냥냥이~

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𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : noooo jake don’t hate sunghoon 😥

“much more than sunghoon.” sunoo added, pushing his notebook aside to give you his full attention. “you’ve been smiling this whole time, the equations can’t be that funny.”

there was no use trying to prove them wrong when you could physically feel the way your lips were stuck in a smile.

“stop, before he comes back and hears.” you said, rolling your eyes and attempting to bring your focus back to your laptop. their unwavering stares didn’t falter as you expected, instead landing heavier now that you were aware of it. 

your phone screen lit up, stealing your attention away. a short, simple text from jake read: went to another restroom, this one was locked.

you didn’t register the audible sound you let out until you looked back up, seeing the three of them exchange a look of pure amusement. “don’t even—” you tried to protest.

“and to think you were convinced you didn’t like him.” yujin shook her head disapprovingly, contrasting the way her face beamed.

“you know why i did that.” you huffed.

jake, who had finished his business with haste, took quick, eager strides back towards the library with nothing but you on his mind.

there was a warmth blossoming in the pits of his stomach, his heart rate far beyond what was considered normal—beating in a way a friend’s heart shouldn’t.

but you weren’t exactly a friend, were you?

before his breakup, jake used to be a very hopeful guy. there was a version of him that took every good thing placed in his path at face value without overthinking whether it was too good to be true.

his ex made him wonder exactly that. had he been blinded by his own love to not see that everything wasn’t rose tinted?

then you walked into his path effortlessly, overwhelming him with your sudden interest in him. a feeling that had become foreign.

although a little skeptical at first, jake fell for you, even if everything in him told him not to.

it was inevitable that he would. you were there every single day, breaking down the walls he had put up, proving that maybe he had been silly for thinking care was something to be earned—not when you gave it to him so freely as though no one deserved it more than he did.

so he dared. dared to let his guard down around you. dared to let you overwhelm him in various ways. dared to believe that perhaps, he was worthy of love. yours, specifically.

jake thinks he’s never felt his heart tighten this much before at the simple thought of a girl. he was so in love with you, the feelings were ready to burst out of him.

he rounded the corner of the library, his feet mindlessly carrying him towards you.

the incoherent voices he heard from the distance started to grow clearer the closer he got. it was undoubtedly yours, followed by a string of laughter from the others. jake found himself smiling too.

“isn’t it kinda funny, though.” riku suddenly chortled. you all turned to face him, waiting for him to elaborate. “this whole jake thing, how you never intended for this to happen.”

“i honestly can’t believe how close they are.” sunoo followed.

“jake was supposed to be your ticket to getting with sunghoon!” yujin chimed in, her voice laced with disbelief. “how did you get sidetracked so badly?”

“i don’t know, okay? sunghoon was.. it just happened.” you sighed softly, though the faint smile on your face proved you to be very content with the predicament you found yourself in.

you felt your heart warm thinking about it, unaware of jake stood meters away, covered by the rows of books.

jake has gone through heartbreak before. he knew the feeling that followed after someone who once occupied space in his tender heart left him feeling unwanted.

this feeling that suddenly washed over him, however, ached far worse than anything he had felt before.

it was numb at first, the words not registering fully before he felt his stomach drop abruptly, feeling hollow and empty. his heart, previously thumping erratically, quickened for an entirely different reason now. he felt his whole body tingle, alternating between burning and that same numbness he felt at first, followed by the painful sensation of a cold bucket of water being dumped over him.

jake presumed he’d be immune to another heartbreak. that nothing could be worse than what his ex left him as.

this time, he didn’t feel his heart break—he felt it shatter into millions of pieces. a feeling close to getting it ripped out in a swift motion, leaving him bare and exposed, slowly dying in the palm of your hand.

sunghoon, you said. the name alone felt like a stab to his body. and a sudden realisation dawned upon him.

jake wanted to let out a laugh, a recap of every single time you seemed eerily interested in his best friend flashing through his mind. he should’ve known. he did know, deep down.

because jake was a cautious person, someone who stopped taking any sign of affection at face value—conditioned to fear that there had to be ulterior motives behind them.

and you proved his fears right, albeit not with jay, as he was fixated on, but with sunghoon.

he felt sick even thinking about how long you had been orchestrating this. were any of your words ever genuine? had you been plotting on him way before his breakup? did you specifically wait for his moment of vulnerability, ready to strike when he was an easy target?

his head started hurting, not more than his chest, but enough for him to rest his body against the bookshelves and stay there for what felt like eternity. you had fallen into silence, the only audible noise being the tapping of your keyboard, and jake’s ragged breathing.

he wasn’t sure what to do anymore. going back there and pretending he never heard any of this was impossible. jake sighed, pushing himself off the shelf and trying his best to compose a neutral expression before finally stepping within the group’s line of sight.

“you took forever.” you joked, and it made jake’s heart cave in even more. he wanted to break down right then and there. he felt so weak around you. even after you tore his heart out. especially after you did.

instead of sitting down like you expected, jake spared you a brief glance, too busy looking off to the side. “i think i’m gonna leave.” he murmured.

you didn’t get the chance to ask anything further. jake departed, leaving you to watch him disappear around the corner.

it was only once the fresh air from outside hit him in the face that jake finally allowed himself to let out a sniffle.

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𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : the angst is finally here yay icl i lowkey got sad writing this im growing attached to jake in this. i honestly contemplated tagging this smau as miscommunication trope but i felt like by doing that it would downplay what jake heard because she did try and use him to get with his best friend it doesn’t matter to him that she dropped her intentions it wouldn’t stop him from thinking none of it was genuine. anyways sorry. love everyone.

You know that he's always been a respectful alpha, a gentleman through and through. Even that does not change when he's finally dating you. The hug you shared in your nest is the most intimate, closest point of contact the two of you have ever done. Beyond that point, Jay remains the perfect gentleman that he is—and he's damn consistent and running a strict program with it.

A warm hand on your waist to guide you through the crowd. That's it. A kiss on your hands whenever he picks you up. That's it. A lingering smooch on your forehead when he's feeling extra giddy. That's it.

That's. It. Not a even a peck on your lips.

And it's starting to annoy you.

You see, you're an omega alright, but omegas have desires too—especially when it comes to their alpha. It's no denying that you want his touch to linger, his hands to travel further, his mouth to get wilder.

It's not an embarrassing thing to admit, okay? And what an omega to do when they have a partner as handsome and well-built as Jay—someone who'd never raise his voice no matter how bratty you're behaving, someone who never sighs whenever you're met with yet another problem?

Is it so wrong to want him to fuck you?

But no, that alpha just has to be a fucking gentleman. He doesn't dare let his hands do anything more than a respectful touch, a brush of fingers that you think about every night more than you'd like to admit. He even sends you to your family home when your heat is about to hit—saying that he does not want to burden you with the choice of having to spend it with him just because he's finally your boyfriend.

What the fuck is he talking about? You do want his knot!

This feeling of constant sexual frustration on the alpha that you love to death but can't seem to get your hints is accummulating, and it's literally an inevitable canon event when you reach your point one freaking night.

You were having a night out with the rest of Jay's friends. The alpha, as usual, sat close to you, but he never let his hands caress you the way you want him to. It's when Riki had drunkenly joked about Jay being the community gentleman and had, at one point, even been willing to spend his omega's heat with him, that you felt the ticking bomb in your head explode.

You knew about it. Of course you did. Jay would never hurt you, so he clarified everything that might warrant a misunderstanding or a fight later if not cleared now. You didn't feel jealous—no, it's not that. You love Riki's mate too, she's been one of your best friends now—which is a whole Guinness world record in itself, because you had a seriously ill attitude with female relationships before.

But you felt this tremendous frustration bubbling over, because yes, he is a gentleman, but what does this say about him not wanting to touch you, when he was ready to help a friend in such a way?

You felt so, ridiculously upset. Because you notice everything.

Notice the way his stare lingers on your chest, notice the way his eyes drop to your lips whenever you pout or when the ramyeon is too spicy it makes your lips swell, notice the way his breath hitches when you rest your legs over his thighs during movie nights, notice all of his wants and desires even when he fails to convey them properly.

And he's…holding himself back when you don't even want him to.

You had pouted all the way home, refusing to give him even a response when he had thrown you questions, replying to him with a silent treatment that you know he dislikes. Something about him telling you, 'Please communicate with me whenever you're upset' seemed to fly over your head, and you felt the exact moment Jay left the conversation for when you reach the confines of your walls when he finally went quiet.

Which explains your position now, craddling his hips with your thighs as you sit comfortably in his lap, a protruding pout forming on your lips. Unlike his usual habit of maintaining a respectful distance from you, he had grabbed your wrist the moment you crossed the door earlier and forced you to sit in his lap and talk to him.

It seems like the patient alpha is slowly losing his grip. You smile triumphantly inside.

"What's the matter, hm?" His voice is rougher than usual, pitched lower from exhaustion and the quiet of the night, but is still edged with the softness he reserves only for you. "You ignored me all the way home. You even refused to look at me when I tried to talk to you. What did I say about communication, baby?"

On any other day, you often take pride in how put-together and gentleman your alpha is, compared to the many assholes walking around the campus out there. But sometimes, he's too much of a green flag that it leaves you thirsty for more; desperate to see him just a little loose and rough.

You decide to stretch whatever patience he has thinner and longer, so you throw your face away and do the exact thing he told you not to. Not even your favourite pet name could fix this attitude.

There's a resounding silence, and you could've sworn you heard his jaw tick, before a thumb and a forefinger pinch your chin and turn your face back to him.

"Y/N. Tell me now. What did I do?" Jay demands, tilting your head slightly down. "Why are you being a brat again?"

There. You have it. When Jay starts calling you a brat, it means you have really gotten on his nerves. It's the only time you could catch even a glimpse of a frustrated Jay, an alpha losing his cool and wanting to gather back the air of dominance that seems to dissipate whenever you pull this stunt.

When Jay starts calling you a brat, you know that you finally have him where you want him to be.

With a deeper pout, you finally say. "You don't like me."

It's a simple sentence, but you're sure it drives him crazy. Jay would give his whole heritance to you if you asked him to, so this accusation, you're confident, will strike him where he never expected it to be.

And it's proved to be true when he loses his grip on your chin a fraction. "What?"

"You never want to touch me or kiss me. You don't like me, do you?" You fake another pout, and it seems to be working because right now there's a flash of panic behind his onyx eyes. "You hate me."

"I-I do touch you, baby. I give you kisses everyday," Jay scrambles to explain himself, not understanding fully where you're coming from. "What do you mean I don't like you? I'd take a bullet for you and you know I'm not joking."

You know he's not. But you're unfortunately a brat, so you simply ignore that sentence and say something entirely unexpected—at least to Jay. Poor, poor Jay.

"But you wouldn't fuck me," you say with a whine, "And I think you know I'm not joking."

You feel the breath leave his lungs as he stops moving for a second, staring at you with wide eyes. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time; the disbelief is so palpable it almost makes you laugh.

"I-I…" Jay visibly swallows. Even in this situation, he keeps his hands to himself, not daring to hold that tempting waist of yours. "Are you drunk, Y/N?"

You almost roll your eyes. "I'm not drunk and you know that, Jay."

Jay is staring at you as though you've just informed him that the Earth has stopped spinning.

"Baby," he licks his lips, fingers flexing on his thighs as he observes your serious expression. "I think you misunderstood. It's not that I didn't want to…touch you—"

"Fuck me," you corrected him helpfully. "Don't twist my words. I explicitly said fuck me."

Jay closes his eyes briefly. Goddess, is this really happening?

"…Okay. It's not that I didn't want to fuck you, baby, it's just…" he trails off but you're no longer following him because your mind has permanently stopped and focused on the sexy way he said the word.

Jay rarely curses, so when he said fuck the way he did just now, it has embarrassingly made you…wet.

You need to see more of that. More of him struggling with his gentleman persona and cursing. More of him trying to remain composed and thinking he has everything figured out when he couldn't even guess what's been running on your mind.

These reckless, unrestrained thoughts are leading you to test him more, taunting the calm wolf residing within him.

"It's just what?" You challenge, bringing your face closer to his until he could feel your hot breath on his mouth. "It's just that you're a virgin, hm? That you never dated anyone so you don't know how to handle me?"

The alpha beneath you freezes, not expecting the words from you. A saccharine smile curls on your lips and your shift closer, taking away every inch of distance between your body and his. You drag a finger on his shoulder, feeling the texture of his Polo shirt with a deliberate touch, and let it travel down his chest. Jay is barely breathing at this moment, hands curling into fists as feels your touch like a trail of fire.

"I'm right, aren't I? You're so inexperienced, never feeling the touch of a woman," you whisper, tone dropping an octave. "That's why you hold back. That's why you only bite your tongue whenever you see me wearing nothing but your shirt in the morning."

Jay's mind is a jumble of frantic words, his breath catching in his throat. You had noticed it—of course you did. It's impossible not to, when you're just attentive towards to him the way he is towards you.

You bring your lips to his ear, playfully blowing into it and giggle when you see the hair on his nape rise. With a sigh, you start whispering again, your hands now coming up to wrap around his neck.

"It's okay, my alpha. I will guide you. I will teach you how to touch me the way I want."

Unseen to you, the alpha's eyes darken at that. The confident lilt in your voice, the sure way your lips muttered those words—it snaps something inside him. Something that he's barely managed to contain; unrestrained want and desire that he's kept at bay in the name of taking things slow with you.

But oh, was he so fucking wrong. Because here you are, in his lap, practically begging him to touch him, asking him to abandon whatever boundaries he has set in his mind and just take you right there on the couch. A request laced in temptation so strong that it's starting to make his head spin—too heady with his carnal desire to have you and sweet fucking scent.

If you think Jay would lose control, you are the one in the wrong here. Because if anything—you have just made me become more obsessed with having the upper hand.

A gasp escapes your lips when you feel his rough hands close on your waist. The alpha grounds you on his lap, locking you in place as he tilts his head sideway, this time it's his lips touching your ears.

"You think I can't handle you, doll?" He whispers, your stomach lurching at the sound of his jagged, sultry voice. "What about you? Can you handle me?"

A triumphant smile touches your lips, vixen eyes glinting in anticipation. You detach yourself from his neck, faking an innocent expression, feeling your heart stutter when you see the bottomless pit of his onyx eyes.

"I have dated people before," you decide to provoke him more, and revel in the way his grip tightens on your waist. "I know how to handle an alpha."

Jay remains quiet, but his jaw moves, ticking in a sudden flare of possessiveness.

His eyes drop to your lips, and then your chest, and he grinds his molars at the image of nameless alphas who had the privilege to be your ex-boyfriends touching your body. Why was he late to find you? The alpha's throat bobs as he swallows, falling into your trap the way you want him to.

"Y/N," he breathes out, breathless in budding annoyance and lust. "Are you sure about this?"

Your heart stutters at that, swelling with never-ending affection at the respectful he is still asking you despite you pulling at him all night. You give a sure nod, not an ounce of hesitation in your gaze to ease the doubts in his mind.

"Say it, baby, I need to hear it from you."

"Yes, Jay," you whisper, "I want you to touch me."

Jay doesn't move.Not immediately.

His fingers remain steady against your waist, but the confidence that had momentarily slipped through the cracks settles back into something quieter—something infinitely more dangerous. His forehead rests against yours as he lets out a slow, measured breath, as though he's trying to gather every frayed thread of his composure before it unravels completely.

"You really have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, a rueful smile ghosting across his lips.

The confession catches you off guard.

For the first time since climbing into his lap, you notice it—not the teasing, not the banter, but the restraint. The way his shoulders remain tense beneath your palms. The way he keeps pausing before every decision, giving you room to pull away if you wanted to.

You realise, with a flutter in your chest, that this has never been about whether he wanted you.

It has always been about making sure you never once doubted that the choice was yours.

"I've been terrified," he admits quietly. "Not of you. But of getting this wrong."

His gaze searches yours with the same patience that had followed you through the studio, through the fashion week, through every breakdown and every victory.

"You've spent so much of your life with people taking from you," he says. "I couldn't bear the thought of becoming another person who did."

Your expression softens.

"Jay..."

He gives your waist the gentlest squeeze, his smile small and almost embarrassed.

"I know I'm probably overthinking it." A quiet chuckle escapes him. "Heeseung says I overthink everything."

"He does say that," you whisper with a laugh.

"Probably because he's right."

There's a breath of silence, and you could visibly feel the way he melts beneath you. Jay tilts his head upwards, eyes already set on your lips, and you're so impatient that you waste no time leaning in and catching him with your mouth.

The alpha freezes for half a second before he starts moving his lips, welcoming the warmth of your lips, wet and addictive. His grip on your waist tightens the way your hands around his neck do, and Jay holds back a groan at the taste of you.

You pull back for a second, caressing his shoulders with a reassuring touch. "It's okay, Jay. You can stop worrying now," you leave a kiss on his cheek and stare into his eyes. "I choose you. I want you."

Jay holds your gaze for a slow, agonising minute, before the faintest smile grazes his lips. He leans in again, this time taking the lead as he captures your lips with his.

It starts with a spark. The way he kisses you is careful at first, like he's afraid he might break you, but the moment your tongue darts out and sweeps across his bottom lip, the alpha surges deeper and presses harder, returning your gesture with similar heat. His tongue pokes and pokes, threading past the seam of your lips and invading your mouth with barely restrained hunger and you moan into the kiss.

"Ngh—" Your head jerks slightly backwards from his newfound confidence, losing your breath because Jay is kissing you like he wants to steal your oxygen and makes everything about you his. He holds the back of your head and tilts you into the angle of his desires, deepening the kiss until your head spins. His teeth bites and his tongue soothes, a repeating action that makes your panties dampen with an aching need.

The kiss breaks only when your lungs burn, but even that does not stop the alpha. Jay lets his lips wander down your chin and the column of your neck, stopping briefly to inhale lungfuls of your sweetening scent. You tilt your head up, allowing him more access as the alpha brands you with his wet kisses, marking his way down your neck with every bite into your skin.

"You have no idea how long I've been dreaming of this," Jay pants on your skin, dragging his hot lips on your sensitive skin. "I've wanted to kiss you like this for so long, baby."

"Nobody told you to hold back," you taunt, still giving him that attitude that prompts the alpha to sink his teeth into your neck, earning him a loud gasp from you.

"And you've been such a fucking brat."

Oh, fuck. He just cursed. A gush of slick drips into your panties, the smell potent in the air and Jay could feel his mouth salivate at the faintest taste of your cherry scent.

"You like that, huh?" His rough hands caress up your thighs until your skirt bunches up around your hips, and pulls you down until you can feel the hard outline of his cock on your pussy. You let out a mewl. "Like it when I'm saying bad words to you?"

You nod, a bit too eager for your pride, but you couldn't care less anymore. "Yes, please, please give me more."

Jay chuckles darkly. One big hand travels up your torse, passing the swell of your chest that has your breath hitching before it stops on your lips. The alpha brushes the bitten skin tenderly, a flicker of fondness crossing his eyes before it darkens.

He pushes two fingers into the cavern of your mouth.

"Suck."

Your tongue darts around his digits, obeying him almost instantly that you'd be embarrassed of it on any other day. You hold his wrist, capturing his half-lidded eyes as you hollow your cheeks and suck his fingers deeper. Your tongue swirls slowly, drenching his fingers with your saliva as you take him the way you would his cock.

"Fuck," Jay presses on your tongue, harder and deeper, watching with dark satisfaction as your eyes water slightly. "You look so good stuffed with my fingers like this. So quiet and obedient when you're not acting like a brat."

You moan around his fingers, rubbing yourself on his thighs when your pussy tingles with more slick. The alpha beneath you curls into a smirk, pulling his fingers out, a thin thread of salive connecting them to your lips until it snaps.

"Good fucking girl," he whispers and surges forward, kissing you again, this time with wilder hands as he squeezes and gropes your ass. "Driving me crazy with that tongue of yours. Always so demanding, always testing my patience."

Jay trails his hand upwards and grips the hem of your baby tee in his fist. He breaks the kiss and peppers a wet trail of kisses to your ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it until you whimper.

"Let me make this clear to you, baby. I know how to handle you," Jay hotly whispers. "And I'll show you how."

In one swift movement, Jay drags your shirt up, revealing your bare torso to the warming air of the cold apartment. Your stomach flips at the motion, goosebumps erupting, while Jay almost loses his mind at the sight of your strapless bra.

They hold the weight of your breasts so snugly, creating a deep crease of cleavage that has been calling to him since the first night he first met you. His stare is blatant and obvious, tracing a finger up your skin and you immediately squirm, already wanting more.

"Jay, hurry," you demand, gripping at his wrist and directing it to your tits. "Touch me."

Jay clicks his tongue. "So bossy."

He takes both of your hands and twists them gently to your back, careful not to hurt you, and resticts your movement in one fist. You struggle, taken aback from the sudden roughness, and narrow your eyes at him.

"Jay, let me go."

"Shh, baby," he drags the clothes further upward, and a sickening smirk plays at his lips at the look of desperation in your eyes. "I want you to keep quiet. Not even a sound from you, Y/N."

You're about to protest, but the alpha is already shoving the hem of your baby tee into your mouth, forcing you to bite on it like a fake gag. Your eyes widen, heart pounding like a trapped bird at this, and fuck—it makes you so fucking wet.

Satisfied with your obedience, Jay uses his only free hand to unclasp your bra and lets the fabric fall down onto his lap. Your breasts fall free, bouncing from the escape of the confines of your bra, and Jay almost moans at the sight,

"Oh my Goddess, baby," he breathes in awe, greedy hand cupping one tit with a barely contained hunger. "Your tits are so fucking pretty."

Your whine gets muffled by the fabric of your shirt, hips bucking when Jay runs a rough finger over your nipple. The need to just pull his face into your chest and let him feast overweighs any logical thought, but is stopped by the strong grip around your wrists.

"Been dreaming of these tits since that night, baby," Jay mouths at your chest, eyes flicking upward to capture your moist gaze. He latches his mouth on your right nipple, his free hand cupping the other breast. "So full and perfect. Made to be groped like this."

The alpha starts sucking on the darkened skin of your areola, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud like he was starved of it. The contact sends jolts up your spine and down to your core where your cunt is pulsing in an aching need to be touched, slick gushing out ftom arousal.

Jay couldn't get enough of your tits. The soft mounds are so soft and so full, overflowing in his hand and yielding to his touch. He drinks in the taste of your skin on his tongue, drool smearing on the perked up nipple like he was a lost traveller tasting water for the first time.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, switching to the other breast, the supple skin dimpling under his fingertips. His hungry gaze makes your whole body tremble, igniting sparks straight to your cunt. "Love your tits so much. Gonna knock you up until they're full of milk."

That's so dirty. You can't believe Jay is capable of such thoughts. Your body arches into his touch, could feel his tongue swirling over the stiff peak, lapping and tugging until it's sucked raw. Down there, your pussy is a wet mess, producing a disgusting amount of slick until the air is tainted heavily by your aroused scent.

Seeking friction and relief, you move your hips, trying to ease the ache in your core.

"Pf—Pfwease—" You bite onto your tee harder, drool seeping into it until it's soaked. A particular hard pinch on your nipple makes you hiss sharply, pain melting into sparks of pleasure. Nobody has ever kissed your breasts in this way, so utterly devoted with an undertone of obsession that makes you crave for more.

Jay is a relentless force on your chest. He finally lets go of your hands, and then he feels your fingers in his hair, pushing his head further down to devour your tits. It's obscene and sexy, and Jay couldn't care less if he spent a little too long on your breasts tonight. The subject of his lustful wet dreams is moaning wantonly on him, he would suck the milk out of your tits if he could.

Holding his arms for support, you start grinding harder.

"Ahh…Jay…just like that," you bite your lips until you taste copper, your shirt has completely escaped your mouth. Your whole body tingles from the his hot touch, and you don't think you could even produce coherent thoughts anymore when his hard length is poking at your clothed entrance down there, bumping into your peaked clit with every drag. "Please, baby, 'feels so fucking good."

"'M gonna make you cum like this," Jay mumbles with your nipple in his mouth. His hands raise to hold both breasts and squeeze them to the center of your chest, and then he buries his face into your cleavage, inhaling your scent like the greedy alpha that he is. "Wanna see you fall apart just from me sucking your tits."

You couldn't answer to that, not when he's back to suckling your nipples, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a pleasurable mix of pain. You let out a loud whine, hips getting more frantic and soaking his dress pants.

You feel the taut pull in your abdomen. Jay senses it too, as he could smell the delicious, sultry accent of your pheromone spiking up in arousal.

He brings down one hand and finds your clothed clit, wasting no time to rub tight circles on the bud, pushing you further to the edge. You let out short, staggering breaths, not caring if he suffocated from the the weight of your breasts as you shove his face deeper.

"'M gonna cum, baby, 'm so close—"

"Cum for me pretty girl," he rasps, biting more of your supple flesh, leaving marks of territory that deeply satisfy his alpha. "Come on, give it to me."

You reach the peak with a high-pitched moan, hips grinding down greedily to chase the sensation, slicking up his thighs and the couch with your essence. Jay welcomes it with more kisses on your chest—a bruised, utterly-claimed canvas that has been bitten into the shape of his teeth.

"So fucking good to me," Jay whispers once you come down from your high, gicing you a soft kiss that reignites the fire within you. "Never knew you were such a sensitive brat. Coming from just grinding on my thigh—are you sure you're not the virgin one here, baby?"

"Jay…" You don't know whether to pull or push him, still sensitive from your release, but he's being annoying right now. Jay only chuckles. Strong hands grip your thighs as he lifts you up, carrying you to where your shared bedroom is.

His mouth is still stubbornly devouring yours, hot breath mingling and tongue licking hungrily like he wants to claim every inch of your mouth. Your lips are shiny and swollen, bitten-raw by the alpha currently feasting on you.

Jay lies you down on the mattress gently, situating himself between your legs. His eyes are transfixed on the drenched spot of your pantries, and then his signature smirk comes to life when he catches your flushed face.

"You're soaked."

"You did this to me."

"You begged for it, baby." Jay drawls. He leans back slightly to discard his Polo shirt and your saliva is gathering again at the sight of his well-toned body. The ripple muscle of his abs flexes at the same time his biceps do when he leans over your body to do the same thing to you.

"Oh my Goddess," he whispers, taking in the sight of you all splayed on the mattress for him. Your hair spreads on the sheet like a beautiful halo, and there are littering marks decorating your previously-unblemished skin. Your face, still glowing with post-orgasm, is flushed from heat, matching the swollen lips of your abused lips.

Fuck. He did this to you. Park Jongseong, you hungry monster.

Jay leans down and starts peppering your face with soft kisses. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. I can't get enough of you."

You hold his face in your palms, a small smile grazing your lips when you see the fondness in his eyes. "Thank you, handsome," you peck his nose, "But I really want your cock right now."

There's a chuckle that escapes the alpha's lips, the familiar rich sound that never fails to make your chest flutter. "Ah, baby. You're still so demanding," Jay leans back, now raking over your body with the same dangerous glint that makes you squirm. "What should I do with a brat like you, hm?"

You roll your eyes, which prompt Jay to raise one eyebrow. "Stop talking. Just give it to me."

Jay tongues the inside of his cheek. He takes hold of your wrist and guides it to the raging boner on his pants and lets you feel a shy of a touch of his cock.

"Ask nicely then I'll consider giving it to you."

You visibly gulp. It was easy to beg when you're already so dazed with lust just now. And don't get you wrong, you're still horny—but there's more clarity in your thought process than it was when you had a hungry alpha sucking on your breasts a few minutes ago.

"Come on, baby," his voice is rough, pitched lower from lust. "Think you can handle my virgin cock?"

Jay lets you palm his clothed dick, his head tilting upward to showcase his long neck, eyes closing shut. An obscene moan comes out of his throat at the contact. The sound of him—totally undone and scratched, sends another spark straight to your soaked pussy.

When Jay opens his eyes again, it's filled with a deeper, carnal desire. It's like he's shifted his singular, predatory focus on you—on devouring you like a meal right then and there, and there's absolutely nothing that can stop him tonight.

In a swift motion, Jay detaches your hand from his crotch, and you almost whine. The alpha hovers over you, pinning both of your wrists over your head as he leans down to whisper hotly into your ears.

"Cat got your tongue, baby?" Jay licks the shell of your ear, and you mewl at the wet sensation. Another hand travels south before the rough of his palm cups your pussy. Your entire body jolts at that, the touch awakening the desire that was just about to settle.

"Jay!"

"Mhm," Jay hums. His middle finger trace the outline of tour nether lips, gathering the slick and spreading it across the sensitive skin. "Do you hear that? You're so wet for me."

His thumb, bigger and rougher, flicks over your clit, and the combination of him playing with your slicked cunt and your desperate clit is too much that you want more and him to never stop. You tug your wrists, trying to hold onto something, but the alpha only tightens his grip.

"No, baby, none of that," Jay chuckles coyly, branding the sensual expression of your face, mouth hanging open in a desperate moan when he prods one finger into your gaping hole and pulls out again. "Just use your words, hm?"

"Ahhhh—Jay—moreeee."

"Not that," he fakes a pout. He does it again, and again and again, teasing you by shoving his finger in and dragging it out the moment your walls try to suck him in. "Try again, baby."

"P-Please," you pant, hips bucking up at every brush on your clit and every brief intrusion. "Pleaseee, I want more."

But Jay only smiles. "Not that. Come on, baby, guide me," the alpha blows on your ears and watch the shiver rolls over your body. If you weren't too far gone in your lust, you would've snapped at him for throwing back your words in your face again. "I'm so inexperienced. I don't know what to do."

This time, Jay thrusts in two of his girthy fingers, and your eyes squeeze shut from the sudden burst of pleasure. "Should I do it like this?"

They curl and wiggle, dragging deliberately on your walls before he pulls back again, leaving your hole more soaked and needier.

"Or should I just leave it to dry?"

Your face flushes in frustration. "Nghhh Jay!" You whine, thrashing in his hold from the denied pleasure, tears gathering in your eyes. "Please! Just fuck me already!"

Jay heaves out a long exhale, tracing your lips with his slick-coated fingers before shoving them into your mouth again. "You sure you can take it?" You hum around his digits, eagerly sucking him in and his gaze darkens at that. "I may be a virgin, but I am still big, baby."

You nod, mouth still full of his fingers, and Jay couldn't resist the urge to thrust in a third finger. Without a second thought, you spread your legs, an open invitation for the alpha to just take you and use you as he pleases.

"Such a pretty mouth, oh my fucking Goddess," Jay pulls out and leans in to kiss you, slotting himself between your thighs. "'m gonna make you suck me off one day. Choke on my big knot like the good omega you are, hm?"

"Yes, please," you whisper wetly, lips still coated with saliva. "Please, gonna suck you off later. Just fuck me already."

The sound of a belt unbuckling echoes inside the room. You wait with ragged breaths as Jay skillfully undoes his pants, pushing it down to his mid-thigh. The sight of his protruding cock againts the thin material of his boxes has your mind spinning. Immediately, a burst scent of his pheromone—sour citrus turning sweet and saccharine, along with the hint of metals—spreads into the air.

Saliva fills your mouth at the sight of the wet patch, and when Jay fully discards his pants with a hiss, you're already drooling for his girthy cock.

Fuck. He wasn't joking when he told you that he was big.

"Mmmm," Jay moans quietly as he pumps his dick. It swells from neglection, and upon contact with his palm, bead by sticky bead of precum starts oozing out of its flushed tip.

"Y/N," his voice is firmer this time, catching your immediate attention. For a short moment, the haziness in his eyes clears up, replaced by a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure about this?" Jay asks quietly. "We don't have to rush. I can take my time with you."

You shake your head, appreciating his concern all over again. "I know what I can handle, Jay," you murmur. "It's okay."

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "No protection?"

You give him a timid nod. "Just...pull out."

Jay falls silent. His gaze lingers on you for a long moment, searching your expression one last time before he looks away, his thoughts unreadable. The sheets rustle as he goes back to hovering over you, one hand tugging at his dick while he descends to capture your lips.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" Jay murmurs on your lips. You give him a hum, feeling the tip of his cock lining up your cock. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to another kiss the moment you feel the blunt tip nudging at your entrance.

The stretch burns—you underestimated the period of time you have gone without having sex. It stings until your eyes moisten, but Jay is so gentle despite his persona just now. He's taking it slow with every inch of intrusion, bruising your lips with his kisses to distract you from the pain.

"Are you okay, baby?" Jay hums on your skin.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, letting your walls adjust to the size of his cock. When the sting eases into flutters of budding pleasure, you give him a nod, lips brushing on his ears.

"You can move now."

Jay starts slow, moving his hips with hesitation, eyes flicking to your face every two seconds. Both of his hands hold your waist down in a gentle grip, this time afraid of actually causing you pain.

But when your hitched breathing turns into quiet sighs, and then gradually grows into loud, high-pitched moans, he knows that he's breached part the line of discomfort.

"Ahhh, ahh, mmm," your hands find purchase on his back. Every drag of his cock against your walls is causing a delicious friction that your nerves tingle in pleasure. Your cunt is oozing out more slick, getting wetter and wetter with every thrust of his cock.

"Go faster, Jay."

Ah. That bratty tone is back.

"Yeah?" Instead of complying, he does the exact opposite. Jay slows down his movement, pulling back until only tip of his cock catching your hole, before lazily pushing back inside, giving you a slow torture. "That's not the way to ask your alpha, you fucking brat."'

Nails digging into his back, you bite your lips as you try to fuck yourself on his dick. But Jay is quick to stop you, his grip on your waist tightening in bruising hold that'll marks in the shape of his fingertips soon.

"Please…" you beg, pleading eyes peering up at the alpha panting on top of you. "Please, Jay. Just do it—faster, please."

Jay chances a small smile and peck your lips. "As you wish, baby."

The alpha sits on his heels and grabs your thighs, forcing open an access as he adjusts you to another angle. With one clean thrust, he shoves his length into your hole, running it across your inner walls, earning cute noises from you in return.

Jay just feels so damn big. The blunt head of his cock keeps hitting that spot, that sweet, sweet spot that has your mind blurring for a second before a surge of pleasure bursts in your system. Your hands scramble for the sheets, trying to keep yourself grounded when it feels like you're floating from ecstacy.

"Oh—oh—oh—" The familiar pressure is fast building in your tummy, and you know that you're getting close again. "Jay—ahhh, fuck, baby—'M so close!"

"Just cum," he groans, feeling your walls spasming around him as you reach another high. But the alpha refuses to slow down. He grabs the underside of your thighs and pushes them to your chest, folding you in half as his crazen eyes catch the sight of your cum frothing around his cock.

"Jay! Too sensitive!"

"More," the alpha growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. The air heats up with the smell of sweat and sex, coated with the mix of your cherry scent and his citrusy pheromones. It's heady and potent, pulling you under into a haziness that makes your eyes water.

"Give me more, baby, I know you can."

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

"J-Jay—ahhhh—" you hold an arm over your mouth, trying to dampen down the noises escaping your lips. But Jay only pulls your hand away, his cock splitting you open like a spear. "Let me hear you baby. Let me hear you say my name."

"Nghh, nghh, Jay-ah—"

"Such a shame you're not in heat," the alpha grumbles as he pushes deeper, changing his rhythm into slow, hard thrusts that push you up the bed until it rattles against the wall. "I would fuck you until my seed catches. Pump you full of my pups you can't even walk."

Your body is reacting to his every thrust, shivering at his every word as you feel more slick coating his dick wet until it's the only filthy sound you could hear. An obscene moan leaves your lips every second, and that same heat is gathering inside you again.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. Jay's has his sharp eyes narrowed like a predator, his jaw locked in a tight clench as he focuses on the way your body ripples with every sharp thrust. He bares his neck when you give his cock a deliberate squeeze, breath stuttering as pleasure consumes him.

And Jay being Jay, he could never resist the temptation to hold your tits. They keep bouncing, soft and so, so fucking yielding to every thrust, a temptation that nobody could refuse. The alpha sneaks an arm up your torso and gives your left breast one harsh, posessive squeeze.

"Ffffuck, I could come just from watching your tits bounce like that, baby." Jay whispers, one hand fondling with your breast without losing his tempo. He grinds into you, then pulls out and slams back in with a fervor of a man desperate for release. "Perfect fucking tits. Gonna fuck these tits one day."

"Jay—Jay—ah,"

"I'm close, I'm close, baby, fuck," he chants like a mantra. A lewd moan slips past his lips when your pussy grips him tighter, indicating the approaching of your third orgasm. "'M close baby, gonna cum on your tits. Shit, let me cum on your tits."

A ripping pleasure crashes into you as you squirt a violent spurt of slick into the mattress, your back arching into a bow as you cum so hard. Jay follows not long after, pulling out just in time to let out rope after rope of hot release on your chest, painting over the bruises and hickeys with white cum.

You go lax on the mattress, too spent and stretched thin to even move a muscle, as you feel his cum trickle down the side of your torse. Jay stares, too taken with the indecent look in front of him, almost wishing he had a camera in his hand.

"Holy Goddess," the alpha smiles, "You squirted on me, baby."

"Shut up," you hiss weakly with closed eyes, exhaustion already crawling up your sticky body.

You hear a rustle of movement and the clinking of his belt, before your body is suddenly scooped up into a pair of strong arms. Jay's warm lips press on your forehead as the alpha carries you to the bedroom.

"Let's clean up, baby," he whispers as he turns out the faucet of your bathtub. "I need to change the sheets before we can sleep on it."

You only hum, too tired to respond, and let him do everything for you. The alpha is so gentle with his hands, soaping your body with your favourite vanilla-scented bodywash, and scrubbing off all traces of the night down the drain. He's especially careful with the space between your legs, aware of its oversensitivity after three consecutive orgasms.

When your back hits the mattress, the sheets smells of laundry and Jay's chosen detergent. You're buried inside his oversized tee shirt—the scent of his pheromone clinging to every thread of the fabric.

It is a perfect setting to sleep.

Jay engulf you in a tight hug, pulling you closer into a cuddling position and leaves more kisses on the crown of your hair.

"Sleep tight, baby."

Long into the night, when the pale silver of the Moon is still casting the room with thin stripes of light, Jay is still awake, listening to your calm breathing. His thumb rubs an endless loop of circle on your shoulders, his pheromone wafting gently to soothe you in your sleep.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, playing with the strands of your hair before dropping it with a smile.

Watching you sleep like this, utterly safe and secure in his arms, fills his chest with that familiar swell of dripping affection that is borderline devastating. His eyes, only ever hold love for you, gaze at you softly, the tenderness of it would make you ache had you been conscious to see it.

"I understand Sunoo now, Y/N."

I wish to always hold you like this.

Jay leans down and bumps his nose with yours, eyes closing in a resignation akin to a man surrendering to love.

'There is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung,' Sunoo's voice echoes in his mind. Jay gives the gentlest, most devastating smile.

"I think I've found my purpose."

I wish to always love you, Y/N.

"You are my purpose."

don't play with future ceo rich millionaire park jongseong! >:(

see you again in my next work <3

divider from @/cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula @sugarcwtie @whiskymiller @buttersoob @girliepop-is-in-the-house @jaeyunluvr14

you've gotten very good at saying you're fine.

it's become automatic, a reflex, the same way you blink when something flies toward your face or say "bless you" when someone sneezes.

it doesn't require thought. it doesn't require feeling. it's just a noise you make so people will stop looking at you with those worried eyes, so they'll stop asking questions you don't know how to answer.

"i'm fine."

"i'm okay."

"just tired."

the lies roll off your tongue smooth as water, and you tell yourself you're protecting the people around you, sparing them from the weight of your sadness. but really, you're just scared. scared that if you start talking about the ache in your chest, you'll never stop.

scared that once you open the door you've been holding shut with both hands, everything will come flooding out and drown you.

jay knows.

you're not sure when he figured it out, but somewhere between the third time you cancelled dinner plans because you "weren't hungry" and the fifth time he found you staring blankly at the wall at two in the morning, he stopped believing you.

or maybe he never believed you to begin with. maybe he saw the truth in you the same way he sees everything, with that quiet, patient observation that makes you feel simultaneously exposed and cared for.

he doesn't push. that's the thing that undoes you, in the end.

he doesn't push, doesn't demand explanations, doesn't hover or suffocate or try to fix you with platitudes about time healing all wounds or everything happening for a reason. he just... stays. he stays in your orbit, close enough to touch but not so close that you feel trapped, and he waits.

he brings you tea in the morning, the way you like it, with honey instead of sugar.

he texts you throughout the day, not asking if you're okay, just sending little things. a photo of a dog he saw on his walk. a song he thinks you might like. a reminder that he's thinking of you without requiring a response.

he cooks dinner and doesn't comment when you only pick at it, just saves the leftovers in containers with your name on them.

he holds your hand when you watch tv, his thumb tracing slow patterns against your palm, and he doesn't say anything when your eyes stay dry even during the sad parts of movies that used to make you cry.

he knows, and he stays, and he loves you in all the ways that don't require you to be whole.

you've been sleeping at his place more often than not lately.

your apartment feels too big, too empty, too full of memories that hurt to touch. his place is small, just a one bedroom with creaky floorboards and a window that doesn't quite close all the way, but it smells like him and it feels safe and when you're there, the weight on your chest feels just slightly lighter.

he set up a drawer for you, cleared out space in his closet, bought the shampoo you like without you having to ask.

he never said "move in with me" but he made room for you, physical space that matched the space he'd already made in his life, and you gravitated toward it like a plant leaning toward sunlight.

but grief doesn't care about safe spaces. grief doesn't respect boundaries or good days or the careful routines you've built to keep yourself functioning.

grief waits, patient as a predator, for the moment when your guard is down, when you're too tired to hold the door shut anymore, and then it pounces.

it happens on a tuesday night, three months after a loss that you still can't talk about without feeling like your throat is closing up.

you'd had a good day, relatively speaking. you'd gone to class, finished an assignment, even laughed at something jay said about his coworker.

you'd felt almost normal, and you'd let yourself believe that maybe you were getting better, maybe you were finally moving on.

you fell asleep in his bed, his arms around you, his breath warm against the back of your neck, and you felt peaceful.

then the dream comes.

it's not even a dramatic dream, not really.

no monsters, no chase scenes, no horror movie jump scares. it's just... absence. emptiness.

you're walking through your childhood home, the one you grew up in, the one that doesn't exist anymore, and every room is empty. you call out, but your voice doesn't make a sound. you search, but there's nothing to find. just dust and silence and the crushing certainty that you'll never find what you're looking for, that it's gone, that it's never coming back.

you wake up with a gasp, your heart hammering against your ribs, your face wet with tears you don't remember crying.

the room is dark, just the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains, and for a moment you don't know where you are.

panic claws at your throat, sharp and suffocating, and you sit up, pressing your hand to your chest like you can physically hold yourself together.

"jay," you choke out, but it's barely a whisper, barely a sound at all.

it doesn't matter. he's already awake.

he's a light sleeper, always has been, and the moment you stirred, the moment your breathing changed from the slow rhythm of sleep to the ragged gasps of panic, he was alert.

he sits up beside you, his hand finding your back in the dark, warm and steady and there.

"y/n," he says, his voice rough with sleep but gentle, so gentle. "hey, hey, you're okay. you're safe. i'm right here."

you try to say something, try to reassure him that you're fine, that it was just a dream, but the words won't come.

instead, a sob breaks free from your chest, violent and ugly, and suddenly you're crying, really crying, the kind of crying you haven't let yourself do in months.

it comes out of you like a storm, uncontrollable and overwhelming, your whole body shaking with the force of it.

jay doesn't ask what's wrong. he doesn't tell you to calm down or stop crying. he just moves, shifting so he's sitting against the headboard, and he pulls you into his lap, cradling you against his chest with an ease that suggests he's been waiting for this, waiting for you to finally let go.

"it's okay," he murmurs, his hand stroking down your back, slow and soothing. "i've got you. let it out, sweetheart. i'm right here."

you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, soap and sleep and something uniquely jay, and you cry until your throat is raw and your eyes are burning and you feel like you might actually be drowning in your own grief.

he holds you through all of it, his arms tight around you, his chin resting on top of your head, his heartbeat steady against your cheek.

"i'm not okay," you finally manage to gasp out, the words broken and barely intelligible.

"jay, i'm not okay. i haven't been okay. i keep saying i am but i'm not, i'm not, and i'm so tired, i'm so tired of pretending-"

"i know," he says, and his voice is thick with his own emotion, rough and tender. "i know, baby. i know."

"i don't know how to be okay," you sob, clutching at his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you anchored. "i don't know how to stop hurting. i try, i try so hard, but it's always there, and i can't-"

"shh," he soothes, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, anywhere he can reach. "you don't have to be okay. you don't have to pretend with me. i don't need you to be fine, y/n. i just need you to be here. i just need you to let me hold you."

"it's too much," you whisper, your voice cracking.

"i'm too much. i'm broken, and i'm sad all the time, and i don't want to burden you with-"

"stop," he says, firm but gentle, and he pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, to make you look at him even though you can barely see him through your tears. "listen to me. you are not a burden. your pain is not a burden. loving you means loving all of you, even the parts that hurt, even the parts that are broken. especially those parts. do you understand me?"

you shake your head, fresh tears spilling over, and he wipes them away with his thumbs, his touch so tender it makes you cry harder.

"you're the strongest person i know," he continues, his voice soft but insistent.

"you carry so much, and you never complain, and you keep going even when it feels impossible. but you don't have to carry it alone. let me help you. let me be here. that's all i want, y/n. just to be here with you, through all of it, for as long as you need."

"i'm scared," you admit, your voice small and vulnerable. "i'm scared i'll never feel okay again. i'm scared i'm always going to be this sad."

he pulls you back against his chest, holding you so close you can feel his heartbeat, and he rocks you gently, back and forth, like you're something precious he's trying to keep safe.

"it's okay to be scared," he whispers. "it's okay to be sad. you lost something important, and that doesn't just go away. it takes time, and it takes healing, and it takes being gentle with yourself. and i'm going to be here for all of it. i'm not going anywhere. even when it's hard. especially when it's hard."

you cling to him, your fingers twisted in his shirt, and you let yourself believe him. let yourself believe that maybe you don't have to be okay right now, maybe you don't have to have it all figured out.

maybe it's enough to just be here, in his arms, letting him hold the pieces of you together until you're strong enough to hold them yourself.

"can you sleep?" he asks after a while, when your crying has slowed to hiccuping breaths and occasional tremors. "or do you want to stay awake for a bit?"

"i don't want to sleep," you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'm scared the dream will come back."

"okay," he says, and he doesn't try to convince you that dreams can't hurt you, doesn't tell you to just close your eyes.

instead, he adjusts his position, settling back against the pillows with you curled against his side, and he starts talking.

"do you want to hear about my day?" he asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "it was pretty boring, but i can tell you about it if you want. distract you a little."

you nod, sniffling, and he presses a kiss to your forehead before he starts.

"so i woke up late, which you know because you were already gone for class, and i had to rush to get ready. couldn't find my keys, spent ten minutes looking for them before i realized they were in my pocket the whole time. classic me, right?"

you make a small sound, not quite a laugh but close, and he smiles against your hair, encouraged.

"got to work, and my boss was in one of those moods where nothing anyone did was right. he yelled at jake for like, twenty minutes about the coffee machine, which jake doesn't even use, so that was fun. then at lunch, i went to that new sandwich place on fifth, the one with the green canopy? got a turkey club that was way too big, i only ate half, saved the rest for later. thought about texting you a picture but i figured you'd be in class."

he keeps talking, his voice low and soothing, filling the dark room with mundane details and small stories.

he tells you about the dog he saw on his lunch break, a golden retriever that looked like it was smiling. he tells you about the weird conversation he had with his coworker about conspiracy theories involving pigeons.

he tells you about the song that was stuck in his head all day, and he hums a few bars of it, off-key and silly, and you feel yourself relaxing, bit by bit, your breathing slowing to match the rhythm of his voice.

"and then i came home," he continues, his hand moving from your arm to your hair, stroking through the tangled strands with infinite patience. "and you were here, and you smiled at me, and that was the best part of my day. that's always the best part of my day. coming home to you."

your heart aches, but it's a different kind of ache now.

not the sharp, hollow pain of grief, but the warm, full feeling of being loved, truly loved, for exactly who you are in this moment, broken pieces and all.

"i love you," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them, but you don't want to stop them, you want him to know. "i love you so much, jay. thank you for staying. thank you for not giving up on me."

he goes still for a moment, his hand pausing in your hair, and when he speaks again his voice is thick with emotion.

"i love you too," he says, and he tilts your chin up so he can kiss you, soft and sweet and full of promise. "i love you, and i'm not going anywhere. you're stuck with me, okay? through the good days and the bad days and all the days in between."

"okay," you whisper against his lips.

"now," he says, settling back again, pulling you close against his side, "close your eyes for me. just try. i'll be right here, and if the dream comes back, i'll wake you up. i promise. i'll keep you safe."

you hesitate, still afraid of the darkness waiting behind your eyelids, but you trust him.

you trust him more than you've trusted anyone in a long time. so you close your eyes, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"that's it," he murmurs, his hand resuming its slow stroking of your hair. "you're doing so good. i'm so proud of you, you know that? for letting yourself feel things, for letting me in. that takes so much courage."

"don't leave," you mumble, already half-asleep, your exhaustion finally catching up with you now that the storm of tears has passed.

"never," he promises, his voice barely above a whisper. "i'm right here. i'm always right here. sleep now, my love. i've got you."

he keeps talking, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear.

he tells you about the plans he has for the weekend, about the book he's reading, about the way the light looked coming through the window this morning.

he tells you that you're beautiful, that you're strong, that you're loved, that you're safe. he tells you that tomorrow will be a new day, and you'll face it together, and whatever comes, you'll handle it side by side.

you drift off to the sound of his voice, to the feeling of his arms around you, to the certainty that he means every word.

when you dream again, it's not of empty rooms and silence. it's of him, of his smile, of the way he looks at you like you're the most precious thing in his world.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 

when morning comes, grey light filters through the curtains, you wake up still in his arms, and he's awake, watching you with soft, tired eyes, and he smiles when he sees you looking at him.

"hey," he whispers, his voice rough with sleep.

"hey," you reply, and your voice is hoarse from crying, but it doesn't hurt. it feels like release, like relief, like the first breath after being underwater too long.

"how are you feeling?" he asks, his hand coming up to brush hair away from your face, his touch gentle, checking, caring.

you consider the question, really consider it, and you don't say you're fine. you don't say you're okay. you tell him the truth.

"like i have a long way to go," you say quietly. "but like i don't have to go there alone."

his smile is the sun coming up, warm and bright and just for you. "never alone," he promises. "never, ever alone. i'm right here, every step of the way. however long it takes."

you burrow closer to him, hiding your face in his neck, breathing him in, and you let yourself believe it. let yourself believe in him, in this, in the possibility that healing is possible, that love is real, that you are worth staying for.

"thank you," you whisper.

"for what?"

"for seeing me. even when i didn't want to be seen."

he holds you tighter, his arms a fortress, a promise, a home.

"always," he murmurs against your hair. "i'll always see you. all of you. and i'll love you anyway. through all of it. forever."

and as you lie there in the early morning light, held together by arms that won't let go, you think that maybe, just maybe, forever doesn't sound so impossible anymore.

⋆˚✿˖°

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, trying to place which one he means.

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

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

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

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

Not dramatic. Just… still.

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

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

You raise a brow. “What?”

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

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too close. Always too close.

You glance at him once, then look away.

“Hey,” you say.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

You turn your head.

“Last time you literally—”

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

You pause.

“That’s not—”

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

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

A short silence settles.

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

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

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

“…you’re serious.”

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

Another beat.

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

You don’t answer immediately.

Your grip tightens slightly in your lap.

“That’s not what I meant.”

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

Instead, he just nods once. “Alright.”

But the air in the car shifts anyway.

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

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

It’s easier that way.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

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

No one questions it.

No one looks twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I turn to the girls. “Seriously?”

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

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

Everyone except one person.

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

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

“Heeseung, no petnames.”

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

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

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

You frown, “I didn’t say that.”

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, “But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can’t let anyone see this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And stupidity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, your best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your best friend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His dick was literally in me hours ago.”

Your own words hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and brutal.

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

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

Or is it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hee: where the hell are you?

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

you: on my way home.

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

hee: alone??

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

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

hee: can i call?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown, “You don’t care..?”

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

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

“…You were busy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you we have to be discreet—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh, “It’s not your fault, Hee—”

He huffed, the sound sharp and bitter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was the last thing he said before hanging up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one called it out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh as you lean back.

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

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

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

Your gaze snap at her. “How..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at her. And then your hands together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate before answering.

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

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

“And?” Yunjin urges.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes went to her, before shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

You huff, “Yunjin, I’m serious!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easier said than done.”

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

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

You took a deep breath, before nodding.

Yunjin nodded too, her gaze steady on yours.

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

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

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

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

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

She leaned forward again, her expression turning serious again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She let out a slow breath before continuing,

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

You chuckle, before shaking your head.

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

Yunjin's smirk returned, sharp and victorious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Hi. It’s me.” You say quietly.

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

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

You hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, see you, Hee.”

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

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

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

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

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

He looked…tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was frustrated.

“Yeah, well…your apology sucks."

“…Want me to write a letter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He glanced at you again, his eyes narrowing slightly.

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

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

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

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

"Say something, goddamnit."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…It was casual. But is it really? Even when we weren’t in bed, you’d still call me petnames.” You sigh, “Still make me meals, still stay the night, still drive me to and from work. I mean, you’re my best friend. But…I feel..something now.”

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

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

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

You look at you trembling hands, “Love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, not trying to filter anything now.

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

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

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

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

You keep quiet, silenced.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“You’ve said that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause as he turn fully towards you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gosh he’s so petty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You retort immediately, “I care too!”

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

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

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

His shoulders tensed at that sudden outburst,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop yelling!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you tear up.

Holy fuck, are you crying?

You wanted to slap the shit out of yourself.

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

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

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

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

He looked…guilty now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well I’m a little stupid, sorry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too, idiot."

“That’s not what you call me.”

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

“I love you, baby.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still, Hee.”

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

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

“You were hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

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

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

"You're mine, got it?"

“And you?”

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

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

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

“Long day, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You obeyed, slowly laying back on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could say the same about you.”

Neither of you moves after that.

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

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

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

The touch is grounding.

Steady.

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

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

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

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

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

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

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

It’s unhurried.

Sleepy, almost.

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

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

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

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

You hum, while he continues mouthing at your collarbone.

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

He doesn’t pull away.

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

“Mm,” he hums, voice muffled.

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

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

Sly fox.

“I’m right here.” You smile.

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

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

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

He looks into your eyes, asking for permission.

“But breakfast…”

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

You grin, before nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beautiful, my woman.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Lift your hips."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

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

“Watch me touch myself first.”

Heeseung had to hold back a groan at your suggestion.

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

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

To try and experiment with each other, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hee…Touch yourself too..”

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

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

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

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

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

He was going to die just watching you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, baby?”

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

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

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

A ragged breath before he started moving—deep, punishing rolls of his hips that left no room for gentleness.

“Ngh, fuck—Hee!”

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

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

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

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

Addicted to you, his love.

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

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

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

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

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

“So good—you’re so good for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist ! [@only4mylove @xionvlog @heymaaaartin @in-somnias-world @freshtaledonut @nobodyaskedeu @coconutx-o @kristynaaah @skzenhalove @fataltrebles @lvlyhiraii @kjunebuggie]

The frat house is crowded as usual, with people getting drunk and high on whatever substances they prefer in their system. On any other night, Jay would find the scene irritable and annoying. 

After all, he always keeps himself in check, always sober and in control of his actions and thoughts, always so, so responsible. He’d prefer watching from the sidelines and being of help for when Riki starts throwing up from too much drinking or when Heeseung sings too loud after his second fill.

Jay is always responsible. He never lets himself on the loose.

But tonight, as the aftermath of his near-fight with Heeseung and him having to rush to the hospital after the burgundy-haired alpha collapsed in his omega’s doorway, despite Jay himself being too shaken to stand, he thinks he’s fine with getting slightly reckless.

Slightly reckless, in this case, is drinking more than the two red cups he usually gets.

“Why are we using fruits to represent anatomy?” 

Back to the situation at hand, where he’s sitting on top of a tall stool around the kitchen island, Sunoo is throwing Jake a grimace. Beside him, Riki already has his head bobbing to the music, a telltale sign of a blackout drunk that would usually result in Jay and Sunoo cleaning his mess up. A defeated sigh leaves his lips involuntarily.

Jay downs another shot.

"I don't want to be too explicit," Jake shrugs, like it's the most normal thing to do. "So, peach or cherry?"

Jay knows how this will go.

Riki is an ass guy, judging from the way he likes to slap anyone's butt within his proximity. Jake is both because he's an indecisive little shit who's just too greedy to pick. If pussy was on the options, he'd pick all three.

Sunoo, despite his reckless endeavor with alphas, Jay has never heard him doing anything more than a messy make-out and a blowjob. But he might be an ass guy too, just because he has a juicy fat ass. Heeseung—well, if he was here, anyway—would've said boobs, because Jay knows him a little too well which makes him privy to the former's (previously) sexually active life.

And Jay—he's too respectful to even answer that.

True to his own guess, Riki shakes his head drunkenly from beside an expressionless Sunoo. "My girl is perfect," he says, then grins cheekily. "But I like taking her from the back. Shit, you shouldn't know that."

"We shouldn't, dumbass. Why are you airing out your bedroom activities to us?" Sunoo rolls his eyes, but there's no bite to it. Everybody knows how loose Riki's tongue can get when he's wasted. On any other sober days, he would gate-keep the hell out of his omega. "Anyway, peach."

Jay has guessed almost everything right. He downs another shot.

A shit-eating grin appears on Jake's face. "I knew it, Sunny, you're an ass guy!"

"It's not really a groundbreaking discovery," Sunoo shrugs his shoulders, then turns to Jay. "Jay hyung, what about you?"

Jay is a respectful guy, so there's no way he would ever answer that. He shakes his head, already dizzy from the buzzing alcohol in his system.

"I don't like talking about this."

A chorus of groans echoes around the island. Only Sunoo smiles at him.

"You're no fun, Jjongsaeng," Jake shoves his shoulders playfully. "It's harmless conversation. As for me, I like anything they give me, but I love pussy the most. Which will make me a butterfly guy."

Sunoo lets out a loud groan, while Riki is already giggling. "Are you calling pussy a butterfly? Hyung, please shut the fuck up."

It's ridiculous, really. Jay loves his friends, but they sometimes do questionable things that makes him want to rip his own hair out. If Jungwon was here, he would be up his ass and plot ways to get on his nerves. If Sunghoon was here, well, Jay likes his company the most because he's the calmest and doesn't say controversial shits that could get them cancelled. His friends can be insufferable sometimes, but the most annoying one at this moment is none other than Heeseung.

Thinking about the burgundy-haired alpha just makes his wolf bitter all over again. Seriously, what did he do wrong? Heeseung should've been thanking him instead for keeping his omega dry from the rain. Not taking him down in an almost-fistful physical attack, and definitely not this silent treatment between them that makes their shared apartment smaller than it is, on-edge pheromones suffocating the air.

Jay is pissed. Pissed that they haven't made up yet and pissed at himself for being too kind.

Is he too kind? Should he just let her get soaked in the rain?

He grabs his red cup, ready to feel the alcohol again, and sighs quietly when there's only a drop left inside. Jay is about to stand and refill more booze, but he's stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.

He looks up to a worried Sunoo.

The younger alpha gives him a once-over. He probably looks so red in the face right now, but nobody seems to notice because Jake and Riki are somehow trying to bite each other's heads off arguing about the proper fruit representative for a pussy.

"You're drinking a lot tonight," Sunoo finally says, ever the observant. "Did something happen?"

Everything happened.

Is what Jay wants to say badly.

That near-fight with Heeseung happened. That still-awkward tension between him and Riki's mate happened. That weird glances mated alphas throw at him whenever he's around their omegas happened. That flirty and hopeful stares omegas give him whenever he so as looks their way happened.

And, despite everything, him still not meeting his mate happened.

If anyone should be envious, it's Jay. Not Heeseung. Not Riki.

"Envious of?"

Shit. He said that out loud, didn't he?

He was about to deflect, but now that Sunoo is fixing him with that foxy gaze, glinting with relentless curiosity that won't back down no matter the excuses, Jay knows he has nowhere to go. He looks to his left, where Jake and Riki has reconciled and agree that no fruit matches with a pussy's shape because apparently pussy is too special for fruit comparisons, settling on calling it flower instead, and now have started discussing about how diabolical it is to compare a dick to an eggplant, and sighs.

Jay thinks he needs new friends. Better friends, even. Except Sunoo. And Sunghoon.

"Hyung?"

When Jay's sure that Jake and Riki are too wasted and distracted to eavesdrop, he finally relents.

"I…Sunoo-yah," he swipes a tongue across his bottom lip. "Is there something wrong with me?"

This is why he hates getting drunk. Because his body recognises alcohol as invitation to start talking deep shits and pouring his heart out like an endless stream of river. It's not a bad thing to be vulnerable, but Jay has guarded his heart so tight that only certain people have the privilege to listen to his deepest secrets.

Thankfully, tonight is just his luck. Rather than exposing himself to a stranger, which has been his biggest fear when getting drunk, it's Sunoo who's listening to him attentively. The brown-haired alpha is looking at him softly, amber eyes full of understanding and encouragement, and it makes the tension in his shoulders slowly melt away.

"Why'd you say that?"

Jay is quiet for a moment. Right, why would he? Then he remembers Heeseung and Riki, those omegas and alphas, and, finally—his own wolf.

"Am I too…" he sucks in a breath, not wanting to sound self-absorbed, but it's what he's been hearing from people.

"Am I too much of a green flag?"

Sunoo didn't expect that from him, judging by the micro-surprise in his expression. Maybe he should stop there and let Sunoo reply, but now that he finally lets it out, Jay finds it easy to just continue.

"Is it wrong to be a kind alpha? I think it wasn't, but seeing how anxious and weary alphas can get when I'm being a gentleman to their omegas…" he trails off, hating the fact that it's his best friends' faces that appear on his mind. "I think it's a mistake. I shouldn't be too kind, right?"

There's a muffled silence between them, dampened by the loud bass from the living room and the sharp citrus turning bitter in the air. Jay looks off to the kitchen island, realising that it's now just him and Sunoo in that space; Jake and Riki are now joining the beer pong just getting started in the backyard.

Across from him, a look of understanding crosses Sunoo's face.

"There's no such thing as being too kind, hyung."

"Then why am I being punished for it?" He cuts in sharply. "Why do I feel bad for doing those things to them?"

He still remembers, the day Riki showed up in his apartment, crying because his lifelong crush wanted Jay to help her with her heat. Riki begged him not to agree, and Jay had done so—it didn't feel right to do that, especially when he knows about the younger boy's feelings for his childhood friend. But then Riki changed his mind and convinced him to say yes, because 'I didn't want her to go through it alone in indescribable pain, and I don't want to ruin our friendship if it's not me that she wanted. Please help me, hyung, she's just presented as an omega. It'll be too dangerous for her to do it alone.'

He had agreed out of sympathy for his younger friend, but somehow him agreeing had bloomed jealousy in the alpha's heart. Jay understands—Riki is still too young, and young alphas are the most territorial creatures to walk on this Earth—but it still hurts his feeling to be treated like a Mr. Steal Your Girl, when he has never stolen anything except omegas' hearts unintentionally.

Riki had apologised and admitted to his immaturity, but still, it wasn't enough to erase weeks of awkward silences and clipped conversations over a single apology. His omega has been extra cautious around Jay, and it always makes him sore to hold back from being himself around her. Or around any taken omegas, for the record.

So, really, he'd appreciate it a lot if Sunoo could just be honest with him and tell him, 'Yes, hyung, you're too kind for your own good,' instead of sugarcoating it.

But of course Sunoo would say the opposite.

"The ones who did that to you aren't the people you helped, right?" Sunoo says, smooth voice weaving through the music like it's meant to find Jay no matter the noise. "It's always the jealous alphas. But I'm sure those omegas were thankful for you for helping them. You're not being punished, hyung. You're just too good that you kinda intimidated these alphas into thinking that their mates would run to you the second they look away."

Jay doesn't know what to say to that. Sunoo always has this way of charming people with his words, the kind that can convince a criminal that they're a saint with that lilt in his voice that only he has. He's not sure if Sunoo really means it, or if it's the truth as it is.

The younger alpha sees right through him. "You're doubting me."

"No! No, I'm just—" Jay pauses, hating the fact that he is indeed doubting his friend's words, and decides to just be honest. "Okay—yeah. You're right. It's hard to believe you."

Sunoo hums, not the slightest offended. He leans forward, turning his head to watch the ongoing beer pong, seen through the transparent sliding door. Jay follows his line of sight, and feels his chest tighten when he sees Riki making out with his omega.

It's the familiar ache that he felt when he saw the mating mark on Riki's neck. The same longing he feels whenever his mated teammates talk about their fulfilled love life. It's like a circle of bubble that Jay doesn't dare burst, being the only one outside of a room full of people who have found the meaning of love.

I wish I could have that too.

Sunoo catches him before he could mask his scent. He throws Jay an expressionless look. For a moment, Jay prepares himself for a 'Gotcha!' comment from him, but the younger alpha only gives him a close-lipped smile.

"Ah, hyung. I should've known. You want a mate, don't you?"

"I don't," Jay is quick to deny, but upon seeing the knowing glint in Sunoo's eyes, he realises there's no point in denying. He sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

"Yes, I do. But it's not as easy as you might think."

"Why? I'm pretty sure there are many omegas who'd throw themselves at you."

"But I can't because I…" Jay licks his lips, "I don't find anyone I like enough yet."

Sunoo doesn't say anything for a long, stretched moment. Jay almost squirms under his dissecting eyes. It feels as though Sunoo is picking him apart by his gaze and his scent alone, seeing parts of himself that he wouldn't show bare. It's unnerving yet weirdly comforting at the same time, having someone who can see right through him despite the walls he built.

"Hyung, everything about this gentleman persona and you wanting a mate—there's only one thing I can say."

Jay swallows thickly, mind sobering up with each passing second. "What?"

"You are with this kindness not without a purpose," Sunoo says calmly, like he hasn't just dropped the most riddled sentence that sounds too Shakespeare-ish to Jay's drunken mind.

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, there is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung. Your patience. Your heart," Sunoo flashes him a small smile, sincere and genuine. "You'll meet them someday. And when you do, you'll understand why you are the way you are. You are never too much for someone who's meant to hold you."

Jay hears him, truly, but that promise sounds so distant and far away. Like a reality he's witnessesing from a different universe, through a portal of lifelong waiting and yearning. He wants to believe it, wants to hold onto every syllable and let it be his new faith, but the deepest, ugly part of him doesn't believe he belongs to that kind of destiny.

He doesn't say anything. Not that he has the chance to when the smell of burning chocolate greets his senses and soon, an upset Jungwon is already filling up the space with his broad shoulders and moody pheromones.

A black leather jacket, zipped up to his chin, hugs his body, highlighting his wide figure under the kitchen light, paired with leather pants. Jungwon's hair is messy, untamed around the frame of his eyes, and Jay knows why when he sees the helmet in his arm.

"Hyung, be honest. Do I look too baby-faced?" The alpha pouts, gesturing at his body. "Even after wearing this whole gear? I even rode my precious bike to see her!"

Jay doesn't have to stay to know that Jungwon's whining about the older omega he has a crush on, someone that used to babysit him when he was 10 years old and is now still treating him like a baby. He would've stayed to listen and comfort the younger alpha, really, but unfortunately for Jungwon, Jay also needs some comfort for himself before he loses his fucking mind.

He grabs his red cup and stands up, needing the alcohol to be in his system now more than anything. The other two alphas don't notice him leaving, and if they do, Jay's sure Sunoo's more interested to hear about Jungwon's failing love life than his already-doomed one.

Jay makes his way through the crowd, giving polite smiles to everyone in his way. He's not really a fan of this kind of crowd—it's more of Heeseung's and Riki's crowd—but it's the least of his concerns now. The alpha squeezes past dancing omegas whose stares linger, past a group of alphas who give him a nod of acknowledgement, past a pair of lovers making out on the wall.

That makes him falter.

Jay blames it on the alcohol. Really, he's usually not like this. It's actually easier to act like not having a mate among friends who are already mated doesn't affect him when his thoughts are more coherent and making sense. But right now, as he watches the couple giggling at each other, lips in ears and soft eyes looking into soft eyes, a pinch of envy twists in his chest.

Jay huffs, leaving the scene faster than he'd like to admit. Seriously, if he was so good and kind like everybody had said, if he's the picture-perfect alpha like every family member had boasted about, then why is it only him alone with no one to hold? Why is it always him who's cleaning after everybody's mess when he only watches on the sidelines as they get their happy ending? Why is it that people who run from love are more favoured than someone who's always been ready like him?

What about him? What about his happy ending?

After what felt like hours, Jay finally finds his booze. Jake has an eccentric preference of placing the booth all over the frat house, and the one in the kitchen has long ran out. He's standing at the booth by the stairs right now, the majority of them still untouched. Jay pours into his cup full to the brim. His senses are already tingling with the thoughts of drinking more.

When the alcohol buzzes through his system, Jay lets out a satisfied sigh. God, he's so carefree tonight. But whatever, he's pretty sure Sunoo can drive them home safely. Right now, Jay's focus is only on making himself feel better and forget whatever ruckus that has unfolded the past few weeks.

He pours more when his cup empties. From where he's standing, the bass doesn't really reach him, a bit distant from the speaker now blasting Miley Cyrus' Party In The U.S.A.. It makes the conversation around him sounds clearer in his ears. Including the ones coming from upstairs.

Jay pays them no mind. He's not here for gossips or shits and giggles—he's here to cool off. But when something sweet, something that reminds him of his mom's berry strudels and morning coffee drifts into his nose, Jay's senses sharpen.

Is someone baking? He wonders alone. The last time he left the kitchen, there were only Sunoo and Jungwon. As far as he remembers, neither could touch the oven without risking an explosion.

So where does this sweet scent come from?

It gets sweeter the more he spends his focus on it. Jay looks around, mind still buzzing, unable to find the source of the scent that has piqued his interest through the haziness. His nose twitches. Even in his drunken state, Jay can't help but notice how constrasting the scent is to his sharp citrus.

And for some reason, his wolf likes it.

"Is it from the stairs?" he mumbles, stumbling to the foot of the stairs, drink sloshing in his cup.

But just as he's about to look up, he's already colliding into a soft body coming down from upstairs.

"Ah!"

Oh no.

Jay watches in horror as the drink in his hand spills all over the person's shirt, staining the white fabric with yellowish mark that almost looks like someone's piss. He freezes, mouth gaping in surprise, but the only thing his hazy mind picks up is 'Yes, he's finally found where the scent comes from.'

It's from the victim of his booze.

Or rather, the furious omega who's looking down at him with a sneer on her face right now.

"Hey!" You yell, face burning red. "Look at what you did!"

Oh, Jay is definitely looking. For some reason, his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every feature decorating your sweet face. The perfectly sculpted brows that are now frowning deep, the round eyes that are narrowing down at him, the full lips that are pulled into a tight, dissatisfied line.

Such an angry omega. But also the most beautiful he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Hey, stupid alpha. I'm talking to you!"

Jay has never seen you before. Who are you? Why are you making his heart beat so fast? Why is his wolf wiggling his tail at the sight of you?

"Oh my fucking God. So fucking annoying."

Even when you're glaring at him, under the dim light of Jake's frat house, you look very, very pretty. Are you even real, or just a drunken manifestation of his desperation for a mate?

Jay's too starstruck and drunk to notice how dumb he must look right now, but you've had enough of the alpha gaping at you like a dying fish. You shake his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his shirt.

"Earth to dumbass alpha! Hello??? You just spilled your drink all over my Limited Edition Cherry Chanel Baby Tee!"

Oh, right. Jay snaps out of his reverie, and drops his eyes on your chest to see the damage he's done.

But instead of realising his mistake, he's realising something else instead.

The wet patch darkens your shirt from its usual shade, sticking to your chest like second skin. From where he's standing so close, just a step below you on the stairs, his eyes level with your chest, Jay has a belated realisation that you have such perfect…boobs.

They're slightly bigger than average, perfectly-shaped and round, and they sit so nicely that Jay feels like they'd beat his expensive pillows in softness. A thought, a small thought that sober-Jay would never have, crosses his mind.

Jay wants to bury his face in your chest to test it.

Oh my God. This is bad. Drunk-Jay is so, so bad. He's really malfunctioning tonight.

You, on the other hand, are already at your wits' ends. It doesn't help that the shirt feels so sticky, so uncomfortable and it irritates you to the core. Also, why the fuck is this stupid alpha staring at your chest like—like he wants to touch it?

"Hey!" you push his shoulder again, but the alpha doesn't budge. You grit your teeth. "My eyes are up here, dumbass!"

Jay breathes out. "Che…rry."

Your brows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"Cherry." Jay repeats, eyes never leaving your chest. His mind is dissolving into mixed up conversations—he can hear Jake's voice, your voice, and the bass mixing together.

"I prefer…cherry."

There is a heavy silence that follows, loaded with bubbling anger, drunk confusion, and a very, very horrific realisation that he's talking about your chest. Your mouth falls open.

With a handsome face and neat shirt like that, you can't believe that this alpha is such a fucking pervert!

"Yah! Are you crazy?! What cherry?!" You scream, attracting more attention on the two of you. Jay barely blinks. "Are you talking about—about my boobs?!"

Jay blinks blearily, then nods.

"Your…cherry."

You let out a scandalised gasp. Humiliation starts creeping up your face, painting your skin even redder than before.

This is ridiculous. This is diabolical! The audacity of this alpha—!

Before you know it, your hand already swipes across his cheek in a surprised, harsh slap. Jay's head jerks to the side, his own eyes growing wide at the impact. A ringing silence echoes between the two of you, followed by a chorus of gasps from the onlookers.

After literally getting slapped into his senses, Jay sobers up in that one single moment and realises with a dread, What the fuck did he just do?

He slowly looks back at you, touching his stinging cheek like you had personally offended his whole bloodline. You're glaring at him, chest heaving rapidly like you can't contain your anger any longer.

"You fucking pervert!"

Jay's breath hitches. He's a pervert?

"Get away from me!"

The alpha lets his body get shoved to the side like a door blocking the way. He stands there, motionless, as he watches you leave, angry steps making your hair bounce. Shame and guilt start crawling up his chest when his mind decides to replay the scene, realising in horror how out of character he had been and how rude he was to you.

Oh God. Oh my God.

Seriously, Park Jongseong? Cherry? That's the first thing you say to the literal love of your life?

"Isn't that Park Jongseong?"

"Oh my God, I thought he was a green flag?"

"I guess even a green flag still has a knot to satisfy."

"Park Jongseong is a pervert?"

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand down his face. He doesn't really care about his reputation, so the whispers barely bother him.

What he cares more is the lingering scent of acidic espresso and rotting cherries in the air, trailing after you even when you're long gone. His cheek still burns, but he couldn't care less because—you know…he kind of deserved it.

Fuck.

And Jay doesn't even know your name.

"All alphas are nothing but a knothead!"

You spit, seething in anger as you glare at anyone in your way. Not even the loud music can muffle your voice, sending death threats and insults to a certain alpha (and literally all other alphas.)

Maybe it's just your bad day, because just as you finally see your exit, an alpha—stupidly broad-shouldered alpha, fuck alphas and their ridiculous proportions—bumps into you. You click your tongue and look up at him.

"Why do you guys stupid alphas only think with your dick, your cock, and only your small fucking knot?!"

The alpha stares at you in horror. It seems like today is more of his unlucky day than yours.

"I-I don't—"

"What? You don't have a dick?" You cut him off, irritation pulling at your nerves. Tonight is such a shitty night. "Isn't that the only thing you alphas are proud of? Thinking with your knot and tricking omegas with your cock?!"

The poor alpha stands there cowering, hanging his head low as if he's already accepted his fate of being the receiving end of your hatred towards alphas and…dicks.

You push a trembling finger on his chest, eyes prickling with tears. Fuck these hormones and emotions, fuck this soft scent that makes people think you're nothing more than a weak, defenceless omega—you've had enough of everything.

"Am I wrong? Isn't that why Riki cheated on me?!" You yell, not caring if people catch your words. "Because his dick can't get enough with only one pussy?!"

A ripple of murmurs and whispers start spreading around you. Even the DJ has turned the volume down slightly, taken aback by the sudden drop of the bomb of truth.

A cheating scandal? That's the juiciest gossip college students could have ever had.

The nameless alpha looks at you, eyes wide in surprise mixed with disappointment when he hears your words.

"Oh my God—there's no way—Riki cheated?" He stammers. "Nishimura Riki cheated?"

"Who the fuck is Nishimura Riki?" Your brows furrow, first time hearing that family name. "It's Hirota Riki! My stupid, cheating ex who's immature and younger than me and just plain dumb like a textbook alpha!"

The relief physically vanishes from his face. Then, as if realising what you have said, his face mirrors your confusion. "Wait—you mean Maki? That German-Japanese guy?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Of course people know him. You almost forgot that your ex, other than being a piece of garbage and a pain in your ass, is also a famous model for the college magazines. His face is everywhere, in every campaign and poster and advertisements, wearing clothes that always gains attention.

Clothes that you designed and sewn by hand.

The back of your eyes burn with tears, but you blink them back, not wanting people to see your sadness. You'd rather they have your anger and rage, because lashing out and being called crazy for screaming seem less vulnerable than the little drops of tears down your cheeks.

You push at the alpha weakly, every fibre of your being just begging to go home and forget everything about tonight.

"Are you okay, angry omega?"

"Shut up," you hiss, voice shaky. "I'm leaving this place."

The crowd parts for you as you make your way to the exit. You sway slightly, too drained from spending your energy screaming at everyone and no one at the same time.

You hate the prying eyes. You hate the pitying words. You hate the whispers. But there's nothing you can do when it's you who accidentally aired out your ex boyfriend's scandal in your fit of anger.

It's been two months since the breakup—a breakup that you thought was healthy and reasonable. Maki told you that he was going to get busy with growing his career, balancing his job as a freelance model with being an engineering student was starting to take up most of his time. Somewhere in between schedules, he no longer could find the time to love you, to fit you in his world of fame and glory.

You didn't want to hold him back. Even when you had liked him more than you ever did anyone, you still let him go. The relationship lasted only for nine months, and you never really expected anything serious or long lasting from dating someone in college.

But tonight, a friend let the truth slip.

Maki didn't break up with you because he wanted time for his career growth—or whatever bullshit he spouted at you. No.

He has been seeing another omega behind your back. Someone from the same major as you.

It's no surprise that you didn't find out any sooner. Being a fashion major warrants competitiveness and rivals—and you're not exactly well-loved by your fellow designers. You're the notorious omega known for your ridiculous standards, your pride and stubbornness, and your sharp tongue. It's your brilliant designs that get people to at least pretend to be your friends, hoping to steal a bit of your creative talent—but you always smell bullshit from miles away.

So, really, it upsets you that you failed to detect Maki's bullshit first. And people have been keeping it from you because they like to see your downfall.

And what better downfall is there than seeing your ex cheating on you with your fashion rival?

It's not like you liked him to the point of love—no. It's the betrayal that makes your mouth feel dry, heart heavy in ways it never had been before, like an anchor pulling down ships to sink.

Before you know it, you're already outside. The air is too chilly for your skin, amplified by the wet stain on your chest. You bite your lips, on the verge of tears when you're reminded of that perverted alpha.

Another alpha that only caused you humiliation. Really?

How can someone look at you like you're the most divine being one minute, then blatantly stare at your chest the next?

It's beyond you, really. Alphas are just evolutionary failures.

You fish out your phone from your wallet and look for an Uber. You're not too drunk to drive. If anything, you've never felt more sober in your life. It's just skills issue—you just cannot drive. Even when you have a whole damn Porsche in the garage of your family's mansion; a gift from your overly-doting parents who got too excited when you managed to get into fashion school—it still terrifies you to hold the steering wheel.

All of these privileges and wealth, yet no success in the dating department (and driving classes). Your whole life, you have dated a cheater, a closeted alpha who was too scared to tell you that he liked knots better than your pussy, and just a total manchild who sulked back whenever you pouted.

"Seriously," you mutter, confirming your location on the screen. "When will it be my turn to date an actual manly alpha?"

You pause. Now that you think of it, even so-called green-flag alphas give you the ick.

They're just a bunch of performative males. Just look at the college's beloved cheater. Maki was acting like a green forest itself when he was courting you!

None of these alphas can be trusted!

"I will just die single," you decide, closing the app once your driver is confirmed. Your parents have more than enough money to support you anyway.

You stand at the porch in silence, the sound of the bass can be heard faintly through the walls. The stickiness of your shirt is now long forgotten; you've given up thinking about it when the memory of your ex comes back. There are more pressing matters at hand that need your attention.

Like the upcoming fashion week, no doubt will get you into another spiral of self-doubt and stress. Like your parents who keep insisting you meet this one young, handsome bachelor that apparently would be just your type—but you're still hurt by Maki's action that you haven't found the right timing to say yes. Like your favourite cherry Chanel baby tee, now ruined and stained, and you wonder if you should send it for dry cleaning or pay a fortune to scalpers—

"Miss?"

A deep timbre greets your hearing. It's soft and a tad bit familiar, like you've heard it somewhere before.

You turn around and immediately frown when you see him.

It's that perverted alpha.

"What?" You reply, already annoyed. The alpha blinks at you, looking more sober than before. His collar is folded neatly now, and the red tips of his ears are hinting more on shyness than alcohol influence.

He gives you a nervous smile. "I came to apologise."

Tch. Another performative alpha. But this one likes to stare at your chest too much.

You roll your eyes and turn back to the front, wishing for your driver to arrive fast.

"Just save your breath and go. You don't even know what you're apologising for."

One thing you hate about men, especially alphas, is that they never mean their sorry's. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything'. Everything is too generic. They don't have any idea what they apologise for. The phrase has lost its value from how often it flows out of their mouths without meaning.

But this alpha is a bit more stubborn than you think. He shuffles closer, still keeping a safe distance, and stands next to you. Now closer, you can smell the citrusy scent wafting from him—sharp and refreshing, something that reminds you of summer. It has to be his pheromones.

Well, okay. He has sexy pheromones. You'll admit that. Too bad that the owner is already on your blacklist.

"I apologise for spilling my drinks on you and ruining your baby tee," he begins, turning his body facing you. But you refuse to look.

"It's the Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee," you correct him. From your peripheral vision, you can faintly see him grin.

"Yes, I'm sorry for ruining your Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee."

Okay. He's obedient. But it could be performative. Maybe he's just trying to get into your pants. You're not oblivious to how beautiful you look. You know that your family has good genes.

"And I apologise for staring at your chest inappropriately. I came off as a pervert even when I didn't mean to," he breathes out, voice lowering down in shame. "I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable."

Something tugs at your heart unexpectedly. It surprises you that this alpha actually knows what he's apologising for, unlike your previous exes who only said sorry to get your nagging self off their backs. You shift slightly, unwilling to let this new change get to your head.

"Well, apology heard," you retort, still strong on not letting the alpha get too close—or accepting his apology. "But I'm not sorry for slapping you. So don't expect an apology from me."

An amused chuckle slips past his lips. His lemon scent bursts in the air, sounding too elated for your liking.

What's so funny?

"I guess I deserved it," the alpha, whose name you just realise you never know, replies as he touches his cheek with a brush of his fingers. You take a glance, satisfaction blooming in your chest when you notice the red mark on the tender skin.

That's what alphas like him deserve. Omegas run the world anyway.

You don't bother to say anything, just letting the cold breeze of night wind engulf you. It seeps into your bones, making you shiver almost too aggressively. The driver is still five minutes away, taking suspiciously long time at the red light just in front of a Burger King drive-thru.

You feel eyes on you before you feel his movements. The alpha sheds his trench coat, brushing wrinkles off the fabric before he hands it to you. You almost sigh, both out of relief and annoyance because really, you could use some extra layers right now but seriously, does it have to be in the most cliche, K-drama-worthy situation ever?

"What is this," you flatly ask, unimpressed.

"You're cold."

"How did you know that I'm cold?"

You watch the tip of his ears blush, and then his eyes traitorously drop to your chest before quickly lift up to face you again.

"I just…noticed."

You roll your eyes before looking down. "I know it's soaked, and it's—"

The words die on your tongue.

Your nipples. They're erect from the cold, mounting the thin, drenched fabric of your shirt in deadly-obvious pebbles. You brain dissolves into incoherent blabbering as a heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. It's seriously the worst day ever to choose not wearing a bra.

You don't know if it's shame, or anger, or both, but when you look up to the now-blushing alpha, there's rage boiling over like a kettle about to whistle.

"I fucking knew it!" You couldn't hold yourself back this time, snatching the coat and smacking the alpha with the fabric. The alpha's eyes widen as he cowers to dodge your attack.

"You're just a pervert!"

"I-I'm not! I'm sorry—ow! Ow!"

You don't relent and keep hitting him with his coat, tears of shame threatening to spill over.

"What are you sorry for, you performative wolf?!" Smack! Smack! "You just ogled at my chest again!"

"I didn't mean to—ow! I'm sorry!"

With one final hit, you throw the coat at his face with all your might. He clumsily catches it, eyes wide with shock. The anger is hot, too hot that the cold doesn't bother you anymore, in fact you think steam might rise from your head in any second. With a huff, you stomp down the porch, ignoring his cries of sorry's from behind.

"I-I'm sorry! It's a misunderstanding! I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable again!"

"Shut the fuck up! You better not show your face anymore!" You flip him off without looking back.

However, upon seeing the Uber driver, you take a U-turn and stomp back to the alpha. His eyes immediately light up, there's a thin layer of moisture in his eyes. Maybe the coat hit his eyes or he's just so performative he'd cry if he could, you don't really care.

"You came back," he breathes out. "I'm sorry—"

"I said shut up!" You yell, already too irritated and overstimulated. While you're at it—embarrassing yourself to the point of no return—you snatch his trench coat and sling it over your chest shamelessly.

The driver is also an alpha, and you're not risking flashing your tits to another pervert.

"I'm taking this. Bye!"

"Wait!"

"And I am NOT returning it!"

With a harsh slam of the door, the car finally drives into the horizon, leaving behind a confused and guilty and perverted alpha as he chases after your Uber. Your chest heaves deeply, adrenaline running hot as your face flushes. You pretend not to notice the bag of chips and burger in the driver's lap, or the way the perverted alpha stands smaller in the side mirror as he watches you leave.

You just hope you never see that alpha again.

You never see that alpha again. However, as if you had personally offended the Earth and the entire Solar system, the Goddess doubles it down and sends your cheating ex to your studio instead.

His presence is too invasive that you feel him before you see him. His pheromones, now making your hair stand instead of providing the comfort that it used to do, breaches your senses when you round the corner. You had just stepped out to get some lunch, already grumpy from resisting your persistent mom and her chosen alpha for you to mate, when you see Maki walk down the hallway like it was his runway.

Your stomach drops. Like it's survival instinct, you turn back around and speed-walk to your studio. It's like a drum war being hit inside your chest, and you hope you're fast enough because you really, really don't want to deal with him right now.

Just as you're about to close the door, a force of Maki's hands pushes it back open. You stumble backwards, eyes wide in surprise as Maki effortlessly slips inside. His body, tall and wrong and crowding, swallows the room like a black hole sucking in the light and leaving you empty and alone in the darkness.

There's a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

"If it's not my favourite ex."

His voice is dripping with honey, a sweet poison that always gets to you no matter how hard you pretend it doesn't. It's sticky and uncomfortable, it makes you squirm and feel like there's something you should be scrambling for. It gets under your skin and Maki always gets the reaction that he wants.

You snap, face pulling into a scowl.

"What do you want, Maki?"

Maki lets your voice fade, acting like he didn't hear you. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the young alpha straightens, easy eyes meeting your sharp ones. And when he speaks, the words roll off his tongue so smoothly, like seeing the person he used to love didn't affect him the slightest. Like you didn't have such an impact on him the way he does you.

"Did I cheat, Y/N?"

The question strikes you dumb for a moment, but you recover quickly. Of course. Words spread fast on campus, especially if the source is the frat house. You knew it'd reach Maki eventually, but you didn't expect it to be this fast. It's like every person inside that house was an extension of Maki; the golden boy, the people's favourite, the face painting every cover of magazine.

You try to hide the tremble in your fists.

"You did."

Maki hums noncommittally.

"Do you have proof?"

"Liz told me," your voice grits out, "You'd been fucking around with your new girlfriend since you were with me."

The alpha tilts his head, still wearing that laid-back expression that you wish you could slap off his face. "Did she?"

"Yes. Now get out of here, you fucking stink—"

"Why would she help you, Y/N?" Maki calmly cuts you off, a bored tone in his voice. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, like he'd rather deal with a child than you. His smug face makes your skin prickle. You hate how easily he can hit your nerves.

Maki takes a step closer, taunting as ever.

"Had you started thinking that you have friends now?"

It's a soft blow that lands hard in your chest. Maki used to know you, therefore he knows all the ugly parts of you. And seeing him turning every knowledge he has of you into a weapon against you feels like being forced looking into a mirror that you've spent your whole life avoiding.

Your fists shake, nails digging into soft skin, almost drawing blood.

"Even if she lied to me, you got together with your new girlfriend so quick after the breakup," you spit between gritted teeth, holding back more than words. "That told me enough."

Maki is silent for a few heartbeats, his face unreadable.

"So what?"

There's a drop in your heart. Confused, disbelieving. "What?"

"What's wrong with moving on from you so fast? You didn't think you were so special for me to weep around, did you?"

There's a vaccuumed silence that swallows you whole. His words, casually laid out like he was discussing the weather, like the matters of your heart was something he wasn't concerned about, seep into your skin and every fibre of your being. The thoughts turn and curl, igniting a numbing buzz that replays his voice like a broken record.

Special. What's so special about you?

And when even you cannot find an answer, you feel the first crack in your chest.

Maki revels in your silence; in the first sign of submission. His smugness is loud in the studio, his pheromones flaring with dominance. He advances, taking deliberate steps, circling you like a predator assessing its prey.

"You've always been like this. So fiery, so passionate. All this energy yet no particular direction to go to," he drawls out, the words tumbling out lazily. He stops right in front of you, only a few centimeters away, and makes a show of looking around your studio.

He takes in the rumpled fabric, the crumpled sketchbooks, the spilled coffee. It appears as what he just observed: too much energy with no proper control. Loud. Messy. Reckless.

You.

"You can't even keep your studio tidy, Y/N," he breathes out a sigh.

"What's so unforgettable about you?"

When you had first started fashion school, you'd been told by every living person that money couldn't buy talent. No matter how big your mother's name is in the beauty and healthcare industry, no matter how prominent your father is in the automobile sector—you're nothing more than a mundane, passing student if you don't possess talent. And here, people always feel the need to remind you of that fact, especially after learning about the affluent background you come from.

So you learned. It's not like you got here through nepotism, anyway—you got in through your own grit. Your parents had always wanted you to get into med school, and the only thing you're good with when it comes to medicines is drawing the anatomy by hand. That sketch turned into figures and furls and soon, your dream to study fashion finally bloomed.

You have the talent and you have the grit. People always pass you nice compliments and constructive feedbacks you often dwell on—but the sleepless nights didn't really matter when you could finally see your collection walking down the runway front-row. You wear your confidence loudly that sometimes it's easy to forget that some people hate shiny things.

Your designs are so forgettable.

Said the new lecturer one day, tearing your sketchbook apart in front of the whole class came the third semester.

It was humiliating; the kind that burned your skin and the back of your eyes. Your nails cracked under pressure, trying so hard not to shed tears in front of so many pairs of eyes. But no matter how hard you try to reassure yourself, the comment lingers. It becomes an invisible knife that twists each time someone so much as look at your designs the wrong way.

And the first mistake you did was open up about it to someone.

The second mistake was that someone was Maki, of all people.

Because now, that alpha—all pride and arrogance—is throwing back the exact same insult at you right in your reddening face.

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

"Nothing," Maki finishes, eyes never leaving your face, as if savouring every twitch of hurt in your features.

There's nothing unforgettable about you. Not your designs; someone else probably invented something far more interesting than you. Not your face; you're just another pretty omega in a sea of more pretty omegas. Not your scent; you smell like pastries that people can easily get from any bakery. And certainly not you as a whole.

That's what he meant by it, right?

You're just a plus-one. An afterthought. The reason why skip buttons exist.

A heavy lump forms in your throat.

Maki takes your silence as a win and steps back.

"Now be a good girl and retract your statement. I never cheated on you," he says with conviction that you start questioning your own truth. "It's just your omega hormones messing around with you."

The door closes with a thud, leaving behind a ringing silence, the echo of his insults bouncing off the walls. There's a thin veil of moisture in your eyes, but you refuse to cry.

You refuse to cry for the rest of your time in your studio, trying to fix some of the mess, hating yourself even more when you realise that you care about his comments more than you should.

You refuse to cry on your way home, sitting in silence at the backseat of your Uber, replaying Maki's words in an endless loop that you wish could stop.

You refuse to cry when you have nothing to eat for dinner, stomach growling in hunger for some warm, homecooked meals, yet you have to settle for takeout again.

You refuse to cry when you sit in the middle of your living room, a luxury apartment far too big for one person to live in, trying to eat the soggy noodles and too-drenched fried chicken.

But like any normal human being, you have a heart too—a soft one at that. You can only hold on for so long.

It's hard to ignore the vast, empty space of your apartment; of the two vacant rooms down the hallways; of the single mug, single cutlery set, single-everything because for some reason you half-know and half-not, you just don't have…friends. At least not those who can reach the depths of your being—just fleeting, surface-level friends. Or companion.

Or whatever it was that Maki said that finally got to your head.

The dam finally breaks when you enter your room.

For the first time in your life, your nest that you always keep tidy on the love couch you have by the window, your safe haven where you lie in to find comfort, becomes the spot that you want to avoid the most.

There, arranged into a circle, are all the things that smell like solace and consolation after a rough day—or at least used to. Maki used to be like that—used to be your person, used to be your comfort place. So it's almost pathetic that you are still clinging onto his hoodie, his sweatshirt, the mittens he gave you last winter, the plush bunny that he won at an arcade, for comfort long after the breakup happened.

God, you didn't even want that bunny. You wanted the black cat.

You pick up his hoodie. It's the one he asked you to wear during a movie night, the one he received as a gift from GAP after a modelling gig with them. With shaky hands, you press your nose into the fabric, trying to catch the person who used to care for you—the person he was before he is now.

His scent lingers, faint and fading, but it's still there. Pine and frost, cold and sharp as his features. But instead of the warm feeling that you used to get, his scent makes your stomach twist and churn, a bile rising behind your throat.

The first drop of tears slides down your cheek.

He's no longer your safe space. Hadn't been since that breakup. Hadn't been since the night he kissed another woman behind your back.

Without thinking, you throw the hoodie on the floor. The fabric lands with a soundless thud, but the indication is loud regardless. When you look back at the love couch, the sight almost breaks you into pieces.

Your nest is all destroyed.

With a cry of fury, you lunge, hands tearing his sweatshirt apart next. At your force, the plush bunny tilts sideway, further breaking the perfect circle that used to be your nest.

"It's just a nest," your voice trembles, but the words ring hollow. Inside, your wolf twists and turns, aggressively shaking her head.

A nest is never just a nest.

"I don't care!" you shout, stomping on the plush bunny. "It's not like—it's not like anything would ever comfort me anymore."

Your knees buckle, too worn after carrying the weight of your inner battles for so long. You slump on the floor, sobs wrecking your chest, the sound raw and scratched. As if on instinct, you bring your knees close to your chest, staring at the mess with a solemn, teary gaze.

You don't even know what you're crying for. It's not like you still have feelings for Maki; or at least, there's no positive feelings for him except for lingering resentment and a strong sense of betrayal.

Is it because what the destroyed nest symbolises?

That you're nothing but a lonely, easily-discarded omega?

That nothing will ever be safe enough for you to rely on anymore?

You might act strong on the outside and bite every bullet with squared shoulders, but if only they knew what you truly feel inside.

If only they knew.

A loud, shrill ringing from your phone cuts you off your silent misery. You drag your body to where your mattress is located at the center of your bedroom, your mom's contact name blinking to be picked up.

With a wipe on your cheeks and a sniffle, you answer the phone.

"My lovely daughter! How are you? Are you eating well, sweetheart?"

I just destroyed my nest. "I'm good, Mom. Just had dinner."

"Come visit this weekend! I'll send our chauffeur to you. I'm planning to—"

"Mom."

You look around your room. At the space that feels too big to fill in, the discarded fabric on the floor. Then, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, daughter?"

You bite your lower lip, trembling. You look like a mess. Just like what Maki had said.

"I wanna go home."

There's a split second of silence before your mom's voice echoes again.

"You mean you wanna move back here, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you almost sniffle but you catch yourself, not wanting to give yourself away. "I wanna live with you again."

"Oh, my! That means you agree that alpha, don't you?"

Sigh. You almost forgot about that. The silly condition your pouty mom makes if you ever want to live with them again. One that you've been trying to avoid, too busy with the fashion week preparation and planning revenge on your heartbreak.

But is there really anything to lose?

If you agree, you'll be in close proximity with what you'd say your comfort: your family, and the mansion you used to grow up in. A blind date is just free dinner and having an alpha shower your with praises and compliments. You might have to put up with a little bit of boasting here and there, but it's nothing you can't handle.

So long as you can escape this loneliness, even if only for temporary…

"Yeah," you breathe out. "I'll meet him."

Just let me go home to you, Mom.

Park Jongseong's cheek is still stinging.

But instead of acting like any other man who just got slapped would, he's wearing a giddy smile on his face. He's lying down on the couch, his apartment being the hangout spot of the day for the weekend, but thoughts about his friends are scattered away. Jay is absolutely gone and lost in cloud nine, a cherry-shaped cloud wearing the face of a certain beautiful omega that has been running on his mind as of late.

"Geez, this guy has turned crazy," Sunoo shakes his head before he nudges the older alpha. "Jay-hyung, I brought some ice packs for your cheek."

Jay absentmindedly reaches out his hand, barely registering his friend's words. "Sunoo-ya, Britney Spears was right."

Confusion knits Sunoo's brows closer. "Britney-noona?"

Jay hums. "I want her to hit me one more time."

Sunoo gives him a deadpanned look and then shoves the ice pack in his face. Jay yelps from the sudden cold contact.

"Ow!"

"Well, if you can't find her, I'm more than willing and capable to hit you one more time in her stead."

The older alpha huffs, pressing the cold compress into his swollen cheek. "You don't understand, Sunoo," he defends, "Her hands were so soft and she's so….beautiful."

"She slapped you."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, cause you were ogling at her chest."

"I—" Jay gulps. Well, now it doesn't sound so good. "I mean…yeah, I did. I stared too long, in fact. That's why I said I deserved it."

Even while saying so, there's still this stupid smile decorating his handsome face. Sunoo can only shake his head, hands on his hips like a tired mom handling her teenage son's first underage drinking. It sounds that bad because it was that bad.

"I can't believe this is the end of Jay-hyung's gentleman era," Riki snorts from the floor. He's been hogging Jay's latest edition of PlayStation all to himself, secretly eavesdropping the two alpha's conversation.

Jay doesn't take it nicely. "What do you mean? I am still me."

"Mhm. Gentleman by day, boob enthusiast by night. Totally not a pervert."

Jay is open to criticism, especially anything to improve himself. But there's nothing to improve here. Jay is just…in love. Okay, that's a bit too soon. Jay is infatuated would be the best way to describe his situation right now because there's no doubt that he, as in human-Jay, and his wolf, like you.

Yes, in a romantic way. Yes, in a 'he wants to court you' way. Yes, in a 'I need her name and a priest now because he does hope he can marry you' way.

He's everything but he's not a pervert. No. And Jay has a hard time receiving criticism about his personality if it comes from a certain alpha named Nishimura Riki, and another alpha named Lee Heeseung. Call it pettiness or a vendetta, but those two have no right to say shit about him. Right now or ever.

Beside him, Sunoo starts to sigh. "Riki."

"What? At least we know why omegas like you now."

Jay's expression hardens. There's a twitch in his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunoo.

"What do you mean by that?"

Riki, still not sensing the sudden drop of temperature in the room, casually shrugs. "I'm saying maybe you've always been looking. Heeseung-hyung and I knew better."

A heavy silence blankets the room, suffocating each corner with unspoken rage. Sunoo almost recoils from the sudden bitterness that comes from Jay's pheromones. He casts a worried glance at the wounded alpha.

"Yeah." Jay lets out a quiet laugh. "Because both of you thought I'd steal your omegas."

Riki goes rigid. He puts down the console, finally registering the damage that came out of his mouth. He whips his head around, only to be met with a sharp glare from Jay.

"Jay-hyung…"

"No, let's talk about it." Jay gently pushes away Sunoo's hands that come up to comfort him, putting down the ice pack with calm fury that radiates more heat than if he had shouted. He fixes Riki with a burning glare that could've melted the ice pack.

"Let's talk about how I am always the collateral damage of your love story."

Riki gulps. Truthfully, he has never seen Jay angry. And even when he did, that anger was never directed to him. But this time, being the receiving end of such disappointed eyes, Riki wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Jay-hyung, you know I don't mean it like that."

"Which part? The pervert part? Because you and Heeseung surely treat me like one whenever your omegas are around," Jay says, still soft, but the venom is there. "As if I was some horny wolf waiting for the time to pounce on them. Let me ask you, Riki. What was so wrong with wanting to help you when you literally asked me for help?"

"I—I know. You're never wrong—" Riki swallows, too paralysed from how fast the situation took its bad turn. "I just…shit. I'm sorry, hyung. You're such a good alpha—"

"Am I, really? Because with you two, I never feel like one."

Riki tries to say something back, mouth gaping like fish out of water. Jay heaves out a long sigh, ruffling his already-messy hair. As if on cue, the door to his apartment opens and comes in Heeseung, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm upon sensing the tension in the living room.

"What are we fighting about?"

"About your terrible jealousy issues," Jay grits through his teeth, looking up to meet eyes with Heeseung. The latter almost flinches from how sharp his gaze is. Jay takes another deep breath.

"God, you know what? I understand jealousy. I truly do. I wouldn't want any alpha near my omega too. But that would be any alpha but you two. Because I trust you. I trust you so much and it actually," Jay halts for a moment, realising how intense his emotions have been running. But the reassuring pat from Sunoo serves as his motivation.

He needs to say this. He needs to. Otherwise he'd drown in undeserving guilt and shrink himself again.

"It actually hurts when you guys don't feel the same about me."

The tension thickens it could be cut with a knife. Riki's expression crumples, the alpha who's usually prideful and cocky is now in shambles upon seeing his older alpha breaking down like this. Heeseung fails to find any words, the guilt is lodged in his throat that barely any voice would come out, blocking any syllables from being spoken.

"I just wanted to help. My kindness has no underlying meanings. I didn't offer to help because I wanted to have your omega in bed, Riki. I was thinking about you. I was thinking how I could stop you from crying because you were my friend first and it—it hurt to see you cry so much like that."

Jay is still soft. His voice is still gentle, and that's what makes this whole situation uglier. That's what makes the guilt press harder. Both alphas in question could only stare at their feet, reflecting on their actions towards Jay.

"And you, Heeseung. Would you rather have your mate get soaked that night?" Jay doesn't let him answer. "I don't think you would. I couldn't just leave knowing she'd get drenched in the rain, knowing how much my friend cherishes her and would freak out if she got sick."

Heeseung purses his lips. He was so busy mending what was broken with his omega that he didn't realise how much he's been hurting his friend.

The apartment is silent, save for the PlayStation menu playing its music on loop. Riki can't bring himself to look at Jay, perfectly fine with tucking his chin low and hiidng his shame. Heeseung still has a hand on the doorknob, the metal feels cold on his slippery palm.

"Jay-ah…"

"I'll be in my room. I want to be alone for a moment."

The anger has long left his body. All he feels now is exhaustion and relief, like finally putting back a heavy backpack he's been carrying for months.

The three watch as Jay disappears behind the door of his master bedroom. It closes with a gentle click, as if even in anger and disappointment, Jay wouldn't ever be harsh to his friends. Heeseung and Riki immediately let out a breath they didn't know they were holding while Sunoo watches them with amusement.

"It took him a lot of courage to say that, you know." Sunoo takes a seat on the couch, grabbing the console that was left untouched by Riki. "You guys better apologise and make up to him properly."

"I am such an asshole," Riki whines and drapes his body across the couch, letting his head fall into Sunoo's lap despite his protest. "Hyung was right. It's all about trust. And I was acting like an insecure dog."

Sunoo snorts. "You're a big puppy, Riki."

Heeseung is still quiet. The memory of the punch that almost landed on Jay's face still haunts him, even before the confrontation. He knew it needed to be talked about eventually, he just didn't expect it to be in a situation like this. But alas, Jay has been a sponge that absorbs everybody's emotions, the reliable one—it's about time that the patient alpha loses it.

Just as he's about to enter the apartment fully, the door is suddenly pushed open from behind and Heeseung gets shoved inside instead. Immediately, the smell of burnt chocolate fills the air and the insults he prepares for the intruder die on his tongue.

"Sunoo-hyung!" Jungwon barges in, a pout protruding on his lips. "Noona called me his little brother again!"

Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please protect this friendship.

Heeseung walks silently to his room, ignoring the trio alpha now fighting for Sunoo's attention. Jungwon, however, upon seeing Riki, immediately scowls at the younger. His pout disappears and his complaints die in his throat.

"YOU! Nishimura Riki. You're not cheating, aren't you?"

Riki blinks confusedly.

"Cheating? In FIFA or PUBG?"

"On your girlfriend!"

"Fuck, no!" The blond-haired alpha sits up, taking full offence from the sudden accusation. "I would jump off the cliff first before I'd ever dare cheat on my lovely mate. What the fuck are you on? You know I'm loyal as fuck."

Sunoo pinches his arm. "That's too many curse words, Riki."

Jungwon shakes his head. He pushes the younger off the couch and claims his previous spot, laying his head comfortably on Sunoo's lap. The scandalised look on Riki's face hasn't faded, the alpha is still glaring at Jungwon like he has offended Riki's ancestors.

"Nothing. There was just this omega yelling about getting cheated on during last Friday's party."

"And? What does that have to do with me?"

"The cheater's name is also Riki! You don't know how disappointed and heartbroken I was for those three seconds when I thought it was Nishimura Riki. It turned out to be Hirota Riki," Jungwon nudges Sunoo's hand, urging the older to pat his head. He's still heartbroken, please comfort him, thank you. "I was so close to committing a murder on you that night."

With that explanation, a look of understanding passes Riki's face. He slumps and sprawls on the floor, relief bleeding out of his muscle.

"Oh. That's Maki. Riki C. He's the disgraceful Riki. I don't fuck with him. Not anymore."

"You better not!" Jungwon hisses at him like an angry kitten.

"Wait, so you're Riki B?" Sunoo tilts his head. One of his hands is playing with Jungwon's hair. "Then who is Riki A?"

"The other Riki is Taki, and no, I am Riki D, because this dick—"

"Nishimura Riki!" Sunoo and Jungwon simultaneously yell, drawing out a cheeky laugh from the youngest.

From inside his room, Heeseung could hear the commotion. He shakes his head. Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please save Nishimura Riki.

Living with your parents has been as peaceful as it can get. Nothing much can be said, considering that it has only been a week.

For the time being, you manage to get your mom off your back about meeting this handsome alpha that she'd like to have as a son-in-law. You hide behind the excuse of being busy with the fashion week, which is not totally a lie.

Fashion week is one of the biggest assessments there is. It means two months of outsourcing high-quality fabrics, sketching and crumpling papers and sketching, hours spent in the studio, finding suitable models for your runway and, the most important part: piecing your imagination and hardwork into a clothing worth wearing and parading.

Which is why you're spending your time in the studio on a Saturday, leisurely going over your sketches again as you wait for your fabrics to arrive. It had been preordered a month ago and the delivery was scheduled today. Precisely, two hours ago.

But you try not to worry. It's only 12 p.m., and there's probably traffic on the road since the working civilians are supposed to be having lunch now. But one hour turns into two. Then another one passes.

Before you know it, it's almost five in the evening, yet there's no sight of a truck or even a ring from the company itself. By the time you dial their office number, you have already done a cherry set on your nails, tidied up the space to accommodate your resources, and even sketched a whole damn new collection.

"Hello, this is The Nakakita. How may I help you?"

The Nakakita. A Japanaese establishment that is owned by the Nakakita family. You wouldn't have gotten in touch with such a prestigious supplier of the Japanese fabric materials had it not been for your cheating ex's connection in the fashion industry.

Maki is all things, and resourceful is one of them.

"Good evening. I'm Y/N. There's supposed to be a delivery for order #1284 today to my studio. Japanese denim, linen cotton, blended silk?"

Well, you might have sounded too demanding. But that's the least of your concern now.

"Oh, Miss Y/N. I'm terribly sorry, but this order was cancelled."

If your jaw could drop down to the ground right now, it would cause a huge-scale earthquake across the city.

"What? I never cancelled it, though?"

There is a sound of clicking on the keyboard from the end of the line. "Um…it was cancelled by the account holder two weeks ago. By Mr. Hirota Riki, approved by the heir himself, Mr. Nakakita Yuma."

What the actual fuck. Two weeks ago was when Maki had confronted you about the rumour spreading about his infidelity. Despite feeling a bit intimidated (not that you'd ever admit), you did no such thing and let his reputation continue to get tarnished. You still firmly believe that he did cheat and whatever manipulation he pulled on you was just an attempt at making you feel miserable.

Not only is his ego as big as he is and a gaslighter, but he is petty, too?!

You let out a disbelieving scoff. Oh my Goddess…That alpha is really something else. As if shattering your dream of having a mate wasn't enough, now he wants to interfere with your career path as well?

What a fucking weirdo.

"So, what happened to all those fabrics? I already paid for the deposit."

"Based on this record, it has been delivered to Miss Kim Areum three days ago and your money is in the process of being refunded back to your bank account."

And as if all of those things weren't enough to pull you under, Maki just has to deliver the final blow to the most sensitive part of your heart.

Of course he'd give those resources to his new girlfriend. Of fucking course.

It's like a cellotape on skin. Peeling it off would sting, taking away your body hair that gives you heat, and leaving sticky residue that wouldn't come off easily. Your relationship with Maki—during and after the breakup—has always left you with this hollow, sinking feeling that weighs heavy on your shoulders.

No matter what you did, if the relationship has ended or not, it'll always leave burn marks that you have been trying so hard to heal. And whether the world has moved on or not, it's always you bearing the ugly aftermath.

"…Miss?"

"I see," you finally speak, voice hoarse from suppressed anger. "Let Yuma know that my attorney will be in contact with your team soon."

"Wait—"

Not letting them finish, you end the call and toss your phone on the couch. Your perfectly blowed hair is now disheveled, untamed by your fingers as you pace the room. There's unshed tears hanging low on your waterline, waiting for the time to fall down, yet you still refuse to give in.

"Fuck!"

It's so unfair. It's so fucking unfair. It wasn't you who left, nor was it you who cheated and being disloyal—yet you are the one who have to pay the price for his crumpling ego? And now he's putting your hard-earned place in the fashion school on the line?

What a fucking manchild.

"What am I supposed to do? Goddess, help me—what am I supposed to do?"

You sink into the couch, the tears now slide down your cheeks with no restraints. There's a choked sob coming out of your throat, your scent souring with every hiccup slipping past your lips.

Time is not a luxury that you can afford now. Confronting Maki would only mess with your head more and result in nothing. You'd love to find a way to sue The Nakakita, but that's a matter that you'd like to solve after the fashion week ends.

Fuck. You barely have two months on your hands, yet you have just lost your resources that you have ordered a month ago. Finding a new supplier would be tough—since not many of them would take indiviual customers due to economies of scale. You are no wholesaler or retailer; catering to you would be expensive for them.

But you have to find a way somehow.

With a shaky hand, you tuck your hair behind your ears and grab your laptop. The tears are uncontrollable at this point, but it's not a sign to give up or stop. Your dainty fingers start typing fast on the keyboard, trying to search for any textile businesses that would make some space for you.

This is not how you imagine your evening would end. You had pictured measuring and cutting fabric pieces to fit your six-piece collection, getting prepared to start assembling them and fitting your models.

Yet here you are, giving calls after calls, accepting rejection after rejection from every business you try to contact. It's exhausting, the tears are now just cracked vulnerbaility on your cheeks. Somewhere along the way, you have accidentally snapped your manicured nails while typing.

"I'm sorry, you have to place an order three months prior in order to secure the fabrics."

This is the sixth one.

You barely hold back a sigh. "I see. Thank you for your time."

You slam your phone on the couch and start rubbing your face. This is hell. You're sure a truck had hit you somewhere on the road and this is your hell, punishing you for being such a bitchy omega to everyone around you.

But how could you not be one when everybody always gives you a reason to protect yourself?

Taking in a shuddering breath, you open your bleary eyes and stare at another line of name on the screen.

Sinar Textile.

It's operating until 8 p.m., which is unusual for many companies. Talking about the time, your stomach growls on instinct, as if reminding you of the skipped lunch and forgotten dinner that you are yet to acknowledge.

"This is the last one," you whisper to yourself. "If this too fails, I will fucking kill Maki."

You punch the number on your phone screen, exhaustion clinging to every movement. It's inhumane to sabotage someone like this; you wonder if you can sue Maki too somehow. He deserves it more than anyone in this world.

It takes five rings before the call gets picked up. A cheery voice greets you.

"Good evening! I am Jake from Sinar Textile. How can I help you?"

You rub your temple, appreciating the friendly tone while it lasts before you start threatening this poor Jake to agree to your proposal.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I'm looking for a few bolts of fabric for my upcoming collection."

A rustle is heard from Jake's side. "Hello, Miss Y/N. When do you need the fabrics?"

You tap your fingers on your thigh. "Two weeks from now."

There's a few seconds of silence before Jake speaks again. "Are you a wholesaler or a retailer?"

I fucking knew it. "Um," you gnaw at your bottom lip, nerves grating your edges. "Neither. I'm in fashion school, and I need them for my fashion week."

Please. Please accept me. Please take my request. Oh Goddess, this is the least you can do for justice.

But unfortunately, Jake is not your Goddess. "I am sorry, Miss Y/N, but our business strictly provides for wholesaling and retailing establishments only. As for indivi—"

"Please," you let out before you could stop yourself. "I'll take scraps or leftovers. Or even any cancelled order. I'll take anything but please don't turn me down."

You are never one to beg. Especially not to alphas. And while you're not sure about Jake's secondary gender, he's still a man and it still feels humiliating to beg.

But you don't have many choices now, do you? You care more about your degree than your dignity as of now.

The hesitance in Jake's silence is loud. "Miss Y/N, I am a mere part-timer here. I'm afraid I don't have the power to decide."

"Then let me talk to the person in charge, please."

You feel bad for Jake for putting him in a tough spot like this. But to be fair, he's receiving your kindest energy now—since you've lashed out on many other receptionists prior to this call, when you were still brimming with anger.

"Please wait a moment."

You inhale sharply. Is this really happening?

It doesn't take long before a feminine voice takes over the call. "Hello. You're speaking to the CEO of Sinar Textile. I am Mrs. Park."

You straighten up. "H-Hello, Mrs. Park. I apologise for the late disturbance."

The woman hums. "It is not a big deal. My receptionist has told me about your situation. Unfortunately, we do not supply for individuals like you."

The hope blooming in your chest deflates instantly. You close your eyes as you gather your composure.

"I—Please, ma'am. I don't know how to tell you that I desperately need them for my fashion week." For a strange reason, you feel yhe need to give her context. You're no careless student who forgot to book her supplier until last minute—you just got sabotaged. "My supplier terminated our agreement after my…ex-boyfriend intervened."

The woman seems to consider this, as her next words give you a sliver of hopium. "Please email me your sketches. Then I will consider. What's your name again, Miss?"

"Y/N. I am Y/N."

"Y/N?" She repeats, and if you tried to listen hard enough, you'd be able to detect the hint of recognition in her tone. "Great, Miss Y/N. Email me at [email protected], then I will let you know my decision."

Relief floods your senses like a tidal wave. With trembling lips, you try to piece your words together.

"Thank you, Mrs. Park. I—I'll take anything. Leftovers—or any defects. I can do it. Please consider my request."

"No worries, Miss Y/N. I'll get back to you the soonest tomorrow."

And with that, the call ends. You slump in your seat.

You could've gotten the details of their wholesale customers and buy from them, but from experience, you knew that getting the materials directly from the sources is hundreds time better in terms of quality and the price. And you have reports to submit much later on, where your budgeting would be questioned like you just laundered the national income.

Later that night, you arrive home with this aching need to be comforted. Instead of a pile of all the soothing scents you've encountered in your life, you open the door to your empty bed, void of any nest. Your mom's bedroom is just one door away, but it's too late to ask for cuddles, isn't it?

You open your wardrobe, staring at the empty spot where your nesting blankets used to be.

"It's just a nest," you convince yourself. "I'll feel better after waking up."

Completely ignoring the twisting pain in your gut, you settle yourself under the cover after washing up.

Sundays are fun days, and this time, your kind of fun is rushing your chauffeur to take you to your studio and threatening him into disregarding every traffic rule he's ever learned about.

"Miss, the light is red."

"I don't care."

"We will get fined."

"I will pay," you urge.

The chauffeur closes his eyes. "Please don't tell your mother."

And that's how a fifteen-minute drive could be cut into ten minutes of ride only. Your thanks barely leaves your lips as you rushes out, trying your best to look put-together while also lightly sprinting to the private studio that you've rented since your first year, located inside the university compound.

This morning, you woke up to an email from Sinar Textile. Mrs. Park, bless her heart—seems so taken with your sketches and has decided to give you some leftovers of their previous arriving batch from Japan. It's like the Goddess has finally taken pity on you overnight, and proving that the evil shall perish altogether (Fuck you, Maki).

You spend the entire ride mentally redesigning half your collection. Leftovers are more than enough. You'll make them work. You always do.

By the time you reach the studio, your mood has improved significantly.

There are bolts of fabric, stacked near the door to your studio. Two men wearing short-sleeved Polo stand around the stack, chatting with each other while waiting for your arrival. You waste not even a second and approach them faster.

"Good morning!" You greet them enthusiastically, so unusually you, but you're too giddy to care. "Are you from Sinar Textile?"

The shorter of the two greets you back, a puppylike smile stretching wide on his face. "Hello! You must be Miss Y/N. I'm Jake, and this is Sunghoon. We are the part-timers from Sinar Textile."

The latter bows to you. Up close, you finally notice the wolf ears nestling among his pitch-black hair. Oh, so he's a wolf hybrid. No wonder his pheromones are still strong to your nose despite the thick scent patch glued to his neck.

Well, first of all—Sinar Textile sure hires only super good-looking guys to work with them. If you weren't so into your post-breakup feelings, you might think about asking for their numbers after this.

"Nice to meet you two. Now, shall we?"

"We're waiting for Jay."

Your brow jumps at that. Who is that? "Jay? Is he supposed to be here?"

"Yeap! He went to take the last bolt of your Japanese denim—oh there he is!"

You know the saying, every good thing comes with a price? While yes, there is a price tag to every bolt of fabric tha you receive from Sinar Textile today—apparently, there is a hidden tax that you have to pay the Goddess for granting you with this opportunity after Maki's stupid stunt yesterday.

And that tax is Jay. Or more precisely, if your memory hasn't betrayed you—the pervert alpha from the frat house party a few weeks ago.

There he is indeed, walking down the hallway in a similar black Polo shirt. He's carrying a bolt of Japanese denim, but does he have to carry it on his shoulder like that? It looks so show-off-y, what with the way his biceps stretch against the sleeves, bulging muscle straining under the weight of the fabric. His face is as handsome as you remember it, and without the dim light of the porch, every cut of his face is clearer for your eyes to see now in broad daylight.

Damn it. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly good-looking?

Your smile has never dropped so fast, but it's the opposite case for the alpha, because as soon as he recognises you—you've never seen a smile light up so fast.

"Cherry?"

You could barely tone down your irritation. Who the hell is Cherry?

"Are you the other part-timer?"

Jay blinks confusedly. He glances at the clipboard in his hand, and then his eyes widen imperceptibly.

"Oh—I apologise. You're Miss Y/N, right?"

"Yes, that's me," you narrow your eyes at him. But Jay only smiles back. "And you are Jay."

His eyes shine—what the heck?—at the mention of his name. "You know my name? It's actually Park Jongseong, but you can call me Jay. It sounds better when you say it."

You try to ignore the offended gasp coming from Jake.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm not!" Jay is fast to deflect, shaking his head when you only stare at him thretaeningly. "I just—I think—I just want to…talk to you?"

Jake and Sunghoon wince from sheer awkwardness.

"Aren't you here for Sinar Textile?"

"Yes."

"Then we're here strictly for business. I am going to open my door and you three will carry the bolts inside, and then you leave. Understand?"

If Jay were to have wolf ears like Sunghoon, they'd droop like wilting flowers from your tone alone. "I understand," he gives in, then shoots a serious look at two of his friends behind you.

"Boys, let's get moving!"

Jake springs up with a salute. "Aye aye, captain!"

You sigh and unlock the door to give way to them. The three boys lift two bolts at the same time, marching in like soldiers ready for the battlefield. Jay stops briefly in front of you, and you prepare another scolding if he tried to say something absurd again.

"Where would you like these?"

You almost falter by the unexpected, but you don't let it show. "At that corner. I tidied up that space for these bolts yesterday."

Jay nods and wordlessly steps further inside. You watch as the three men move effortlessly together, avoiding mannequins and putting down the bolts gently like true experts. They seem close, judging by how at ease they are with each other. Probably just three best friends working part-time together to kill the time while gaining extra pocket money.

Jake, being the first one to reach the corner, claps his hands and looks around. There's amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Wow, this is my first time at the fashion building and I already got to be in a private studio."

You quirk up an eyebrow. "Are you from around here?"

There's a surprised chuckle from the beta. He slaps a hand on Sunghoon's shoulder, but the wolf hybrid barely budges.

"Yeah, we attend this university too! I am from engineering, Sunghoon is from law school, and Jay is from the business department—obviously, if he wants to inherit this company."

Your curiousity is growing like a moving snowball. "Inherit…?"

"Sinar Textile is owned by his parents. He's just doing this on the weekend when he's got nothing to do with his basketball team," Jake casually says like he didn't just drop the bombest bomb you've heard the entire week.

That says a lot, considering The Nakakita incident yesterday.

And—What?! Sinar Textile is—what—so Mrs. Park is his mother?

You are left with no words. Not that you could muster anything, when said guy is already speaking. "Stop referring to me like I'm not in the same room as you."

Jake pouts at that. "Well, you're busy with your clipboard, so why not?"

"I am counting the inventory and preparing the invoice for Miss Y/N," Jay smoothly says, while he's scribbling something on the clipboard. You ignore the efficient way his hand moves, the veins popping on his forearms, and the pout he makes when he's focusing.

When he chances you a glance, you scowl back at him. The alpha only smiles.

It's so irritating. Why does he keep smiling?

"Alright boys, get back to the van. I'll follow you after I'm done with the invoice."

"Stop bossing me around! We are the same age!" Jake protests.

"Well, technically, I am your boss."

"A boss baby! You are not even the CEO yet!"

Sunghoon only sighs and drags Jake by the arm to follow him. He stops momentarily in front of you, gives you a short bow and a 'thanks'—that you reply back with a 'thanks' too, what the heck?—before he leaves with the beta. Jake waves his hand at you, his previous pout melting into a wide grin.

"See you again, Miss Y/N!!! Please invite me to your fashion week!"

If it weren't for Sunghoon's tail and wolf ears, you'd think that Jake was the hybrid. Probably golden retriever—that seems to suit him more.

It's only when Jay clears his throat that you're reminded you're left alone with him in this studio. Instinctively, you back into the door, putting more distance between the two of you. Jay doesn't seem to mind or take offence, he just gives you that easy smile that's been putting you on edge since fifteen minutes ago.

"Two bolts for Japanese denim, linen cotton, and blended silk each. This is your invoice. You may make the first payment when we send you an email," Jay speaks, his tone professional, as he hands you a piece of paper the size of A4. "Please sign here."

You take the pen painfully slowly, trying to avoid any physical contact, and sign.

"If you need anything more, please feel free to contact me." You glare at him. "Or any of us, really! But don't hesitate—my mom told me to put you on our priority list."

There he goes again. Typical alpha trying to flirt his way into your pants. As if you had forgotten about his perverted gaze a few weeks ago!

You cross your arms and dare to look into his eyes. "Thank you. I will contact Jake."

Jay purses his lips. "That's great. Jake works every Saturday and Sunday, while Sunghoon works after 3 p.m. on weekdays. Please feel free to reach out."

He opens his mouth, seemingly to add something, but decides against it when he smiles instead.

"It's actually nice to see you again," he mutters almost quietly, his tone soft and delicate, the grip of professionalism loosening. "I've been hoping I could run into you again."

But you're not easily swayed by sweet-faced alphas like him. "So you can, what, stare at my chest again?"

Jay's ears perk and blush a deep shade of pink. "What? No! Y/N—" he shakes his head, eyes pleading. "I really meant it when I said that I didn't mean to! I swear I'm not a pervert. Please forgive me."

"But you still stared."

"I…did." His voice becomes quieter, the confession feels like cold air hanging in the studio.

Jay shifts in place. The way you stare at him all cold and menacingly seems to undo him more than anything. From where he stands, he can catch a whiff of your scent—the sweet cherry that's been haunting him since that night.

You're so pretty even when you're mad, glaring at him like some kind of a criminal like this. A sight that he's not used to, because people often look at him like an angel sent from the Goddess as an apology on behalf of the alpha population.

"Y/N," he begins, already making up his mind. Your name falls easily from his lips now that he finally gets the chance to know it. "I would like to apologise. I made you feel uncomfortable twice, and probably unsafe, too. I deserved to get beaten more than what you did that night."

"Yeah, I should poke your eyes for good measure. Making sure your eyes don't stare at omegas like that again."

"I don't do that with other omegas, though. Only with you."

"So, congratulations? I'm your first victim?"

Jay panics. "No!"

"Your favourite victim?"

"No!"

"Your exclusive victim?"

"Please stop saying victim."

"Then stop staring at my boobs. You're doing it again." The corner of your lips lifts when the crimson on his ears deepens. Okay. It's kind of fun teasing him, and truthfully, you're no longer that upset from his behaviour that night.

"No, I'm sorry," Jay dips his head lower, staring at his feet, not catching your intention. "It's very wrong of me. I sincerely apologise. Please forgive me."

Your heart does something strange. The sincerity in his voice is unlike any other you've heard from not even a single alpha before. It's raw with honesty and vulnerability, like he actually spends every night dwelling on this mistake of a first impression he had made of himself.

But you say nothing. You simply stare at the alpha whose eyes are remorsely fixed on the ground.

"I know you probably don't trust me."

You snort. "Obviously."

"But I hope one day you'll feel safe around me."

There it goes again—your heart, lurching like Jay was a K-drama main lead saying something corny to win the heroine over. But this is not fiction, and Jay is not your alpha, nor are you his omega.

"Are you threatening me with a next time?"

He shifts again. "May I earn another first impression someday?"

You almost scoff at that. You wish there's no next time or someday! ...Though, you admit, if you put aside the two—or three if you count just now—times he stared at your boobs, it has been quite alright to talk to him.

He just has this aura that puts people at ease around him. Maybe it's his face, or the citrusy scent coming from him that easily tops every other masculine pheromones you have ever sniffed, but Jay just has a way with words that makes you feel like old acquaintances.

Whatever. A pervert is still a pervert!

"Actually, my family has chosen an alpha for me."

Jay's smile falters. "Oh."

You lift your chin proudly. "Yeah! Apparently his family is very wealthy, and he's ridiculously handsome too."

Jay only blinks at you, taking every hint of rejection like a champ. "I see. I mean—that's what you deserve. An omega like you doesn't deserve anything less than that."

Your eye twitches. Why is he so damn good with words? You can't tell if it's genuinelt who he is or if it's all performative. And that infuriates you.

With a newfound determination to flaunt an unknown alpha, you triumphantly nod. "And everyone says that he's the most perfect gentleman. My mom said that he's—" How was he again? "—Very capable and hardworking. I can't wait to marry him!"

Now, you're pushing it. You don't want to marry that alpha. Hell, you're just about to accept the dinner invitation after this!

"That's good…" Jay scratches his cheek. Damn it. Jay realises that you're really trying hard to reject him, even when he hasn't said explicitly that he likes you.

But Jay is a man who can take a hint.

"That's quite a reputation. I really hope he treats you well."

"He will."

Jay purses his lips, trying to swallow down his disappointment. Of course. A pretty omega like you is rarely ever single or unclaimed, even though he doesn't see any mark on your nape or sense any alpha presence around your scent.

Sigh. Just as he finally found an omega that he genuinely likes.

"I wish you and your alpha the best, Miss Y/N." Jay lowers himself to a 90-degree bow. "Thank you for trusting Sinar Textile, and I'm sorry again."

And with that, Jay takes his leave, until the echo of his footsteps fades into oblivion. Once you're confident that you're out of his earshot, you instantly fish for your phone and call your mother.

"Mom!"

"Hello darling~ Did everything go well with the shipment?"

You bite your nails. "Yes, yes it did. Mom, I need your help."

"What is it, sweetheart? Have you finally decided to buy that new handbag from Bonia?"

"No, Mom. I think," you close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly. Truly, there's no one else that puts you in worst case scenarios but yourself and your life decisions.

"I think I'm ready to meet that alpha that you like so much."

As expected, your mother squeals into the phone and you have to force your phone away from your ears.

Great.

Now you have to mentally prepare yourself to sit with an alpha boasting about his wealth and alpha-ic achievements for approximately two hours.

All because you wanted to avoid Jay.

Or so you thought.

Of course, fate—the little evil author that it is—decides that humiliation ritual would be the perfect trope for your failing love life.

Because why the hell are you seeing Jay coming out of the black Mercedes now parked in your mansion?!

"Mom!" You whisper-yell, already halfway bolting upstairs when you see him and his parents start walking towards the door of your house. "You said that the alpha's name was Park Jongseong!"

Your mom, who's been gushing over how handsome and perfect Jay is for you from behind the curtain where the both of you are spying on the newly-arrived guests, only nudges your shoulder gently.

"He is Park Jongseong. And those are Mr. and Mrs. Park."

"No! That's—that's Jay!"

Your mom coos, fanning her face dramatically and turning to your father. "Oh my, honey, did you hear that? They're already on nickname terms with each other."

You feel like climbing the stairs and purposely falling and rolling down to the ground.

This cannot be real!

"Wait," your mother suddenly stops her dramatic gesture. She fixes you with a curious gaze, eyes squinting suspiciously.

"How do you know him?"

Maybe jumping would be faster and easier.

On the other side of the door, Jay has been fiddling with the collar of his suit for the tenth time. Beside him, Mrs. Park is frowning, swatting at his hand when he reaches for his tie again.

"Why are you fixing your tie again? It already looks perfect."

Jay swallows. "I don't know."

No, he actually knows why. Jay has never been able to lie truthfully—an irony that always amuses his friends. His body is vibrating with never-ending nerves ever since he had reluctantly agreed to his mother's planned family dinner with the omega she has taken a liking too.

Yeap. To put it simply, Jay is nervous.

And his mother catches it, if the soothing accent of her scent is telling something. "You'll like her," she convinces. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she adds, "You already met her."

If Jay was shocked, he didn't let it show.

Well, it doesn't matter, does it? When his wolf and himself have been so captivated by you.

Whoever this omega is, Jay wants to apologise in advance. He thinks he needs a couple of months to properly move on from the wonder of you before he'll be ready to accept any dating arrangement again.

"If you're confident that I'll like her, then I hope she's the person I have on my mind, Mom."

And that is the truth. If he had already met this omega and his mother's instincts are sure that he'd fall for her—then it can't be no one else but you.

Jay had crossed paths with many omegas. He had been flirted with, pursued, and even outright confessed to more times than he could count, yet no one had occupied his thoughts quite like you.

And to think that you're spending your time with another alpha…

Jay swallows down the bitterness and forces his pheromones to calm down.

Too lost in his frantic, chaotic mind, Jay hasn't realised that he's already standing in front of the door. It swings open before any of them could press the doorbell, revealing a beautiful couple and…

"Cherry?"

His cherry.

When the scowl appears on your face, Jay feels like a diver finally coming up to the surface for air. The nerves that have been jagging every edge vanish almost instantly, now replaced with a relief so profound it feels like being given a second chance at life again.

It's really. Really. You.

"It's Y/N, you dummy."

That hostile gaze. That frown and unfriendly tone.

It's really you.

The smile that spreads across Jay's face is so hopelessly fond that Mrs. Park immediately knows she doesn't have to do any matchmaking tonight. Your frown deepens, hating the blatant display of joy that's coming from him.

What is he so giddy about?!

Meanwhile, your mother is completely oblivious to the glare you're shooting at him.

"I told you, they're already using endearments for each other!"

You hope the ground could swallow you.

Jay hopes the ground could move and bring him closer to you.

part two coming soon <3

divider from @/cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula @sugarcwtie @whiskymiller

Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.

He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.

Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.

He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.

You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.

Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.

The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.

You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.

"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.

So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.

You’re going to practice.

You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.

────────

You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.

With a deep breath, you knock on the door.

Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."

You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."

He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"

You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.

"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."

Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.

"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."

Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"

Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."

Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"

His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."

He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"

"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."

Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"

You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."

Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."

He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"

Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."

Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."

You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."

You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.

"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."

As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.

Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"

"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."

With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.

Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.

"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."

You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.

"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."

You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.

"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.

"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.

Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.

"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.

For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"

You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."

He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."

You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.

"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."

Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"

"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.

He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."

When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.

Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.

"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.

"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."

With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.

Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."

You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."

He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.

The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.

"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.

You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.

He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."

You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."

Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."

You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."

One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."

You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.

His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."

Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."

"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."

He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."

"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.

"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."

Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.

"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"

"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."

He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."

Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."

You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."

Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."

Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.

"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.

He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.

"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.

"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.

The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"

Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."

You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."

To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."

Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.

"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."

"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."

Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.

"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.

"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."

Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.

"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.

"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."

"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.

Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.

For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."

You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."

The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.

But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.

Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.

You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.

So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.

────────

That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.

You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.

The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.

That’s when you see him.

Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.

Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.

He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"

You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."

A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.

You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.

He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."

You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."

Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"

The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"

He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."

You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."

His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."

This is it — the next step.

You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.

The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.

"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"

"Maybe both."

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.

You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."

He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."

His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.

You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.

He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."

Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.

You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.

His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"

Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."

Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.

"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"

You swallow hard and nod again.

"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."

"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."

He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."

You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.

His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."

Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.

"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."

You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."

You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.

His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."

Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.

"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."

You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."

You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."

Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.

"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."

You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.

"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"

You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.

With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.

Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."

You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.

"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."

He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.

"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."

The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"

You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."

A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."

Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.

"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.

"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.

"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.

Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."

Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."

He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"

"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.

With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.

You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.

He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."

You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.

He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."

Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.

One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."

His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.

Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"

"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."

He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."

You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.

Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.

Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."

────────

Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.

The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.

Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.

"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"

Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."

"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."

You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."

His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.

Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."

You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.

When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."

He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.

"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."

"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."

Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."

You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.

"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.

The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."

You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."

He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."

He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."

You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."

One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."

With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."

You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."

You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.

For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."

You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.

"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."

He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."

You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.

Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.

The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.

Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.

Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."

The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."

You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.

Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.

"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."

Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"

You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.

"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."

You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.

"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.

"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."

Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.

You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."

Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.

"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"

You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.

His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."

You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.

Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."

A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."

He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."

Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."

That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.

────────

The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.

When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.

A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.

More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.

When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."

You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."

Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"

There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."

If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"

"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."

Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."

His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."

He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."

He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.

Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.

Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.

He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.

He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.

"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.

Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.

He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.

Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.

Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.

Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."

He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."

You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.

You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.

It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.

"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.

Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.

He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.

Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"

You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"

Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.

Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.

Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.

You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."

"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.

He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."

"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."

He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.

"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.

"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."

You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.

"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."

You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.

You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."

With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."

The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.

Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.

After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."

You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."

Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"

────────

​The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.

You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.

When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.

Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.

Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."

You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.

Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."

Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."

You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.

"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."

You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"

Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."

Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."

"Yeah… I’d like that."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.

Now it’s just you and Heeseung.

He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"

You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.

Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.

Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."

He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.

Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.

The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.

His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.

"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.

Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.

A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.

"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.

With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."

You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.

Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.

"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"

He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."

"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."

"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."

That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."

He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."

He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.

"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.

When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."

It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.

With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."

Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."

His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.

Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"

You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.

It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.

You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."

Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.

Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."

You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.

His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.

When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.

"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."

You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.

He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.

He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."

He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.

Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.

When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."

Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.

Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."

You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."

He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."

You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."

Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.

On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."

"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."

Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.

Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.

Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.

Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.

Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.

"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."

You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."

You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"

Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."

So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.

You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.

'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."

Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."

You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."

Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."

The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."

Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.

You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.

"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."

────────

Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.

You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.

Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."

You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."

"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."

"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.

You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.

Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.

In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"

You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."

Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."

"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."

Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.

The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.

"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."

You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.

"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."

He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.

When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?"

You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.

"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."

You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.

During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.

Heeseung:

I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.

Come over.

Baby, answer me.

I know you’re getting these.

Don’t play games with me.

Stop fucking ignoring me.

Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."

He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.

────────

You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.

And you realize you want that freedom too.

Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3

Jay, on the other hand, belonged to the people. As captain of the swim team that hadn’t lost a single meet since he joined in freshman year, he was popular and effortlessly charming. So that in turn meant their shared campus housing had a revolving door of bodies—Jay brought back guys from the soccer team, girls from his marketing lectures and anyone and everyone in between. He was both fluid and confident, just entirely unbothered by anyone that was watching.

And Jake sure did watch. He tried not to though but the apartment was only so big.

Every time Jay brought someone back, Jake would put on his noise canceling headphones and stare at his chemistry structures, trying to ignore the heavy thudding against the shared wall or the moans and groans coming from whatever Jay was doing to his hookups.

But it was impossible to ignore Jay himself.

Jake had thought Jay was handsome from the very first day they unpacked their boxes and it only got worse over the time they lived there. Jay had this habit of walking around the apartment completely shirtless after his morning showers, his dark hair would be damp and messy and he would lounge in the kitchen making coffee, wearing nothing but a pair of gray pajama pants that hung dangerously low on his hips, exposing the oh so defined lines of his v line and the broad expanse of his toned chest.

Jake would sit at the kitchen island with his eyes glued to his textbook and his throat going totally dry every time Jay leaned over the island to tease him about being a nerd. He would memorize the way the morning light hit the muscles of Jay's back and try to ignore the strange feeling he’d get in his lower abdomen and in his chest that he kept strictly hidden behind his awkward demeanor.

He was just the nerdy roommate and Jay was the star.

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was usually the loudest sound in the apartment on most afternoons. Jake sat at the kitchen island as usual, surrounded by his notebooks, like a highlighters and index card defense perimeter against the rest of the world. He was mid formula, falling deeper as his mind became occupied by molecular bonds, when the door to Jay's bedroom clicked open.

Jake didn't look up immediately but his focus instantly fractured in a way he couldn’t control. He could hear the familiar drag of Jay's slippers on the floor and out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight that always made his throat constrict—those soft gray pajama pants hanging dangerously low on Jay's hips, exposing his chiseled body to him.

But instead of heading for the coffee maker, Jay stopped right at the other side of the island and with a loud thud, a medium sized, flesh toned mass of premium silicone rolled onto the smooth marble, right over Jake's carefully organized flashcards. It was half a torso, complete with double sided openings and perfectly molded thighs.

Jake's heart didn't just skip a beat, it actually stopped because his worst nightmare had just materialized directly on top of his homework.

"Care to explain this beauty, pretty boy?" Jay asked, dropping his weight against the counter and crossing his arms over his bare chest. An incredibly smug smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he looked down at the toy, then back up at Jake.

A violent heat exploded across Jake's face, rushing from his neck straight to the tips of his ears. He looked like he'd been caught doing something that could land him in jail rather than just holding onto a horrible gag gift from his lab partners. He scrambled to cover the item with a notebook but his hands were shaking so badly he dropped his pen and the book.

"Why—why were you even in my room?" Jake squeaked in a shaky voice, trying to find an offensive angle. "That was under my bed. You shouldn't be snooping through my stuff, Jay."

"I wasn't snooping, I was looking for the laptop charger you borrowed last week," Jay drawled, too entirely unbothered by the accusation.

He stepped closer and shot a hand out to lazily tap the silicone base of the toy with his index finger, watching the material jiggle slightly. "But then I hit a massive box with a giant label that practically screamed 'Jake is hiding something filthy.' I gotta say, Jake, I didn't think you had it in you."

"It's not mine! I didn't buy it!" Jake panicked, his fingers digging into the edge of the marble as he stared anywhere but at Jay's face or his defined pecs. "My lab partners sent it as a joke because I lost a bet on a quiz. I was going to throw it away, I swear."

Jay responded with a laugh, adjusting his stance so he was nearly at Jake's eye level. The clean scent of his body wash and his cologne completely overran Jake's senses, making his brain glitch even further.

"Sure, a joke," Jay teased while his eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. He tilted his head and let his voice drop into a direct tone. "So, have you fucked it yet?"

"No!" Jake shouted, the protest coming out of him way too fast and too loud in the quiet kitchen. He practically bounced out of his chair, burning a shade of red that looked physically painful. "No, I haven't! I would never touch that thing!"

Jay didn't back down at all. Instead, his smirk shifted into something actually genuinely curious, his eyes tracked the frantic rise and fall of Jake's chest. "Why not?" Jay asked, dangerously straightforward. "This is a high end model. High friction coefficient, right? Isn't that what you guys call it? Why wouldn't you try it out..." Jay paused and narrowed his eyes slightly as a sudden realization hit him. "...unless you're a scared virgin?"

Jake's mouth snapped shut so fast his teeth clicked and he instantly looked down at the floor, darting his eyes quickly between the pattern on the hard wood floor and his own slippers, his hands gripping the hem of his hoodie like a lifeline. The silence stretching between them was louder than any confession he could have possibly made, it made Jay let out a disbelieving whistle and the cocky smirk made its way back to his face with absolute certainty. "Holy shit. You actually are."

"I'm not—it's just none of your business," Jake muttered to the floor but his voice too thick with embarrassment and he sounded like he was about to choke.

"Hey, there's no shame in it," Jay said but his tone was dripping with nothing short of amusement. He picked up the heavy silicone torso from the table, turning it over in his hands with a casual ease that made Jake want to disappear on the spot. "I'm just saying, if you wanted to start practicing, you couldn't have handed a better tool. Look at this thing."

Jay tapped the molded upper thigh of the toy, pointing directly at the two separate, anatomically detailed openings on either end. "It's got options, pretty boy. Both holes. You know? Just in case you ever want to try out some ass play or if you end up experimenting with a guy."

At the word guy, Jake's head snapped up so violently that Jay heard his neck practically pop. His eyes went completely wide and his pupils blew out, like a frantic wave of panic overtook his embarrassment. He stared at Jay, trying to control the way his chest was heaving under his hoodie but it was useless, he was utterly incapable of hiding the raw shock that the comment had triggered.

Jay halted for a fleeting moment, latching his eyes instantly onto Jake's hyper reactive expression. The teasing smile on Jay's lips slowly morphed into something much sharper and his eyebrows lifted in realization.

"Oooh," Jay hummed out, stepping around the island until the low waistband of his pajama pants was right in Jake's line of sight. "You like guys?"

"No! I—that's not—"

"Don't lie, Jake. Your face is literally purple right now," Jay interrupted him, leaning his hands on the table and tilting his head to force Jake to look him in the eye. The proximity was suffocating, Jake could feel the heat radiating off Jay's bare chest, he could see the slight ripple of his abdominal muscles as he breathed.

Jay's eyes darkened and a new, dangerously playful glint entered his gaze as he ran a slow look down Jake's flushed face and back up.

"So, the quiet roommate likes dudes," Jay murmured in a gravelly register that made Jake's stomach do a violent flip. He closed the distance a little more, staring right at Jake's trembling lips. "Tell me then...am I your type?"

Jay cocked his head to the side when Jake shook his head no, with a lazy grin on his face, he was clearly enjoying the way he had the chemistry major pinned against the edge of the table using nothing but proximity.

"Why?" Jay asked, his voice dropping into a quiet, speculative drawl. "Is it because of how I look? What, are you into twinks or something?"

Jake's jaw dropped slightly, the total absurdity of the question temporarily cutting through his sheer panic. He looked at Jay's broad, tanned shoulders, the heavy definition of his chest and the solid line of his jaw, noting how there wasn't a single fragile or delicate thing about him.

"No," Jake muttered bluntly, his voice cracking a little on the syllable.

Jay nodded in easy agreement, absolutely unfazed. "Fair enough. That makes sense, to be fair. Twinks don't usually like other twinks, anyway."

The words hung in the air for a second before Jake's brain fully processed them. The blatant insult to his entire masculine identity overrode his embarrassment, now all he could feel was a hot burst of flustered annoyance.

"I'm not a twink!" Jake snapped, slamming his hands down onto his notebook as he glared up at Jay with indignant eyes.

Jay didn't even blink at his outburst, he just let his eyes slide slowly down Jake's frame again, taking in the hoodie that swallowed his shoulders, his soft, messy hair and the way he was practically trembling from the whole confrontation before bringing his gaze back up to Jake's burning face.

"Sure," Jay said smoothly but Jake could hear the dismissive irony that said everything it needed to.

A suffocating silence immediately dropped over the kitchen and Jake sat there with his hands still pressed against his homework and his face still burning a shade of red that felt so hot. He wanted to get up and sprint back into his room, lock the door and never come out until graduation but his legs felt too much like lead.

And it wasn't helping that Jay didn't seem to want to move an inch, he didn't look away either, keeping he's eyes on Jake's flushed cheeks with a calculating intensity that made Jake's stomach twist into anxious knots.

He could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, terrified of what Jay was going to say next, yet entirely incapable of breaking the spell.

"You know," Jay started, "Since you've never done anything before...do you want me to show you how to use it?"

Jake actually managed to scoff at, just a defensive sound that didn't quite cover the tremor in his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and even managed to look Jay in the eye for all but five seconds.

"Right because that sounds like an amazing idea," Jake sarcastically muttered. "I'll pass on becoming your next casual conquest, Jay. I really don't feel like being the subject of a random group chat by tomorrow morning."

The smug smirk vanished from Jay's face and he straightened up slightly as his eyebrows knit together. He looked genuinely caught off guard by Jake's words, eyes searching Jake's with an unexpected seriousness.

"What?" Jay asked. "Why the hell would you say that? Genuinely, Jake, what do you think I am?"

Jay was surprised Jake didn't back down at the sight of his annoyance, in fact he rolled his eyes dramatically, even though his heart was hammering against his ribs at the sudden shift in Jay's demeanor. He gestured vaguely toward the hallway and the front door of their apartment.

"Oh, come on. Do I need to spell it out for you? Look at all the people you bring back here every week. Guys, girls, whoever. It's like a brothel here sometimes," Jake said and Jay definitely noticed the bitter edge in his voice slipping out before he could stop it. He clamped his jaw shut for a second, then looked away. "I live here. I have to study here. I don't want to be just another random person on your list."

Jay stared at him for a long beat, letting the silence stretch out between them before we spoke up again.

"Wow," Jay murmured, his voice low and amused. "I had absolutely no idea you were such a fucking brat."

"No, I'm not!" Jake's face flared an even deeper red, his defense perimeter completely collapsing. He shoved his chair back, the legs screeching loudly against the floor. "Just—leave me alone, Jay. Go back to your room."

"Alright, alright. Suit yourself," Jay said easily, shrugging his broad shoulders.

He didn't argue. What he did do, was reach down and wrap his long hands around the waist of the sex toy to lift it off the marble island and casually tuck it under his arm.

Then he turned around and began walking toward the hallway.

Jake froze, his eyes going wide as he watched Jay walk away with the joke gift.

"Wait—what?" Jake called out in a shocked, high pitched squeak. "Where are you going with that?"

Jay didn't even look back at him, he just kept walking down the dimly lit hallway toward his bedroom, his voice echoing loudly off the walls as he shouted back over his shoulder.

"Well, you said you're never gonna touch it," Jay called out, his tone entirely unbothered and too practical. "And it's a really nice model. So if you won't fuck it, I will."

Jake's brain completely fired off a dozen emergency alarms at once. Before he could even process the absolute absurdity of what he was doing, his legs carried him out of the kitchen and straight down the hallway after Jay.

"Hey! Wait! Stop!" Jake yelled, skidding to a halt right at the threshold of Jay's open doorway. He reached out, his fingers desperately clawing at the cool silicone of the object, trying to wrench it out from under Jay's arm. "Give it back! It's mine! It was literally addressed to me!"

Jay stopped, turning his upper body just enough to lock Jake in place but he didn't relax his grip even a little. He looked down at Jake's frantic face with a mix of disbelief and sheer amusement.

"Are you serious right now?" Jay scoffed, easily keeping the toy pinned against his ribs casie Jake had nothing on him. "You literally just said you would never touch this thing. You screamed it in the kitchen, Jake. So what do you care if I use it?"

"It's the principle of the thing!" Jake lied through his teeth as he yanked hard on the molded leg. "It's my property! You can't just steal my—"

"Watch me," Jay grunted and with an effortless twist of his shoulders, Jay used his athletic leverage to just rip the toy out of Jake's hands. The new loss of momentum almost made Jake trip forward into the room. Jay didn't waste a second, he had turned his back on Jake and casually walked deeper into his bedroom, tossing the heavy torso onto the center of his unmade mattress with a heavy plop.

Jake didn't even know what to do right at the threshold, his hands still twitching from the tussle, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He should have turned around, gone back to his organic chemistry flashcards and pretended his roommate wasn't a complete fucking lunatic.

Instead, a paralysis locked his slippers to the floor and to his absolute but deeply aroused horror, he just couldn't tear his eyes away.

Jay calmly walked over to his nightstand, opening the top drawer and pulling out a thick, black tube of premium lubricant. He didn't look rushed or embarrassed one bit, he looked too casual for what he was about to do, like he was just setting up a video game console. He walked back to the edge of the bed, unscrewed the cap and tilted the bottle over the toy.

With a few deliberate squeezes, Jay squirted a generous dollop of the clear gel directly into the top opening of the toy and then another heavy amount into the lower channel. The sweet vanilla scent of the lube instantly began to drift into the air of the bedroom.

Jay capped the tube, set it down on the mattress and finally turned his head to look directly at Jake, who was still standing in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.

"So," Jay murmured, reaching his hands down to the waistband of his pajama pants. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me?"

Jake's jaw clicked open but his brain was so thoroughly fried by the visual that he couldn't form a single thought, let alone a coherent sentence.

Jay was already pushing his pants and boxers all the way down past his hips, letting them pool around his thighs, making Jake let out an involuntary gasp, his hands tightening against the wood of the doorframe.

Jay was massive, so thick and already fiercely erect, his cock stood out proudly against the dark stubble of hair at his groin, pressing upward toward his stomach. It was completely different from seeing it through the thin fabric of his pants, the intimidating reality of it made Jake's heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

No wonder all those people couldn't shut up for their lives.

Jay didn't stop there though, he settled himself against the pile of pillows at the head of his bed with his legs spread wide. He wrapped his long fingers around the thick base of his hard length and gave it two slow pumps, the skin sliding taut as he prepped himself.

He gripped torso toy with both hands to lift it before aligning it perfectly and sinking it all the way down his thick length in one smooth, unyielding motion.

A groan tore left him and he briefly closed his eyes. "Fuck..." he muttered, his jaw clenching tight, as if he was adjusting to the intense suction.

The scene was completely surreal, like a chaotic blur of heat and shamelessness that Jake's brain couldn't process. He watched, rooted to his spot as Jay began a slow pace, bouncing the weighted torso up and down on his cock. The suctioned squelch of the lubricated silicone sliding against Jay's skin quickly filled the quiet bedroom.

Jake felt a sudden throb between his own thighs. Within seconds, his cock went rock hard against the fabric of his shorts, the heightened friction caused a hot drop of pre cum to leak through his boxers. It was entirely too hot, watching the captain of the swim team losing his cool composure over a piece of plastic right in front of him was ruining every protective instincts Jake had built.

He started to spiral. What's the worst that could happen? he thought desperately. He was a recluse, no one on campus knew who he was anyway. If he crossed this line, it would probably stay behind the closed door of this apartment.

Jay's eyes suddenly snapped open, completely dark with arousal. He looked directly at Jake and shifted up his pace into a faster one.

"Jake," Jay panted, shoving the toy down to his base again. "Holy shit...it's so fucking tight. The suction is insane."

To emphasize the point, Jay kept his cock fucking into the toy but his left hand snaked around to the back of the silicone torso to align his long fingers with the second opening—the back hole. He slid two of his thick fingers straight into the lubricated channel, pushing them in deep and fingering it open.

Jay let out another loud moan, his spine arching off the pillows as his own fingers stretched the internal ridges of the toy from the other side. "F-Fuck...you have no idea what you're missing, baby boy."

That was the absolute breaking point. The sight of Jay's long fingers working the back opening of the silicone, paired with that challenging rumble in his voice, absolutely broke whatever restraint Jake had left. His social anxieties disappeared and he could no longer ignore the ache in his groin for a second longer.

Without saying a word, Jake reached down and shoved his shorts and boxers straight down to his knees. He kicked them off with a clumsy shake of his legs and began to shuffle over to the edge of the mattress.

Jay's eyes dropped before his dark pupils got even wider as he took in the sight of Jake's rock hard cock. A low, appreciative whistle escaped his lips.

"Damn," Jay growled, his pace on the toy stuttering for a fraction of a second. "Is that what you've been hiding under those baggy clothes? You're fucking huge."

"Jay, please," Jake whimpered, the praise hitting his ears felt like a physical jolt and made his cock throb violently. He crawled onto the mattress on his hands and knees, his thighs trembling as he hovered over the lower half of the silicone torso. "Please...you—you can't ever tell anyone about this. If anyone on campus finds out, I'll literally have to transfer."

"Hey, look at me," Jay murmured, his voice surprisingly steady as he reached up to take Jake's face in his hand and force him to look at him. "My mouth is sealed, Jake. I swear. This stays right here between us. Now come here."

Jake let out a shaky sigh, looking down at the second opening of the toy. The clear lube was still glistening around the edges where Jay's fingers had just been. He slowly lowered his hips, aligning the blunt head of his cock with the tight, synthetic hole but he was hesitating, his whole body shaking with nerves as the cool plastic brushed against his skin.

"That's it, just like that," Jay praised in an encouraging purr as he watched Jake hover. "Go on, Jake. Push it in."

But Jake was moving entirely too slow for Jay, like his brain still trying to process the utter insanity of the situation.

Losing his patience, Jay suddenly stretched down with his free hand and wrapped his fingers wrapped firmly around the base of Jake's cock, he pulled him straight forward with a tug.

"Ah—no, wait!" Jake screamed out, slamming his hands into the mattress on either side of Jay's hips as his body was forcibly dragged down.

Before he could even finish the protest, his cock was already deeply wedged into the lubed up hole. The deep suction of the high grade silicone closed around his length all at once, squeezing him out and dragging a shameless sob from his throat. He tried to flinch backward from the quick overstimulation but Jay's hand instantly shifted to slap and clamp down over the meat of Jake's bare ass cheek, pinning him securely in place.

"Where're you going?" Jay growled, digging his fingers into Jake's skin as he locked their hips together against the toy. "You're in it now, gorgeous. Just take it."

"Now thrust," Jay commanded, his tone left no room for argument. His hand remained heavy and firm on Jake's hip, anchoring him to the toy.

Jake swallowed hard, his arms trembling against the sheets as he tried to find his pace. He shifted his weight, his hips stuttering forward as he drove himself a fraction deeper into the toy. The overwhelming rush of pleasure made his eyes roll back into his head.

"Oh...good god, Jayyy," Jake whimpered and tried to pull back but the beautiful suction of the lubricated polymer dragged along his sensitive cock and forced another breathless whine from his throat. He felt like he coming apart.

"That's it, look at you," Jay praised and squeezed Jake's hip tightly, guiding his motion. "Good boy, Jake. Look how well you're fucking it."

The low praise hit Jake again, like hearing the campus heartthrob call him a good boy with his tone all thick and heavy with arousal, made Jake's knees go weak. His strength gave out completely and his arms buckled beneath him as his upper body collapsed forward, his chest landing heavily against the silicone torso between them.

It made Jay huff out a chuckle against the crown of Jake's head, basking in how thoroughly ruined he was.

"Alright, hold on." His hands moved to grip Jake's shoulders, then he carefully rolled them both over onto their sides. Jake moaned as they moved, his thighs tangling with Jay's on the mattress until they were pinned facing each other, the toy squeezed perfectly between their bare chests like a buffer zone.

"This better?" Jay panted out the question, searching Jake's wrecked, already tear stained face.

Jake could barely think but he managed to give Jay desperate nod, before his forehead dropped for a second against Jay's collarbone.

Jay drove his hips forward, his thick length sliding deep into his side of the toy and the force pushed the rubber wall directly against Jake's cock on the other side, making him scream out a moan and his hips instinctively snapped forward to meet the pressure.

Just like that, the lingering hesitation was gone. They both fell into a brutal rhythm, both of them thrusting relentlessly into the opposite ends of the silicone torso from their sides. The wet slap slap slap of their skin against the plastic was all they could hear, the cheap bedframe creaked violently against the floorboards as they shared the sex toy between them.

The industrial scent of artificial vanilla and silicone hung so thick in the air, completely overtaking the small space as Jake and Jay lay pinned on their sides, facing each other.

"Ah—shit, Jay sl—slow down," Jake choked out, letting out broken moans that sounded too similar to the needy little femboys that Jake usually fucked.

Jay wasn’t doing any better though. Hearing those pathetic sounds coming from his reclusive roommate is driving him totally insane. All he could think about was flipping Jake over, pinning his wrists to the mattress and topping him until he wouldn’t even remember his own name.

Needing more leverage, Jay allowed for his long arm to reach around the torso, his hand snaked directly under the hem of Jake's hoodie. His fingers slid up the damp skin of Jake's ribs until he finds his tight, sensitive nipple, pinching it firmly between his blunt fingers.

"Oh my god! Oh shit" Jake cried out and the new jolt of pain and pleasure made his hips reflexively jerk forward, slamming cock deeper and harder into the toy's internal ridges.

"Yeah, just like that," Jay growled, his jaw clenched tight as he matched Jake’s new and insane pace. "Fuck it just like that, baby boy. Take it all."

The muscles of their legs ground together, their sweat slicked bodies sliding heavily against the wet plastic of the molded torso. The bedroom was a suffocating symphony of slick friction and raw noise, both of them were driven completely wild by the heavy toy wedged between their chests and each other.

Deep in the overwhelming haze of the moment, his vision was spinning out of control from the intense rush of endorphins and Jay's filthy dirty talk, Jake lost his mind. He lurked forward, smashing his wet lips blindly against Jay's.

It was entirely instinctual, like a chaotic grab for connection but the very instant their lips collided, Jake's internal alarms blared. He jerked back instantly, slamming his head back into the pillow. His eyes widened, swimming with a vulnerable combination of tears, pleasure and deep confusion. His mouth clicked open, like an apology was already forming on his trembling lips but Jay didn't even let him speak.

Before Jake could form a single syllable, Jay lunged forward and weaved his long fingers into the back of Jake's soft hair, forcefully dragging him back down. Jay smashed his mouth against Jake's again, kissing him significantly harder this time. It was a messy, like an incredibly sloppy collision of teeth and tongues that tasted like salt and lust, completely swallowing the needy wails Jake couldn’t stop letting out.

Jake completely broke under the crushing weight of it. Instead of pulling away, he melted into it, tangling his tongue with Jay's as he moaned like a total whore straight into the other boy’s mouth. Jay pulled back just an inch to look down at Jake's ruined face.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn pretty," Jay growled, his voice trembled against Jake's lips. "Such a pretty little thing. You even moan like a whore, Jake."

"Ah, N-ggh...Jay!" Jake cried out, his head dancing against the pillow at the words.

Jay dragged his mouth down Jake's jaw line, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He bit down softly on the sensitive skin before sucking a dark bruise into his collarbone, making Jake cry again, "Oh god, hnggh, please!"

Jay's hand rumbled down under Jake's now damp hoodie that had been pushed up to expose his naked torso again, finding his aching nipple to capture it between his lips. He sucked on it hard, swirling his tongue around the peak until Jake was sobbing real tears while his hips blindly bucked forward into the silicone torso with a new and terrifying speed that threatened to split the toy completely between them.

"Yes—yes, Jay, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Jake shrieked, his voice cracking into an unhinged whine. "Ah, ah...fuck, it's too much, hnghh!" He thrashed wildly against the mattress, his hips fucked into the toy harder and harder, he swore he would pass out the second he came. He was being so completely slutty, crying and begging Jay for it so loudly that it drove a primal spike right through his restraint.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, you little whore?" Jay growled, tearing his mouth away from Jake's chest.

Driven just over the edge by the sight of the subby nerd totally ruined beneath him, Jay snapped and with a coordinated heave of his shoulders, Jay shoved Jake flat onto his back, leading Jake to let out a breathless gasp and cry out at the loss of the stimulation, "Why?! No, wait—!"

As his hips were wrenched out of the toy, leaving his big cock twitching in the open air, completely coated in a thick sheen of pre cum and lube.

Jay didn't waste a single second adjusting his weight to pin the heavy sex toytangling directly underneath his own stomach so his cock stayed buried deep inside his own side of the toy. Then, hovering over Jake like a predator, Jay dove down and wrapped his mouth completely around Jake's throbbing dick.

"Mmmph—! Ha-ah!" Jake screamed, his spine instantly arching completely off the bed, his fingers clawed violently into the sheets as Jay took him all the way to the back of his throat.

Jay was ruthless. He bobbed and pumped his head down hard, the thick width of Jake's shaft stretching his lips as he purposely gags on the head, the sloppy sounds of the blowjob filling the humid room. At the exact same time, Jay's hips were still slamming downward, thrusting relentlessly into the toy pinned beneath his thighs, essentially fucking the synthetic polymer at a feral pace while ruthlessly draining his roommate's cock with his mouth.

"Oh fuck me, Jay! Jay, stop, I'm gonna—ah, god, nggh, fuck!" Jake wailed and shook his head shaking side to side against the pillow. His internal muscles spasmed out of control, his vision going completely white from the hard hitting pleasure of Jay's mouth gagging on him.

Jay heard the broken, pathetic whines, the desperate "Ah, ah, ah!" echoing off the walls and only sucked harder, gripping Jake's thigh with his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white, his own hips driving into the toy with a final, crushing force. He could feel the tight ridges of the silicone melting around him, pushing him right to his absolute limit.

"F-Fucking hell, Jake—nggh!" Jay choked out around his shaft, a guttural grunt ripping from his chest as his body went entirely rigid.

They hit the breaking point at the exact same fraction of a second. Jake let out a ruined shriek, "Ahhh!, his hips giving one final, violent hitch as he erupted, shooting a hot torrent of cum straight down Jay's throat. Jay didn't pull away though, he took every single pulsing drop, swallowing greedily while gagging around the climax and letting out wet, choked grunts. And at the exact same moment, Jay's spine snapped straight and a loud groan vibrated against Jake's skin as he pumped a massive load of cum deep into the tight, suctioned depths of the toy beneath him.

The bedroom descended into a silence, broken only by the sounds of both boys gasping for air. Jake was completely limp, his chest rising and falling under his damp shirt with tears of pleasure still streaming down his burning cheeks. Jay slowly pulled his mouth away with a wet smack, wiping a stray drop of spit and cum from his bottom lip with the back of his hand, his blown out eyes stayed on his ruined roommate, knowing he wasn’t done with him yet and neither of them was ever going to look at the apartment or each other the same way again.

Jay slowly raised himself up on his elbows, shifting his weight off the now ruined toy. His dark hair was messy and damp strands clung to his forehead while his chest glistened with sweat. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth one more time, letting his eyes slide slowly down Jake's trembling body.

He took a deep breath and a lazy grin gradually pulled at the corner of his lips as his hand settled on the soft curve of Jake's hip.

"Hey," Jay panted but Jake didn't move, only letting out a soft, questioning whine, "Nnh?", from the back of his throat.

Jay moved a fraction closer so his hot breath would fan across Jake's burning ear as he delivered the final blow to whatever sanity his roommate had left.

"That fake thing was good," Jay murmured, his hand trailing down to give the flesh of Jake's bare thigh a possessive, heavy squeeze. "But I would love to fuck that ass next."

Jake's eyes snapped wide open and a fresh wave of heat instantly rushed straight to the tips of his ears as he finally turned his head to look at his roommate and there was no sign of a joke on his face.

Oh fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

nene’s note ── super short but i hope you guys enjoy it, this is the last thing ill be posting as i start my exams on monday, thank you so much for all the supportive words i’ve been receiving in my box, i appreciate them❤️ as you know i love feedback so lmk what you guys think of this one💋💋

© nephynes 2026

all works are pieces of original fiction, do not repost, translate, or adapt without explicit permission.

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.

이희승┋ LEE HEESEUNG.

POSTING MY EX .ᐟ  ──  READ.

ᝰ⠀⠀smau oneshot. non-idol!au. fluff. angst.

"posting my ex, because what's he gonna do about it? this is my phone!"

MAGNITUDES & MESSAGES  ──  READ.

ᝰ⠀⠀oneshot. non-idol!au. angst. fluff.

despite all that went down, you're quite settled on letting lee heeseung be 'the one that got away', and you swear you aren't the type to break no-contact but when the ground starts shaking, you realize your pride isn't worth not letting him know how you really feel.

박종성┋ PARK JONGSEONG.

CHILDREN OF DIVORCE.

➤⠀⠀PART O1.  ──  PART O2.  ┆  BONUS.