. “Good girl,” he praises.

It’s like the man on the other end of the line fades away, you can’t even hear his voice, just Riki’s and whatever he’s doing to your pliant body. His eyes are endless pits of darkness when he looks at you, pushing his thumb past your lips, and as you suck around it obediently, your walls clench around him and your hips shift.

“Uh-huh, who said you could move?” Riki takes his thumb out of your mouth and grips your hips to stop you.

You grip his arms, your belly moving with each ragged breath you take, and Riki’s cock throbs inside. He takes both your hands and holds them together behind your back, having you there seated on his dick, pride stripped away while a stranger listens.

“Oh look at that, you’re making such a mess.” Riki hums, looking at where you’re linked, his lower abdomen covered in your slick. “She’s so wet, soaking all over me,” he tells the man.

You don’t even hear his reaction, the need to move so intense it buzzes in your ears.

“Oh baby, you wanna move so bad, don’t you?” Riki taunts, giving the smallest thrust. But it’s enough to make you crazy, thighs shaking and body rocking.

When he speaks to the other man, you shiver, “She’s a mess, shaking on my cock. You should see her, so pretty when she just takes it.”

“Fuck… please, I can’t.” you plead, looking a Riki though your lashes, desperate for more movement. He’s so deep inside of you that even the smallest thrust makes you see stars.

“You want this?” his hips buck up, tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside of you. Your gummy walls cling to him, pulsing and keeping him right there, and he groans. “So tight, course you want it, you’re practically choking my cock.”

You hear the other man’s happy sounds but you shut his voice out, focusing on Riki.

“More, please.” you beg.

“Should I give her more?” he asks the customer with a smug smirk.

“No, not yet.” the latter decides, panting.

Riki shrugs, looking at you, “You heard him baby, just stay still.”

You’re not even sure you can take it. Every slow pulse of his heartbeat travels right through the shaft and presses against the softest parts of you, each one makes your hips twitch with the need to fuck back. You can feel how hard he is—impossibly hard—yet he holds himself completely still, breath controlled, hands locked on your wrists to stop you from grinding. Because Riki is so still, you can feel everytime he leaks inside of you, his precum warm and sticking to your walls.

“Mmh, that’s good. You’re doing so good.” Riki praises, squeezing your wrists, his cock pulses and his hip twitch just a tiny bit, making him just as disobedient as you were. “Fuck, she feels so tight ‘round me.”

Something starts building in the pit of your stomach, you don’t even know why or how, but it just does. Your thighs quiver and your forehead drops to his shoulder once again, your mouth parted in a silent moan. But Riki doesn’t let you, he cups your face and forces you to look at him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Nuh-huh, eyes on me.” he coos, stroking your flushed cheek while one hand still secures your wrists. “You’re such a mess, that pussy’s squeezing me so tight. Look at you, dripping all over.”

Riki pushes your chin down and makes you look at where you’re connected, he brings his hand there and collects the slick that’s coating his pelvis, fingers shiny. “She’s soaked, I should fuck her now, don’t you think? What if I just…” he bucks his hips, tip hitting your g-spot until you moan in pleasure. “… do this a couple times and leave her there shaking?”

He seems to react to whatever the man says on the phone—which you just don’t hear because apparently you have selective hearing—and he abruptly stops. You whine in frustration, rocking just a bit on his lap to find some sort of friction, but there’s just his heavy cock stretching you out and pulsing inside you.

“Please,” you whimper, “please, I need it.”

Riki squeezes your wrists unmoving and he kisses your collarbone, “You’re gonna have it when he decides baby. I don’t make the rules.”

You clench around him, the whatever that was building in your lower stomach intensifying everytime he opens his filthy mouth, you wanna hit him, make him fuck you senseless until you don’t even remember which day it is, but you can’t do shit. If the client weren’t there you would’ve already rode his cocky ass into tomorrow.

But it gets to a point where it’s just too much, your pussy grips him times and times again, almost in a rhythm, which makes his tip brush against your spot and your eyes roll back. You don’t even have to rock your hips to feel some sort of dizzying friction, and it seems like Riki’s understood it too, the way his cock twitches and his balls draw up. He hisses when you squeeze particularly hard and his eyes squeeze shut in agony.

“She’s gonna come without me even moving, I don’t have any room she’s squeezing so tight,” Riki tells the customer, then he looks at you and speaks, “I bet you’d sound so pretty if I could just fuck you properly, wouldn’t you?”

The next second, you feel his cock throb violently and his lips meet your neck, smugness all gone, “fuck, stop squeezing or I’m gonna cum baby.”

You whimper, a useless string of ‘please, please please’ coming out of your mouth and you clasp your hands together while he still holds them.

“Stay still,” the customer says, panting. “Both of you.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, but you’re so close it hurts. You pant, walls milking Riki’s cock as he fights it himself, sucking a spot in your neck. It’s too much, you try not to, but it just comes unbidden, you clench one last time, the head of his cock against your cervix, and your back arches.

“Fuck, I can’t—” you moan, eyes shut and head thrown back. Riki instantly looks at you, mesmerized, and he thrusts the tiniest bit to chase the friction. “I can’t..”

You come apart, your hips twitching over and over as you fight not to bounce on him. The lack of movement makes your climax feel denser, heavier, like it has nowhere to go except deeper into your body. You shake through it staying still, every pulse of your orgasm squeezing down on the hard length that refuses to move, until you’re left trembling and oversensitive with him still buried inside you, unmoving, as if nothing’s happened.

“That’s it, it’s okay. Fuck… she came so hard, didn’t even do anything,” Riki groans, hips stuttering, but before the customer can say anything he leans to your ear and whispers, “get off, i’m so close pretty.”

You shake your head, and when he releases your wrists you moan in contentment, “can I make him cum?” you ask the man on the phone.

He replies with a breathy voice, “Yes go ahead,”

So you take your cue, you brace yourself on his shoulders and when you start moving your own body screams in pleasure, everything sensitive. Riki throws his head back in a groan and his cock nearly slips out with how wet you are. When only the tip remains inside of you, you drop back down on his lap.

“Oh fuck—” Riki moans, gripping your ass, hips, anything.

He watches you through hooded eyes as you fuck yourself on his cock, his orgasm closer and closer, “I’m gonna come, doll. Just—get off.”

You shake your head once again, pressing little kisses to his shoulder as you bounce on his cock, “I’m clean and I’m on birth control,”

Riki groans, as if relieved he’s not gonna have to pull out and he bucks his hips, meeting your movements. “Fuck…you’re gonna—ah shit, keep going baby.”

You follow his lead, and a couple of bounces later, Riki’s cock is throbbing and the phone, which had been sitting on the arm of the armchair, almost falls. You scramble to grab it and hold it between the two of you, because he didn’t even notice, too fucked out to care. A string of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ comes out of his mouth and his hips stutter, his fingers digging into your flesh.

His stomach tightens under you and a broken sound leaves his throat. It’s a sign Riki’s control is fraying. You feel his cock swell even thicker inside you, the head pressing hard against that spot that makes your thighs shake and his grip on you tightens.

“Fuck—don’t stop,” he manages, voice rough. “Just like that—”

Before you or he knows it, he’s cumming.

Riki’s whole body goes rigid underneath you. A raw, punched-out sound tears out of his throat as his cock starts pulsing hard inside you—sticky surges of heat flooding deep. You can feel every spurt, the way his cock kicks and throbs while he empties into you. Riki’s hands clamp down on your hips hard enough to hurt, holding you flush against him so he can keep pumping cum as deep as possible. His thighs are shaking, his stomach is clenched and you feel he’s still trying to thrust up into you even while he’s coming desperate little movements that force every drop further inside.

Riki looks wrecked. Eyes half-lidded, mouth open, chest heaving, but his hands are still gripping you, unwilling to move even just a bit.

There should be a study on how greedy a girl can be, because the second you receive a text from Sunoo a couple days later, saying ‘tomorrow night is club night’ you reply without a second thought.

You’re not exactly planning on getting laid again—not that you’ve had your fill with Riki—you’re just looking to go out and party. But, if the opportunity presents itself you won’t decline, that’s for sure. You’re not sure why, but the scenario you fall asleep with doesn’t involve any handsome stranger on the dance floor. It’s involuntary but you can’t help but think about Riki, about Jungwon in the elevator, Jake in the booth, Sunghoon and Heeseung. Even Jay—if you’re being honest—but you wouldn’t actually go there, he’s your boss.

A little imagination doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s fine.

But is it crazy to be this level of greedy and imagine stuff with 5 different men?

Whether you’re thinking about them individually or not is irrelevant, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be ashamed to indulge in your filthy thoughts.

Things have been going smooth over at Hotline 1OO9. You like that what happened with Riki hasn’t changed the atmosphere one bit, nothings awkward, you just have a nice little secret thing you two together.

You’ve never really talked about it, for you it was just part of the job, a ‘professional’ act heightened by obvious sexual frustration. You were just two ticking bombs waiting to go off, two consensual adults who took advantage of the circumstances.

It would be a lie to say it hasn’t happened again though.

Just the other day, you were walking past him in the empty break room and his fingers accidentally found your ass. He squeezed and you were a goner. You snuck in his pod and made out for god knows how long, dry humped like horny teens and you ended up on your knees sucking him off while he praised you.

You’ve found a new pleasant sense of reward in not being in control. You love it when Riki pulls your hair, calls you a good girl and slaps his dick on your tongue. It makes your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy when he says in that deep voice of his, “such a pretty girl on her knees for me like that.”

It would be a tremendous lie to say that you haven’t thought at least 20 times about the other day when in the break room, Riki sat next to you on the couch and slipped his hand on your thigh while everyone was talking.

It’s safe to say Sunoo and Jungwon noticed, then said something like, “In plain sight?” which made the others notice as well.

After all you were a group of shameless adults—the job had made you so unbothered about sex—so no one said anything about it. Sunghoon just winked exaggeratedly at Riki and Heeseung grabbed your other thigh in retaliation.

You fall asleep thinking about how it would feel to have them share you, as stupid as it sounds because you know it’s never gonna happen. You’ve read enough reverse harem books to know it sounds extremely pleasurable, you don’t have to choose and get a little taste of everything—a taste of five different worlds if you will.

When you think about it too deeply you feel like a whore so you just shake the thoughts aside and let sleep take you.

Come the next morning, you’re walking inside the office with a cookie jar and your purse. The cookie jar was your mom’s doing, she passed by a couple days ago and dropped them off, saying you should give some out to your colleagues. But because she thinks you still work at your old company—which is huge—she made 5 jars, so your kitchen counter is currently crowded with chocolate chip cookies.

You drop them on the coffee table in the break room and you immediately clock in with Jay. He’s wearing a crisp suit today, as per usual, and his hair is styled to perfection making him look like every woman’s dream.

“Good morning y/n.” he greets with a smile, “We got feedback on the website by the way. It was that guy from the call with Riki, he said you were awesome and recommended it. He even put heart emojis.”

You smile, “Morning sir, awesome news.”

Jay must notice how jolly you are because he asks, “What’s got you all smiley today?”

Pregnancy glow? Today’s lunch packed in your bag? What can you even say instead of the truth? It being that you’re a sexually pleased woman who’s gonna be even more sexually pleased tonight.

“Nothing sir, I’m always like that.” you shrug, smiling wider.

Your old boss’s email comes to your mind and you quickly shut up. Being notably not-smiley is what got you fired, so it’s best you refrain from speaking.

“When we first met you told me to fuck off and thought I was a scammer y/n, I don’t think you’re always like that.” Jay chuckles, going through paperwork like the busy man he is.

“Well yeah, but with all due respect boss, you sounded like a mix of that Squid Games recruiter guy and El professor in La Casa Del Papel.” you clutch your purse, half expecting him to get mad like your old boss would.

Instead he just chuckles, clearly agreeing. “I know, I did sound weird. But I’m glad you took the time to think about my offer and didn’t jump to conclusions. Now look at you, 20 requests a day, successful as ever.”

That you are. Now thanks to your critical thinking you can afford rent and not be worried about unemployment. And if someone has to say anything about your line of work they can go fuck off. You give Jay the brightest smile you can manage, “Thank you for not firing me because I don’t smile often sir.”

Jay laughs, a little confused but amused, “What? That’s not a reason to fire someone.”

And you’re sure if you had more money maybe you would’ve sued that damn company. There was always something a little fishy with that excuse anyways.

The day goes by fairly fast, you don’t even go out of your pod much because of how many calls you’ve been scheduled to today. Some are fine, some are weird but not a big deal because you get paid in the end.

Some guy called just to ask for sex advice, which you found particularly funny because not once did he initiate any type of conversation other than ‘how can I make my current girlfriend feel good?’ you gave him all you knew, tips and tricks and then hung up with an amused smile.

You ate lunch with your colleagues as usual, talked about inviting the boss to your little night out but opted not to because it was weird and probably unethical.

After eating you and Jungwon sat on the sofa and watched videos on his phone, your chin on his shoulder. He scrolled through his timeline and made occasional comments, looking at you from the corner of his eyes at times. When Jake came by, he sat next to Jungwon and adopted the same position you did, watching with the both of you.

But as soon as you heard the boss move in his office you straightened up and pretended to look at the wall, aware of how unprofessional it looked.

Jay came out and stopped right in the threshold, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What’s with the faces? Break’s over in 20 folks.”

Dominated by the work system, you got up exactly twenty minutes later and got to work. Riki interrupted you a couple times, just “swinging by” as he said, to squeeze that ass he seemed to love, then walked back to his own pod like he’d accomplished his mission.

But the last time he did it—curtains be damned—Heeseung was walking by and saw everything. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, just snorted and said “sharing is caring man.”

You decided not to dwell on it because he was probably joking, but—surprisingly—there were a few instances of you imagining what ‘sharing’ implied.

The rest of the afternoon went by fast, and the next thing you knew you were clocking out, saying your farewells to no one but Park Jongseong who, unfortunately, wasn’t invited.

Your ass looks fabulous in your dress and everyone seems to think so too.

The way Jake looks at it says a lot actually, it’s like he’s seen a ghost, his eyes avert and his cheeks get red immediately like he’s judging himself for the thoughts he’s having.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you look at Jake and wonder how he does the job he does.

If you were to see him in the subway you’d think he works in engineering or teaches astronomy and only has sex once in a blue moon. But apparently the man does get laid, he’s just not cocky with it.

Riki, though, is plenty cocky. Once he gets a good look at your ass he gives it a squeeze, not really caring to be sneaky.

Haejin notices and points at him, “I knew you guys fucked.”

Jungwon and Heeseung snort. You’re waiting in line at the club entrance and you’re all pressed together along the wall, a thick cigarette smoke fog hovering over the crowd. Someone’s smoking cigarettes after cigarettes and it’s making your nose itchy.

“I swear to God if you’re greedy and wanna steal my hookup tonight I’ll make sure you get fired Rik.” Sunghoon points at him accusing.

One of his Riki’s hands goes to your lower back and he answers, “I’m good man, the club is all yours.”

It wouldn’t be Riki if his hand didn’t slip down to your ass for the nth time and squeezed. He then proceeds to lean down to your ear and whisper, “I’m hoping I get to take you home tonight.”

You snort, swatting his hand away playfully, “What if I want a change?”

Riki settles his hand on your hip this time as the line progresses, “Well I can share. How’s that for a change?” he smiles.

“You’re willing to share with a complete stranger?” Jungwon raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

“I don’t know, any of you interested?” he looks around, expecting them to be grossed out.

When everyone raises their hand but Sunoo, you look surprised, and with filthy contempt, your mind files it as a very important information.

The latter looks at Haejin and raises an eyebrow, attempting to be secretive. As soon as he does that she drops her hand to the side and you pretend you didn’t see what happened.

“Well guess that settles it. Fill out forms and email them I guess.” Riki rolls his eyes, prentending to be jealous.

Sometime after, the bouncer finally lets you all in. You walk to the bar in a tight group and order a couple drinks to start the night. You don’t drink all that much so you get a single cocktail and decides it’ll be the last.

You all walk through the crowd, the speakers blaring ‘Kiss me thru the phone’, bodies are all pressed together, slick with sweat and you spot a few people making out savagely already.

Riki and Heeseung stay behind you all the time, like a fridge protecting its snack, and you notice Haejin’s pressed tightly to Sunoo’s chest. It’s not even a surprise when the slick bastard glares at a guy he’s caught looking at her.

Jungwon notices and looks back at you, amused, but neither of your say anything.

Once you’re deep inside the jungle of bodies you all stop. Sunghoon’s already looking around like he’s searching a prey and Jake’s eyeing the ceiling like he wants to go home.

So what better than to mess with him? You grab his arm and start dancing with him, trying to lighten him up a bit with a couple back and forth rocks to the beat of the music. He relaxes after a little bit and starts easing into it, hands coming up naturally to your hips as he smiles.

By the time the third song comes around, everyone’s having fun. Sunoo’s pressed up against Haejin, Sunghoon’s already found a girl to chat up and you’re still with Jake, only this time there’s Riki behind you and Jungwon on the side sipping on his drink. You’re boxed by them, grinding your ass shamelessly on Riki while Jungwon watches with a playful glint in his dark eyes and Jake quite literally endures, cheeks as red as wine. You make sure he’s not uncomfortable by asking him a couple times in his ear, to which he replies by getting even more flustered by your proximity.

But Heeseung’s nursing a drink—not at all unhappy—he’s wearing a dopey grin like he’s having the time of his life even though he’s not doing anything. You turn around to look, and reach for his arm, dragging him closer so he doesn’t feel left out. He holds onto Jungwon and starts dancing, moving his body to the bass boosted music. It would be a lie to say he’s not a bit drunk, his cheeks are flushed and he’s grinning like an idiot—even more than Jake usually is—he holds onto Won for dear life and nearly spills jis drink when someone passes by.

“Heeseung man we just got here like an hour ago.” Riki snickers, amused. “Get your shit together or you’re not gonna get laid tonight.”

He just beams, taking another sip and moving his hips, “Nopeeee, don’t care.”

Riki gets closer to you, pressing his front to your ass, indirectly pushing you closer to Jake and Jungwon in the process. It feels nice to be between all of them, especially the way Jake grips your hips and looks at you like you’ve hung the moon.

But soon after, Heeseung starts feeling dizzy and says he wants to grab some fresh air, and Won volunteers to go with him so he doesn’t stay alone. They slip out of sight and you’re left sandwiched between Jake and Riki’s bodies, the latter hardening almost imperceptibly against your ass.

It’s not even a surprise, you’ve noticed how high his stamina is, it’s like he’s always up for it, always ready to go. Jake’s a little further away, so you can’t exactly feel him, but it wouldn’t be a revelation if you were to find out he’s hard—it seems to be his default reaction, he even gets hard when he sees good food apparently.

When Sunghoon comes back, he looks defeated and points at the girl he was talking to, declaring, “She was trying to get over her ex and find someone to make a sextape with.” he sighs, “tonight’s not my night.”

“There’s plenty fishes in the sea,” Riki comforts him, gripping your lower back.

Sunghoon gets closer, taking the spot Jungwon vacated, “Only one fish I want anyway.” he looks at you when he says that, then back at Riki, “Where did Heeseung and Won go?”

Jake intervenes, “They’re outside to grab some air.”

“Bro, they can’t come back inside if they go out. Are they fucking stupid?” Sunghoon scoffs, looking around and squinting towards the exit.

At the same exact moment your phone buzzes in your purse, vibrating on your sides. You slip your hand inside and grab it, it’s Jungwon.

“Yo, no one’s picking up their phone. The bouncer won’t let us come in again.” you hear him, his voice muffled with the sound of the music.

And yes, that’s the story of how you all end up on the sidewalk, sitting side by side on a line just because the dumbfucks couldn’t ask the bouncer for information before going out. Heeseung’s been apologizing profusely and you tell him it’s not his fault everytime, that it’s all good and you were tired anyway.

News flash you weren’t, you were just getting started. But can’t win em all.

It’s quickly forgotten about when Heeseung suggests you all come to his place for some drinks. Everyone accepts happily, except well….Sunoo and Haejin who look at each other and clear their throats.

But before they can say anything, the party host scrambles towards them.

“Yes you guys can just go home and fuck like rabbits. Trust me we know.” he slurs on unsteady feet.

There’s a silence before everyone snorts including Haejin and Sunoo who instinctively get closer now that the ‘secret’s’ out.

“We all knew, you guys are obvious as fuck.” Sunghoon states, smiling widely.

You part your ways and head to Heeseung’s small apartment conveniently located a couple blocks away from the nightclub. The whole way Riki and Jungwon have to hold him so he doesn’t trip although he says he’s not that drunk. Once you’re in front of his building he struggles to get his keys out and Jake has to dig in his back pocket to find them. “Stop touching my ass man.” Heeseung giggles, swatting his hand away when he gets the keys out.

When he manages to open the door, Heeseung stumbles inside and calls the elevator. You look around at the group of men encircling you and feel like the world’s biggest slut, anyone who would see this would think you’re a total whore and whatever other prejudiced words they can come up with.

But in truth, you don’t really care all that much, you like being slutty at times, it’s fun and doesn’t harm the environment anyway.

When the doors open to the second floor, Jake already prepares the keys to open Heeseung’s door. He waits for him to sign which one is his and quickly works it open.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Heeseung mumbles as he kicks off his shoes in the entryway. The apartment is spotless so you don’t even know what mess he’s talking about.

Probably the mess in your panties—

“Yeah you’re drunk man, go to sleep,” Riki chuckles, pushing him towards the hallway like he knows the house.

“I’m not even tired, gimme some water, I’ll just shower and sober up,” the man groans like a child, holding onto the wall.

You grab the first bottle water of bottle you see on the kitchen counter and uncap it, handing it to him. When you realize he’s not even gonna be able to drink it, you push it to his mouth, one hand cupped under his chin and you tilt the bottle. Heeseung’s heavy eyes are on you while he drinks. “So pretty,” he mumbles when he’s done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, get line,” Jungwon pushes him playfully.

Riki escorts him to bed, but not before Heeseung makes a point of kissing your cheek and exclusively telling you goodnight. You pat his hair and watch him get carried away to his bedroom with a fond smile.

“Alright let’s see where he keeps his booze,” Sunghoon starts looking through his friend’s drawers, in the kitchen too. When he finally finds his stash of alcohol he holds a bottle of vodka to his chest. “This motherfucker only has cheap stuff.”

“That’ll do,” Riki snatches the bottle from him when he comes back, one hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer.

Once seated on the couch, you all get comfortable, Sunghoon props his socked feet on the coffee table ontop of Hee’s electricity bills and yawns as he stretches. Jake finds the fluffy armchair in the middle of the living room while you sit between Jungwon and Riki and uncap the vodka bottle, pouring it in little plastic cups they’ve found in the kitchen. You hand them to the four boys, not in the mood to drink yourself. Riki drops a kiss yo your cheek as a thank you, obviously mocking Heeseung earlier.

“It’s a fail for everyone except those bastards Haejin and Sunoo,” Sunghoon sighs into his cup, emptying it in seconds.

His arms flex as he puts it on the coffee table and you find yourself looking at his biceps, or him in general. The way his body is sculpted, the shape of his broad shoulders, everything looks good—it’s something he has in common with the three other boys, they’re all equally handsome everywhere.

“Speak for yourself,” Riki mutters, eyes bored on the side of your face, one hand on your thigh. When you turn to look at him he smirks, emptying his cup in one gulp.

“Yeah just go ahead and fuck right then and there you bastards,” Sunghoon groans, frustrated.

“You’re jealous as fuck Hoon,” the boy holding your thigh teases, shooting him a playful look. “Should‘ve gone with the sextape girl.”

“I’d rather choke, I’lll just live vicariously through you man, it’s okay.” he cringes at the thought, dusting off his perfectly clean t shirt.

There’s a silence before you decide to be extremely unhinged. You turn to look at Sunghoon through your lashes and you joke, “Don’t you want the real thing?”

There’s a long moment. You think you’ve said something dumb when you see Sunghoon’s mouth open and close, but when he presses his palms to his face and groans you melt in your seat. “Don’t say that y/n.” he breathes out, a little desperate in all honesty.

“What’s wrong with what she said?” Riki teases, a smug smile on his face as he squeezes your thigh.

Jake looks at you from the armchair, shifting in his seat, he looks like he’s heard the craziest thing ever, his boba eyes widening by the second. Jungwon’s also gazing thoughtfully at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not. Although you originally were, their reaction only fuels the inner monologue you’ve been having these days, until you’re not entirely sure you’re fooling around anymore.

“Did you even hear her man??” Sunghoon replies, man spreading on the couch like he owns it. “Y/n you can’t be saying that. It’s not even funny.”

“I wasn’t even joking though,” you shrug, looking at him innocently, although the smirk on your mouth tells a whole different story.

Riki cups your chin and tilts your head towards him, eyes already zeroing in on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own, plump lips parting and lower one going between his teeth.

“Don’t even bother, I think he doesn’t want to,” he teases, giving Sunghoon a taunting look before focusing back on you. “I’ll take care of you baby, how’s that sound?”

You swear you hear Jake’s hitch from his spot but before you can turn your head to verify, Riki wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you closer until his lips are merely inches away from yours. The bastard looks you right in the eye and gives you that haunting playful smirk before he dives in. His lips melt into yours and without giving it much thought he parts them, tongue slipping in your mouth in a filthy kiss. Riki’s fingers tighten around your neck, making it a point to make you moan for him, so his friends can only marvel at the sight. You gasp into the kiss, tongue dancing with his, all the while his other hand snakes down to your hips and tugs you closer, almost on his lap.

You couldn’t even hear the rest of the world if you wanted, your ears ringing with how bad you want this. It feels exhilarating to know you’re being watched, three pairs of eyes burning into your skin from all sides of the room. It only seems to pump Riki meaner, his hand squeezing your throat until you’re dizzy and moaning into the kiss, it’s the perfect amount of pressure, not too much just enough to render you a mess.

“Sound so fucking pretty,” Riki rasps as he lets go of your lips and finds a spot on your neck to suck on.

Your eyes open and you find all three men staring right at you, as expected. Jake’s frozen, his mouth slightly ajar and his hands gripping the leather of the armchair. Sunghoon doesn’t have his hands on his face anymore, he’s got them gripping his thighs, jaw clenched. And Jungwon looks wrecked, the paper cup crumpled in his hand as he fights the urge to reach and join.

When Riki sucks a dark spot in your neck, your lips part and the moan you let out makes all three boys tense in their seats. “That’s right baby, let them hear.” you feel Riki’s smirk against your skin.

“You’re not playing fair man,” Jungwon groans, captivated by the sound of your pleasure.

Riki let’s go of your skin with a wet pop, “What do you think baby, am I being fair?”

You smile dizzily, “I did tell Sunghoon he could have the real thing and he didn’t even answer, so I guess you’re being fair.”

The latter instantly protests, “I thought you were joking y/n, I didn’t think you—”

You cut him by getting up on wobbly feet and making it in front of him, before he even knows what’s happening you’re climbing on his lap. “This okay?” you whisper in his ear as you fully settle, legs bracketing his.

When his arms instantly wrap around you, the answer is made clear. Sunghoon nods, looking at you like a divinity, “Could’ve already been doing this a long time ago.” he states, pulling closer until youre snug right against his core.

“You should’ve said something then,” you smile against his jaw then nip at his earlobe until he shivers. You feel the other men’s eyes on your body as you start moving in Sunghoon’s lap, grinding down on the front of his pants. “Should’ve kissed me right on the break room couch that other day.”

Sunghoon lets out a breathy laugh, gripping your hips as he fights for his composure, he’s about to say something but Jungwon beats him to it, “You had a chance and fucked it up, how stupid can you be.”

With his foot, Sunghoon kicks the other man’s leg, trying to focus solely on your beautiful face, “As far as I know you didn’t make a move either.”

“He’s right, you should have too,” you lean towards Jungwon, still on his friend’s lap, and you catch his expecting lips in a kiss.

He tastes like vodka when his tongue slips into your mouth. He’s a messy kisser, all tongue and teeth, biting your lip occasionally. You feel Sunghoon’s cock throb in his pants and moan into Jungwon’s mouth at the feeling.

“Jake man, come closer. Come watch her.” Riki tells him, beckoning with a curled finger.

You hear him get up before he takes the spot you vacated earlier, eyes a physical weight on your body. Sunghoon bucks his hips to remind you of whose lap you’re on, his hands come down to your ass, wanting you so much closer than humanly possible and your reply by rocking your hips on him, indulging in the friction. It feels so good, Jungwon’s tongue caressing yours, Sunghoon’s thick cock practically begging to be taken out and the other boys looking like they don’t wanna miss a single second of it.

When you break the kiss, your lips are connected to his by a string of saliva that breaks when you look at Jake, beckoning him closer. He stands up ever so obediently and walks over to you. From where you sit you have to look up at him, the sight only making the problem in his pants harder, you trace a path up his thighs and cups him through his pants. “Gimme kiss,” you practically purr.

Jake nearly folds like trash origami, his hips buck to meet your hand and when you finally kiss him he melts. You go slower with him, tongue grazing his in a tantalizing way, you give his clothed cock a squeeze and he whimpers in your mouth, needy as ever. When you break the kiss he chases your lips, cheeks a deep red and lips shiny.

“Sit down and watch.” you order, not even doubting he’ll do as he’s told.

When Jake sinks down to the floor, you look at the man whose lap you’re sitting on and grin, wiggling on his aching dick. Sunghoon’s eyes follow your wandering hands as you cup him through his pants and tug at the zipper, when asked he lifts up his hips and lets you take his cock out. His is incredibly thick, smaller than Riki’s but impossibly thick you’re sure your fingers wouldn’t fully touch if wrapped around it. To test that theory you put you grab him and it’s with no surprise that you note your fingers don’t touch around the base.

“Can’t even wrap my hand around it Hoonie,” you say in a small voice, giving him a light stroke that makes his hips jolt. You take his own hand in yours and bring it to his leaking cock. “Show me how you do it.”

To your side, Riki and Jungwon are breathing harder, the latter palming the bulge in his jeans, both their eyes stuck on you like you’re some sort of succubus. But when Sunghoon’s hand wraps around his cock, it’s Jake who nearly whimpers. You look over to him and cup his chin, pulling him closer so he can get a better view. “You wanna see so bad baby?”

Jake nods vehemently and swallows hardly, “You look so pretty like that,”

You lean back and drop a kiss to his lips, licking them while you get back to Sunghoon. He’s steadily pumping himself now, fingers on his balls while he thrusts in the crease between his thumb and pointer finger. “Fuck,” he groans, “put your hand on me.”

You cover his own hand with yours, tightening his grip on his cock and move it up and down, guiding the friction. You collect the precum with your palm and use it as lubricant for your strokes. Sunghoon focuses on the base while you pump the tip, your hands slick and meeting each time you glide. It’s filthy—even more so when you spit on his tip and his cock twitches, his head throwing back in utter agony. You use your saliva and tighten your grip, thumb rubbing his head while the other works with his own. Riki’s unbuckled his jeans by now, palming himself while patiently waiting for his turn.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon pants, a slave to his pleasure now. “Jungwon come here, use her mouth”

His friend gets up as quickly as possible and travels to the side of the couch where he stands, gaze bored on your hand working. “Cmere baby, open up,” he encourages as his thumb settles on your lower lip, pushing past it.

You lick around his thumb, suckling as your hand goes faster on Sunghoon’s cock. Jungwon hums in admiration as his other hand quickly undoes his jeans and lets them drop to his knees. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth now, okay?” he taunts, boxers tugged down as well.

Jungwon’s cock is long, a thin patch of hair leading from his lower stomach to it, and it stands proudly, leaking so much that’s it’s made a stain on his boxers. When you nod, he doesn’t seem to think it’s enough and shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What did I teach you baby?” Riki intervenes, delivering a light slap to your ass. “You gotta use your words.”

You nod again, a soft ‘yes’ coming out of your parted lips. Sunghoon practically thrusts into his and your hand, making a mess of precum on his stomach. But before you can even wipe it off, Jungwon presses his cock against your lips, rubbing his own precum all over them until they look plump and like you’ve put gloss on. The moment he pushes his dick past your lips, you swear you feel Sunghoon’s heartbeat in his cock. Airs gone rancid by now, all three of them watching Jungwon’s length fit perfectly inside your mouth, his breathing hacking out wet.

“Mmh, fuck… look at you baby, look at those pretty lips,” he groans, cupping your face almost tenderly if it wasn’t for the other hand tangling in your hair and pulling slightly.

Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids and you suck him in, hollowing out your cheeks before letting him go with a pop and resuming with messy licks. You practically makeout with his tip, suckling on it, licking each and every side until his thighs tense, you don’t stop until the room fills with filthy sounds. Your fingers keep working Sunghoon’s dick all the while, tangling with his own in a wet mess under Riki’s approving gaze.

“Look at you…” he hums, sneaking behind you to drop a kiss on your bare shoulder. His tongue traces a path up to your neck and sucks a dark spot, causing you to moan around Jungwon’s tip. “You’re so good at this, look at Sunghoon baby, he’s gone already.”

Your eyes find him below you, his head is thrown back, eyes wild and wanton, hand working through his own pleasure like he’s drunk on it. Jungwon’s hips shift until he’s practically fully sheathed in your mouth, regaining your attention. He tugs at your hair—noticing how eager you get when he does it—and one of his hands goes to your ass so he can lift up the hem of your dress. He smirks at Jake who—if he’s being honest—feels terribly lonely on the floor, and delivers a sharp smack to your bare ass.

Jake watches the flesh move with the echo of Jungwon’s slap and fights to not burry his face in between your sweet thighs. You swallow around the man’s cock, a ring of saliva forming and dripping down your chin, making a proper mess of your collarbone in the process, Riki resumes his his taunting kisses on your neck and one hand comes to squeeze that ass he loves so much.

He hooks a finger in your thong, tugs at it only to watch it snap back in place, “Such a pretty ass, you’re just pretty all over aren’t you?”

Riki’s mouth travels up to your jaw and cheek, and when he gets close enough, he licks around your mouth to clean the mess of saliva you’ve made. Jungwon actually freezes for a second, seeing how close he is to his dick, but the low groan he emits says a lot about how he feels.

“Messy girl,” the youngest teases, licking his own lips while stroking your ass cheek. You’re so lost in pleasure you start rocking your hips against Sunghoon’s thighs, which he notices by the way his breathing gets shallower and his mouth hangs open.

Your mouth leaves Won with a pop and you look back at Jake, miserably sitting on the floor, gazing up at you like admiring a painting. “You can touch me baby, go ahead.” you tell him, lips curling into a cheeky smile.

It doesn’t take more than a millisecond for his hands to be on your ass along with Riki’s. Jake kisses his way up your spine, sending shivers all over you body, he traces every ridge of every bone and makes it a point to let you know you are beautiful and wanted. Your head lolls, fingers loosing cadence on Sunghoon’s cock—but fear not, he wraps his own around yours and guides them up and down the slick length with a low groan.

“Can I taste you, please?” Jake looks up at you with those boba eyes and those thick lashes, “Let me make you feel good.”

You suddenly get up off of Sunghoon’s lap, leaving him breathless, cock twitching and eyebrows furrowed, Jungwon’s stroking himself lazily, watching your every move. When you sink down on the floor and push Jake to a lying position, Riki hums approvingly.

You straddle his lap, your lips find his chest and place sparse tender kisses all the way to his pale neck, you only give him a taste of your mouth before shifting. The man waits with wide eyes that get even wider the second your thighs bracket his face, but when you’re done hovering and sit down, Jake whimpers. You settle your your full weight down onto his mouth, his nose is buried against your clit, his lips sealed around you, and every time he exhales you feel the warm rush of his breath against your soaked cunt.

You’re dripping onto his tongue, you feel it all over, your thong when Jake pulls it aside and it hits your skin. You look up at the others, quite proud of the hold you seem to have on them, and you beckon Riki to come closer. He doesn’t even wait, he knows exactly what’s his to take and so in a swift movement, his pants are discarded on the floor along with his calvin kleins.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes out, one hand twisting your hair in a loose ponytail. His cock throbs at the sight of you on your knees and just as he’s about to press it to your lips, you lift a finger.

It’s a shameless move, and you’re not sure how you’re going to manage but you call Sunghoon over. He rises from the sofa like he’s been waiting for the invitation, cock still flushed and shiny from your earlier attention, the head glistening as he steps closer. Riki’s grip in your hair tightens just enough to tilt your face up, and the second Sunghoon is within reach you open your mouth for him.

He slides in slow, letting you feel every thick inch while Jake’s tongue works greedily beneath you. It’s so tantalizingly good that every part of you is set aflame, the heavy length of Sunghoon stretching your lips while Jake’s mouth seals tighter around your cunt, nose pressed firm against your clit. You moan around the cock in your mouth and the vibration makes Sunghoon’s hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he breathes, one hand coming to rest at the back of your head. “Look at you go…”

Riki watches with pleased eyes, still stroking himself slowly beside you. Jungwon has moved closer too, standing just off to the side, fist wrapped loosely around his cock as he drinks in the sight of you—mouth full, ass still marked faintly from earlier. You love it, you’ve never felt so full—albeit technically totally empty.

Jake’s hands come up to grip your hips, pulling you down harder onto his tongue and he licks into you like he’s starving for it in messy strokes that make your thighs tremble. Every time you rock forward to take Sunghoon deeper, you grind down onto Jake’s face, smearing yourself across his mouth and chin. He loves it though, you can see his hips buck in the air, waiting for some kind of friction.

You pull off Sunghoon’s cock just long enough to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to the head. “Don’t just stand there,” you tell Jungwon, voice rough. “Come here.”

Needless to say he steps in immediately. You wrap your free hand around him, stroking in time with the way you sink your mouth back down onto Sunghoon and Riki’s fingers stay twisted in your hair, guiding the rhythm.

The latter leans in close to your ear, “You’re soaking him, baby. Poor Jake can barely breathe and he’s still trying to get his tongue deeper.” He nips at your earlobe. “You gonna come on his face while you’ve got Sunghoon’s cock down your throat?”

The words send a violent pulse straight between your legs. Jake moans against you like he heard them too, the sound vibrating through your cunt, and your thighs tighten around his head. Sunghoon’s breath is getting ragged above you, every time you hollow your cheeks he curses under his breath like he’s about to combust.

Jungwon’s hand covers yours on his cock, showing you the exact pace he wants, the exact twits of your hand he prefers, while his other hand reaches down to squeeze your breast through the half-open dress. You’re surrounded—mouths and hands on every side—and the only thing you can do is take it.

You roll your hips harder against Jake’s face, chasing the building pressure, and he answers by sucking your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue against it in quick strokes.

The pleasure coils tight and low in your stomach, and you’re not even sure when was the last time you’ve felt so good. You’re so close it almost hurts —thighs shaking, breath coming in sorts of short gasps around the cock in your mouth.

As for Sunghoon, he’s been hard for so long already, twitching against your tongue every time you hollow your cheeks, and you can taste how close he is. His hand tightens at the back of your head, hips starting to push forward in these little aborted thrusts like he can’t help it anymore.

Riki’s still got your hair in his fist, watching everything with that smug smirk. “Look at Sunghoon,” he murmurs against your ear, “he’s been leaking since you first touched him. Poor thing’s about to lose it.”

You moan around the cock in your mouth and the vibration makes Sunghoon’s whole body jolt. You can tell he wants to say something to Riki, prideful as always, but he’s cut short by the force of his pleasure. Jake’s hands squeeze your thighs harder, pulling you down so his nose is crushed against you, tongue fucking into your cunt like he’s trying to get every drop. The pressure on your clit is perfect and so constant that you feel the coil in your stomach snap.

Your thighs shake hard around his head as you come, grinding down onto his mouth with broken little whimpers that vibrate around Sunghoon. They all watch you with hooded eyes, mesmerized while you’re dripping onto Jake’s tongue, pulsing against his lips, and he just keeps licking through it like he doesn’t need air. The pleasure rolls through you in heavy waves, making your fingers tighten around Jungwon and your throat flutter around Sunghoon.

That’s what pushes the latter over.

“Oh fuck, y/n…” he groans, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, “I’m gonna—”

He curses under his breath, hips stuttering, and then the next you know he’s cumming hard down your throat with hot pulses that you have to swallow around because he’s buried so deep. His hand fists in your hair, holding you there while he empties into your mouth, dick throbbing heavily against your tongue. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, the way every spurt seems to drag another wrecked sound out of him.

Jake, him, is still lapping at you through the aftershocks, messy and eager as usual, while Riki strokes himself faster at the sight of Sunghoon’s hips jerking and your throat working. Jungwon’s breathing is ragged beside you, watching his friend’s face like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

When you finally pull off Sunghoon’s cock a string of saliva and cum connects your bottom lip to the head, and he looks completely gone—eyes an endless pit of darkness, mouth hanging open.

Riki laughs quietly, thumb brushing the corner of your messy mouth. “Good girl,”

But nobody had time to say anything or resume any movement because it suddenly comes to your attention that someone is standing at the door.

“Why does everyone always leave me out of things?” says a tired voice.

Heeseung has his fists clenched like a little kid getting out of bed to warn his parents he threw up, he glares at the boys but his eyes soften once he sees you still sitting on his friends face like it’s the most normal thing.

“You were drunk, man.” Riki clarifies, his cock lying untouched on his stomach.

“Couldn’t have you waited until I sobered up? Oh my god, in my own apartment bro.” the man groans, pointing to himself, “I’m sober now, i slept it off.”

“I don’t think it works like that man,” Jake says, muffled from under your cunt. You quickly get off him, wiping the cum from off your mouth. “I’m pretty sure it takes like 8 hours to sober up.”

Heeseung pulls out his phone while everyone sits back down, you put your dress back on your ass and sit on the floor, stroking Jake’s thigh. “Let’s fact check then, motherfucker. Cause I feel pretty sober right now seeing you guys leave me out like that.”

He does a quick google search, eyebrows raised like he’s sure he’s gonna make a point, and once he has the answer he says, “Hah. See?” he holds out his phone presenting a random page about alcohol and consent. “Nobody even asked me if I consented to it, you guys just did your thing without me. How sad is that.”

You snort, amused, and grab his phone to scroll down the article, your eyes quickly scanning the words. “I mean, he doesn’t seem confused, he’s not slurring, or behaving unusually.” you turn to him, “Do you want to join?”

Heeseung nods avidly, hair bouncing with the force of his agreement. But you cock your head, “Are you sure?” you ask him, “Spell my name backwards then count to 20.”

Jungwon chuckles, sitting next to Riki, and he watches with amusement as the former drunk spells your name backwards perfectly and counts to twenty.

Heeseung still looks a little wounded even after doing it without a single stumble, so you decide right then you’re going to make it up to him. You signal him with a tilt of your chin toward the couch and he sits without question, thighs spreading just enough for you to drop to your knees between them.

You lean in slow, nuzzling the soft skin of his inner thigh first, then higher, mouthing over the thick outline trapped in his pants. When you finally free him, the head is already shiny and leaking, it makes you wonder how long he’s truly wanted this. You take your time, tongue flattening against the underside in lazy strokes before you finally sink down, lips stretching around him.

Heeseung’s hand finds the back of your head almost immediately, fingers threading into your hair, not to push, just holding on like he needs the anchor. His breath keeps hitching every time you hollow your cheeks and drag up slow, the way he looks at his friends says a lot about how good this feels for him.

Jake drops onto the couch right next to him, close enough that their shoulders brush and their knees knock. But you’re so focused on the wet slide of your mouth that you almost miss the moment their faces tilt toward each other. It starts as a brush of lips, hesitant and questioning, then deeper, tongues meeting. You don’t even notice how it starts, but the next thing you know, they’re fully going at it, tongue and all.

The second they realie what they’re doing, though, they jerk apart like they’ve been burned, eyes wide, both of them flushing hard.

Jungwon’s already there, one hand on the back of each of their necks, shoving their heads together again with zero hesitation.

“Who the fuck cares if you’re boys,” he says, voice low and amused, “just kiss each other.”

You moan around Heeseung’s cock at the sight, the vibration making him twitch hard against your tongue. Jake’s cock is still untouched in his pants, a heavy line straining the fabric, but Heeseung’s hand is already there, palm rubbing over it through the material while they kiss again, messier this time, like the words unlocked something.

Heeseung doesn’t last. You feel the warning pulse, the way his thighs tense under your palms, and then he’s spilling across your tongue with a broken sound, hips stuttering. You suspect the sensations were only heightened by the feeling of Jake’s tongue and that makes your thighs squeeze together. He cradles your cheek after, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little cum has escaped, eyes soft and a little dazed as he watches you swallow.

Nishimura Riki’s been quiet long enough.

“My turn,” he announces, sitting on the floor and offering you a hand. He makes a whole show of it—turning you so everyone can see, peeling the dress up your body inch by inch like he’s unwrapping something expensive, then hooking his fingers in the thin strings of your thong and dragging it down your legs so slowly it almost hurts.

When you’re bare he pulls you into his lap, ass up and facing the others so you’re presented to the room.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, hands spreading you open for them. “So fucking pretty like this.” He spits, the warmth landing right on your cunt, then uses two fingers to smear it around, circling your clit before pushing inside slow. “Already dripping for us again. Taking it so well.”

The others are stroking themselves while they watch—Sunghoon and Jungwon on either side, Jake and Heeseung still half-tangled. It’s no surprise when you notice Heeseung’s hand now fully inside Jake’s open fly, working him slow and unashamed. Riki keeps fingering you, dirty little praises spilling out under his breath, spreading your cheeks until you have to brace on the floor, face down.

A couple minutes after he’s lifting you like a ragdoll, both hands under your arms as he makes you straddle him, he finally lines up but only then does it occur to him how irresponsible this is.

“Condom?” he asks Heeseung, snapping his fingers at him.

The bastard doesn’t even hear, too engrossed in Jake’s kisses, his hand wrapped around his cock tugging lazily. Riki throws a discarded pillow at him, and his head snaps up.

“Condom man.” he repeats.

Quickly, Heeseung finds a stash of condoms in his cabinets and throws one at his friend who diligently tears it open and puts it on. You line yourself with his length and wrapping your arms around his neck you rub your sopping cunt against his tip. “Tssk, stop moving baby, you know how I get when you tease.” Riki warns with a click of his tongue.

When he sinks in in one long thrust, Riki doesnt even give you time to adjust, he grips your hips and guides you into a steady ride.

“Fuck… that’s it, mama. You gonna ride me like you did last time in the phone booth?” he rasps.

Sunghoon’s head snaps up, “You fucked in the pods???”

Riki only chuckles smugly and bucks up hard enough to punch a moan out of you, “and she liked it, didn’t you baby?” he squeezes your cheeks together and plants a kiss on your mouth.

“Mmh, yes.” you whimper mindlessly, just enjoying yourself, eyes closed with abandon.

You feel Sunghoon and Jungwon move closer, so you do what a professional multitasker does, you take one in each hand, stroking them in time with the roll of your hips, then lean to the side to suck Sunghoon deep before switching to Jungwon, alternating until your jaw aches in the best way. Riki just keeps thrusting up, filling you perfectly, hands roaming your waist, your tits, your throat until there’s no part of you left untouched.

Jake and Heeseung are practically seconds away from fucking—the latter has Jake’s cock fully out now, stroking him while they kiss like they’re starving, both of them flushed and clearly a lily embarrassed about how far they’ve gone. You catch Jake’s eye over your shoulder and smile, voice rough from the cock previously in your mouth.

“There’s no judgment here. Go ahead. I know you want it, Jakey.”

It acts as some sort of approval for him because the next second he’s out eating Heeseung’s mouth again. You start riding Riki faster, hips snapping down harder, chasing the thick stretch of him.

But all the while, your eyes stay locked on Heeseung and Jake—watching the way their hands wrap around each other’s cocks, stroking in desperate rhythm while they keep kissing like they can’t stop. Every time their mouths meet you clench around Riki without meaning to.

He notices, ever so attentive.

Riki’s hands come up and grab your cheeks, squeezing them together so your lips pout, forcing you to look at him while he thrusts up to meet every drop of your hips.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice rough. “I can feel your cunt clench around me when they kiss. Dirty girl… does that turn you on?”

You nod desperately, a broken little sound escaping as he keeps fucking up into you. “I knew it. My dirty girl likes to watch, huh?” Riki rasps, fucking you stupid.

Jungwon’s already kneeling next to you, close enough that his breath hits your skin. He leans in and mouths at your neck, sucking soft marks while his hand works his own length in tight strokes—desperate for the release he’s been holding onto all night. His free hand finds your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple before he ducks lower and takes it into his mouth, sucking hard. His moans vibrate around your peaks, and your little sounds of pleasure only seem to pump him meaner, to the point where his teeth graze them now.

Riki’s thrusts turn sharper, angling just right, and the pressure builds too fast. You can’t even think, saliva gulped down in a mewl as he fills you over and over again. You moan his name over and over, gripping his arms, “Please, fuck.. Im so close, please.”

Your begging only entice him more, his hips n snap up until he’s grazing your cervix. Air’s gone thick with the stink of want, everyone caught up in some sort of trance.

Out of the blue, you find yourself coming for the second time that night with a shaky cry, walls fluttering and squeezing around him. The way you sound is enough to tip Jungwon over the edge as he spills hot across your thigh with a muffled groan against your tit, still sucking like he can’t let go.

You feel Riki empty inside the condom, gripping your ass and muttering your name again and again, mouth hanging open. He’s undoubtedly having one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, if he’s not counting the delicious one in the phone booth, that is.

Across the couch Heeseung and Jake follow almost at the same time, making each other come in a mess of wet kisses and shaky hands, both of them panting into each other’s mouths as they paint each other’s stomachs and fists.

Your legs give out, unable to catch up. You slump forward onto Riki’s chest, still so full of him, forehead mashed to his collarbone while he wraps both arms around you and holds you there. It’s almost tender if it wasn’t for the stench of sex and the loud panting of men.

“You did so good,” Riki murmurs into your hair, one hand stroking slow up and down your spine. “So fucking good for us.”

Everyone’s quiet for a minute, just catching their breath and their minds as well. Then there are gentle hands everywhere.

Jungwon wipes the mess off your thigh with careful fingers before pressing soft kisses along the same path. Sunghoon brings a warm cloth and cleans between your legs while Riki is still inside you, murmuring quiet praise the whole time. Heeseung and Jake lean in from either side, kissing your shoulders, your neck, the corners of your mouth, whispering how pretty you looked, how perfect you felt.

They take turns kissing your body like they’re worshipping every inch. It’s safe to say your body is sore, but your body could use more. That’s why even after witnessed them cleaning you up, you lift yourself off of Riki’s lap and walk over to Sunghoon.

“More,” you simply say against his chest.

And heck if he indulges.

rüe’s a/n : okay i’m sorry if it’s messy, took me a while to finish this one so the endings a bit rushed. reblogs and feedback is appreciated! 💗if the plots all over the place it’s cause it’s a smut originally so i didn’t really think about the plot that much. taglist: @waeclr @whymsikl

The emergency room had seen chaos before, but tonight felt heavier.

It started with sirens, loud and insistent, even through the thick hospital walls, and a nurse rushing in with wide eyes and a shaking tablet.

“Two criticals inbound, Formula one accident. One with full-body burns and head trauma, the other with a compound leg fracture and suspected internal bleeding.”

You didn’t look up until the gurneys were rolled in. The automatic doors swung open with a hiss, letting in two stretchers, wheeled fast.

The first man on the left stretcher wasn’t moving, blood was matting the dark fringe of his hair, and his face was pale under the running crimson.

His racing suit, at least, what remained of it, was slit down the middle already, soaked through.

The other one was conscious, barely. He was moaning low, his gloved hand clutching at his stomach.

His helmet was off, but there were burn marks curling along the side of his jaw, climbing his neck like vines. His left eye was bloodshot, and blood was crusting near his temple.

Someone called names, the trauma doctor barking orders, nurses scattering.

"Male, in his twenties, suspected third-degree burns, signs of cranial impact, get a scan, now!”

You walked beside them, flipping through the patient file as quickly as it populated.

Blood type, height, weight, nothing else yet. No names. Just codenames and a tag: F1 INCIDENT – NIGHT PRACTICE RUN.

The burn patient was rushed straight into the burn unit. The younger one too, the boy, he looked like a boy, no older than nineteen, with a mess of internal damage. You heard the word “rupture.” Someone else said “splintered bone.”

The moment the doors shut behind the burning team, you exhaled and leaned against the wall.

“Oh my God.” One of the nurses beside you whispered. “That’s Lee Heeseung and Nishimura Riki… holy shit.”

You blinked. “Who?”

The girl stared at you like you had three heads. “Heeseung? He’s like… a living legend in F1. He won Monaco last year blind in one eye… you seriously don’t know?”

You shrugged. “Not really my thing.”

She shook her head. “Well, it’l be now.”

And in fact, two hours later, you were re-assigned.

“Y/N, you’ll be in the burning unit monitoring, in a private suite.” The charge nurse handed you a clipboard. “VIP patient.”

You glanced down at the name, written in capital letters: LEE HEESEUNG

The report was horrifying, with skin grafts that started on both arms and his left shoulder, smoke inhalation damage that would be treated by manually removing it with a tube in the lung.

Followed by a nasty concussion with swelling that had the neurosurgeon double-checking his pupils every ten minutes, and last but not least a multiple rib fractures from the crash impact.

He’d been put in a medically induced coma for the first few hours, and the sedation wouldn’t wear off until sometime tomorrow. You’d be there to monitor vitals, manage the IV, prep for re-evaluation.

His room was on the east wing, he kind of suite reserved for politicians or royalty.

You slipped inside quietly. Heeseung looked worse now that everything was cleaned up.

The bandages made it more real, he gauze that circled half his head, the IVs in both arms, the oxygen line.

You adjusted the chart at the foot of his bed, but there was a whisper of movement behind you that distracted you.

The man that stepped in wasn’t that tall, with tousled hair and hoodie slung half-off his shoulder. There was dried blood on his jeans.

“Are you the nurse assigned to Heeseung?”

You nodded. “Just got here, are you family? Visiting hours are over.”

“I’m the— uh, manager. My name’s Sim Jake.” He extended his hand, but it trembled, so he dropped it. “Sorry, I— fuck, I can’t think. Is he stable?”

You nodded slowly. “He made it through all the check ups without surgery. He’s sedated, but stable. We’ll have to monitor him for the next 24 hours very closely, especially with the head injury.”

Jake exhaled so hard his shoulders dropped. “And Riki?” he asked quietly.

“From what I heard, he’s still in surgery.”

He pressed his palms together, his eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d been crying or lacked sleeping “They said it was gonna be a regular night, y’know? pre-race laps. Heeseung didn’t even wanna go.”

You stayed quiet. You’d seen people talk to cope, and you learned how to let them.

Jake stared at the bed, at Heeseung’s unconscious body, and then sat down heavily in the corner chair.

“There was a malfunction,” he said slowly. “In Riki’s brakes, his car didn’t slow down on the fourth turn. It’s a corner he usually takes at normal speed, but he went full throttle tonight, he really wanted to impress everyone.” he swallowed, “he didn’t know. Couldn’t have, there was no control. He was headed straight for the barricade, and spectators were there… families with kids.”

You frowned slightly, brows pulling.

“Heeseung… he saw it. He was in front Riki but he saw what was about to happen, he heard it from the communications radio,” he sighed “so he— he pulled out of line, he s werved into his path.”

Jake’s voice cracked. “He used his own car to stop Riki’s, took the hit full-on, it exploded on fire on impact.”

Your throat felt tight. You glanced at Heeseung again, this time a little different.

“He sacrificed himself,” Jake said, hands fisting in his lap. “To stop Riki from plowing into the stands.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how anyone could choose that kind of pain on purpose.

“He’s gonna live, right?” Jake asked, suddenly boyish. Less like a manager and more like a friend.

You nodded slowly, gaze still on the man lying in the bed. “We’ll do everything we can.”

🏁.

He slipped in and out of consciousness through the long stretch of the night, a haze of morphine clouding over his expression every time he stirred.

Most of it was just moaning, incoherent words under his breath, sometimes Riki’s name.

other times it was just soft whimpers, sharp exhales that caught against his bandaged ribs.

Once, around 3:40 AM, he jolted awake with a short cry and tried to move. His hands jerked upward instinctively, maybe to protect himself… maybe reaching for a steering wheel.

You had to catch his wrist gently and murmur softly until he settled again. “It’s okay,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re safe, you’re not in the car anymore.”

His eyes fluttered beneath bruised lids, and for a second, he stared right through you.

His lips parted, dry and cracked. You held a straw to them and helped him sip water, watched him wince even from that tiny effort, and then he was gone again.

Back into the warmth of sedation, head rolling softly to one side. Morphine dripped slow into his IV. You monitored the levels and checked the rate. You replaced the saline bag when it was almost empty and you didn’t leave the room even when your shift technically ended.

By morning, you were back at your post before the sun had even fully risen.

You weren’t due for another hour, but you couldn't stay home knowing he might wake again confused, aching and… alone.

But when you entered the room, he was already awake. Well, barely, but it was something.

The soft hum of the monitor greeted you first. His vitals were holding steady, but the real sign was the way his eyes, still a bit unfocused, and a little raw, tracked you as you stepped in.

You set your clipboard down quietly and met his gaze. “Hey,” you said softly.

He blinked slowly, then frowned. “Fuck,” he rasped, “I’m not dead?”

His voice was hoarse, painful to hear, but you managed a small smile. “Not yet, sorry.”

A weak huff pushed from his chest, maybe a laugh, or maybe a cough, you couldn’t tell. He shifted, then immediately grimaced, body locking stiff.

“It’ll hurt,” you warned, reaching out to adjust his pillow. “Your ribs are still healing.”

“No shit,” he groaned, swallowing hard. “Why… why can’t I feel my neck? and my chest and arms feel—“ another cough “numb.”

You hesitate, then walked to the bedside. His eyes were clearer now, but clouded with the edge of something worse than fear. The dread of what he didn’t know yet.

“You have third-degree burns on your neck and parts of your chest and arms. The reason you can’t feel them is… because the nerves are gone.” You tried to explain it as easily as possible.

His eyes flicked downward toward his shoulder, then to the heavy gauze wrapping his forearm. He didn’t move, just stared. “Am I—” His voice caught. “How bad does it look?”

You exhaled. “Bad,” you said honestly. “But they did a clean graft. You’ll get function back, most likely. The nerve endings yes… maybe not sensation in some areas. But it’s early, the burn team will know more after the swelling goes down.”

He closed his eyes for a second, jaw clenching.

Silence stretched. Then, his throat worked, voice more broken than before. “Riki?”

You nodded slowly, folding your arms. “He’s alive, though still unconscious. He had internal bleeding, and a compound fracture in his left leg. He’s in post-op recovery now, but he’s stable.”

His entire face tightened, like the weight of it had finally dropped onto his chest. His fingers clenched weakly around the edge of the sheet, and he looked away, toward the window where the morning light was just beginning to creep in through the blinds.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Good. He— he’s just a kid.”

You sat down in the chair beside him, scribbled a note on the chart, and glanced over.

“He’s lucky,” you said softly. “that you were there.”

He didn’t answer.

You knew Jake was still outside. He’d arrived early again, eyes red, pacing the hallway like a ghost. You’d seen him hovering through the glass window earlier, glancing in, debating whether or not to come in.

Now, as Heeseung winced and shifted slightly, you knew he wouldn’t want to deal with him yet.

“You’ve got someone outside,” you said after a pause. “Jake, right? Your manager.”

Heeseung closed his eyes.

“I don’t have the energy for him right now,” he muttered. “He’s just gonna yell.”

“Then he can wait.” you stood, heading toward the door. “You need rest, not a lecture.”

You stepped out quietly and met Jake’s eyes. He stood up instantly. “Is he awake? Can I—?”

“He’s not in the mood to talk,” you said, keeping your voice low but firm. “He’s in pain, and he’s processing. Maybe come back tomorrow?”

Jake’s face fell, but he nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth, murmured something that resembled a ‘thank you’ before stepping away.

When you returned to the room, Heeseung was still awake, eyes half-closed, the tension in his shoulders loosened by a fraction. “You want me to turn the lights down a bit?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “My eyes hurt.”

You moved to the wall, dimmed them until the room was cast in soft amber.

And when you returned to your seat, he glanced over, lips cracked, voice barely above a whisper. “…What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” you replied “I’ll be your nurse for the time you stay here.”

He blinked. “You’re the one who was here last night.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You tried to punch me when I held your hand.”

His brows creased. “Did I?”

“You missed.” You shrugged and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth, the first one real enough to settle.

🏁.

When you pushed the door open after your lunch break, it was with the quiet intent of checking Heeseung’s vitals, maybe adjusting his IV line again.

You expected him to still be in pain, perhaps trying to sleep it off. You did not expect what you found.

Three nurses, all hovering around his bed like moths to a dying flame.

One was adjusting his blanket even though it was already neatly draped, another was holding a spoon of soup like it was some kind of sacred ritual, and the last one— oh, she was massaging lotion onto the one patch of unburned skin on his hand with a focus that was frankly excessive.

Heeseung looked… tired. Not just physically, but emotionally drained, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the attention.

His eyes met yours almost instantly as you stepped in, and something like relief washed over his features.

You didn’t smile. “Out,” you just said, sharp but calm.

All three of them froze, as if you’d pulled the fire alarm. One nurse looked like she might argue, but you raised your brow just slightly, and she faltered.

“But we were just—”

“I’m sure you were,” you cut her off smoothly. “He’s under recovery care, not an autograph booth.”

The room grew ten degrees colder.

They scurried out with muttered apologies, not meeting your gaze. One of them left behind the bowl of half-stirred soup and a chocolate pudding cup on the tray.

Heeseung watched you settle the tray on the adjustable table and pull it close to him.

“So,” you said, lifting the spoon from the bowl, “how many fangirls have snuck in while I was gone?”

He grimaced slightly. “Only them, I tjink… one kept calling me ‘hero.’ I tried to play dead but they didn’t leave.”

You smirked faintly, scooping up a small portion of the lukewarm soup “Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to fake injuries for attention?”

He gave a weak chuckle. “Pretty sure I didn’t have to fake anything.”

You lifted the spoon to his lips, watching as he took the soup carefully, his lips parting just slightly, eyes grimacing a little at the taste. His neck muscles twitched, probably from strain, and he exhaled hard after swallowing.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that soup or dishwater?”

“Hospital cuisine,” you said solemnly. “Five-star micheline.”

He took another spoonful, slowly, wincing just from the movement of his jaw.

He still looked rough, his color wasn’t good, skin pale and slightly ashy from the burn meds. His arms were stiff at his sides, bandaged still, and you could tell the hunger was there, but the effort… not so much.

You opened the pudding cup next, gave it a little stir with the plastic spoon. He looked at it like it was the most edible thing he’d seen in weeks.

“Oh thank god,” he said. “I’ve never been so excited for fake chocolate in my life.”

“Open up,” you said, and he did, the sweetness seeming to go down easier than the soup. He sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“I thought I’d feel better today,” he murmured. “But I still feel like shit.”

“You’re not even forty-eight hours post the accident yet,” you reminded him. “Your body’s still trying to decide if it wants to forgive you.”

He shifted then, just a little, then a little more. “Careful—”

“I wanna sit up more,” he mumbled, already pressing one arm against the bed, trying to push himself.

You leaned in, firm but calm. “Heeseung, stop.”

“I can’t just lie here—”

“You literally must.”

His eyes flashed with stubbornness, but then he grimaced hard, pain tightening his mouth.

You reached out instinctively, palm flat on his shoulder, not the burned one, holding him still.

“Don’t be stupid,” you said quietly. “Your ribs are still cracked, you won’t win against gravity.”

His jaw clenched. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

He looked away, toward the window. The light outside was gentler now, filtered through the clouds.

His face was drawn, and you could see it in the way he held himself, he wasn’t just sore, he was frustrated

The kind of man who didn’t like stillness. Who probably measured his self-worth by his speed.

“You’re scheduled to remove some of the smoke still in your lungs,” you told him, “It will not be pleasant.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically, “On a scale from one to ten?”

You thought about if for a minute, “I’ve never done it, but I will not lie that I think it will be a solid eight.”

You adjusted the pillow behind his back carefully, angling the bed up a little more for him. He didn’t resist this time, just watched your hands.

“You’re not useless just because you’re healing,” you said, mentioning the previous conversation. “You saved someone. That’s not something your body gets over in a day.”

Heeseung was quiet for a long moment, the sound of the heart monitoring a steady pulse beside you.

“…he’s still not awake, right?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Still out, but stable.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just stared out at the window again, jaw working.

You finished cleaning up the tray, wiping the corner of his mouth where a little pudding had smeared.

Your fingers brushed along his chin lightly, and for a second, his eyes dropped to your hand.

When you pulled back, he exhaled slowly.

“Thanks,” he said, voice lower now.

You didn’t smile, but your voice was soft. “Stop trying to get up, and I’ll bring you something that actually tastes like food tomorrow.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering, then gave a small nod.

“No fangirls,” you added, pointing an accusing finger towards him.

He smiled, just barely. “Only you then?”

You rolled your eyes and stood.

“Don’t push it.”

🏁.

Days blurred together like a long breath you couldn’t quite finish taking.

Outside, the world carried on, traffic, sunrises, clouds rolling over the hospital’s concrete edges, but inside that room, things moved slower.

Jake came every day now, just after lunch, always bringing a different set of sports magazines or articles printed off from the web.

Heeseung barely read them, but he listened when Jake talked about regular things, probably as not to overwhelm him with the fact that races continued wven as he laid on a hospital bed.

A video someone posted of Riki doing stupid tricks in a go-kart. They didn’t say much about the boy himself, not with him still in the ICU, but you could feel the tension crackle in Jake every time he left, like walking out of that room meant abandoning someone else who couldn’t speak for himself yet.

You didn’t press him, and yoou didn’t ask questions.

You were too busy with your own routine.

You came into Heeseung’s room just before the evening shift change.

The light outside had gone pale blue, casting long shadows across the tile floor.

You rolled in a small cart with the supplies, like bandages, ointments, saline and gauze. He was already sitting up a little, watching you.

His face still bore the bruises of the accident, but the swelling had gone down, and his eyes tracked your every movement now, sharp and clear.

“You get a new uniform?” he asked, voice less raspy than before but still colored with something teasing.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s the same one you bled on two days ago. We just wash them sometimes.”

“Hot,” he murmured, then hissed softly as he tried to adjust his shoulder.

“Don't be cute,” you muttered. “It’s wound cleaning day.”

You started with his head. The bandage there had to be changed slowly, carefully, because the skin underneath was still raw and sensitive.

You gloved up, peeled back the old gauze from his temple, then gently dabbed at the edges of the injury with a saline-soaked pad.

He winced, but didn’t complain. Not like he had the first time. “You’re quieter than usual,” he said.

“You want me to make small talk while I pull the rest of your scabbed flesh off?” You raised a brow at him. He let out a breathy laugh and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the distraction.”

You wrapped the fresh bandage around his head, secure but loose enough not to give him a headache.

Then you moved to his chest. He shifted again, the sheets falling to his lap as you pulled the gown down and exposed the burns that still ran like brutal red streaks from just below his collarbone down to the edge of his ribs, spreading across his right shoulder and part of his upper arm. Some had darkened and some peeled.

But all of it looked painful.

You dipped a gloved finger into the ointment and began carefully applying it over the healing areas.

You didn’t flinch at the way the flesh had hardened in some parts, blistered in others. You’d seen worse.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said through his teeth. “Feels like acid.”

“It’s just medicine.”

“I know, but I like being dramatic.”

You gave a short laugh, smoothing the ointment into the side of his neck, then placed new gauze over it, pressing down gently to secure it.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he said after a while “I mean, taking care of people like this…. like me. It can’t be the easiest job.”

You shrugged, taping down the last piece. “I’ve had harder patients.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. There was this guy once who thought flirting through third-degree burns was charming.” you teased.

He chuckled, and you moved to his arms next, slowly peeling back the old dressings.

His skin twitched under the fresh air, his fingers curling instinctively. You worked in silence for a while, glancing up only when you noticed him watching you.

“What?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little. “Nothing, you just never talk about yourself.”

You finished smoothing a patch of ointment along his bicep before answering. “There’s not much to say.”

“Bullshit. You’re in here every day, making sure I don’t die of infection or morphine withdrawal. You clean me, feed me, fight off the occasional fangirl. You’ve gotta have more going on than this.”

You paused. Then looked up at him… you didn’t really have an entertaining life outside the hospital, so you opted for something safe. “I’m also assigned to another patient.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, wrapping his arm now. “A kid about nine years old. He came in with a collapsed lung.”

Heeseung stilled slightly. “Accident?”

“No.” you gulped. “His father beat the shit out of him.”

Something in his face twisted then, slow and ugly. You continued softly. “He’s doing better now. Still needs the oxygen support, but he’s laughing again. Oh, and he loves dinosaurs.”

Heeseung’s voice was low. “Do people like that guy, his father, just get to walk around free?”

“It’s… complicated.” You said, your hands working focused. “He’s on the loose, police are searching for him.”

“Fuck.” He exhaled sharply, then looked away. “I thought I had it bad.”

You finished dressing the last of his wounds, peeling off your gloves with a soft snap and tossing them into the bin.

“You did,” you said quietly. “Pain doesn’t need to compete.”

He looked at you again then, for a long time. You weren’t sure what was in his eyes exactly. Respect, maybe sadness. Something softer, too.

“Thanks,” he said.

You gave him a faint smile, then reached for the blanket again, pulling it over his legs gently. “Don’t move too much tonight.”

“No promises.” Heeseung shrugged.

“I’ll sedate you if I have to.” you threatened.

He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve done to me.”

You rolled your eyes, gathered your supplies, and started toward the door. Before you stepped out, you glanced back.

He was still looking at you. Not like a patient looking at a nurse.

Like a man trying to understand someone he suddenly realized he didn’t know at all.

🏁.

Riki woke up the following week.

The update came in quietly, just after sunrise, passed from the ICU nurse on duty to your floor with that same hushed relief you’d felt pressing at the back of your ribs since the accident.

He was conscious, but weak. He was. fading in and out of sleep, but breathing on his own, and whispering broken sentences when someone leaned in close enough to hear.

You didn’t rush to tell Heeseung.

You waited until you finished your morning rounds, changed his bandages, fed him half of his usual breakfast. He didn’t complain today. Not once, and that alone told you his mind was elsewhere.

It wasn’t until you were refilling his IV fluids that you finally told him.

“Riki’s awake,” you said simply, not looking up as you slid the fresh saline bag onto the pole.

The stillness in the room shifted sharply.

Heeseung’s voice was instant, a little breathless. “When?”

“This morning.” You turned to him. “He’s in the trauma unit now. They transferred him just after stabilizing.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. His hands flexed slightly at his sides. “Can I see him?”

You hesitated. “You’re not exactly in any shape to—”

“I can sit,” he cut in quickly. “If I sit in a wheelchair, I can do it. I swear I won’t move. Just— five minutes. Please.”.

He was still so pale. The bruising around his eye had darkened into a dull ochre. The bandages on his neck peeked out from under his gown. His arm was trembling just from lifting the glass of water earlier.

He wasn’t ready. But you also knew he’d never feel ready, and something told you he wouldn’t rest until he saw Riki for himself.

You sighed, pulling your gloves off. “Alright, but you don’t lift a finger. You move wrong and I’ll have you sedated for real this time.”

He smiled weakly. “God, that’s hot.”

You shot him a flat look. “Try me.”

You brought the chair around slowly. He watched every motion as you locked the brakes, looped the IV pole onto the hooks, and adjusted the footrest to keep his legs steady. Then came the hard part.

“Okay,” you said gently, moving to his side. “You’re gonna need to lean forward on three. I’ll brace your back. Use your left arm if you can. The right’s still healing.”

He nodded once, already concentrating “One… two.. three.”

He grunted as he moved, your arm slipping under his to guide his weight forward. It took everything in him not to scream, you could tell.

His ribs were like cracked glass, one wrong shift and he’d shatter. But he bit it back, his jaw clenched, and let you ease him into the wheelchair slowly.

Once he was seated, you adjusted his gown to keep the bandages covered, re-checked the IV tube to make sure it wasn’t pulled, and only when everything was steady did you release a breath.

“You good?” you asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.. fuck. I feel like a grandpa.”

The trauma unit wasn’t far, but you still took it slow. Every bump in the linoleum seemed to jolt through his bones.

You moved carefully, guiding the chair down the hallway, keeping your hand on the bar, and checking on him every few seconds. He didn’t talk, he just stared straight ahead.

When you reached Riki’s room, you paused at the door. “You sure?” you asked.

Heeseung nodded quietly and so you opened the door slowly.

The lights were dimmed inside, soft beeping of monitors the only sound.

Riki was lying still, propped slightly against the incline of the bed. His skin was a mess of bruises, purple and green splotches painting across his arms and cheek. A heavy cast swallowed most of his left leg, raised and elevated on a cushion.

There were faint stitches near his collarbone, and you saw the tremble of his chest with every breath.

But his eyes were open and conscious, staring at the white ceiling.

When he saw Heeseung, something in his expression cracked. His mouth moved first, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Heeseung…”

Heeseung tried to lean forward but flinched instantly. You stepped in and pressed lightly on his shoulder.

“Careful,” you murmured.

“I thought you were dead,” Riki said, voice hoarse and small.

Heeseung swallowed, eyes shining faintly. “So did I.”

Riki blinked rapidly. “They said you— why the fuck did you stop in front of me like that? That’s not…” He trailed off, voice thick. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”

Heeseung stared at him for a long moment. “You were headed for the barricade.”

“You should’ve just let me crash.” Riki snapped.

Heeseung’s voice was low, steady. “No, i really shouldn’t have.”

The silence between them settled like a weight. You didn’t speak, nor did you move. You saw how Heeseung’s hands gripped the armrests, how Riki tried to blink away the water in his eyes.

“You look like shit,” Riki finally said, a faint smile twitching at his lips.

Heeseung gave a tired breath of a laugh. “Yeah. So do you.”

You looked between the two of them. “I’ll give you a few minutes… just don’t make him laugh too hard. His ribs won’t survive it.”

🏁.

Two more weeks passed, and the days started blending again, though in a different rhythm now.

Rehab was slower, less frantic than the ER, but harder in other ways.

You watched Heeseung try to curl his fingers around a towel for ten full minutes one morning, sweat beading along his brow while the physical therapist kept encouraging him softly, and he just clenched his jaw and tried again and again, even when the pain clawed up from his shoulder into his teeth.

The nerves in his right arm were slow to wake. Some hadn’t at all.

But he worked through it, every day. There were setbacks and ghost pains and frustration.

A dozen nights when he asked you to help him sleep with medications because the sensation of nothing in his arm felt worse than agony.

You tried your best to support him, to give him the strength he was missing.

He could get a game of cards with you each time he managed to complete an exercise, and though he struggled to hold the cards in hands, he looked forward to it.

He always did, but one day you didn’t arrive at the time you usually did.

You always checked in after the rehab sessions. Always adjusted the pillows, changed his IV port, sometimes brought him sickeningly sweet tea even though it wasn’t officially allowed.

That afternoon, he returned from physical therapy looking exhausted and stiff, arm strapped carefully in the sling again.

You would be waiting for him, and even if he felt tired, he was excited to tell you about his progress.

But when he got in there were no cards and no you.

He was half-dozing when the door finally opened, with but the footsteps weren’t yours. The nurse on duty came in to check his meds, and as she adjusted his meds she told him you were coming but were just running late.

She went away, and when the door opened again some time later, it was you.

You came in fast, too fast and your steps uneven. Your scrubs were wrinkled, your hair pulled back hastily.

You didn’t even glance at him, just went straight to the counter and dropped your bag like your hands didn’t know what to do with anything.

“Hey,” he said, quietly.

“Hey.” You replied hurriedly.

He tried to push himself up further in bed, and that simple movement sent a spasm through his ribs. He hissed but kept watching you.

Your hands were shaking as you reached for the gloves. You put them on hastily and put some morphine drops in his IV line.

Or tried to, because the needle kept missing. You tried again and again.

“Hey.” He murmured, brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you gulped, voice shaky, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

But he didn’t buy your lie, so he said more firmly, “Y/N.”

You stopped moving and dropped your hands on the medicine counter. “I lost him.”

The words came out too sharp and too sudden. You hadn’t meant to say them like that. You hadn’t even known what you meant to say until they tore out of your mouth.

He blinked slowly. trying to piece the words together. “The kid?”

You turned slowly toward him, your eyes wide and glassy, and you laughed, a short and broken sound. It caught in your throat. You clutched the edge of the t counter like it could hold you up.

“I— I did everything. Everything I was supposed to. He was smiling yesterday… and… and he even asked me to draw dinosaurs on his oxygen mask. I told him I would after he ate his dinner.”

He didn’t speak, he let you rant, because he knew you needed not to be strong for once. You needed a shoulder to cry on.

You stepped forward, then dropped to your knees before you even realized it. The medical equipment fell from your hands.

“He started coughing and he didn’t stop,” you whispered, voice already breaking. “His lung… it filled with blood. He couldn’t breathe and we couldn’t intubate fast enough. He choked in front of us. In front of me.”

Your hands pressed to your face. “I tried… I tried so fucking hard—”

Your sobs ripped out of you, loud and uncontained, ugly sobs that rocked your body. Heeseung reached out before his body could protest. “Come here.”

“No,” you gasped. “I can’t— I’m not supposed to—”

“Come here.” He repeated firmly.

You crawled toward the bed on your knees, hands shaking too much to reach for anything.

He managed to lower his good arm toward you, fingers trembling as they brushed against your shoulder.

You pressed your face to the side of the bed, arms folded awkwardly under you, and sobbed into the blanket.

He winced, but he kept his hand there on your back. His thumb moved in slow, unsteady circles, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “You did everything you could.”

“I didn’t save him.” You snapped.

“Sometimes… sometimes you can’t.” He tried to reason. “I promised I’d come see him tomorrow.” You whispered brokenly.

Heeseung’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes like he could carry the weight of that grief for you.

“I keep seeing his face,” you whispered. “He looked so scared.”

“I know that feeling,” he murmured. “I know, I see the fire every night.”

Your fingers curled into the blanket. He moved his hand and brushed your hair back behind your ear. The gentlest touch he could manage.

“You made him forget the horrors he went through,” he said softly. “You were there. That matters more than anything.”

You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t even pretend to be the composed nurse anymore.

You weren’t her right now. You were just you, kneeling on the floor beside a patient who had become more than just a chart.

You stayed there, head buried into the side of the bed, tears soaking through the sheet, while Heeseung lay still, chest tight, body too raw to offer more than the steady, quiet presence you’d once given him.

Eventually, your sobs softened, worn out. Like the grief had burned through you fast and left only ash behind.

He spoke again, voice slow. “You can sit up here, if you want.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to move.” Even in your pain, uou cared more for him.

“I won’t.” He shifted his hand slightly, inviting. “Just stay beside me..”

So you did, because you weren’t really in the right state of mind to list all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

You climbed onto the edge of the bed slowly, not to disturb the tubes or bandages, and leaned gently against the side of his body. His good arm curled around your back.

Just for a moment you let yourself be held.

🏁.

It was quiet between you for a long while. His hand was warm where it rested on your back, too warm for someone who’d spent the last few weeks surrounded by machines and medications and cold gauze.

You were still curled into the side of the bed, your cheek resting just beside the edge of his chest, body limp from the sobbing.

“Hey.” He finally spoke.

You shifted, barely lifting your head. “Mh?.”

He angled his neck enough to glance down at you. “Wheel me downstairs.”

You blinked slowly. “Downstairs where?”

“The cafeteria.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. His face was worn, but his expression was serious.

You stared hard. “You’re not allowed down there yet.”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Neither was I allowed to have Jake’s candy bars, but I’ve had three Twix and two mini bags of Doritos this week, and I haven’t died.”

Your brows lifted. “You’ve been cheating on your meal plan?” He gave a faint smirk. “Religiously.”

“You sighed, pressing your fingers to your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do right now was escort a stubborn F1 driver out of his room for snacks like he hadn’t nearly burned alive three weeks ago.

But the truth was, your chest still hurt. The grief still sat in your bones, but it was quieter now, and something in his voice had shifted.

“Fine,” you muttered, standing. “But you’re wearing your sling, and your hospital bracelet stays visible. If anyone asks, you’re on a medically supervised movement.”

“Lord,” he murmured. “You make rule-breaking sound so sexy.”

You rolled your eyes, but the ache in your chest had already started to soften.

You helped him into the chair again, slower this time, letting him lean into you more than usual.

His body was getting stronger, but not by much, and even the act of standing made him wince. You adjusted his IV pole and tucked the light blue blanket across his lap before wheeling him carefully out into the corridor.

The hallway was mostly quiet as night shift had already begun. The elevators pinged with soft dings while you descended.

“Did you bring me down here to flirt with the volunteers again?” you asked as the doors opened on the ground floor.

“No,” he said. “They don’t make eye contact anymore. I think you scared them off.”

You snorted. “Good.”

The café was dimly lit, the kind that looked like it was trying very hard to pretend it wasn’t inside a hospital.

You wheeled him to a table tucked in the corner, far from the noise of people or the murmur of the vending machines.

You walked up to the bar and ordered what he’d asked for, a hot chocolate with no whipped cream, and a bottle of water. The cashier rang it up, and just as you reached for your hospital-issued card, a hand beat you to it.

Heeseung had wheeled towards you, alone, and handed over a credit card without a word.

You looked at him sharply. “What the fuck are you—”

“I wanted to.” Ahe said quickly, “And I used the good arm.” He waved it for good measure.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m on shift. I can’t let patients pay for—”

“I’m a grown man in a wheelchair, who needs your help standing while peeing, I think you deserve this.”

You stared at him for a second longer, but he didn’t waver. So you let it go, you took the tray with the drinks, careful not to spill the hot chocolate, and returned to the table.

When you set it down in front of him, he reached out for the bottle of water. He pushed the hot chocolate toward you.

You blinked, then frowned in confusion. “This is yours.”

“I ordered it for you.” He explained as if it was the most obvious thing.

Your hands hovered for a second. “You asked for it.”

“And then I gave it away.” He met your eyes, gaze soft but unwavering. “You’ve had a shit day, well, week. I figured chocolate was a safer bet than tequila.”

You slowly sat down, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. It steamed against your skin, thick and sweet-smelling.

“You still shouldn’t be paying for me,” you muttered.

“I crashed a million-dollar car. You think I’m worried about six bucks?”

You shook your head, trying to hide the way your lip tugged up just slightly.

He leaned back a little in the chair, the bottle of water resting between his thighs. “You’re allowed to sit here,” he said, voice quiet. “Not just as my nurse but just as you.”

You stared down at the cup. “I don’t think I know how to be just me anymore.”

“You do,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had time to remember.”

You took a slow sip and the warmth bled into your chest. “I think I hate hospitals,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “So do I.”

You wheeled him back before the nurse on dinner rounds made it to his floor.

Heeseung didn’t say much on the way up, he just kept his eyes ahead, arm still nestled in the sling, the blanket pooling loosely around his waist.

You stopped the wheelchair in front of his room, and opened the door wide enough for the chair to slip in.

He shifted a little as you rolled him in, wincing when the chair hit a bump in the threshold. “Careful,” he murmured.

“Sorry,” you replied quickly, helping him ease into a comfortable position beside his bed before turning off the wheelchair brakes.

You were efficient again, going through motions you’d done a hundred times, but your fingers still trembled slightly when they brushed his wrist, adjusting the IV.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For taking care of me.”

You turned toward him. “It’s literally my job

“It’s more than that,” he said. “You didn’t have to sit with me. You didn’t have to cry where I could see you.”

You swallowed, eyes briefly dropping to his blanket. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not very professional.”

“You’re too pretty to cry,” he said simply.

You rolled your eyes, stepping toward the cabinet to grab a clean set of saline wipes, trying to cover how your heart stuttered at the way he’d said it— like a fact, not a compliment.

“Don’t start,” you warned. “I’m not starting,” he said. “I’m just saying.”

You turned back to him, arms crossed, and leaned against the cabinet. “Alright, fine. How are you feeling? Really.”

He blinked at you, then tilted his head slightly, making a face. “Sore.”

“Where?” You asked.

He shifted, jaw tightening as he angled his neck. “My neck mostly. Probably the burn. It feels like it’s pulling when I sleep.”

“That’s because you keep turning your head instead of using the pillow support,” you said, walking toward him again.

You reached gently toward his collarbone, pulling back the loose hospital shirt to peek at the gauze that covered the worst of the scarring.

“You should kiss it better,” he said then, voice suddenly low.

You stopped, frozen in place. Your hand froze an inch from his skin, and his eyes flicked to your face, watching you for a reaction, but not pushing.

His lips tugged up, a faint, boyish grin pulling the corner of his mouth.

You stared at him, chest tight, then sighed through your nose and leaned in, fast, before you could think better of it, and pressed a quick kiss to the edge of his cheekbone.

Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin under your lips, to let the tension between you shift into something that made your stomach twist.

His smile widened, the surprise obvious on his face.

“Hey,” he whispered, gaze following you as you straightened and stepped back. “That was nice.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You said, holding a threatening finger to his face.

He laughed, low and hoarse. “Too late.”

You grabbed your clipboard, pretending to check his chart so you wouldn’t have to look at him while your face still felt warm.

“I should go,” you muttered, already walking toward the door. “Dinner shift’s starting on the east wing.”

“Wait—”

But you were already pulling the door open, glancing back at him just long enough to catch the way he looked at you now.

You didn’t say anything else. You just stepped out, your heart pounding loud enough you were sure he could hear it, and let the door shut behind you with a soft click.

🏁.

By the third day of your ten-hour shift stretch, you could recognize the tone of the call button chime before the light even blinked above the door.

It was always Lee Heeseung’s, allways at the most inopportune moments— just when you had your gloves snapped on to help with someone else’s chart, or when you were halfway through prepping a new IV bag.

And by now, you didn’t even need to guess what he’d say.

“My pillow fell again.”

“My water’s too warm.”

“I finished the tissue box. I sneezed once and now it’s gone.”

“I think my skin feels itchy, but like, only a little. Is that bad?”

“Do you know where the remote is?”

Six times that day, and it wasn’t even five p.m.

So this time, you walked in before the chime finished echoing down the hall, your hands on your hips, the door swinging shut behind you with a firm thud.

“Okay,” you said, standing just inside the threshold, your brows raised. “I know you’re bored, and I know hospital life isn’t exactly thrilling, but unless you’ve developed a new infection or spontaneously combusted again, I really don’t want to hear another call button chime from this room today.”

Heeseung looked up from the bed, blinking at you with the most unapologetically fake innocent expression you’d ever seen.

“You don’t have to scold me like that,” he said, lifting a hand with mock pain. “It hurts my feelings.”

“It hurts my back,” you snapped, “to walk this hallway six times because you suddenly forgot where your mouth is after wiping it.”

He cracked a smile then, slow and crooked. “That one wasn’t urgent, I just missed you.”

You blinked at him, deadpan.

“I’m serious,” he added quickly. “I’m not trying to be annoying. I mean, I am. But not… only.”

You slowly stepped closer to the bed, your arms crossing over your chest. “Heeseung.”

He lifted both hands in surrender, careful not to stretch his burned arm. “Alright. alright, I’ll stop. I’ll be good.”

You narrowed your eyes. You knew he felt alone, F1 season continued, Jake had meetings with his whole department since both his drivers were out and he was afraid he’d be replaced.

You knew, but it didn’t mean he had to drive you insane too. No pun intended.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softer this time. “I know I’m being a pain in the ass, that you’re tired, and I know it’s not fair to ask for attention when there are patients who actually need you.”

That startled you a little. His voice was sincere now, not playful.

The kind of honest that didn’t come easy to men like him, the men used to winning races and smiling through sponsors’ press conferences and interviews. But he looked small now, even as he sat upright in the bed, chest tight in the bandages you changed every morning.

“I’m just—” he exhaled, his fingers twitching over the blanket. “I’m scared to leave. That’s the truth.”

You frowned, stepping to his bedside without thinking. “Why would you be scared of leaving a hospital?”

“Because I look like this.” He motioned vaguely to his body, to the sling, the burn that peeked from beneath the hem of his collar. “Because I haven’t seen a mirror in weeks, and I know I’ve looked better. Because my hair’s gross and I’ve lost weight and I smell like antiseptic, and I’ve been stuck in this bed thinking that I’ll never feel like myself again.”

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done. “And because I finally got the courage to want something for myself. And that something is you.”

The words landed hard. You felt your arms drop slightly, hands now loose by your sides, the air between you suddenly tighter than before. You blinked your eyes, unsure if you were seeing or hearing his words right.

Heeseung looked up at you again, slower this time, less sure of himself than you’d ever seen him.

“I know you don’t owe me anything. You’ve been taking care of me because it’s your duty, and I’ve probably pushed boundaries I shouldn’t. But…” He swallowed, breath shallow. “I wanted to tell you now. Before I get discharged, because the second I’m out of here, I’m gonna be back in recovery, back in press cycles, and everyone’s going to ask about the crash and Riki and the damn brakes, and I’m not going to get to just sit with you… or make you laugh, ormake you roll your eyes like that.”

You stared at him, speechless, as if your body had finally shut down.

“I just needed you to know,” he said finally. “When I’m back on my feet and when I look like me again… I’m going to ask you out, properly. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, because somewhere deep down, maybe you’d known. Known from the moment he reached for the hot chocolate and slid it across the table. Known from the way he watched you like you were the only anchor he had left.

You didn’t know what to say, not yet. Your mouth felt dry and your chest felt tight, but your feet stepped closer anyway, drawn like a magnet.

You didn’t kiss him this time. You didn’t touch him either. You just looked down at him, eyes skimming his face, the new pink of his healing skin, the glint of defiance still in his expression.

“You still can’t press the call button,” you said quietly.

His smile broke again, wider this time. Like sunlight on rained down pavement.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait for you.”

🏁.

You didn’t see Heeseung for almost three weeks.

He still came to the hospital, that much you knew, rehabilitation was mandatory, even for someone as stubborn as Ferrari’s golden boy.

He was scheduled twice a week for physical therapy, and he visited Riki when he could, sometimes staying an hour or more in the kid’s room.

But your shifts never overlapped. It was strange, how easily someone could vanish into the same building you worked in, the same halls you’d memorized with your eyes closed.

You didn’t try to ask around. You didn’t dig through records or prod the therapists in the staff lounge.

You didn’t let it show on your face that every time the elevator dinged on your floor, your eyes flicked up before you could stop yourself.

He was healing at home now. Taking care of his own burns, which had scabbed and scarred over with that red-purple finish that made your heart twist the last time you saw them.

You imagined him moving stiffly through some fancy condo, with his water always cold, pillows never out of reach, tissues unused because there was no one around to pass them.

However, you saw Riki often. He was in less pain now, and more alert to his surroundings.

Still sour most days, snappy and restless from staying still for so long, but there was a spark there, something sharp behind his eyes when he talked about rehab. He wanted to walk, he wanted to drive again. Even if it was far off for the time being.

“Heeseung comes in all weird,” Riki muttered one afternoon while you adjusted the IV tubing above his bed. “Like, in baseball caps and hoodies. As if people won’t recognize him if he covers half his face and walks with that stupid gait.”

“Maybe he’s trying not to get mobbed,” you murmured, flicking the drip line with your nail. “He had fans even in the hospital.”

“He just doesn’t want people to look at him,” Riki said, a little quieter. “Not until his skin looks normal.”

You didn’t answer that. You just gave him a sip of water and changed the subject, but it stayed with you.

That night, for the first time, you opened Instagram and typed Ferrari into the search bar.

The page was easy to find. It was verified, with the bold logo, all red and gold and glory.

You scrolled past the highlight reels, the merchandise links, the footage of pit crews moving like insects in reverse. You skimmed captions about sponsors, about prep for the next season, about hopeful outlooks. And then you found his name.

Lee Heeseung, back in training. Slowly regaining strength in his right arm, working with team specialists twice a week. Determined to be ready for next season’s opener.

There was a photo. Blurry, and taken from behind. Heeseung bent forward, sweat soaking through a dark training tee, fingers curled over a steering simulator.

His profile was partly visible, bandage still over the side of his neck, his jaw clenched, dark hair longer than it had been in the hospital.

He looked thin and tired. But he looked alive.

You stared at the photo for longer than you should have. Then, against your better judgment, you hit the follow button.

You didn’t expect it to change anything. You didn’t expect him to see it, even, his feed was full of likes and mentions from fans all over the world, probably flooded every minute.

But something about it made you feel closer. Like you’d walked into a corner of his life no one had given you permission to touch.

Like you were choosing to see him now, not as your patient, not as a body in bandages, but as someone aching to be more than that.

You still didn’t see him in ‘real life’, but you started noticing the gap he left in your day.

The way your shift felt a little quieter without his voice drifting out of his VIP room.

How your eyes scanned the hallway out of habit, expecting his lanky frame to come sauntering around the corner with a sarcastic comment ready. How the call button in his old room remained untouched, almost dusty with disuse.

You didn’t let yourself think about it too much. You had other patients. You had other wounds to clean, other charts to fill.

You had boys younger than Riki who didn’t know what comfort felt like, who cried into your sleeves when no one else was looking.

But late at night, when you walked home in silence, something in you still flickered with that unfinished sentence. With that look in his eyes the last time you left his room.

🏁.

Saturdays weren’t yours to work, but the fire from three nights ago had overflowed the ER.

Nurses had been calling out, supplies were low, and patients kept pouring in with second-degree burns and smoke in their lungs, soot in their hair and soot in their blood.

You hadn’t had lunch. You barely remembered what you’d eaten for breakfast.

Your scrubs were wrinkled, your badge strap sticky with someone’s dried medication, your shoes creaked wet from a mop bucket you stepped in by accident. All you wanted was to go home, shower, and sleep for fourteen uninterrupted hours.

So when you stepped out the side exit, your usual escape route to avoid the busier front doors, and found a sleek, glimmering black car parked right in the middle of the access road, you groaned out loud.

“The hell…” you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes.

You looked around first, no security in sight and no staff nearby.

The car was expensive, way too shiny to belong to a low waged doctor, but the way it was angled made your jaw clench.

Right in the path of emergency lanes. If an ambulance pulled in, it would have to slow down, stop before it hit it and possibly lose a life.

You stepped toward the driver’s side window without hesitation, rapping your knuckles against the glass firmly.

You didn’t expect it to roll down that fast. And you definitely didn’t expect him.

Heeseung turned toward you slowly, lips twitching up into the smallest smile, his eyes scanning you like you were a familiar song playing again for the first time in weeks.

He had a hat on, but he pulled it off the second he saw your face. His skin had lost the swollen, raw shine, there were still scars on his jawline and neck, but they were faded now, pinked and healing.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

You just blinked, hands mid-air, paused knock on the window. “What— what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I was waiting for you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your shift ended half an hour ago.”

“I stayed behind because the trauma and burning bay was still full.” You explained, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I heard about the fire.” His brows dipped a little. “I figured you wouldn’t leave on time.”

You glanced at the car again, then back at him “You’re parked in the middle of the road.”

He shrugged, leaning his elbow against the wheel, lazy and composed and so infuriatingly calm. “You always said I was reckless.”

“That’s not— Heeseung, you can’t park here. What if an ambulance came in?” You nagged.

“Then I would’ve moved.” His smile widened slightly. “I saw you coming out. You were holding your bag like it was about to break.”

You looked down at your satchel, at the way it was sagging from your shoulder, the straps barely stitched. You hadn’t realized he was watching.

“You look exhausted,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you or get in the way. I just… I wanted to talk to you.”

You hesitated, swallowing hard. “You could’ve texted.”

“I don’t have your number.” You paused again, jaw tightening. The handsome fucker was right.

He read the hesitation in your expression because his voice softened when he added, “It’s not anything heavy. I just wanted to see you…. talk. If that’s okay.”

“I should go home,” you said, but your voice didn’t sound as sure as it should have.

“I know,” he replied, tone level. “I’m not trying to trap you. I just… thought maybe you’d want to come for a short drive.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he must’ve seen it in your face, that flicker, that tiny weakening you always had with him, because he leaned across the passenger seat and pushed the door open.

The smell of his cologne wafted out faintly, clean and unfamiliar. Not the antiseptic you used to associate with him, but something warmer.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “And I’ll drive slow.”

You stood there another heartbeat before sighing heavily and slipping in, dropping your bag between your feet. “You can’t park like that again.” you grumbled, pulling your seatbelt on.

“I won’t,” he said, already shifting the gear. “Unless it gets me your attention.”

The car was too smooth, barely a hum beneath your thighs as he pulled onto the road.

He didn’t take the highway. Instead, he drifted toward the north side of the city, where the buildings thinned and the roads turned narrow and winding.

You didn’t say anything for a while, and the radio was off, creating a not so awkward silence.

The windows cracked just enough for the wind to kiss your temples. Heeseung kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. His fingers tapped to a rhythm only he heard.

You finally asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” he smirked.

The hill was quiet. Just far enough from town that the lights behind you blurred into a string of distant sparks, like stars upside down.

He pulled up to the edge, beside a lookout you vaguely recognized from photos, some popular spot kids used to park and drink or kiss in late at night.

But now it was just the two of you, and the sun was melting behind the skyline, leaving streaks of orange and dusty violet stretching across the horizon.

He killed the engine as you sat still, unsure. He turned to you. “You’ve been following the Ferrari page.”

You flushed before you could stop it, your eyes darting to the glovebox. “You noticed?”

“You think I wouldn’t?” he asked, tilting his head. “Your username has your badge number and Jake asked me if it was you when he saw the notification. He’s the one who runs the profile.”

You cringed. “I misclicked.”

“I like it that you follow it.” He took a breath, shifting to face you slightly. “I wasn’t lying that day. I know I was half gross with hair oily and calling for tissues every five minutes. But I meant what I said.”

You chewed your bottom lip, hands clasped together on your lap.

“I’ve thought about you every damn day,” he said, voice low. “Every burn I cleaned, every stretch I did to move my arm again… it was all with your voice in my head, lecturing me, cussing under your breath, or humming while you changed my dressings.

He chucked softly, “I’m not trying to romanticize what you did— it was your job, I know that. But you were the only part of that room that didn’t feel like pain.”

Your throat tightened. The silence around you pressed against your chest.

“So,” he said, after a moment. “Now that I’m here, and I don’t look like a half-melted wax figure, I’m going to ask again.”

He leaned in a little, not enough to touch you. Just enough to make the air shiver between your knees.

“Would you go out with me?”

You looked at him, really looked at the scars that would never fully fade, at the honesty stretched across his face. At the way his fingers curled and uncurled on his thigh, nervous.

Not Heeseung-the-racer. Not Heeseung-the-patient. Just the man who held you when you broke down and offered you hot chocolate to cheer you up.

“…You’re still kind of a pain in the ass,” you whispered.

He grinned, soft and warm and so stupidly pretty. “I’m hoping you like that about me.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away. But your voice cracked into something almost smiling as you said, “Okay.”

His inhale was slow, asif he didn’t believe you yet.

“Yeah?” he asked, like he needed to hear it again.

You turned back to him and nodded. “Yeah.”

🏁.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen so naturallyx, but the nights at his place started slipping into your week like a warm spring breeze.

He picked you up after long shifts when you didn’t feel like taking the bus, and you’d slip into his fancy car still in your scrubs, smelling faintly of antiseptic and latex gloves, too tired to talk.

And he never asked you to. He just opened the passenger door, let you rest your head against the window, and drove home in silence, music turned low and hand reaching across the console to hold yours.

His mansion, because there was no way around calling it that, wasn’t what you expected.

You thought it’d be filled with trophies and screaming red logos, but it was just neat and quiet.

His bedroom was painted in soft shades of gray and navy, his kitchen smelled like coffee beans and a hint of vanilla, and the couch was so wide you’d often curl up in the corner with a blanket and not move for hours.

You didn’t have the energy for fancy dates or being out in public. You certainly didn’t want to be photographed, you didn’t ant some journalist writing a two-paragraph caption about how Heeseung’s latest girl was just some tired nurse with eyebags and oversized jackets.

And Heeseung never made you feel small for it. Whatever he chose for his life you didn’t have to force yourself to be a part of.

Most nights were spent curled on the sofa, a Netflix movie you barely registered playing in the background.

You would start the evening upright, knees tucked in, a warm drink in your hands, and end it slouched sideways, your cheek against his shoulder, breath even and shallow as sleep claimed you halfway through the plot.

He’d carry you, sometimes. Tuck you in and kiss your forehead lightly. Other nights, you made it to bed on your own, and he would join you an hour later, warm and silent, pressing himself carefully to your back, still stiff because of his healing skin.

He had noticed your pills early on. The first time, you thought you’d been slick about it, hiding them behind your hand as you opened the bottle near the sink.

But he leaned over and asked, “You okay?”

You nodded, embarrassed, trying to swallow them quickly. “Just for digestion, y’know? My stomach gets weird after long shifts. I don’t always… well, can’t always eat right after I see something.”

His expression softened like you’d pressed a hand over his chest. He didn’t say anything right away, he just took the glass from your hand, poured you another, and passed it back silently.

“You don’t have to explain it,” he said quietly. “I get it.”

You weren’t sure he could get it. He didn’t have to hold broken children or stitch the soft skin of dying women, and he didn’t have to stand still while a monitor flatlined.

But he had burned for someone else. He’d jumped in front of a car going too fast to stop, taken the brunt of it, let himself be crushed and concussed to save a boy who wasn’t ready to die.

So maybe he did understand.

When you came over one Saturday morning, he was more animated than usual.

He was wearing a dark sweater and cargo pants, with hair half-damp from a shower, and his bandage finally gone from his wrist, his body almost healed.

He still couldn’t grip with his right hand properly. He said the nerves were healing slowly, but he’d been trying.

“C’mere,” he grinned, reaching for your bag to drop it by the entrance. “I want to show you something.”

You blinked at him, one eyebrow rising. “Show me what?”

“Just come.” He tugged at your hand and pulled you toward the garage.

You hadn’t really stepped inside the main garage before. The house had two: one for his daily cars, and the other for, well, whatever this was. The second he flipped the lights on, you saw it.

His car. That car.

The one that had been twisted into fire and pain months ago. The one you’d seen on the news, reduced to smoldering steel.

Now it sat before you, with a brand new frame, the same number, and the same paint job, the shine of it almost surreal under the ceiling lights.

“You got it back,” you murmured.

“I got her back, my Scarlet.” he said, voice soft with affection. “It’s not exactly the same frame, and we’ve upgraded a few things. But… yeah. She’s mine again.”

You walked slowly around it, trailing your fingers just barely along the side. “And you’ll drive again.”

“As soon as they let me.”

“And your hand?” He held it up, flexing it in the air. “Still annoying as hell. But I’ve been cooperating with the exercises.”

You smiled, turning to him. “That’s a first.”

He grinned, full of boyish pride. Then he nodded toward the other side of the garage. “There’s someone else I want you to meet officially.”

You followed him without question.

Jake was waiting near the workbench, hands shoved in his pockets, his hair tied back with a cap. He looked better than the last time you’d seen him in a panic outside the hospital room, pacing the hall and begging for updates.

“Jake,” Heeseung said, his voice low but proud, “this is Y/N.”

Jake smiled and extended his hand. “You’re the nurse who yelled at the three others for pampering him with pudding.”

You laughed as you shook it. “They were fangirling and he was still high on morphine. Someone had to keep his ego in check.”

Heeseung groaned behind you. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“Not a chance.”

Jake grinned even wider. “I like her.”

“She’s not just my nurse anymore,” Heeseung said quietly, and when you glanced back at him, he was looking straight at you. “She’s my girl now.”

The words shouldn’t have knocked the air out of your chest the way they did. You weren’t sixteen anymore, you’d had men call you worse and sweeter things in the heat of a moment, but this— this was soft and real.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just smiled, nodded a thank you to Jake, and let Heeseung lead you upstairs again, through the back hallway.

When the door to the garage closed behind you and the silence settled again, you reached for him before he could say anything else.

you pressed your hands to his cheeks gently, careful of the last faint scar that still lingered along the side of his jaw, and kissed him.

He stilled at first, stunned. Then he leaned in, warm and steady, one hand sliding to your hip, the other brushing the back of your neck.

It was the kind of kiss that made time pause. With no rush, no fire behind your teeth. Just slow, deep breaths and the rhythm of his lips against yours, like he’d been waiting too long to ask again.

When you pulled away, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his.

“You are a wonderful person, Lee Heeseung.” You breathed out.

“You make me better.” He murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you were the Ghost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Riki had found you.

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

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

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

He was on you in three strides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he finally gave in, it was devastating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get in.”

“Jungwon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day dragged in a haze of delicious pain.

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

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

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

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

Not tonight. Body’s fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You worked like a woman possessed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still dripping my cum from last night, aren’t you?” he growled, hands gripping your hips. You spun around, pushed him back against the side of the car, and straddled one of his thick thighs. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled your hips, grinding your barely-covered pussy along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants. You made sure to press your tits against his chest, lips brushing his ear. “Mmm… feels like someone’s desperate,” you purred, voice dripping with arrogance. “Too bad you don’t get to fuck me today, baby. Not after the way you three treated me last night.”

You rocked harder, letting your wetness soak through the thin fabric of your shorts onto his thigh, then suddenly pulled away right when his hands tightened and his breathing turned ragged. Riki groaned, head falling back. “Y/N… you fucking tease—” You smirked, cocky and untouchable. “Should’ve thought about that before.”

With Sunoo, you were crueler. He was sitting on the workbench reviewing race data when you sauntered over and climbed straight into his lap, facing him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started grinding down on his already rock-hard cock, rolling your hips in filthy, slow circles. Sunoo’s hands flew to your waist, breath hitching. “Fuck, baby… just let me slip it in. I’ll be gentle—”

You laughed softly against his mouth, biting his lower lip before pulling back. “Gentle? No chance, pretty boy.” You kept grinding, pressing your soaked core right against the throbbing length of him, letting him feel how wet you were through both your clothes. Every time his hips started bucking up desperately, you slowed down or stopped completely, edging him mercilessly while whispering in his ear. Sunoo’s usually sweet, teasing expression twisted into pure tortured lust. His fingers dug into your ass hard enough to bruise, but you only smiled and climbed off, leaving him panting and painfully hard.

Jungwon tried to play it strategic. He waited until you were bent over the hood of your Supra, then came up behind you, pressing his thick erection against your ass while his hand slid around to cup your throat lightly. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he murmured, voice low and commanding.

You pushed back against him, grinding your ass along his cock in long, deliberate strokes, arching your back like a cat in heat. “Am I?” you asked sweetly, looking over your shoulder with that signature cocky smirk. “Or are you just mad I’m finally the one in control?”

You kept rolling your hips, letting the head of his cock nudge right against your clothed entrance again and again, teasing him with the promise of sinking inside. Every time he tried to pull your shorts aside, you slapped his hand away and ground harder, faster, until his breathing turned ragged and his grip on your throat tightened with frustration. Then you stepped away completely, leaving him cursing under his breath, cock straining obscenely against his pants.

All day it went on like that. You’d brush against them “accidentally,” press your tits against their arms while handing them tools, whisper filthy reminders of how good their cocks felt while deliberately denying them. You’d grind on Riki while he was under a car, ride Sunoo’s thigh while pretending to check specs on a laptop, and edge Jungwon against every available surface. By late evening, they were feral. Riki was pacing like a caged animal, constantly adjusting his painfully hard cock. Sunoo’s pretty face was flushed, eyes dark with restrained violence. Even Jungwon, usually the most composed, had a dangerous glint in his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

You stood in the middle of the garage, arms crossed under your chest, pushing your tits up on purpose, looking every inch the untouchable Ghost again. “Something wrong, boys?” you asked innocently, though your voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “You all look… frustrated.” Riki stepped forward first, voice rough. “Y/N. You’re pushing it.”

You tilted your head, smiling sweetly. “Good.” The power felt delicious. 

The same night crackled with a different kind of danger. After an entire day of your merciless edging, the boys were driven insane, bodies wound tight, cocks still aching, minds half on the track and half buried between your thighs. The frustration only made them sharper. Hungrier. Meaner. Word had spread fast through the underground: a once-in-a-decade race. Three rival crews versus your trio. The prize pot was absolutely out of a fever dream, eight stolen luxury cars plus over two million in dirty cash stacked in black duffels. Winner takes all. Losers walk away with nothing… or worse. You were not on the track tonight. You’d made that clear with a cocky little smirk as they suited up.

“You three can suffer a little longer,” you’d purred, leaning against the Supra in tiny shorts, arms crossed under your chest. “Win this race and maybe, I’ll let you fuck the attitude out of me.”That promise had lit a fire under them.

The starting line stretched across an abandoned freight yard that fed straight into the old industrial tunnels. Hundreds of spectators lined the barriers. Neon lights flickered. Bookies screamed odds. The air reeked of gasoline, weed, and raw testosterone. Your three cars sat at the front like predators: Riki’s slammed Evo, Sunoo’s aggressive Porsche, and Jungwon’s matte-black GT-R. Engines idling with menacing rumbles. Riki’s hands flexed on the wheel, jaw tight. “I’m still so fucking hard it hurts,” he muttered over the radio.

Sunoo’s soft laugh crackled back. “Blame our pretty little brat.”

Jungwon’s voice cut through, calm but edged with steel. “Focus. We win this, then we go home and ruin her until she can’t walk.” The flag dropped. Chaos exploded instantly. The first straight was pure war. Rivals tried to box them in, bumping aggressively. Riki dove into a gap so tight his mirrors scraped concrete, snarling as he forced a rival into the wall with a sickening crunch of metal. Sparks flew like fireworks.

Sunoo was a white swan in motion, slipping through traffic like liquid, using every dirty trick you’d taught him. He feinted left, then cut right, sending another car spinning into a barrier. His Porsche danced on the edge of control, widebody kissing the tunnel walls. Jungwon played the long game, hanging back just enough to read the chaos before striking. He was the anchor, calling moves with ice-cold precision while his GT-R devoured straights like a demon.

The course turned hellish. They blasted into the long abandoned subway tunnels, pitch black except for headlights and emergency strobes. One rival tried to run Sunoo into a pillar. Sunoo countered by tapping his rear bumper at 140 mph, sending the car into a violent spin that took out two others in a chain-reaction crash. The explosion of metal and glass lit up the tunnel behind them. “Clear,” Sunoo reported, breathing hard.

Riki was losing his mind with adrenaline and sexual frustration. On a sweeping elevated highway section, drifting through a corner so aggressively his Evo nearly rolled. He clipped a rival’s bumper on purpose, sending them flying over the guardrail and into the dark ravine below. The final leg was the cliffside death run, narrow roads hugging jagged drops, wind howling off the ocean. Here, the remaining rivals threw everything at them: side-swipes, brake checks, even throwing glass bottles onto the road.

Jungwon took a brutal hit to his rear quarter, the GT-R fishtailing dangerously close to the edge. For one terrifying second, two wheels hung over nothing but black sea and rocks. “Won—!” you screamed into the radio from the observation point above, heart in your throat. He recovered with terrifying skill, counter-steering perfectly. “Still here, baby.” That near-miss only fueled them.

In the last mile, the three of them formed a perfect arrow, Riki leading, Sunoo and Jungwon guarding his flanks. They crossed the finish line almost simultaneously, sweeping the podium in a dominant, brutal display that left the crowd roaring and the rival crews stunned into silence. They’d won. The stolen cars and duffels of cash were theirs. But the real prize was waiting back at the garage.

The drive back was torture. All three cars pulled into the shipyard in formation, engines screaming victory. The moment they killed the ignitions, the boys exploded out of their cars, eyes wild, bodies still vibrating with race adrenaline and a full day of your cruel teasing. You were waiting in the center of the garage, arms crossed, that signature cocky smirk on your lips. “Congratulations, boys. Looks like you—” Riki didn’t let you finish. He stormed forward, grabbed you by the throat, and slammed you against the side of his still-ticking Evo. His mouth crashed into yours in a violent, starving kiss. “You think you can edge us for twelve fucking hours and then stand there looking smug?” he snarled against your lips.

Sunoo appeared on your other side, pretty face dark with promise. “We’re going to make you regret every single thing, baby.” Jungwon stepped in last, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Time’s up, Y/N.”

Hands tore at your tiny shorts and crop top until the fabric was in shreds on the concrete floor. “You’ve been a fucking brat all day,” Riki snarled against your lips, biting down hard on your lower lip until you tasted blood. “Grinding on our cocks like a cocktease and thinking you could walk away?”

They carried you to the wide central workbench and threw you down on your back. Within seconds you were completely naked, legs spread obscenely wide. Jungwon gripped your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision spark as he leaned over you. “Open that pretty mouth.”

Sunoo was already there, pretty cock hard and leaking as he fed it straight down your throat in one smooth thrust. You gagged loudly, eyes watering instantly as he started fucking your face with deep, controlled strokes. “Fuck… that throat feels even better when you’ve been teasing us all day,” Sunoo groaned, voice sweet and filthy. He held your head in place, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis.

At the same time, Riki and Jungwon positioned themselves between your spread thighs. Riki spat directly onto your already soaked pussy, rubbing the thick head of his massive cock against your entrance while Jungwon did the same, pressing right beside him. “You’re gonna take both of us in this greedy cunt tonight,” Jungwon said, voice low and commanding. 

They pushed in together. The stretch was brutal, burning, overwhelming. You screamed around Sunoo’s cock as both thick cocks forced their way inside you at once, inch by inch, stretching you to your absolute limit. The obscene pressure made your eyes roll back, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Fuuuuck— so goddamn tight,” Riki growled, eyes locked on where both you holes were stretched around both of their cocks. “Look at her taking two dicks like a champ. This is what you get for edging us, baby.”

They started moving, alternating thrusts at first, then finding a devastating rhythm together. The workbench creaked violently beneath you as they fucked you stupid, pounding deep into your cunt while Sunoo continued throat-fucking you without mercy. The wet sounds skin smacking and and gagging throat filled the entire garage. You came hard within minutes, violently, squirting around their cocks as your body convulsed. They didn’t slow down. “Again,” Jungwon demanded, spanking your clit hard while they railed you. “Cum on our cocks like the messy little whore you are.”

Sunoo knelt in front of you, gripping your hair and forcing his cock back down your throat. The three of them used you mercilessly. Riki and Jungwon fucked you in perfect sync, stretching you beyond reason, their balls slapping wetly against you. Jungwon reached around to rub your swollen clit while Riki sucked marks into your bouncing tits. Sunoo fucked your throat until drool and precum ran down your chin in thick strings, dripping onto your tits.

Riki panted, voice wrecked. “Gonna fill this slutty cunt until it’s overflowing.” The orgasms kept coming. You came again, soaking Riki’s abs and the workbench. Your screams were muffled around Sunoo’s cock as wave after wave of devastating pleasure tore through your overstimulated body. They started rotating. Sunoo pulled out of your throat only to let Riki take your mouth while Jungwon kept destroying your pussy. Then Jungwon switched to your throat, feeding you his cock covered in your own juices while Riki and Sunoo double-penetrated you again. The taste of yourself mixed with their precum made you moan like a broken whore. 

Riki came first, pulling out of your pussy and painting your face with thick ropes of cum. Sunoo followed, pulling out of your mouth and adding to the mess, covering your flushed cheeks, lips, and tongue. Jungwon kept fucking you through it, then finally buried himself deep and unloaded straight into your womb. They didn’t stop.

By the end, you were a complete wreck. Lying on the workbench, covered head to toe in sweat and semen. Thick loads dripped from your swollen pussy onto the floor. Your face was painted white, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your tits were marked with handprints and bite marks. Your voice was hoarse from screaming. Riki crouched beside you, gently brushing cum-soaked hair from your face while Jungwon pressed soft kisses to your trembling thighs.

Sunoo smiled that angelic, wicked smile and leaned down to kiss your cum-stained lips. “Look at our strong, cocky Ghost,” he whispered. You could barely move, body twitching with aftershocks, pussy still clenching around nothing as more cum slowly leaked out of you. But even through the exhaustion, a weak, satisfied smirk tugged at your swollen lips. “Worth it,” you rasped. 

The tension in the garage had been simmering for days. You were bent over the hood of a sleek, silver Mercedes-AMG GT that belonged to Kai, a quiet but skilled solo racer who’d paid you a small fortune for emergency mods before the next big tunnel run. Your hands were deep in the engine bay, tightening a new intercooler setup, when the roll-up door slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls.

All three of them walked in. Riki first, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you working intimately on another man’s car. Sunoo followed, his usual angelic smirk gone flat. Jungwon brought up the rear, jaw locked so tight the muscle ticked. Kai, smart man that he was, muttered a quick thanks and disappeared the second he felt the shift in the air.

You straightened up, wiping grease on your shorts, and raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Riki was on you in three strides. He spun you around, pressing your back against the Mercedes’ hood, and crashed his mouth onto yours in a deep, possessive kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist hard, fingers digging in like he could brand you through skin and bone.

“You let him bring his car here?” he growled against your lips before kissing you again, harder, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to erase any trace of another man’s presence. “You had your hands all over his engine while we were waiting for you?”

Sunoo stepped in beside you, turning your face toward him the second Riki pulled back for air. His kiss was slower but no less intense, deep, claiming, one hand cupping your jaw while the other fisted the front of your tank top.

“You’re ours, Y/N,” Sunoo whispered hotly against your mouth, voice uncharacteristically rough. “Not some hired wrench for every pretty boy with money. I can’t fucking stand seeing you bent over another man’s car like that.”

Jungwon was last. He pulled you away from the Mercedes entirely, backing you up against the tool chest instead. His kiss was raw, almost angry, full of weeks of building emotion. When he finally broke away, forehead pressed to yours, his voice cracked with something real.

“I hate it,” he admitted, breathing hard. “I hate seeing you give even a second of your time to someone else. We’ve been trying to keep this casual, but… I can’t anymore. The thought of you with anyone who isn’t us makes me want to burn this entire shipyard down.”

The confession hung heavy in the air. You looked between them, Riki pacing like a caged animal, Sunoo watching you with dark, vulnerable eyes, Jungwon’s usual composure completely shattered. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, reaching up to touch Jungwon’s cheek. “But you three don’t own every second of my life.”

“That’s the problem,” Riki muttered, stepping close again. He kissed you once more, softer this time but still desperate. “I don’t want to share you with the rest of this fucking world, Y/N. Not even for money. Not even for an hour.” Sunoo pressed in from the other side, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot under your ear. “You’re more than our mechanic now. More than our good luck charm. You’re… ours. And it’s starting to feel like something I can’t lose.”

The moment stretched, thick with new, terrifying tenderness beneath all the possessiveness. Later that night, the feelings boiled over on the road. It was supposed to be a standard tunnel run, your crew running escort for a big payout. But the cops had been tipped off. Halfway through the long industrial tunnel, blue and red lights exploded behind you, sirens screaming.

“Scatter!” Jungwon barked over the radio.

The chase was vicious. Riki drifted through a narrow gap between concrete pillars at terrifying speed, barely missing a patrol car trying to cut him off. Sunoo used his Porsche’s agility to slip through an exit ramp at the last second. You stayed glued to Jungwon’s GT-R, pushing your Supra to its absolute limit as two cruisers closed in. A near-miss nearly ended everything.

One cop car tried to PIT you on a sharp curve. Jungwon swerved at the last second, forcing you to brake hard and slide between them in a hail of sparks and screaming metal. Your heart hammered so violently you thought it might burst. For one sickening second, you saw the headlines, the Ghost finally crashing out. You all made it out. Barely. Back at the garage, the adrenaline crash hit hard.

The second the doors were down, Jungwon yanked you out of your Supra and pinned you against it, kissing you like he’d almost lost you forever. Riki and Sunoo joined immediately, surrounding you in a tangle of desperate mouths and gripping hands.

“I can’t do this,” Jungwon rasped between kisses, voice raw with emotion. “I can’t keep pretending this is just racing and fucking. When I saw that cop almost take you out tonight… I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

Riki’s hand slid into your hair, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeply, almost angrily. “You’re under our skin, Y/N. All the way. I lose focus every time you’re not right there with me. And seeing you mod that asshole’s car earlier? I wanted to drag you away and remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Sunoo kissed you slower, but his hands trembled slightly against your waist. “We’re falling for you. All three of us. And it’s making us stupid. Jealous as hell. But I don’t want to stop.”

You stood there between them, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. The Ghost, undefeated, untouchable, felt her walls cracking under the weight of three pairs of eyes that looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in their chaotic world. “I’m scared too,” you admitted quietly, voice thick. “This stopped being just fun a long time ago.” Jungwon rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in. Riki pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. Sunoo nuzzled into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

The morning after the confessions came slow and golden.

Sunlight filtered weakly through the high warehouse windows of the loft above the garage, painting long, dusty beams across the wide bed you all shared. The air still carried the faint scent of engine oil, sea salt, and last night’s adrenaline. You woke up tangled between them, Riki’s heavy arm slung possessively over your waist, Sunoo curled against your back with his face buried in your neck, and Jungwon lying on his side in front of you, watching you with quiet, unguarded eyes.

For once, there was no rush. No race looming in the next few hours. No engines screaming. Just the four of you, breathing in the same quiet rhythm. Jungwon reached out first, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that still surprised you from the usually composed leader. His thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft in the morning light.

“Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep but warm like melted honey. He leaned in and kissed you, slow, lingering, no heat of possession this time, just pure, aching affection. The kind of kiss that said he’d been lying awake thinking about you for hours. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “You scared the hell out of me yesterday. I keep seeing that cop car trying to take you out… and all I could think was I can’t lose you.”

You smiled softly, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I’m right here, Won. Not going anywhere.” Behind you, Sunoo stirred, pressing a trail of lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your bare shoulder. His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you back flush against his warm chest.

“Mmm… my favorite way to wake up,” he whispered, voice still drowsy and sweet. “Our pretty girl between us.” He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply like he needed your scent to ground him. “You make everything feel… right. Even when the world outside is trying to burn us down.”

Riki, ever the restless one, tightened his grip on your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there with surprising tenderness. His usual feral energy was quiet this morning, replaced by something deeper, almost vulnerable.

“You know I’m shit at this soft stuff,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and rough. “But fuck, Y/N… waking up and knowing you’re ours? That you chose us? It messes me up in the best way.” He pressed another slow kiss right below your ear, then another on your jaw, taking his time like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. “I don’t care about the cars or the money anymore. I just want you here. Safe. With us.”

You let yourself sink into them, surrounded by their warmth, their scents, their quiet love. For the first time in years, the undefeated Ghost didn’t feel like she had to run or fight. She just… existed. Cherished. The morning unfolded lazily. Jungwon eventually slipped out of bed and returned with coffee, black for you, exactly how you liked it, and a plate of fruit he’d cut up himself. He fed you bites of sweet mango between soft kisses, his free hand gently massaging the tension from your shoulders.

Sunoo pulled you into the shower with him later, but there was nothing rushed about it. He washed your hair with careful fingers, massaging your scalp until you were nearly purring. He kissed every bruise and mark they’d left on your body, not with hunger, but with quiet reverence, whispering against your wet skin how beautiful you were, how strong, how irreplaceable.

Riki was the most surprising. He cooked, or at least tried to, burning the edges of the eggs but plating them with a proud little grin when you laughed at the mess. He kept pulling you onto his lap while you all ate together at the small table in the loft, one big hand rubbing slow circles on your thigh, the other feeding you bites from his own plate.

“I like you here,” he said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “Just… us.” By late afternoon, the four of you ended up back in bed, a tangled pile of limbs and quiet affection. You lay on your back with your head in Jungwon’s lap while he played with your hair. Sunoo rested his head on your stomach, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. Riki had his face pressed against your ribs, one arm thrown over your thighs. None of you spoke for a long time. The silence was comfortable, heavy with new emotions that felt too big for words.

“I never thought I’d have this,” you admitted eventually, voice barely above a whisper. “I was always alone. But with you three… I don’t feel alone anymore. I feel seen. Wanted. Loved, even when you’re being jealous assholes about it.” Jungwon’s fingers paused in your hair. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lingering there. “You are loved, Y/N. More than you know. I’m not good at saying it, but… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. To me.”

Sunoo lifted his head, eyes sparkling with rare vulnerability as he kissed the center of your chest, right over your heart. “You make me want to be better. Softer. Even when I want to keep you locked away from the rest of the world.”

Riki pushed himself up slightly, cupping your face with one big hand. His thumb stroked your cheek as he looked at you with raw intensity. “I’d burn every rival car, every cop, every fucking thing that tries to take you from us. But I’d also give it all up if you asked me to. That’s how much you mean to me now.” You felt your eyes sting with unexpected tears. Not from sadness, from the overwhelming warmth of being so completely, fiercely cherished. You pulled them closer, one by one, kissing each of them slowly and deeply, pouring every unspoken feeling into the press of your lips. They held you tighter, their hands gentle, their breaths mingling with yours in the quiet loft.

The underground world outside kept spinning, races, danger, dirty money, and rivals. But up here, in this stolen moment, there was only love. Messy, jealous, protective, all-consuming love. You were sinking into it, slow and deep, letting yourself be utterly, beautifully wrapped up in the three men who had claimed far more than just your body. They had your heart now too.

—

Six months later, the shipyard garage had changed.

What was once just a hidden den of midnight mods and stolen moments had slowly become something closer to a home. The loft upstairs now held four toothbrushes in the bathroom, your racing suits hanging beside theirs in the reinforced closet, and a bigger bed they’d dragged in after too many nights of tangled limbs and not enough space. There were plants Sunoo insisted on keeping alive on the windowsill, a ridiculous number of Riki’s protein shakes in the fridge, and Jungwon’s carefully organized race notebooks stacked on the desk.

You stood on the upper catwalk overlooking the garage floor, watching them.

Riki was under his Evo again, tools clanging as he fine-tuned the suspension you’d redesigned last week. Grease streaked his arms and cheek. Sunoo leaned against the Porsche, laughing at something Riki said while polishing the widebody with slow, elegant strokes. Jungwon stood a little apart, arms crossed, reviewing the new route maps you’d marked up together the night before.

They looked like home. But the underground never let you forget what it was. Tonight was another high-stakes run, bigger money, dirtier players, the kind of race where people still disappeared. The danger hadn’t vanished. If anything, it had grown sharper now that the four of you were something real. The jealousy still flared hot and sudden. The possessiveness still left bruises and desperate kisses against cold metal. The sex was still filthy, raw, and frequent, sometimes sweet and slow in the early mornings, sometimes all three of them wrecking you until you cried and begged on the same workbench where it all began.

Nothing had been sanitized. You were still the Ghost. They were still the ruthless trio that made the night circuits tremble. You still modded cars for cash when the mood struck. They still raced like devils and fucked you like they were terrified of losing you. But something deeper had taken root.

Jungwon looked up first, sensing your gaze. His sharp eyes softened the moment they found you. He climbed the metal stairs two at a time and pulled you into his arms without a word, burying his face in your hair. “You’re thinking too loud again,” he murmured against your temple. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Just wondering how the hell we got here. From fucking in my backseat to… this.”

Riki and Sunoo joined you moments later, surrounding you in that familiar wall of warmth and muscle. Riki pressed against your back, arms locking around your middle. Sunoo slipped in beside Jungwon, catching your hand and pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles.

“We’re building something real,” Sunoo said quietly, his usual teasing tone replaced by something gentler, almost reverent. “Doesn’t mean we’re leaving the life behind. I don’t think any of us could. But we’re doing it together now. No more running solo. No more pretending this is temporary.”

Riki’s grip tightened, his voice low and rough against your ear. “I still get jealous as fuck when you work on other cars. Still want to drag you away and remind you who you belong to every single day. But I also want to wake up next to you every morning. Want to keep you safe. Want… a future. With you in it.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek. “We’re talking about buying the whole shipyard. Making it legitimate on paper, a real performance garage. We keep racing underground because it’s in our blood. We keep loving you the way we do because we don’t know how to do it softly. But we’re also building something that lasts. Something that’s ours.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion. The Ghost who once thrived on solitude and speed now found herself completely, helplessly in love with three dangerous, complicated men who had cracked her open and decided to stay.

“I’m terrified,” you whispered, honest and raw. “I’ve never had anything real before. But I want it. With all of you. The filth. The danger. The quiet mornings. All of it.”

Riki kissed the side of your neck, slow and tender. Sunoo leaned in to capture your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like promise. Jungwon waited his turn, then kissed you like he was sealing a vow. The four of you stood there on the catwalk for a long time, wrapped around each other as the sun dipped lower and the garage lights flickered on one by one. Outside, the underground waited, screaming engines, dirty money, rival threats, and the ever-present risk of everything burning down.

Inside, something beautiful and messy and real was taking shape. You were still the Ghost. But now you had a pack. And together, no matter how dark or filthy or dangerous the road ahead became, you would face it as one. The night called. You answered, four hearts beating in sync, four shadows merging into something unbreakable. And for the first time, the future didn’t feel like something to outrun. It felt like something worth racing toward.