and fuck whoever's bouncing on it

bunny, '02, they/them

[gunbunnyhwa]

masterlist

the stalkerverse: stalker ot8 ateez x reader

good luck, don't die

what you know

bend and break

let the light in

dark red

codas: 0.1

khj

famous last words | cannibal!reader x cannibal!hj

jyh

burn out | med school!yunho x education grad school! reader

enhypen

hyung line

baby, i like it | poly!frat!hyung line x reader

[gunbunnyhwa]

Would you take requests for stalkerteez? Im so curious about so much like about their individual povs about yn? Like when they saw her initially what did they think, when it changed. Or like hongjoong’s mindset when he said what he said. And then like each of their individual relationship headcanons! The yunho oneshot was such a good look into their dynamic 😊

I do take requests and will have a coda about their relationship dynamics out hopefully soon! It is currently being written.

I don't think I would ever write a full piece about HJ in that moment, so I will take the time to sort of flesh out the mindset for him. I sort of touch on it in the piece I'm currently writing, but stalkerverse HJ is someone who cannot separate power and control from the way he functions. Everything he does is, in a way, an exertion of control and power over others. He finds his boys and leads them, he decides who and when and where. The others don't really push him all that much and when they do it's solely playful. They can all argue with each other, but they would never argue with Hongjoong. They aren't allowed to do that. I think that moment is a really good example of this sort of innate sense of control he has. To see Wooyoung, his very first pick of the lot, defer to the reader after a hunt—to seek the reader out first, to search for comfort and release and a comedown with the reader, someone HJ did not hand select, rather than HJ himself—feels like a loss of that control. And it doesn't help that up until this point, HJ didn't even realize that the reader was a permanent fixture in their little group. He thought Woo chose you to kill you, he didn't realize they'd get a little girlfriend out of it. "I hope you don't die today." Keyword: today. There was never an intention for him to have the reader be anything more than a temporary distraction, but that night was the first time he realized that the reader had gotten in a little too deep and the others had gotten a little too attached. The only options at this point were kill her or take her into the fold, but that didn't mean that HJ couldn't send a message while he did it. She was the one who asked, but he could have some fun while he answered. And that was what he did. He pushed, he broke her down, he showed her who was in charge and, in tandem, the others as well. There was no expectation that Wooyoung would fight back because, well, that's just not how this works. For both you and Wooyoung to put up a fight? What a blow to his ego.

[gunbunnyhwa]

NOW THATS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE. THATS the kinda person who'd let these psychos into their life.

god im so happy with this chapter.

YOU PROMISED JONGHO AND GAVE HIM TO ME THANK YOOOOOOOOOOOU. “Have you given any thought to moving in with any of us?” Jongho asks with one eyebrow raised—always blunt, always honest. PERFECT. and him caring for reader after? FLAWLESS.

loooooooove the way hongjoong is brought back in, slowly, awkwardly, but the complete ice break moment is soooooo good. it took too long, was weirdly timed, and completely spontaneous. that feels perfect for that reclusive weirdo.

im generally not a jealous person or a jealousy fan but GOD that was the best way to do it. the characterization of the reader? OF COURSE they'd be jealous, you did it Just Right.

AND YEOSAAAAAAANNNNNNGGGGGGGGIIIIIIIEEEEEEE PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE.

thank u thank u skelejor. our dear reader is crazy and i love her deeply. i love love loved getting to write jongho and yeosang this chapter and im glad you’re satisfied :)

i honestly had so much fun writing this last part and i’m glad you had fun reading it :)

[gunbunnyhwa]

dark red

stalkerverse ot8 ateez x reader

maybe you're just as fucked as they are.

wc: 9.4k

note: final official part. we'll explore more of this universe later, but this is the end of the official narrative. hope you all had fun and enjoy!

It’s a Sunday when you’re all together again. San is pulling a dish out of the oven and shooing you away as you hover around the kitchen, attempting to help. He pulls away from the stove after placing the dish on top of it and turns around, placing tender hands on your waist.

“My love, I appreciate you being thoughtful, but I need you to go be a guest today,” he squeezes your hips and presses a kiss to your mouth quickly before spinning you where you stand and sending you off with a slap on your ass. You giggle and walk toward his living room, pausing in the doorway to watch the other six men. They’re all tucked tightly around San’s tiny coffee table, elbows bumping each other and engaged in a very heated conversation over some card game you can’t place. You watch as Wooyoung starts to lunge over the table only to be pulled back to a seated position by Jongho’s firm grip on the back of his shirt. Mingi had scrambled away from the edge of the table where he had sat when Wooyoung moved and is now shuffling back to his original spot, his chin tucked and heat down the back of his neck. Seonghwa sees you first and reaches a hand out, pulling you fully into the circle.

He pulls you down behind him and leans his head back where your fingers card through the short pieces of hair at the back of his neck. He hums softly before taking your hand and wrapping it around his shoulder. You peek over at his cards before turning your eyes to Jongho’s hand next to him, chin propped over Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“You’re bleeding, Jjong,” you chirp lightly and Jongho reaches out a hand and pinches at your side. You squeal and he laughs in response, smoothing a hand over where he had just pinched.

“This is why we don’t let you play cards with us anymore, you’re such a cheater,” Yunho chides from the opposite end of the table. Wooyoung throws an elbow into Yunho’s ribs.

“I think it’s more strategy than anything,” Yeosang defends you, a smile peeking through the corners of his mouth. “You can’t cheat if someone doesn’t give you the chance to.”

“Exactly,” you respond, holding your hand out and gesturing as if to say, ‘See?’

Seonghwa puts a card face down on the table before picking another one up, looking toward Jongho to his left. San’s voice carries from the kitchen as he calls for all of you to clean up the table and you laugh at the agitated groan that the others let out in response. You pat Seonghwa lightly on the shoulder as you stand up, moving to just check one last time to make sure San doesn’t need anything before a knock at the door pauses your movements. It’s light, long pauses between each knock as if the person on the other side doesn’t even know if they want to. You look between all of the men across the living room and realize no one else heard it. You move toward the door and open it, poking your head out and blocking the rest of the room with your body.

“I brought dessert,” Hongjoong says quietly, holding up a tied box dangling off two of his fingers. You look behind you and realize no one has noticed yet. You turn back to Hongjoong.

“Do they know you’re coming?” you ask carefully.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m here by invitation,” he laughs softly and you open the door, gesturing lightly for him to come inside. He slides off his shoes in the foyer before walking into San’s apartment, pausing momentarily in the doorway to the living room.

“You good?” you ask from where you stand behind him, a bit unnerved at his seemingly nervous behavior.

He shakes his head and rolls his shoulders before turning his head to face you with a smirk. “Yeah, all good.”

The room stops moving as Hongjoong steps through the threshold of the living room. Yunho and Mingi freeze where they wrestle over a pillow on the couch. Yeosang’s hands fall slowly to his side from where they had been positioned holding the deck of cards over Jongho’s head. Seonghwa is the first to move. He crosses the room in a few paces and carefully takes the box from Hongjoong’s hand, clapping a hand on his shoulder briefly before taking the box to the kitchen.

“Joong brought treats,” he calls out to San.

You see San’s head poke out from the doorway of the kitchen and a smile takes over his face. He looks to you and then looks to Hongjoong.

“Welcome back, Hongjoong,” he calls brightly before pulling himself back into the kitchen.

You move past Hongjoong across the room, grabbing Yunho and Mingi by the collars before shoving them toward the dining room. They go easily despite their bigger size.

“Go, it’s dinner,” you laugh before moving to straighten up the mess they had left on the couch. Slowly, the bodies pile out of the room before it’s just you and Wooyoung, who hovers behind you. He reaches down and pauses where you adjust the blanket on the back of the couch.

“Say the word and we leave,” he says softly, eyes tender.

You pull your hand out of his and place it on his chest, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. Heat reaches his ears and you laugh out a breath.

“Thank you, but I’m okay, baby. I promise,” you squeeze his shoulder before softly patting his chest. “Now go eat, Sannie will be mad if you miss it. He made your favorite.”

He lifts his hand once to clasp yours, squeezing softly three times before heading toward the dining room. You run a hand through your hair and down your face, taking a deep breath before you follow him.

It’s stunted at first, awkward silence hangs in the air as San places a plate in front of you. You thank him softly before looking around the room. In your head, you thank God for Seonghwa and San, who carry conversation easily between each other to break up the dead air.

“What did you do the last few weeks?” your eyes are focused on Hongjoong, who has been eerily quiet the entire time. You put another bite of food in your mouth and let the question hang in the air for a moment.

His eyes widen slightly and he vaguely gestures to himself and you nod. “Not much, worked mostly.”

“And what would that entail exactly?” your question is probing in the same way theirs are to you. His eyebrows relax and he smiles, clearly catching on to your game.

“I don’t think you would want to know,” his voice is playful as he drops his eyes back to his plate, moving food around it with his fork.

“Have you ever been to his apartment?” The question comes from Yunho, sitting across from you. You shake your head and he grins. “It’s insane.”

You wave your hand encouraging him to continue.

Elaboration comes from Mingi at his left. “Babe, it’s got two floors.”

You choke and shoot your eyes down to Hongjoong, who just continues to stare at his plate. You can see the grin growing on his face.

“It’s ridiculous,” Seonghwa’s lip curls in distaste. “So ugly, too.”

You laugh. “Joong, any defense?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ on the end of it. “It’s practical, it doesn’t have to look nice.”

“Two floors doesn’t sound practical for an apartment,” you joke and he huffs out a laugh.

The conversation flows easily after that, with Hongjoong taking most of the hits throughout the night. Wooyoung’s arm is draped easily over the back of your chair, playing with the ends of your hair, and your ankles knock lightly against Yunho’s underneath the table. Jongho gestures animatedly as he talks about work through mouthfuls of food and you laugh lightly when he inevitably chokes. It’s relaxed and you find yourself thinking about how much you missed this.

Clean up is uncharacteristically quiet, but you assume that they all wore themselves out when a screaming match started about the best way to disembowel someone. You stand at the sink washing dishes, soft voices from the living room and the low hum of the television barely audible over the sound of running water.

“Need some help?” Hongjoong asks, head poking over your shoulder but not touching. You shoot him a soft smile and nod. He moves to your right, carefully grabbing a plate and drying it off before placing it on the kitchen island behind him.

“Did you have fun tonight?” you ask, not looking up from where your soapy hands sink into the water.

“Definitely, I missed being with all of you,” Hongjoong replies quietly, head down where he stands, attention entirely put on the dish he’s drying. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“It’s not my apartment, Joong. I couldn’t turn you away even if I wanted to,” you laughed softly. He turns his body to face you and leans against the kitchen counter, face serious.

“Yeah, you could’ve. You could’ve turned me away and everyone would have let you, but you didn’t. Thank you,” Hongjoong reaches a hand out, hovering lightly over your arm. You lean into it, allowing him to touch you for the first time in weeks. He smiles and leans forward lightly, bringing your foreheads together. He presses your heads together, rubbing them together a bit harshly and you giggle as you pull away.

“Too hard, Joong,” you laugh and he brushes a thumb over your cheek in apology when you turn your head away. The rest of the dishes are washed in relative silence, a few words exchanged between the two of you as you pass dishes between each other. There isn’t much that needs to be said, you both know that. He said his piece that day in the park and so did you. You just need him here, showing up, showing you something other than the casual cruelty of that night back in the winter. And he does in every gentle brush of your fingers against each other, in the hovering hands and the not-quite-touching, in the silence. It’s a presence that whispers “I’m here when you want me, but for now it’s up to you. Tell me when, tell me when, tell me when.” There’s no pressure in his teasing or his soft touches. It’s a different man from before that night in December and you feel something new bloom in your chest over it.

It doesn’t happen all at once—Hongjoong just doesn’t rejoin the fold as easily as the others. Dinners are still awkward in the beginning, conversation stilted until you break the ice with some question or jab geared toward Hongjoong. It’s a fine line between looking interested and looking desperate, but you ride it easily. Over time, the guys greet him with clasps of hands and easy smiles, but there’s still the edge of discomfort for the first few minutes—like they don’t know how to dance around the topic anymore, but not wanting to push you. They are keenly aware of the lack of easy affection from you toward Hongjoong and they do their best to keep their hands off when he’s around. It’s a measured kind of respect and of course you notice it—the fleeting touches when you’re alone with them, the occasional sneak into a bathroom or to your room. It’s embarrassing, like they’re ashamed of you, like Hongjoong is some kind of outsider who doesn’t understand the dynamic.

You break this awkwardness around the third month of Hongjoong coming for dinner. It’s the usual routine—the door knocks and you answer (you’ve started to think they all just like leaving you a few quiet moments with Hongjoong). You poke your head out and Hongjoong holds up the same ribboned box off two fingers. You step aside to let him in, closing the door softly behind him. He toes his shoes off and goes to walk down the foyer toward the livingroom, but you grip his sleeve softly. Hongjoong spins slowly, face crumpled and terribly vulnerable. You move your hand up his chest, settling carefully over his jaw, a thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. He smiles softly, arm not currently occupied by the box coming to wrap around your waist. He leans in first, taking the first step in three months which you are grateful for. His lips press against your own, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. It’s hungry and all encompassing and he drops the box on the floor, taking the opportunity to press you carefully against the door. A hand cups the back of your head as your back thuds softly when it hits the front door and you run your own hands up into Hongjoong’s hair, pulling softly when he nips your bottom lip. Hongjoong’s hand slips down your body, hooking a leg over his hips and pulling you into him. You let out a light whine and he laughs into your mouth.

“Can you guys not fuck in my foyer, Jesus Christ?” San’s voice interrupts the two of you and you jolt back from Hongjoong’s mouth. You tilt your head to peek over Hongjoong’s shoulder, shooting San an apologetic look and Hongjoong only laughs as he tilts his head into your shoulder. Hongjoong releases his grip on your thigh, stepping back slightly before placing one last kiss on your mouth and heading toward the living room. You take a moment to smooth out your hair and your clothes before you follow him, only to be greeted by a wolf whistle from Yunho on the couch. You lean over the arm of it and pinch his ear. He takes advantage of your leaning to pull you over the arm and into his lap, pinching the side of your thigh as you squirm. Yunho laughs and squeezes you into his chest as you playfully fight him off.

“Don’t be mean, Yun,” Mingi comments from next to you on the couch, not looking up from his phone. “This is a big moment.”

“Mingi,” you scold, still struggling against Yunho’s hold. “Embarrassing.”

Mingi tilts his head up to you, face softening into a smile and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sorry, angel.”

It sort of settles from there. Hongjoong’s appearances become more frequent. There’s still some remaining tension between him and Wooyoung, but you leave it up to them to settle it between themselves. It’s not perfect, but it works for all of you.

The conversation comes up the next winter—a full year from the fallout, a new kind of routine settled into. Your apartment is full most of the time, bed never empty and life breathed into your space in a new way. There are clothes in your drawers, a whole extra dresser purchased by Yunho a few months ago. Your foyer is filled with spare pairs of their shoes. Photos line your living room—pictures from date nights and vacations, one selfie of you passed out drunk while Yunho and Wooyoung stood in front of you with wide smiles stretched across their faces and their thumbs up. It’s full of life, but it’s still full—too small to fit yourself and also eight grown men. You bring it up over dinner one weekend.

“I’ve been thinking of moving,” you say simply before taking another bite of food. The clattering of forks on dishes pauses and you look up, all eyes stunned as they look at you. “What? My place is too small for all of us.”

“So, what do you want to do?” The question comes from Seonghwa at the other end of the table, careful and measured, as if he’s afraid of asking the question.

“Why are you all being weird about this?” you narrow your eyes and set your fork down, shoulders shrugging. “I’m thinking of moving. I need a bigger place if I’m going to have, like, all of your shit in my apartment. I don’t know why you’re all acting like I blew up our lives.”

“Have you given any thought to moving in with any of us?” Jongho asks with one eyebrow raised—always blunt, always honest. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and take a leveled sip of your wine before bursting into laughter. Eight pairs of eyes stare at you as you cackle at San’s dinner table, body folding forward. You sigh heavily and look back around the table, taking in their shocked faces and laughing lightly again.

“Hey, I love you guys, but fuck no,” you snicker out and Wooyoung leans forward across the table.

“What do you mean ‘fuck no’?” his voice is offended and you lean back a bit.

“Are you serious?” you level him with a look and Wooyoung nods. “I see all of you every day, multiple times a day. I have more than two bodies in my bed so often I had to buy a bigger bed to fit us. You had to buy an entire new dresser to fit clothes for all of you. My apartment is filled with all of your shit, your shoes are a tripping hazard in my foyer. Half of you keep your gym bags in my living room, which reek by the way. Seonghwa has three half-started lego sets sitting on my dining room table, for God’s sake. So much of my life is surrounded by all of you, which is wonderful and I love it, but also I need my own space.”

You take a breath and then continue, “Also, if I moved in with one of you, the others would all have an issue with it. So, yeah, fuck no. Not getting into that.”

You wave your hand flippantly and take another sip of your wine, letting them mull over your words. You look around the table and watch as they all have a silent conversation amongst each other. You raise an eyebrow and look to Hongjoong.

“The thought was that there could maybe be a shared place. I do have two floors,” he shrugs in your direction. You laugh and shake your head.

“If you guys all feel like you won’t kill each other if you share a place, then sure. I’ll consider it, but we’re not moving into your place. It would be somewhere new,” you respond, still flippant. You don’t think they’re serious and they can tell.

“You know we’ve talked this over, right?” Seonghwa asks, eyebrows knitted in the center. “We aren’t just bringing this up out of nowhere.”

“Wait, when did you talk about this?” you ask, suddenly aware of the seriousness of the conversation. You shift your head to look across from you. “Woo?”

“It’s been a running conversation for the past month, don’t push it to him,” Hongjoong answers, voice stern.

“It’s been a running conversation, but you didn’t think to involve me?” you fire back. You can feel heat burning in your chest. A deep hurt settles into you, how could you have missed such a big conversation? But, at the same time, how could they hide this from you? Moreover, how could they think that they could decide this for you?

“No, that’s not—” Mingi starts, but stops himself when Jongho places a hand on his shoulder. Your eyes fly to Mingi, then around the table.

“Then, what is it? Somebody clue me in, please,” you let out a humorless laugh and cross your arms over your chest. You raise an eyebrow when no one answers. “Figures. Like usual, decisions are being made for me, not with me. I really thought we had moved past this, but whatever.”

You push yourself back from the table to stand and a hand grips your wrist. Yeosang levels you with a look that makes you freeze before you wrench your hand out of his grip. 

“Don’t fucking do that, you know not to fucking do that,” you scoff and gather your plate, walking into the kitchen and dumping the rest of your food in the trash. You move through the kitchen noisily, slamming things as you put dishes in the sink and trash in the can. You down the rest of your wine and drop the glass to the counter where it lands with a harsh clink. You take a breath and steel yourself before walking back to the dining room.

“No, you know better than that. I cannot believe you would try to do that to me, Yeosang, and I cannot believe you would all sit there and let him. You know better than to try to scare me like that. You know better than to put your hands on me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you guys tonight?” you spit, voice venomous and you see them reel. Hongjoong’s nostrils flare for a minute before he speaks.

“And you know better than to talk to us like this, but you’re doing it anyways,” he snarks and you feel the words settle in your chest, adding to the heat.

“Are you kidding me?” your voice is almost a whisper, but still sharp. You narrow your eyes. Your mouth opens, ready to fire back, before you throw your hands up and close it. “You know what? I’m done for tonight. Thanks for dinner, San. I’ll see you guys.”

You turn past the dining room, through the living room, gathering your things as you pass through the space. There’s footsteps following you and a hand grasps your wrist and spins you around as you go to grab your shoes from the foyer.

“What is your problem?” Wooyoung exclaims, releasing your wrist as quickly as he grabs it. You give him an incredulous look and the heat in your chest boils over.

“My problem?” you yell, voice raised for the first time in the conversation. “My problem is that apparently my partners are having conversations about me, making decisions for me, without me. Again, it’s like I’m not even a part of this, I’m not an equal. I’m a pet you keep around until you get too fucking bored of me and finally put me out of my misery. And then you have the absolute gall to put your hands on me when I try to disengage from the conversation because I know I’m too angry about this to have it right now. And now, my problem is that you’re cornering me in the fucking foyer when I’m trying to go home. Is that satisfactory, Wooyoung?”

“Enough,” it’s Jongho, stern and serious. You take stock of Wooyoung’s shocked face, color drained from it. Jongho steps in between the two of you and softly pushes Wooyoung back a few steps, urging him back to the dining room before turning to you. “Let’s go.”

“No, Jjong, let me go,” your voice is softer now, fight taken out of you after your outburst.

“I’m letting you go, I’m just going with you,” his eyes meet yours and they’re still tender, still soft. “We’re going to go for a walk.”

He takes your bag from you, holding your jacket out for you to slide your arms into. Jongho slides a scarf off a hook and wraps it around your neck, tucking it into the collar of your coat. He leans down and helps you step into your shoes, lacing them up for you despite your protests. He opens the door, letting you exit first, steering you away from your own front door with a firm hand on your spine. You grumble the whole way down the stairs and out the entrance of your building, tucking your hands deep into your pockets when the winter wind hits you. You walk in relative silence for six blocks before Jongho speaks up.

“No one meant to leave you out,” he starts, voice soft. Jongho doesn’t look at you, eyes fixed straight ahead, but his hand is still firm on your back and his arm wraps you closer to him to help block the wind. “We wanted to be sure when we brought it up. Like you said, we had to be sure we wouldn’t kill each other.”

You laugh lightly despite yourself and tuck your nose further into the scarf.

“We wanted to do it right, but obviously that didn’t work out. I should have said something when Yeo put his hands on you, you’re right. That shouldn’t have happened and I can assume that there is a pretty heated conversation happening about it right now. They were talking about it before you stormed off,” Jongho confesses. “You’re right, we could have done this better, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry for yelling,” you mumble into your scarf and Jongho laughs lightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’m not the one you have to apologize to,” he replies simply and you nod.

The rest of your walk is spent in silence. Jongho is polite as always—he walks you to your door, kisses you goodnight, doesn’t press any farther than he needs to. Your apartment is dark and cold, you had forgotten to leave a light on when you left. You check your phone for the first time in the past hour, it buzzes briefly in your palm as you pull it out of your coat pocket. There’s a few texts from your friends about a plan to meet for dinner soon, a Teams message from your boss reminding you of a meeting tomorrow, and a voicemail from Hongjoong. You hit play and lift your phone up to your ear as you take your coat and shoes off, sandwiching it between your shoulder and your head. The line beeps and there’s some shuffling. Hongjoong lets out a deep breath before he starts talking.

“I know you’re with Jjong right now, but I just wanted to ask if you could let me know you got home safe. I, uh–” he takes another breath, and you hear some shuffling over the line, then something slamming on the ground. “Shit, fuck. Okay. Um, I just wanted to let you know that when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. I know you won’t want to talk tonight and I am trying to be okay with that, so just let me know you made it home, okay? Okay, I’m going to go. I love you.”

The line clicks and you keep your shoulder shrugged to your ear for a moment longer than you need to. The voicemail starts to replay and you let out a sigh. You scrub your hands over your face and flop back into your couch, staring at the white of your ceiling. You shoot off a brief text and lean back into the couch, letting your eyes fall shut.

A knock at your door startles you awake, it’s light out. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep and you wipe your face with the back of your sleeve as you sit up. Your neck aches and you wince as you stretch. The knocking continues, becoming more insistent with each passing moment.

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath before raising your voice. “I’m coming.”

You trip over a gym bag as you scramble up from the couch and you give it a swift kick, muttering to yourself as you swing open the door. Wooyoung’s hand shoots out, a cup of coffee held in his grasp. You grab it, a bit startled, before stepping aside to let him in. He stays on your doorstep.

“Are you not coming in?” you ask quietly, still waking up but also not quite sure how to approach your last conversation when he’s standing in your hallway.

“I didn’t plan on it, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for a while,” Wooyoung says, looking at the ground and scuffing the toe of his boat where he stands. His hands are tucked tight in his jacket pockets, a hat pulled tight over his ears. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Is this about last night?” your voice is careful and measured, you don’t want to let your emotion get the best of you, but you can’t control the bit of hurt that seeps into your tone.

Wooyoung keeps his eyes on the floor, but his shoulders shrug up a bit. “No? Kind of? I just need some space from everything. Gonna hunt up in the mountains for a bit.”

“Normal hunt or group hunt?”

“Group.”

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn’t know they went out of the city, just another thing to add to the list of secrets being kept from you. “Be safe.”

“Thanks,” Wooyoung’s tone matches your own, soft and breathless. He lifts his head up finally and takes a brief step back.

“I’m sorry,” you start and he pauses. “For yelling and for being shitty. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, it wasn’t fair.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Wooyoung murmurs, nodding and stepping back again. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

You watch as he turns and walks down the hallway toward the stairs, the door clicks open and shuts softly behind him. He doesn’t look back at you once.

You feel your eyes burn and a lump form in your throat. You slam your front door shut as you choke out a cry. You press your back against your door and let your legs carry you to the floor, tucking your knees to your chest. You wonder, for a moment, if this is how Wooyoung felt that night a year ago—if this crushing feeling of abandonment engulfed his being as strongly as it does yours. You press your palms into your eyes and you continue to cry.

You don’t leave your apartment for three days. You call in sick to your job and work from home, you barely leave your bed, you bother enough to order at least a meal every day but it’s nothing substantial. By Thursday, you feel terrible and you look worse—you figure that out when Yeosang knocks on your door while you lay in bed, something mindless playing on your laptop. You’re curled in a ball on your side, comforter tucked up to your ears. You don’t hear the lock click or your front door open. You don’t register Yeosang calling your voice until he’s outside your bedroom door.

“Are you alive in there?” Yeosang’s tone is concern wrapped in irony. You don’t look up from your laptop when he enters the room. You feel the bed dip behind you and a hand lays on your arm. “You look horrible.”

“Thank you, I think gaunt and sick suits me, don’t you?” you quip, but your tone is too monotone for it to come across as a joke. Yeosang lays the back of his hand to your forehead before moving it to your cheek.

“You’re not sick, which is good. Do you want to talk or do you want to keep sulking?” Yeosang’s voice lacks its usual bite, you know it’s just an observation he’s making. It still makes you feel petulant.

“Sulk,” you respond, eyes never leaving your laptop screen.

“Alright, scooch over then,” he pats at your back lightly before slipping into bed behind you, chest pressing to your back. His arm wraps around your waist, hold loose. You’re still curled tightly in a ball, but when his hand brushes down your arm to hold your hand you find that some of the tension bleeds from your spine.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you the other night, I shouldn’t have done that, ever. You have been very clear about putting hands on you or grabbing you and that was completely out of line. I let my emotions get the best of me and I made you upset. I’m sorry,” Yeosang’s voice is soft, but final. There’s no room for argument, for it to be redirected back to you in some way, no room for it to get tangled up in your head in your current state. You turn your head slightly, still not looking at him but no longer looking at the laptop and breathe out a sigh.

“Thank you for apologizing,” you respond.

“Of course, I love you,” Yeosang replies—like it’s that simple, like it’s the most obvious conclusion to come to, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s a stark contrast from most of the others. Yeosang hides behind a layer of irony, words always teasing and playful, it’s similar to Wooyoung in a way, but he lacks the obvious affection that Wooyoung layers on. It’s not that he doesn’t care for you, it’s just that the ways in which he does are smaller—more focused on long term impact than short term reward. Like the cameras he gave you for your apartment door or the pans in your kitchen he replaced without a word to you or the way he tightens every loose screw and oils every squeaky door. It’s quiet, often done without you asking or noticing, but it’s just so him that you can’t stop noticing after the first time. And it’s moments like these, when it’s just the two of you, that his love and care becomes so apparent, so obvious. 

The honesty of his words shock you, like it always does when he has these moments of softness, and you turn your head back to your screen to hide the obvious blush blooming across your cheeks. You hear him huff out a laugh into your neck and you jab your elbow back lightly, catching him in the side. He makes a sound when your elbow connects and then laughs, pulling your arm back to your side.

Yeosang lets you rot for another hour before he pulls you out of bed and shoves you into your bathroom with a stern order to shower. You let the water wash over your body, scrubbing at your skin until it’s raw. It should be nice. It should be relaxing. Instead, it just adds to the weight pressing onto your shoulders. You pull yourself out of the bathroom wrapped in your robe, shuffling your feet as you walk through your apartment. You find him on your couch, sitting cross-legged with his laptop on his lap. You plop down onto the couch next to him, pulling your knees up and curling into his side. An arm wraps around your body and you press your face into his shoulder, feeling the buzz of Yeosang’s voice in his chest against your cheek.

“You should go put some clothes on,” he hums. “We’re going to get some real food.”

You sigh, a bit overdramatic, and grumble when he laughs lightly at you, brushing your wet hair from your face. You peek over a bit at his computer screen, trying to be discreet, but you watch him adjust the screen to face you better and you glance up at him briefly. Yeosang doesn’t look at you, but a small smile forms at the corners of his lips. On one side of his screen is a map, there’s a few blinking initials scattered over it and you lean a little closer to the screen. On the other side of the screen, there’s a tracking page for a train ticket, you watch as the bar blinks forward to the next stop.

“What’s that?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“I am watching Woo head upstate,” Yeosang confesses, voice measured. There’s something in his tone that tells you he wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not. You hum in response and watch the progress bar on the train ticket tick up another stop.

“What are the other dots?”

“One is Mingi, one is Yunho, and that one is Seonghwa,” Yeosang points around the map at different blinking dots. You nod your head and turn to face him.

“Do you want to give me one?” you ask the question tentatively, as though you’re scared of the answer he’ll give you. His mouth drops open slightly before closing and he slides his tongue over his teeth.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yeosang whispers and you just nod in response, eyes glued to the dots on the screen and the slow progress of the bar.

“Is he mad?”

“Yeah, but he’ll get over it. That’s why he’s there and you’re here.”

The way Yeosang says it only sparks more questions for you. There’s something under the surface that you can’t pin down. You roll around a question against your tongue as you watch another stop roll by.

“Is he alone?”

Yeosang nods. You purse your lips together. You make a decision.

It’s 2:36 when you slide out from under Yeosang’s arm and tiptoe out of your bedroom. You close the door softly behind you, thanking him silently for oiling the hinges earlier in the day. You slip Mingi’s gym bag over your shoulder which you had packed full of your own clothes while Yeosang was in the shower. You pull the train ticket up on your phone and stare at it as you stand in the dark of your living room. The moonlight drifts through your curtains, casting harsh shadows across your floor. You steel your nerves, tuck your feet into your shoes, and head out your front door. The lock clicks behind you louder than you would like and you freeze in your hallway when you hear the door across the hall creak open.

“What are you doing?” San whispers and you hang your head, sighing heavily.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” you whisper back, keeping your face to your door.

“Couldn’t sleep. Are you going somewhere?” San’s voice has an edge to it and you’re starting to feel more interrogated than anything.

“Just out, Sannie. Ji is having a bit of a crisis, so I’m going to her place to stay with her for the night,” you offer, letting the lie fall off your tongue easily. You let your keys jingle in your hand lightly, as though you’re fumbling with them, in a rush. “I really gotta go Sannie, she’s waiting for me to get there. It was nasty.”

You turn to face him and his face is hard, but he sighs as you approach him. You press a kiss to his cheek softly and he grasps your hand softly as you turn away.

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Yeah, I promise,” you smile slightly and he releases your hand, letting you turn down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the night.

The train ride is surprisingly pleasant. It’s late and quiet, it goes faster than you thought it would. You hole yourself up in a motel for the night and you figure you might as well get some real sleep. By the time you wake up, it’s mid-day. The sun beams through the worn blinds and you cover your eyes with your arm. Your phone buzzes without pause where it lays beside your head. You scroll mindlessly through the notifications before turning it off entirely. They’ve texted you, it’s pinged against cell towers. You know if they wanted to find you, they could. There’s no use in having it be an annoyance in your pocket for the entire time you’re here. You pull yourself out of the bed, pull on something plain and head down the street to the diner you saw in the taxi to the motel.

You seat yourself in the corner by a window and a bubbly waitress comes over to take your order. You mumble something out and she nods before stepping away from your table briskly. You keep your eyes glued to the door, hoping that you would catch a glimpse of familiar blonde hair bustling through the door. But, you don’t. You sit in the diner for an hour, eyes staring at the figures passing, eating your breakfast in silence. A few times the waitress comes up and checks in, but you wave her off every time. You finish your third cup of coffee and pull out a map you had grabbed at the motel from your pocket. You stretch it across the table and track the trails in the area. Your fingers travel over the different routes before you decide on two you’ll traverse today. You check your watch then look up to the sun in the sky. You slam thirty dollars onto your table, not waiting for your check, and you pull your hood up as you drift into town.

Your search through the trails turns out to be a bust. You waste seven hours of daylight before you decide to pack it in. Your feet hurt and your throat is dry, fingers trembling at your sides from exhaustion. You trek back into the edge of town, shoving open the door to the dingy bar. It slams against the wall, but the sound is swallowed by loud laughter and pool balls striking the sides of a table. You sidle yourself into a booth, pressing your forehead into your hands when you hear a familiar laugh from the corner of the bar. You tilt your head over your shoulder, catching a shock of blonde hair pushed back by sunglasses. You watch as his hand drifts over a woman’s shoulder before pressing into the small of her back. You force your eyes forward and shuffle over in the booth, shoulder pressing against the wall. Another bubbly waitress comes by your table, you think they must all be like that here. You order a beer and a basket of fries and shove your hand into the inside of your jacket pocket. You roll a pen between your fingers while you wait for your food, catching the reflection of Wooyoung and this woman in the window. You glare as she presses her face into his neck and he preens.

You beer arrives and you down it, ordering a shot before cutting yourself off. You’d like to be at least somewhat coherent when you see where this goes. You chew your fries, miserable, as you continue to watch their reflections in the window. You grit your teeth every time she laughs or runs her fingers over his chest or presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s stupid. She’s stupid. She doesn’t even know what he’s going to do to her, and that should make you feel at least a bit superior, but the jealousy burns in your chest regardless.

You watch as he takes her hand and helps her down from the barstool, gliding past your table with a hand pressed to the small of her back. You let him guide her out the door before you pull out another twenty and place it under your empty shot glass. You take your time getting on your coat before drifting to the door, hood sliding down as the wind whips against your face. You follow, twenty paces behind as they traipse through town. It’s about six blocks before Wooyoung glances over his shoulder and you turn the corner carefully, counting to ten before falling back into step behind them. You watch as he takes her hand and leads her into a house, not too far from one of the trails you had explored earlier in the day. You stand outside the house, glancing up at it before pulling a pack of cigarettes from your coat pocket. You light one up and listen.

There’s a clatter and a muffled scream and you scoff. Stupid cunt. You pull your phone from your pocket and power it back on, finally letting the notifications from the day catch up to you. A million angry texts from Hongjoong. A few worried ones from Seonghwa. One voicemail from Yeosang that you decide to listen to while the faint screams echo in the background, you step closer to the edge of the driveway and crouch by a basement window. You’re careful not to let your shadow get caught in the porchlight.

“I know you think you’re doing something meaningful right now, but you shouldn’t do this,” Yeosang’s voice rings in your ear. “We’re going to come get you, so don’t do anything stupid, fuck. Just don’t look for him, please.”

You huff out a breath from your nose, smoke billowing into the cold night air. You stub out your cigarette and light another, listening to the crunch of bones through the window. She’s stopped screaming at this point, but you let satisfaction wash over you anyways. You hear a door slam and you poke your head up, freezing slightly. You watch a light turn on in the second floor window above you. You stand up slowly, gravel of the driveway crunching under your feet as you walk down it. You take a look at the back of the house before trying the screen door to the back porch. Unlocked. You stub your half-smoked cigarette against your shoe before placing it back in your pack. You open the door and slip through. You’re not exactly trying to be quiet, especially when the door screeches, but you hope that the others have had contact with Wooyoung for you to at least catch him by surprise with your presence.

You step into the kitchen and take a place at the small table in the center of it, sliding off your jacket and placing it on the back of your chair. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket. You slide it onto the table, letting it vibrate against the wood. You hear shuffling below you, a few high pitched whines and what sounds like the straining of wood. The stairs creak from the other room and you let your eyes drift over to the doorway. Wooyoung stops in the threshold of the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

“You got the jump on me,” he sounds surprised.

“Guess I did,” you reply. Your phone vibrates three more times.

“I think you should get that,” Wooyoung whispers, hands behind his back.

“What are you hiding?” you ask, voice even. Wooyoung doesn’t reply, but shuffles a bit. You catch the flash of metal as he moves. You smile.

“I didn’t know you touched other girls like that,” you tilt your head and let your mouth form into a pout. Wooyoung’s eyes flash with something dangerous and primal. You pout harder.

“You jealous?” he asks, corners of his lips lifting into a smirk. You lean forward on the table, hand resting on your chin.

“A little,” you drum your fingers where they sit on your face. “What did you do already?”

Wooyoung steps fully into the room, strides wide as he approaches you. His gait is a bit uneven, though, and he leans a little bit more on his right side. As he reaches the space in front of you, you press on his left thigh and he groans. You laugh.

“She got a hit in,” you state incredulously. You press harder with your thumb and Wooyoung grips your wrist, hard. He’s grinning, too white, too wide. Familiar. His other hand grips your chin roughly.

“Don’t be a bitch right now,” Wooyoung mutters inches away from your face. You hum and lean in, pressing a kiss to his mouth, soft and sweet. You feel his grip on you loosen slightly and he freezes. You pull away and watch as his eyes narrow.

“I think you should stop playing with your food and finish it already. I want to go home,” you whisper against his mouth. Wooyoung lets his hands fall away from you and takes a step back, his eyes traveling over your face. You see the cogs in his head spinning wildly. It makes you laugh. The screen door screeches behind you and you don’t look back. You keep laughing as you watch Wooyoung try to figure you out. A hand clasps the back of your neck, palms rough.

“Are you fucking drunk?” Wooyoung breathes out.

“Not nearly enough,” you laugh and wave him off carelessly. His eyes stay on you as he stalks back to the basement.

“What happened to not doing anything stupid?” San breathes from behind you. You can hear the exasperation in his voice. You don’t have to turn around to see his face—eyes closed, mouth pressed tightly in a line, a slight shake to the head. You shrug your shoulders and stand silently. You slip your jacket over your shoulders and shake out of San’s hold, walking out the screen door and letting it slam behind you. You sit on the back steps, pulling out another cigarette. You catch Seonghwa’s eyes, blazing, where he stands in front of you. You hold out your pack of cigarettes to him and he knocks your hand away. The box falls to the ground.

“Touchy,” you mutter.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Seonghwa hisses and you raise an eyebrow. “Or do you just like pissing us off?”

“Hwa,” San’s voice, warning.

“I cannot believe you would follow him. You’re unbelievable,” Seonghwa scolds, but he lays a soft hand to the top of your head. You smile.

“I was running an experiment,” you reply, voice easy. You watch Seonghwa close his eyes and take a deep breath. If you listen hard enough, you can hear flesh meeting metal, liquid hitting cement. It makes you hum in relief. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Getting your stuff from the motel. Use cash next time,” Seonghwa replies, eyes still closed. You reach your hand up and grasp his, pulling it from the top of your head. You press a kiss against the back of it.

“Thank you for coming to pick me up,” you sigh.

Seonghwa runs a thumb under your chin. “Always.”

A door slams from inside and your heads tilt toward the back door. Wooyoung emerges, hands smeared with blood. You smile at him brightly.

“You’re a fucking psycho, do you know that?” Wooyoung snarls at you.

“Ironic,” you tease. You reach your cigarette out to him and he leans down, face still sour, you place it in his mouth softly. He perches next to you on the steps. You scooch closer to him.

“You ready to go home now?” you ask, knocking your knee against Wooyoung’s. You take the cigarette out of his mouth and he blows out the smoke, nodding. You press a kiss to Wooyoung’s shoulder and nudge him back into the house to clean up. San’s hand smoothes down the hair in the back of your head before he follows.

“You know everyone is pissed right now, right?” Seonghwa asks as he sits down on the steps beside you.

You laugh in response, leaning into his body. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Hongjoong’s face is red when you reach the motel, your bag gripped tightly in his fist. He’s shoving into the trunk of a car, you think Yunho’s, when you arrive. He slams the trunk shut when he sees you, hand in hand with Wooyoung.

Hongjoong screams across the parking lot. “Have you lost your mind?”

You shrug and that seems to infuriate him more. It’s a delicate balance you have to strike with Hongjoong and you think you’ve figured it out by now. You let him rip into you, something about irresponsibility and stupidity and maybe he should have killed you, before you reach a hand out and lightly grip the collar of his coat. You stroke your fingers over it, smoothing out the edge where it sticks up. You smile up at him and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Joong,” you whisper. “But, you wouldn’t have let me find him. I had to see it for myself.”

Hongjoong’s hands come up to rest on your waist before he presses his forehead against yours. He shuts his eyes tightly, as if willing the emotion to go away, and grips you tightly against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, hand stroking gently through his hair.

“What did you think?” Hongjoong whispers where his cheek is pressed against your hair.

“I think it was fun,” you whisper back and you feel his hands fist against your coat. You smile softly and pull yourself out of his grip, running a hand to his face and stroking over his cheek. “I’m okay.”

“Everyone else is home, I sent them back when Seonghwa texted. I figured you wouldn’t want the cavalry here,” Hongjoong says, the last sentence is directed over your shoulder to Wooyoung, who nods lightly. Wooyoung’s face is tight, body shifting quietly while Hongjoong gives him a once over.

Hongjoong releases you carefully before striding over to Wooyoung and clasping a hand around his neck, bringing him into a tight hug. Wooyoung’s shoulders tense, then sag, and he collapses into Hongjoong’s hold. You realize it’s the first time they’ve interacted since that night last year, at least the first time that you’ve seen, and it’s obvious how much they’ve missed each other. You turn and make your way toward the car, giving them the space they need for now. San’s arm loops around yours and you lean into him.

“It’s a long ride back,” he mutters. Your laugh lights up the parking lot.

It takes a week before you’re forgiven. Apologies are breathed out between meals, pressed into cheeks and hairlines and palms, gasped against open mouths between bedsheets. Wooyoung presses himself against you most nights now, bare chest warm against your spine. He whispers apologies of his own against your shoulder when he thinks you’re asleep—sometimes about the way he spoke to you, the veiled threat, and other times it’s about the face he ran in the first place, the way he let his hurt push you away. You pretend not to hear it, but the next morning you hold his hand a little tighter, let your kisses linger a little longer.

You move the next month, a new place in the same building as Hongjoong’s. You let the guys bankroll it, San practically begs to pay at least a portion of your rent. Your apartment is bigger now, not two floors kind of big, but big enough to fit a wide dining table and two couches. Bodies don’t pile onto the floor anymore and you can comfortably fit an extra dresser or two for the clothes of eight grown men. Gym bags are placed in the front closet, shoes are placed neatly on the shoe rack, new pictures line the mantle. It’s as close to perfect as you could imagine.

Your boys pile into your apartment one night after a hunt, the manic energy that fills the room exhausts you, but you let them tug you around and press their faces into you anyways. You end up in Yeosang’s lap, his face pressed into your shoulder as you attempt to order food. His hips grind up into yours and you turn your face to glare at him. He gives you a sheepish grin before latching his mouth onto the side of your neck.

You push yourself out of his lap and another set of hands reach for you. You slap them away, yelling over their collective noise to try and collect orders. Hongjoong watches from where he’s perched on one of the couch arms, back pressed into the cushion and arms crossed over his chest. You pout in his direction and he sighs, sitting up before clapping his hands together. The room falls into silence.

“Our girl is trying to order food, can you guys stop bickering for ten minutes and tell her what you want?” Hongjoong chides playfully. Orders fly out of mouths and you type everything into your phone, making Mingi and Wooyoung repeat their orders three times because they keep talking over each other. You roll your eyes before shuffling into the kitchen, pulling your phone to your ear as you mutter the order down the line. Your back is turned away from the door and you lean against your counter with your hands pressed to your eyes when you hear the bickering start up again. Hands slide around your waist, slow and careful, giving you ample time to pull away. You turn in the hold, face a few inches from Hongjoong’s as you reach your arms to wrap around his shoulders. He leans in and presses a long kiss to your mouth, smiling into it.

“Love when you take care of us,” he mumbles against your mouth. You grin.

“Love when you guys let me,” you reply. “Also, love when you guys come back from a hunt.”

“Yeah,” he presses another kiss to your mouth before pulling away, teasing.

“Yeah, very sexy,” you breathe in between kisses.

Hongjoong hums where his lips are pressed against your neck. “Wanna come with next time?”

He laughs when you nod eagerly. Psycho.

[gunbunnyhwa]

baby, i like it

frat!hyung line x reader

you bring up something new to try in the bedroom and your boyfriends are more than willing to help you satisfy your curiosity

wc: 11.3k

cw: use of aphrodisiacs, some mxm, polyamory, description of pornography that may count as dubious consent, masturbation, light degradation, light impact play, dvp, eiffel tower, light implications of dom/sub dynamics, switch!sunghoon, switch!jake, switch!heeseung, dom!jay, sub!reader

note: first enhypen work, might post some minor stuff from this universe later because there is a deleted scene of some drunk riki antics that i just couldn't find the right place for pacing wise but did write, also think it would just be fun to explore more of the dynamics with this reader and these guys. i had a lot of fun writing this and working out the dynamics :) if i missed anything in the warnings, please let me know and per usual, i hope you enjoy!

You feel kind of stupid bringing it up. Scratch that, maybe not stupid—more embarrassed maybe? You’re trying to get better at specifying your feelings and not diminishing them to simply good or bad. It isn’t going well.

It started with a video you saw on Twitter. The guys are throwing that night—something and ski sluts, you can’t remember off the top of your head—and you don’t feel like going. Your roommates had made their way out of the apartment an hour ago, checking four times before leaving that you really didn’t want to go, ski goggles and ear muffs contradicted by their bikini tops. You had gotten a few texts from your boys, just a few photos of their outfits and one of Niki face down in the backyard before the party had even started, which you had responded to with little vigor or excitement. You love them, but the constant social outings were inherently against your nature. While you enjoyed a night out every once in a while, your partners’ want for you to be at every party their frat threw was a little bit exhausting. They understood your homebody nature, but they also tried their best to crack you out of your introvert shell—or at least that was the way that Jake kept putting it every week when he would try to convince you to come out over dinner. Usually, he got a punch to the side from Sunghoon and a disapproving look from Jay, while Heeseung would sit quietly on the opposite side of the room until he finally broke into laughter at Jake’s poor attempt to convince you. It had taken a lot to get to a point where they could all be with you together, some awkwardness existing in the beginning of the relationship; but after almost a year, you had all fallen into a comfortable rhythm with one another.

So, there you are—a Friday night and your four hot boyfriends and your three hot roommates are all at the same party while you sit at home scrolling Twitter trying to find something to numb your brain for an hour or so. You didn’t mean to come across it, but Jake had sent a link to the group chat with the caption “should we try this?” and six eye emojis and you had kind of scrolled from there. The video Jake had sent was something you had seen before—some video of a girl tied up and a few guys taking turns. Nothing overtly interesting to you, but you clicked to the account anyways. After a few videos, you saw it. The thumbnail wasn’t anything crazy, just a close up of a girl’s face while she stuck her tongue out. Typical gross porn shit. The tweet attached to the video was what got your attention.

“She totally didn’t expect to gush like that! Aphrodisiac and drugs make for a wet combination so that she fucks herself everywhere!”

It’s translated from Japanese, so you think it’s a little awkward, but it still makes you squeeze your legs together. You click on the video and it starts. There’s a close-up of a hand putting something from a dropper into a water bottle, then a hard cut to a girl drinking from it. Then it cuts again, she’s sitting on a couch, squeezing her legs together, face scrunched up. You watch as it cuts between her humping various objects in her living room to her fingering herself open to her getting pulled onto the couch by a guy twice her size and having her face pressed into the cushions while he fucks hard into her pussy. She’s so wet and your hand glides down your torso and under your pajama shorts. The girl in the video is insatiable and can’t stop cumming. You wonder how good it would feel to be that fucked out, to be that horny that you don’t care what’s making you feel good as long as you’re cumming. You think about your partners and what it would be like for them to do that to you—to have you that desperate that you would fuck them anywhere, let them take and take and take until you passed out. You cum to the thought of two dicks in your pussy, one in your mouth, and another in your hand. You save the video in your bookmarks. You’ll bring it up to them later.

The first one to catch on that you’re being weird is Jay. It’s not surprising, the two of you spend the most time together due to sharing a few classes, but you didn’t think he would catch on so soon. It’s Monday when he brings it up, you’re both walking back to the frat after one of your shared classes and the condensation from your iced coffee drips down your wrist, ice melting in the shock of early heat in April. He watches you carefully before grabbing your other hand lightly.

“What’s going on with you?” Jay asks, voice playful. “You’ve been spacey since Friday night.”

You shake your head lightly. “Nothing, I’m totally fine.”

The words come out faster than you like and Jay squeezes your hand. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m kind of worried that you’ve been so quiet,” he huffs out in a laugh. You squeeze his hand lightly in response.

“Really, it’s nothing. Just, like, I don’t know,” he scrunches his eyebrows as you speak, running a thumb over your hand as you walk. “I just saw something Friday. Like, on Twitter. It’s nothing, seriously.”

Jay looks you over once before smiling lightly, catching the tips of your ears as they burn. “So it’s a sex thing.”

You wrench your hand out of his and smack him on the shoulder, Jay tips his head back in a laugh and grabs your wrist. “We’re in public,” you scold.

“It is,” Jay pulls you closer to him as you reach the house, one arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you stand on the porch. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pinching your cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re shy.”

You feel your face burn stronger. “Oh my God, can you not?”

“So embarrassed,” Jay pinches harder and you smack his hand away. “We can talk about it later with the rest of ‘em, or we can just talk about it when we get to my room. But, we’re definitely talking about it if it gets you this embarrassed.”

His smirk irritates you. “I would rather not talk about this with all of you right now,” you mumble into his shoulder and Jay laughs again, cooing as he follows you into the house.

You slam open the door to his room, throwing your backpack next to his desk before dramatically flopping into his bed. You press your heated face into a pillow and you feel a tug at your feet where Jay takes your shoes off.

“I would rather not have your gross shoes on my bed,” he snickers.

You mumble an apology into the pillow and feel the bed dip next to you. Gentle hands run down your back and through your hair as you breathe. You let yourself relax into the touch.

“Can you tell me about it?” Jay asks carefully.

Up until recently, sex with your partners has been relatively normal. You’re not the most experienced and they are well aware of that fact, so they generally approach conversations like this with caution. You still haven’t been able to shake the shame of your desire and as adorable as they all find it, there is also a deep awareness that causing you any discomfort will cause you to further retreat. It’s a balancing act between trying their hardest to push you to voice what you want while also trying to avoid making you feel any more shame than you already do.

You press your face further into the pillow, hands coming up to push against your warm cheeks. The hands in your hair don’t stop moving, but Jay presses softly on the side of your head so that your face is turned towards him. He’s sitting next to you on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. His other hand not running through your hair pulls one of your hands away from your face.

“It’s gross,” you mumble.

“I like gross. We all like gross,” Jay encourages. He lifts your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“No, it’s, like, really gross,” you insist. “Like, morally questionable kind of gross.”

Jay just presses your hand to his mouth again. “That’s okay. I want to know anyway. I don’t think you could say anything that we wouldn’t at least consider trying.”

You sigh heavily and press your forehead against his thigh. “It was a video.”

“Mhm,” another kiss pressed against your hand, another brush of your hair out of your face.

“Somebody, like, spiked a girl and it made her, like, really horny—” you cut yourself off with a groan. “This is so nasty.”

“It’s okay, keep going,” Jay’s tone is so soft as he says it.

“She got really horny and, like, kept getting off. Like, humping and stuff,” you lift your head up a bit and Jay’s attention is entirely on you. You meet his eyes briefly and then look back to his leg. He smiles down at you and squeezes your hand softly for you to continue. “And then, this guy comes over and just fucks her and she just, like, cums and cums and cums. And I keep thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Jay’s voice is teasing. “What do you think about it?”

You whine slightly and Jay laughs quietly. “I, like, think about you guys. And I think about what it would be like if you guys did that… to me. Obviously.”

“And what would that be like?” Jay asks, voice still quiet and careful.

“Like, if you guys did that before a party. And I was there. And you guys just let me get really keyed up. And then took care of me,” it comes out stilted, each thought with a long pause in between.

“You know what I think?” Jay’s voice is still careful and you meet his eyes through your hair. “I think we would really like that. Like, seriously be really into that. And I think that we could definitely make it happen if it’s something you want.”

His hands wander slightly, squeezing softly at your waist and maneuvering you so you’re sitting up in his lap. You let him move you, face now pressed into his shoulder. Jay presses a long kiss into your hairline and lets you sit with his statement for a moment.

“Do you want me to bring it up with the other guys?” he asks after a few minutes and smiles softly when you nod. “Okay, I can do that.”

Word makes it around by Tuesday and on Wednesday night the five of you are spread across the couches in the basement when the topic comes up. Wednesday night is homework night, it’s a long standing tradition from before any of you got involved with each other. It’s something to make you all feel normal in the scheme of your relationship. Jay and Heeseung sit on one couch, legs propped on the coffee table in front of them. On the other, Sunghoon sits on one end facing the middle cushion, back propped up against the arm rest and legs spread. You and Jake are splitting the chaise, it’s big enough to seat two people if you guys sit close enough. He’s on the outside, arm draped on the arm rest and the other around your shoulder, laptop perched in his lap. Your knees are tucked into your chest, a book for class grasped in your hands. Your feet brush Sunghoon’s every once in a while and it makes something warm bloom in your chest. Jake is the first to break the silence, a long groan let out as he throws his head back against the back of the couch.

“If I have to read one more article about machine learning, I might blow my brains out,” Jake announces.

“Dramatic,” you huff sarcastically and Jake pinches your side.

“You’re the one who picked data science as your minor,” Sunghoon grunts from the other end of the couch, flipping haphazardly through his notes.

“I didn’t think it would be so boring,” Jake complains, gesturing widely with his arms. His fingertips brush Heeseung’s textbook where it’s propped open against the other couch and it hits the floor with a slam.

“Come on, man,” Heeseung groans, leaning over to pick up the book where it fell. Jake pulls his arm back sharply, offering a consoling look and Heeseung only glares.

“No, but seriously,” Jake complains, looking around the room. “It’s so boring. Do you think I have time to change it?”

“We’re here for another year, Jake. Do you really want to spend your senior year cramming in an extra minor when you’re almost done this one?” Jay, ever the pragmatist, doesn’t even look up from his computer as he responds, hands working quickly over the keyboard.

“I hate when you’re right,” Jake whines. “Can we at least take a break? I’m so bored.”

“Should we eat?” Sunghoon replies, still flipping through his notes until he scrunches his nose in frustration and closes his notebook. “Not gonna lie, I’m hitting my limit right now.”

“If you give me fifteen, I can drive us,” Jay responds, hands still flying over the keyboard. There’s a grunt of confirmation from everyone in the room, your eyes stay glued to your book, determined to get through the end of the chapter you need to read. You get through two pages before Jake speaks again.

“Are we gonna talk about Friday?” his voice is low in your ear.

“What’s Friday?” you murmur, confused, but still not looking up from your book.

“We’re gonna try that thing, right? The thing from the video?” Jake’s breath is warm on the shell of your ear and your body tenses. His voice comes out panicked. “Or not! We don’t have to do it.”

“Dude,” Heeseung scolds, hands moving up to his face to push his glasses down enough to rub his fingers over his eyes. He closes his laptop sharply and places it on the table. “Well, I guess we’re just talking about it now.”

Your eyes flick up from your book for the first time and the other three are looking at Jake sharply. Jay’s hands have stopped moving over his keyboard.

Jay lets out a long sigh. “Let me finish my sentence.”

Laptops are shut, books are closed, everything is moved to the coffee table and all attention is turned to you. You curl into yourself a little bit more and place your book open on top of your knees.

“So, you talked about it,” you start.

“We talked about it,” Jay responds.

“And no one thinks it’s gross?” your voice is quiet and all annoyance that had previously filled the air softens. Jake’s arm around your shoulder pulls you further into the chaise.

“Not at all,” Jake presses a kiss into your hair. “We think it’s hot.”

“Like, stupid hot,” Sunghoon blurts and you notice the tips of his ears turning red. You let your body relax into the couch and turn to the rest of the room.

“So, how are we doing it?” you ask.

Heeseung’s mouth opens and then closes, before he says, “We may have gotten something from Won.”

“Guys,” you whine, hands going up to cover your face before your wrists are grabbed by Sunghoon.

“No, wait,” he interrupts your spiral. “Jungwon doesn’t know anything, seriously. Like, nothing at all about any of it. Just that Hee asked if he had any of the chocolate–” He cuts himself off with a sigh before looking at the others for help.

Jay saves him. “Won had a thing with a girl before and he got some chocolate for Valentine’s that has an aphrodisiac. He gave it a glowing review and was looking to get rid of it when she broke things off back in March. Jake took it off of his hands and it’s been sitting in his room. No one knows anything that they don’t need to, baby. You’re good.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding and let your hands come to rest in Sunghoon’s lap. He smiles softly at you and takes one between his palms. His hands are cold and you guide the back of his fingers to press lightly against your cheeks, cooling them off. Jake laughs fondly from your other side.

“It’ll be so controlled,” Heeseung starts, regaining his composure. “You’ll get a totally normal dose and one of us will be with you the whole night. You give us the word and we get outta there.”

“We were thinking you could come over early? Maybe get ready here? That way you could take it before the party starts and we see how you’re feeling,” Sunghoon says, fingers now clasping the back of your neck. His thumb plays with the hair falling out of where it’s pulled back and you shake your head lightly as it tickles.

“That sounds good,” you murmur.

“It’ll be the same system as always, traffic lights. If anything gets too much, you say the word and we’re done,” Jay reassures, face serious. You nod and press your lips together.

“Okay,” you say after a moment, lips stretching into a shy smile. “Friday then.”

“Incredible,” Jake smirks, pressing a playful kiss into your hair again. You laugh and shove him off. Sunghoon lets his hand fall away from your neck.

“Let’s go eat,” you call as you stand up, slapping a hand onto one of Jake’s and Sunghoon’s legs. The boys share a look, faces splitting into wolfish grins as they follow you out of the room.

Friday comes with little fanfare, the rest of the week dragging. Between midterms and papers, you are more than ready to be done for the week. Sunghoon is sprawled across your bed, head propped on your pillows and scrolling through his phone while you flit through your closet. Your floor is littered with outfits you had started putting together and scrapped halfway through. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants.

“Angel, that’s the fourth one,” Sunghoon calls from behind you. You groan and run a hand through your hair. “It’s really not that serious.”

You throw him a look and his hands go up in surrender.

“It’s Halloween in April, just pull out one of your Halloweekend outfits,” he suggests.

“I can’t, you guys already saw those,” you whine. The ‘and fucked me in them’ goes unsaid, but Sunghoon smirks like he can read your mind. You hear the bed groan behind you and arms wrap around your middle. You sigh and lean into his body. Sunghoon presses a kiss against your throat, you can feel him smirk when you let out a shaky breath.

“I know you wanna be pretty, but you know we’re gonna rip it off of you in twenty minutes anyways,” he teases. There’s a bet going between the five of you for how long you can hold out. You’re very confident you can last at least the first hour, but all the guys have you down for forty minutes or less.

“Hoon, not helping,” you whine and he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, placing hands on your hips and turning you around. “Does Jen still have the wings from this year?”

“Probably,” you respond. Sunghoon raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘Duh’ and you sigh, pulling out your phone to text your roommate. Ten minutes later, there’s a lightly used pair of angel wings spread across your bed. They’re a little bent from all the jostling from the bars, but they’ll do for the night. You pull out something short and white from your closet, shoving it into your overnight bag along with your essentials. You pull out a pair of white boots you had borrowed from Lara the other week and throw them next to the bag. You turn and look at Sunghoon, throwing your hands out and letting them slap against your legs. He laughs and throws your bag over his shoulder, grabbing your boots in one hand and grasping your own hand lightly in the other.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he comments, throwing you a lazy smile and pulling you out the door.

When you arrive at the frat, you are quickly tugged through the back door and herded into Jake’s room where it sits on the first floor. His room is tucked in the back of the house, in the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen that they close off during parties where the entrance to the basement sits. The basement is for brothers and guests of brothers only and isn’t typically open until afters, so your partners are relatively confident that for the majority of the time tonight you’ll be completely uninterrupted and unheard to the outside world. It brings you a bit of comfort to know that they thought this through, at least enough to take your anxieties into consideration.

Sunghoon set your things down gently near Jake’s desk, letting you shuffle over to the bed to tuck yourself into Jake’s side. Jake grabs you and positions you so you’re straddling him, arms wrapped around your waist. He leans up from where he’s sitting and presses a kiss against your mouth, quick and dirty, laughing when you squirm at his lick up your neck.

“You’re so gross,” you whine as you push his face away from you, hand wiping away his spit.

“You don’t usually have a problem with it,” Jake quips, taking stock of your blushing cheeks. His hands are firm against your hips and he squeezes lightly. The bed dips as Sunghoon crawls up the right side of the bed, dropping a kiss to Jake’s shoulder when he reaches where the two of you are perched.

“You ready for tonight?” Jake asks you, serious and soft. It’s always an adjustment when he switches moods like this. You nod, confident for the first time all week and Jake smiles, leaning up to capture your lips in another kiss. The door opens and the two of you break apart, a smirk sliding across Jake’s face as his eyes pass over your shoulder.

“She’s not even dressed and you’re starting?” Heeseung jokes as he steps into the room, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and then sprawling at the end of the bed. You climb off of Jake’s lap, shoving Sunghoon over so you can settle in between the two of them, back pressed against the headboard. Heeseung flips over to his stomach and lays his head on his arms, facing you.

“How long do you need to get ready?” Heeseung asks through a yawn.

You scrunch your face up, thinking for a moment, before replying. “Probably like an hour.”

“God, you take forever,” Jake complains, and you slap his shoulder. He gasps and shoots a hand up to where you hit him.

“So dramatic,” Sunghoon murmurs from your other side, eyes not looking up from his phone.

“We have, like, an hour to kill then,” Heeseung continues, ignoring Jake entirely. The four of you lay across Jake’s bed, shooting the shit for thirty minutes before Jay enters the room. His face lights up when he spots you in the center of the bed.

“Hi, my love,” Jay calls softly.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jake snarks and Jay ignores him in favor of crawling over the bed to lay directly on top of you.

“No, you’re a brat,” Jay finally responds and Sunghoon barks out a laugh.

“You’re such a dick, man,” Jake whines. Jay pouts and coos at Jake before reaching a hand out to harshly pinch one of his cheeks. Jake slaps his hand away

It wasn’t always like this, the intimacy didn’t always come this easy between them. At first, it had been stunted. The five of you had been close since freshman year, all living in the same dorm block and becoming fast friends. Things had been flirty those first few years, for sure, but it wasn’t until the end of sophomore year that it started to look like more. Jay was the first to approach the topic, confident and steady. There had always been a more-than-friends element to his relationships with all of you—touches that lasted too long, roaming hands on a dancefloor, a few drunken kisses—but no one had been brave enough to cross the line. Jay was drunk when he brought it up, all of you circled around a bonfire in the backyard as Jake and Heeseung were lamenting their latest failed situationships. The rest of the brothers had slowly made their way inside as the late spring night got colder. It had been simple to Jay.

“Why don’t we just get together?” he had asked before taking a long sip of his beer. All eyes were locked onto him.

“Who are you talking to?” Jake asked carefully, suddenly very sober.

“All of you,” Jay stated.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sunghoon spoke up from the opposite end of the circle, white knuckles wrapped around a can.

“No, like, think about it,” Jay leaned his body toward the fire. “We’ve known each other for a while. We all click. Our chemistry is crazy. I think it could work.”

“Jay, you’re drunk,” you mumbled, reaching over lightly to take the beer from his hands.

“No, I’m, like, deadly serious right now. You’ve never thought about it?” He seemed incredulous. Silence fell over the circle, only the crackling of the fire and the cry of cicadas heard.

“Well, not, like, with all of us,” Heeseung breaks the silence after a few minutes and you glance over at him sharply. You see Sunghoon and Jake nod in agreement.

“What about you?” Jay asks, nudging your leg with his knee.

“I mean, like maybe,” you shrug your shoulders, defensive. “But, like, be serious. It wouldn’t work.”

Jay raises his eyebrows and smiles lazily. “Never know if you don’t try.”

That night, the five of you settled into Jay’s bed, the biggest one out of the four guys. It wasn’t perfect, but it was nice. It was fitting for the five of you. There were more serious conversations in the weeks following and nothing was solidified until the summer, but it was enough to settle into all of your chests that you were all at least willing to give it a try. Your partners were slow to affection with each other, initially putting up the front that it would never happen, but a few drunken handjobs later and sharing a bed at Jay’s beach house was typical. It was messy and it was complicated, but it was right for the five of you. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Jay tugs lightly on your shirt as he lays over your lap.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, hand running under your shirt to lay flat over the dip in your spine.

“Thinking about how you propositioned us,” you joke and Jay groans. Sunghoon barks out another laugh.

“Jesus Christ, don’t remind me,” Jay’s voice is dripping with embarrassment.

“I still can’t believe you just fucking asked,” Jake laughs and Jay groans again, this time tucking his face into your stomach.

“No, seriously, dude. ‘Never know if you don’t try.’ Jesus Christ,” Heeseung smirks from the end of the bed, eyes closed where he faces toward the rest of you. You giggle in response.

“No, guys, it was cute. Like, it was sweet,” you say in an attempt to reassure Jay. Sunghoon turns on his side to face you.

“Sure, but that wasn’t the only thing you were thinking about,” his face scrunches conspiratorially.

“Yeah, I was thinking about how you guys wouldn’t kiss until you sucked each other off a few times when you were drunk,” you fire back and now it’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“You know that was just Hoon and Hee,” Jay chuckles. “Jake and I were kissing, like, all the time.”

“True,” you and Jake say at the same time, and you turn your head to face Sunghoon whose face is burning red. You look down at Heeseung and he just shrugs.

“You gotta get over the homie hump,” Heeseung states and Jake kicks him in the thigh lightly. You laugh and pat Jay’s shoulder, signaling him to let you up.

“Okay, enough memory lane, I have to get ready,” you push your way through the bodies, slapping Jake’s hands away when he tries to pull you back into bed. “You have to get ready, too. Damn.”

You cross the room to your bag, pulling out your clothes and your makeup before heading to the bathroom next to Jake’s room. When you started coming over more, the brothers had pitched in to get lights installed around the mirror and the shower redone, your boyfriends starting the crusade to have a designated “girlfriend bathroom” so that none of the girls brought into the frat would have to use the shittier ones on the first or second floor. The rest of the brothers had all thought it was a nice idea, happy enough to have something to impress their own partners with. You knocked lightly on the door, opening it to Sophia, another brother’s girlfriend, curling her hair. The time flew by, the two of you chatting about your partners and your classes. All things considered, Sophia was one of the cooler girls that hung around the frat, with many of the girlfriends not really talking to you considering the whole four boyfriends thing. But, Sophia was cool—cool enough that you had introduced her to your roommates who very quickly brought her into the fold.

When you stepped back into Jake’s room, the door clicking softly behind you, it was just Heeseung in the room, still laying at the end of the bed. You approached him, running a hand into his hair.

“Too cool for a costume?” you jibed and he laughed in response. His head turned toward you, eyes flicking slowly over your body before letting out a low whistle.

“God, didn’t know you were getting this slutty tonight,” he said lazily, hissing when you pinched his ear in response. “Okay, message received. Not slutty, just minimally clothed.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder as you fixed your hair in the mirror. You watch as Heeseung pushes himself off the bed, walking over to you and pressing a kiss against your shoulder. He wraps his arms around your middle and leans his chin over your shoulder.

“You feel good about tonight, yeah?” his voice is cautious and you smile, pressing a hand over one of his own across your stomach.

“Yes, Hee,” you sigh. “I feel very good about tonight. I’m excited.”

Heeseung smiles and presses another kiss against your shoulder. “Good, I’m excited, too. I think it’s gonna be fun.”

The door creaks open and Jake groans. “Can you not be gross in my room?”

You laugh and Heeseung shoots Jake a lazy smirk. “It’s about to be so much grosser in, like, thirty.”

“Here you go,” Jake holds out a package of chocolate towards you and you take it. Heeseung presses a quick kiss to your temple and pats your ass lightly before heading out of the room.

“Don’t start without me,” he calls over his shoulder. You turn the package over in your hands, carefully reading the dosage and the instructions.

“It’s one piece for, like, normal effects, one and a half if you want to get crazy,” Jake says simply, reading the anxiety that’s spread over your face. “We really don’t have to do this if you’re too nervous, we can have, like, normal polycule sex or something.”

You snort and let your eyes fall away from the package. “I don’t think there’s such a thing.”

“Well, normal for us, I guess,” he responds, smile stretched brightly over his face. You rip open the package and pop a square and a half in your mouth, letting the chocolate melt over your tongue.

“Jesus Christ, I wasn’t being serious,” Jake says, voice concerned. You giggle through your mouthful and brush him off.

“How much did she take?” Sunghoon asks as he and Jay enter the room.

“A fucking piece and a half,” Jake replies, dumbfounded. Jay’s eyebrows fly up.

“Risky,” Jay adds, sitting himself on the end of Jake’s bed.

“A calculated risk,” you retort once you swallow.

“How much did she take?” Heeseung asks, toeing the door open.

“A piece and a half,” you respond, rolling your eyes. “I’ll be fine. You guys will take care of me.”

You sound very sure of yourself and the boys just stare at you. It’s going to be a long night.

It takes about thirty minutes for the effects of the chocolate to kick in according to the package, but you start to feel hot after fifteen. The party has barely started, but the living room is packed. Bodies swim around you and Heeseung keeps a hand planted on the small of your back. You’re not drinking tonight, considering the chocolate, but you find yourself instinctually heading toward the kitchen anyways.

“All good, baby?” Heeseung dips his head down to your ear once you settle yourself by the counter.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, just thirsty.”

He smirks, but lets you flit through the kitchen in search of water, eyes on you the whole time. It’s not unbearable, but the low heat that swims in your gut starts to pull at you about twenty minutes into the party. Maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s just how good your boyfriends look covered in blood, but you’re starting to feel it. You feel yourself rub your thighs together, but steel your nerves. You have to make it to an hour.

Heeseung slides an arm around your back once you return, fingers brushing where the fishnets end under your top. You shiver lightly and he laughs lowly.

“Feelin’ it?” Heeseung’s voice is low in your ear, dripping with heat as he grasps your waist. He pins you slightly against the counter, arms bracketing you in. You place your cup on the counter behind you and slide your hands up his chest.

“Nah, totally normal,” you reply, syrupy. Heeseung dips his head down and presses a kiss below your ear, you whine and he laughs in response.

“Liar,” he teases.

“Trying to last,” you respond. “There’s money on the line.”

“Not fucked out enough to stop joking,” a voice calls from behind you and a body presses up against your side.

“Hey, Jakey,” you lean up and slot your mouth to Jake’s, tongue sliding along the seam of his mouth.

“Getting slutty already,” Jake muses against your mouth and you bite his bottom lip lightly. He laughs.

“You okay?” Jake asks, eyebrows knitted lightly in the center. You nod, smiling, and reach up again to connect your lips. Heeseung slides out from in front of you, letting Jake take his spot. He pats Jake lightly on the shoulder before disappearing into the living room.

Jake’s hands slide down your spine and over your ass, gripping lightly before lifting you up and settling you on the counter. He lets one hand slide over your thighs while the other stays planted on the small of your spine. He glides the hand on your thighs up, just to the edge of your skirt before sliding past it over your clothes and up to your waist. You whine softly and he huffs out a breath into your mouth.

“What, baby?” he teases. “Need something?”

You roll your hips up lightly, still with it enough to have some shame and he shakes his head. You pout and Jake runs a hand up to your face to brush his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You were the one who said an hour, I’m just tryin’ to help,” he smirks. You pinch his side lightly and he scoffs, raising his eyebrows. “So mean.”

“It’s hot in here,” you comment, still pouting.

“Yeah, need some air?” Jake asks, so caring, so cute. You nod and he helps you down from the countertop, hand pressed between your shoulders as he guides you into the backyard. Your hand slides into his naturally, leaning into his arm as you both bee-line for the collection of chairs in the back corner of the yard where Sunghoon is.

“Hi, my baby,” Sunghoon smiles as you plant yourself into his lap. He presses a kiss to your cheek and lets you shift around until you’re comfortable. There’s a cigarette in his hand and you wrap your fingers around it before he lets it go, letting you take a drag. You stretch your hand out towards Jake and he takes it from you gently, switching it over to his other hand and then returning to grasping your fingers softly.

“Hey, when did you get here?” a voice chirps as an arm wraps around your shoulder in a half-hug. You giggle and grin.

“What’s up, Wonnie?” you reply and Sunghoon leans back in the chair, pulling your body further into his chest.

“No, seriously, when did you get here? I was working door,” Jungwon settles himself into the seat next to Sunghoon and Jake shifts his body so he’s leaning on the back of Sunghoon’s chair. You whine softly as Jake’s fingers slip out of yours and he strokes a hand over your hair in consolation.

“I’ve been here, babes. Got ready here,” you reach a hand out to Jake behind you, head tilting up. He hands the cigarette back to you.

“What did they do? Sneak you in through the back door?” Jungwon jokes and Sunghoon’s face is serious over your shoulder.

“Yes,” he deadpans and Jungwon howls. You find yourself giggling, too. “You guys are a fucking riot. I don’t know how you deal with them, seriously.” The last part of his statement is addressed to you.

You shrug your shoulders lightly, smiling over your shoulder at Sunghoon. “That’s the power of love, Wonnie. Makes you do crazy things.”

Jungwon just laughs in response, glancing at his phone before standing up quickly. “Ah fuck, I gotta go, apparently Riki lit something on fire. But, I’ll be back, don’t move.” He points a finger at the three of you as he leaves, throwing the statement over his shoulder.

You snort and lean back fully into Sunghoon’s chest, passing the cigarette over. Sunghoon tilts his head away to take a drag and drops his hand to the side of the chair on the exhale. His arm is wrapped lazily around your waist and his hand sits dangerously on your thigh. You shift slightly in his lap and Jake leans down.

“Say the word, baby,” Jake’s voice is heavy in your ear. You shake your head.

“Not yet, still got,” you glance down at your phone. “Twenty five minutes. And I haven’t even seen Jay yet.”

“You really think you’re gonna make it?” Sunghoon’s voice on the other side, just as heavy, just as low. Heat flares in your stomach and you shift harder, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction. Up until now, you had been doing a relatively good job of distracting yourself from how keyed up you were, but out here with Jake and Sunghoon on either side of you, you were becoming very aware of just how wet your underwear was. Sunghoon seems to read your mind as his fingers drift under your skirt to brush lightly against your underwear. He whistles as he pulls his hand back, the touch brief but enough to make you squirm.

“How is she?” Jake asks over your head.

Sunghoon tilts his neck back and laughs darkly. “So fucking wet.”

“God, who knew all it took was a little chocolate to get her so slutty,” Jake muses, brushing his fingertips over the side of your neck.

“All drugged up and fucked out, our little princess,” Sunghoon noses the other side of your neck, pressing a wet kiss below your pulse point. The way they talk about you like you’re not there makes you drip. You whimper and Sunghoon shushes you.

“Uh-uh, can’t be making noise like that, baby. Want everyone to know how dirty you are?” Sunghoon’s voice drips with condescension and you try to grind down into his leg. He clamps a hand on your waist to stop you.

“What was that, angel?” Jake asks from over your head. “Thought you wanted to last?”

You nod your head dumbly and clench your fists, willing your body to stay still. Sunghoon and Jake laugh, cruel and low. Your thighs have never been clenched so tight.

“Why don’t you take her to Jay, baby? She wants to see him so bad,” Jake suggests and Sunghoon pushes you lightly off his lap, grasping your hand in his to lead you back to the house. He weaves through the crowd easily, you trailing behind a few steps. Sunghoon keeps peeking back over his shoulder to ensure you’re still behind him despite your hand being fully grasped in his own.

You’re pulled into the bathroom next to Jake’s room, pushed up against the sink counter quickly. Sunghoon’s mouth seals over your own, his tongue sliding into your mouth easily. You moan where his hands slide up your chest, gripping onto your breasts. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, licking softly to connect each kiss he presses to the column of your throat. A leg presses between your legs and you grind down, whining.

“Baby, please,” you cry out. Sunghoon smiles against your throat, biting softly before pulling away to watch you grind against his leg.

“Holy shit, angel,” he breathes out. “You’re fucking soaked.” He shifts his leg down and presses his fingers to the front of your underwear, rubbing softly on your clit. You grind into his hand.

“Fucking needy,” he smiles, diving back down to keep biting marks into your throat. There’s a knock on the door and it opens, Jay sliding into the room. He lets out a breath when he sees you. He leans back against the door.

“This was the urgent matter? Trying to fuck her in the bathroom?” Jay raises an eye brow, face serious but voice playful. You can see the tent in his pants where you’re pressed against the counter. You whine out his name and reach for him over Sunghoon’s shoulder and Jay’s face softens. He steps into your space and slides a hand up the side of your neck Sunghoon isn’t mouthing over, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, lover,” Jay says against your lips, you can feel his smile. “How you feelin’?”

You whine and grind into Sunghoon’s hand which makes both of them laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” Jay voices softly before angling his head toward Sunghoon. He slides a hand through Sunghoon’s hair and pulls. Sunghoon groans and it settles low in your stomach. “I think that’s enough, Hoon. I’ll get the guys.”

Jay pulls both of you out of the bathroom and shoves you through the threshold of Jake’s bedroom, telling you both to behave before he leaves. You settle at the top of the bed, head thrown back into the pillows as Sunghoon kisses down your exposed stomach. He bats away the feathers of your fake wings before pulling you up and ripping them off.

“Why did I tell you to wear these? They’re dumb as fuck,” he complains as he tosses them to the other side of the room. You hear them clatter against something before several items slam to the floor. You can’t be bothered to look up when Sunghoon’s hands slide under your top and flick over your nipples. Your back arches and you keen. Sunghoon laughs into your stomach.

“What happened to don’t start without me?” Heeseung’s voice comes from the doorway and you whine, his voice softens after that. “Oh, so needy.”

You reach your hand out and Heeseung takes it as he settles next to you. A hand slides into your hair and pulls you up to meet his mouth. Sunghoon’s hands slide up to your top, pushing it up and you pull away from Heeseung briefly to pull it the rest of the way over your head. You lean back toward Heeseung, moaning softly when Sunghoon’s hands slide to your chest and pinch your nipples. He hooks his head over your shoulder, laughing softly and leaning his head toward Heeseung. Heeseung pulls back from you, kisses Sunghoon briefly and slides a hand under your skirt.

“So fucking wet,” Heeseung whispers.

“I know,” Sunghoon replies and they both laugh meanly.

“Guys, what the fuck?” Jake whines from where the door clicks behind him, Jay right behind him and leaning up against the door again.

“You guys are so mean, I’m so fucking turned on,” you whine and Jake faux pouts, cooing at you as he climbs onto the bed.

“Are they being mean to you angel?” he asks. “You just need this needy cunt taken care of, huh?”

You nod quickly and Jake groans, pushing you down onto the bed and stripping you quickly of your skirt and underwear. He kisses down your stomach and spreads your legs, settling in between them. He trails kisses up your thighs to tease, but takes some mercy on you when you whine loudly. He licks a stripe up your cunt before latching his mouth directly onto your clit and sucking. Your body pitches and Heeseung’s hands come down to hold your hips in place.

“Jake, baby, fuck,” you moan between gasps. “So fucking good, oh my God.”

Heeseung smiles broadly and leans down to lick into your mouth. “Yeah? That good, princess?”

You nod and whine, hips twitching in Heeseung’s hold. Sunghoon palms his hard cock through his pants and then reaches up to pinch at your tits again. You’re getting close. Jake licks over your clit before pulling back and sliding two fingers into your cunt, groaning at how easily they slide in.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “Should’ve slutted you out like this a while ago, fuck.”

Sunghoon and Heeseung let out moans when you whine in response, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, want us to slut you out like this all the time?” Heeseung spits, grin obscenely wide at how responsive you are.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you babble. “Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum.”

Jake speeds up his fingers, reaching up his thumb to rub harsh circles over your clit, and you feel the band in your stomach snap. You gush around his finger and he dips his head back down to lick you through your orgasm.

“So fucking good,” he moans into your pussy. He rips his fingers out of your cunt and holds them up to Sunghoon, who wraps his lips around Jake’s fingers and sucks. You watch as Sunghoon licks you off of your boyfriend’s hand, tongue trailing down to Jake’s wrist to catch everything. It just makes you wetter.

“Why are you all dressed? What the fuck?” you whine as you trail a hand back down toward your pussy, Heeseung catching it on the way there and softly running two fingers over your clit. You hum in satisfaction and roll your hips into his fingers as they all start stripping their clothes off, mouths and hands wandering.

“Need one of you to fuck me, please,” you beg and Heeseung pulls his hand away from your clit to pull his pants off when Sunghoon and Jake settle back on the bed.

“You need it bad, baby?” Sunghoon grins, mean and low. “How bad?”

“Sunghoon,” Jay warns from the end of the room and you shoot up from where you lay. You reach an arm out to him, still whining, and Jay seems to take pity on you when he crosses the room to the end of the bed. You crawl to him, sitting on your knees where you lean up to kiss him. Your tongue lolls out, uncoordinated movements slobbering over his mouth. He chuckles into the kiss as you moan and pats your face softly as he pulls away.

“Okay, baby. I get it, I know,” he says sympathetically and Jake settles behind you and lifts you into his lap. He slides you onto his cock in one slick motion and grips your hips tightly to hold you in place. You try to grind into his cock and he hisses.

“You need to fucking stop,” Jake scolds, smacking your ass. You whine and he smoothes a hand over it to soothe the ache.

“She can’t help it, Jakey,” Jay defends, but his tone is mocking. “She’s just so fucking needy right now. You’ll take care of her though, right, baby?”

Something settles over Jake and he nods swiftly, pulling you up over his cock before giving you the reins. You bounce on Jake’s cock, letting it slam into you before pulling it almost all the way out again.

“Yeah, take it, baby,” Jay breathes as pushes your hair away from your face. “Take it like a good girl. Make Jake feel good.”

“Yeah, baby. Make me feel good,” Jake moans from behind you, hands coming up to grope your chest. He whines as you start to bounce faster, hips bucking up to meet you. Your clit throbs and you grab Jay’s hand, pulling it to your cunt. Jay hums when he feels how wet you are, flicking slick circles over your clit. You cry out and Jake digs his feet into the carpet, thrusting up faster.

“She got so tight. Baby, you got so tight, fuck,” he whines. “Make me cum, angel. Make me fucking cum.”

“Want Jake to blow in your pussy? Yeah? Want him to fill you up?” Jay speaks lowly in your ear and you feel Jake’s cock pulse as he overhears it. The slick circles don’t stop on your clit and you buck your hips up to meet Jay’s hand, back arching as you feel yourself reaching your climax. You bounce to meet Jake’s thrusts and he lets out a whine.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum all over it?” Jay mocks. Both you and Jake whine and nod, not knowing who he’s talking to. Jay pinches your clit, hard, and you shatter with a cry. You gush around Jake’s cock and you feel his teeth graze your shoulderblade as he continues to thrust up into your overstimulated cunt.

“Yeah, angel. Gonna fill you up, fuck. Gonna fucking breed this fucking cunt,” Jake growls into your shoulder, bucking up once, twice, three more times before you feel heat fill your cunt. You moan as you feel it leak around the sides of his cock and Jake bites down hard on your shoulder. Jake falls backwards, pulling you with him and Jay takes advantage of how exposed you are to strike your swollen clit a few times. You let out a strangled sound and Jake whines when you squeeze down on him.

Hands pull you off of Jake’s spent cock and you whine as you’re laid down onto your back. Heeseung runs hands over your ribs as you reach for his cock.

“Angel, you okay?” he questions and you bob your head dumbly, still reaching for his cock. He laughs softly, fondly, and lets you pull him into your soaked cunt. You reach up to twine your fingers through Heeseung’s hair and bring him down to your mouth. He goes easily, letting you slot your lips against his own. His tongue glides against your own, wet and dirty, and swipes against the back of your teeth. He thrusts slowly, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of Jake’s cum and your tight cunt.

“I think Hoonie’s feeling a little neglected, angel. Think you should make him feel good, too,” Heeseung grunts out, eyes lifted behind you where Sunghoon is propped against the head of the bed, stroking his hard cock. The tip is leaking precum and he moans when Heeseung pulls your attention to where he sits.

“Hoonie,” you whine. “C’mere.”

You stretch your hand out and grab his thigh, squeezing when Heeseung gives you a particularly hard thrust. Sunghoon shifts down to your head, positioning his cock against your lips. You reach a hand up and he hisses as you grasp him at the base, licking lightly over the tip.

Sunghoon’s hand wrenches your skull back so you meet his eyes. “Stop teasing. Don’t be a slut.”

You giggle and wrap your lips around him, licking along the underside of his head. His hand stays firmly planted in your hair, guiding your head up and down his cock. Your eyes flutter shut and Heeseung speeds up his thrusts, Sunghoon’s cock hitting the back of your throat every time Heeseung drives forward.

“Such a good girl,” Jake says quietly, curled up on the edge of the bed and reaching out a hand to stroke your hair. He pushes lightly where Sunghoon guides you. “Look so good with a dick in your mouth, baby. Love watching you suck Hoon off.”

You whine and Sunghoon groans, throwing his head back before forcing himself to resume looking at you. Heeseung reaches a hand up to your clit and rubs softly, being careful of your sensitivity. You gasp and your throat makes a clicking noise when Sunghoon’s cock plunges back into your throat.

“Yeah, baby. Just keep that mouth open, huh? Just let Hoonie fuck your throat,” Heeseung murmurs, kissing a line up the column of your throat before placing his palm lightly over the bulge there. He grabs Sunghoon’s other hand where it’s fisted at his side and guides it to your throat. “C’mon, Hoonie. Feel how good she takes it.”

Sunghoon moans and thrusts harder. Heeseung’s hand doesn’t stop working on your clit. You gargle around him on a moan, spit bubbling out the side of your mouth. 

“Hee, baby, fuck. Don’t say shit like that,” Sunghoon whines slightly. His grip in your hair grows tighter, moving your head to meet his thrusts.

“Hoon, she’s so messy,” Jake moans from where he lays, one arm now stretched under his head and the other stroking his cock back to hard. “Wanna see you get her messier.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sunghoon growls, freezing where he thrusts into your throat. He pulls you off and you gasp, coughing slightly, before he presses your face into his balls. You lick over them, spitting lightly on your hand and reaching up to strip his cock. “Yeah, baby, suck on ‘em. Fuck.”

You suck one of his balls into your mouth, rolling it over your tongue before releasing it to take the other one. Your hand is slapped away by Heeseung and he takes over where you left off.

“God, can’t even jack him off right,” he scolds lightly, no real heat behind it. “So fucking stupid, angel. Can’t think about anything but tryin’ to get his cum, right?”

You whine into Sunghoon’s balls and Heeseung laughs when Sunghoon groans and shoves your face into them harder. Heeseung’s fingers speed up and you feel yourself reaching the edge again, faster this time. You buck your hips up into his hand and he pins them to the bed with his body weight.

“C’mon Hoonie, paint our princess. Paint her tits while she cums from sucking your balls,” Heeseung whispers and Sunghoon thrusts into his hand. You clench around Heeseung’s cock as you cum, letting out a high pitched whine and some of Jake’s cum leaks out around the base of Heeseung’s cock. He laughs and keeps working his hand over Sunghoon’s cock, fast and dirty. Sunghoon spills all over your tits and you moan when you feel it spray across your chest. Heeseung keeps his hand working over Sunghoon’s cock until he whines in overstimulation and grips Heeseung’s wrist tightly. Heeseung taps your face lightly and holds his hand out. You take it from him and lick up his palm, collecting the remnants of Sunghoon’s cum off of Heeseung’s fingers.

“Fucking cumslut, Christ,” Sunghoon murmurs as he flops back into the bed.

“Need more, Hee,” you whine from under Heeseung and he pouts at you, mocking.

“Oh, our princess needs more, Jay,” Heeseung throws the comment over his shoulder as he thrusts into you. His fingers keep working over your clit. A smile spreads slowly over Jay’s face as he settles on the bed. He slaps Heeseung’s ass lightly and Heeseung laughs, pulling out of you and rolling over. You cry out and grasp at Heeseung’s shoulders, urging him to stay, but he just positions you over top of him, hovering just over his cock. Jay presses his chest against your back, dick slotted against your ass and you grind back on him. He runs his hands up your chest, collecting some of Sunghoon’s cum and sliding his fingers into your mouth.

“We’re gonna fuck you at the same time. Okay, baby?” Jay breathes into your ear and you whine. “You gotta be good, though. You gotta be patient.”

“Gonna be so good, Jay. Gonna be so patient. Please, please, I want it,” you beg, looking over your shoulder at Jay and running a hand up into his hair. He looks down at Heeseung and nods. Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightens and he lowers you onto his cock, groaning as you sink down. He bounces you a few times slowly, grip on your waist never faltering. Jay taps your spine twice before laying a palm flat on your back and pushing you toward Heeseung under you. You go easily, angling your ass up slightly which Jay responds to with a smack across it. His hand stays planted in the center of your back, the other comes up between your legs and drags around your entrance before pushing a finger in alongside Heeseung’s cock. Heeseung hisses slightly and you moan at the intrusion, trying to move your hips back into Jay’s finger. Heeseung’s grip on your waist holds you in place.

“Dirty girl, you gotta stay still if you want Jay to stretch you out,” Heeseung grits between his teeth. You bury your face into his shoulder and lick over his collarbones, leaving marks up his neck to distract yourself.

“Feels so good,” you gasp out in between your suckling. “Jay, need to feel you. C’mon.”

Jay laughs as he inserts another finger, spreading your entrance open. He spits down onto his fingers, letting it spread over your entrance and Heeseung’s cock.

“Christ, Jay,” Heeseung groans out. “Warn me next time.”

“Sorry, Hee,” Jay responds, voice condescending, moving closer to you and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. “Gonna put it in now.”

You cry out as he pushes in, high pitch contrasted by Heeseung’s sharp moan. You feel your arms fully give out and your full weight is pressed onto Heeseung who reaches a hand up into your hair to hold you against his neck. Jay takes a moment to let you adjust before slowly sliding his cock out of you. He takes hold of your ass and spreads your cheeks apart, groaning as he watches the slick glide of his cock into you and against Heeseung.

“God, fuck. Jay, fuck,” Heeseung’s other hand comes off your waist and lands on Jay’s wrist, gripping tightly. “Feels so good, baby. Fuck. Yeah, fuck her, baby, yeah.”

You feel a hand come up into your hair from the front, lifting you out of Heeseung’s neck. The three of you moan in tandem as you move. Jake’s hands move to cup your face, capturing your mouth in a sweet kiss.

“Look so cute, angel. So fucked out,” he whispers, nose to nose with you. “Love watching you take it. Love you.”

You whine into his palms as Jay begins thrusting faster into you, your cunt making sick squelching noises every time he thrusts in. From under you, Heeseung’s hips jump every few thrusts and you clench as much as you can where you’re stretched.

“Being so good for us, baby, letting us fuck you so dirty,” Jay grunts from behind you. “Think Hee’s gonna cum. Wanna make him cum? Squeeze just like that so he cums in you, yeah? You want that, yeah?”

You babble mindlessly into Jake’s palms, eyes shifting between where he strokes his hard cock and Heeseung’s scrunched face. After a few more thrusts, Heeseung croaks out a groan, spilling inside of you. Jay stops thrusting and lets Heeseung have a moment before pulling you off of their cocks. You whine endlessly, not stopping until Jay rolls you onto your back and plunges inside of you. He lifts your hips off the mattress, moving your limp body to meet his thrusts. Jake’s hand comes from over your head and glides along your clit, working fast circles into your clit. There’s something heady in the ache in your lower stomach, an unfamiliar pressure and you whine, trying to push Jake’s hand away weakly.

“No, no, princess. Just take it,” Jake whispers, voice still soft and his other hand petting over your hair. You whimper as Jay moves you along his cock, head thrashing on the bed. You cum with a cry, cunt squirting around his cock and spraying across his pubes. Jay and Jake trade smug glances, Jay laughing as he continues to work you along his cock. He doubles the effort of his thrusts, moaning low and spilling into your messy cunt, Jake’s hand still working over your clit. You push them off once Jay comes, moving your body away from them on the bed as it twitches endlessly.

You feel a hand run up your arm, moving your hair off your shoulder to press a soft kiss on your collarbone. You jerk your head and whine.

“No more, no more. All done,” you mumble and you feel a huff of laughter on your collarbone.

“Yeah, baby, all done,” Sunghoon murmurs in response, pulling you up into his chest and wrapping an arm around your spine. He brushes your hair out of your face and presses another kiss to your forehead, effortlessly gentle. Another hand presses along your spine, fingertips gently running up and down the knots left there.

“Did so good, my love,” Jake whispers over your shoulder. “Gonna get you cleaned up now, okay?”

You nod lightly into Sunghoon’s chest, eyes still closed. Bodies shift over the bed and you can hear the door open and close a few times before a warm cloth is pressed against your chest, cleaning up the remnants of cum still there. You shift slightly and scrunch your face before Sunghoon shushes you softly, brushing your hair back again. A cup presses to your mouth and a hand touches your chin to tilt your head back.

“Drink, sweetheart,” Jay’s voice is soft and his thumb brushes away a bit of water that drips out the side of your mouth. He laughs softly as you shift lightly, body shrinking when Heeseung moves to open your legs. “Gotta let Hee clean you up, it’s okay. Can you look at me, my love?”

You blink your eyes open slowly, sandwiched in between Sunghoon and Jake. Your eyes meet Jay’s where he stands at the edge of the bed, sweatpants now pulled over his hips. He smiles down at you and brushes his thumb over your mouth again.

“There she is. Let Hee finish cleaning you up and then we can sleep, yeah?”

You nod carefully, looking down at Heeseung where he holds the washcloth, now a bit cool. You hiss when it brushes over your sensitive clit and Heeseung winces sympathetically. He runs a hand up your thigh in apology and you reach your hand down to entwine your fingers in his. Heeseung finishes wiping you down, pulling his hand back from yours and kissing your calf softly when you whine.

“Be right back, promise,” Heeseung smiles at you as he leaves the bed.

Jake’s chin is tucked over your shoulder and he presses a soft kiss behind your ear. “Do you want clothes, or just wanna go to bed?”

“Mm, shirt,” you mumble, still out of it. Jake squeezes around your middle before pulling off of you. You hear shuffling before he returns, Sunghoon passing over your limp body and sliding out from under you. Jake helps you sit up and slides the shirt over your head, smoothing out your hair when the static makes it stick up a bit. He laughs softly and you reach out and pinch his thigh.

“Welcome back,” he laughs and you lean forward and press your forehead into his stomach, the skin warm and a bit sweaty on your cheek. You breathe in softly before scrunching your nose and pushing off of him slightly.

“You stink,” you joke, eyes narrowing slightly. Sunghoon laughs from where he stands at Jake’s dresser, pulling his underwear back on and smoothing down his hair where it stands up in the back.

“You don’t smell great either, princess,” Sunghoon meets your eyes in the mirror and you smile back, teasing. Jake pats your thigh lightly to signal you to get back into bed and you lay in the center of the bed over the blankets.

“Where are we sleeping tonight because I am not sleeping on these sheets?” you quip around a yawn. Jake settles next to your side, hooking his leg over yours. You slide your eyes over to him when you feel his hard-on press against your hip.

“It’ll go down,” he reassures you while smushed against your shoulder, eyes closed and sly smile across his face. Sunghoon drapes himself over Jake’s back and leans over to drift his knuckles over your jaw. Your eyes tilt up when the door opens and Heeseung and Jay walk through the door, you hadn’t even registered that they left. Heeseung walks over to Jake’s desk chair, reclining slightly and kicking his feet up on the bed, while Jay settles upright on your other side and grasps your hand softly.

Heeseung’s phone lights up his face and he winces for a moment before turning the brightness down. He lets out a groan and you lift your eyebrows in amusement. He turns his face to the bed.

“Won needs us to come back because people got rowdy and apparently Riki needs a babysitter,” Heeseung’s face is sour and you let out a laugh.

“Poor baby, has to do his job he signed up for,” you laugh, face fixed in a faux pout.

“You’re so mean to me sometimes,” Heeseung replies, reaching out a hand to poke your thigh when he rounds the bed to grab a shirt off the floor. “Jay, you’re coming with me.”

Jay’s eyes widen and he sputters before you pat his arm lightly. He makes a face—some mix of betrayal and sadness—as he climbs off the bed and moves toward the edge of the room.

“I won’t forget this,” he calls over his shoulder, gesturing between his eyes and your body. “I love you.”

You cackle in response and Heeseung presses a kiss to your hairline and pinches Jake and Sunghoon before exiting with Jay. Jake hums and you turn your head to face him, noses brushing.

“You had a good time?” Jake asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours with more purpose. You huff out a laugh and nod. “Would you do it again?”

“Definitely,” you smile and Jake and Sunghoon trade wolfish grins.

[gunbunnyhwa]

do you have a masterlist of your stalker series?

hihi! masterlist is now posted and pinned on my blog! everything is in order!

[gunbunnyhwa]

current wips

- stalkerverse final part

- stalkerverse codas 0.2 and 0.3 feat. clingy ot8 and some more exploration of sexual dynamics

- lee know workplace romance e2l

- enha hyung line 5some feat. frat!enha and aphrodisiac usage

hoping to have coda 0.2 and ehna fic out in the next 2 weeks or so and the final stalkerverse part out by the end of the month!

[mulloey]

Hey liebe, as someone who lives your fic I was wondering if you have any fav writer or fics to recommend?

specific recommendations would depend on which types of fics you’ve enjoyed in particular, but here the writers i keep going back to:

@yestodayys @last-words-ofashootingstar @velvetmatz @minkieater @seobinghard @reveriebae @maho6any @everyonewooeverywhere @stxrrywoo

i’ve only recently discovered them, but i’ve been loving what i’ve seen from these authors so far as well:

@dollysecrets @otakuhotgyaru @justauthoring @gunbunnyhwa highly recommend all of their ongoing series’!!!!

[gunbunnyhwa]

thank u thank u liebe! if you guys are not aware of liebe's works, LOCK IN. so amazing and so good.

club roxe, the whole in full bloom series, and off the trigger have gone triple platinum in my house. love love love their work and so honored to be shouted out by them.

[gunbunnyhwa]

please send ideas and/or requests. i am desperately in need of some fun thoughts

[gunbunnyhwa]

coda 0.1

stalkerverse yunho x reader, implied ot8 ateez x reader

wc: 3.3k

w: dom!yunho, daddy kink, overstim, light impact play, mentions of heavy impact play, photographing during sex, mentions of yungi in an established relationship (not cheating)

note: first stalkerverse coda! first smut on the blog! pls enjoy some condescending yunho

Opening your apartment door to Yunho is the last thing you expected to happen after getting home from work. He’s perched on the back of your couch facing the foyer, ankles crossed over one another, the shine of his boots catches the light as he taps the tip of one foot against the other rhythmically. You toe your own shoes up and hang up your bag on the hook near the door, smiling.

“Hey, Yun,” your voice is tender as you slide off your jacket.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he returns the same tenderness as you walk over to him. His lack of approach should have been your first tip-off. His hands slide up to meet your waist as you grow closer, he spreads his legs to make room for you between them. You press a kiss to his mouth and let your wrists dangle over his shoulders.

“Did we have plans?” you tilt your head, dumb. He smiles softly in response and shakes his head.

“You were awfully mean to Min earlier,” his tone is soft, but the words shock your system. You had totally forgotten. A couple of snarky texts followed up by a half-nude were sent to Mingi earlier in the morning. You had initially meant to leave his texts unread until lunch time, but had gotten caught up talking with your coworkers and had barely checked your phone the whole day. You hum and purse your lips, eyes shooting to the right of Yunho’s head. He moves his face back into your eyeline, eyebrows raised lightly.

“And, you went and had lunch with that coworker we don’t like,” his voice has hardened a bit, more scolding than playful. The smile still on his face contradicts his tone.

“I didn’t mean to ignore Min, and you aren’t even supposed to know about lunch,” you’re pouting. You feel petulant. He pinches one of your sides in his hold, light and teasing. You squirm.

“You know that rule stopped being in play the minute we were back in your good graces,” Yunho tilts his head, expression still playful. He drums his fingers against your sides, thinking.

“You wanna play, baby?” his fingers don’t stop drumming on your sides and you nod softly, corners of your mouth lifting. He huffs out a laugh before softly slapping your thigh. “Words, please.”

“Yeah, Yun,” he pinches your side, harder this time. You squirm in his hold.

“Yes, Sir?” your eyes narrow and he shakes his head.

“One more try, baby,” his hands sit heavy on your waist, fingers resuming their drumming.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out and he grins. He releases you and taps you lightly on the thigh.

“Go. Ten minutes.”

Your body buzzes with energy. You know this game well. Yunho is good at what he does. You consider this as you get ready. He’s good at being dominant, they all are, but Yunho is especially good at wrangling you. The others are either too hard or too soft, never able to discipline you the right way. You’ve learned over the past few years that a little bratting goes a long way for Yunho and it’s always about what’s at the core of it that determines his handling. Genuine bratting—attitude, backtalk, or rule breaking outside of the norm or outside of play—gets you Sir. It gets you a Yunho that is all cruelty and no care. It gets you caned on the ass, usually. It’s a correction, an attitude adjustment. Yunho usually works in a pair, typically with Hongjoong or Seonghwa depending on whether he wants someone to make him worse or balance him out. It’s degrading and humiliating and you start to realize what his victims see before they die. You like to think that when Yunho goes hunting he’s in the same mindset as he is when he’s Sir, but you also think that’s just because it makes you wetter.

Today, you know, is just play. You wanted attention, but failed to see it through. No real rule breaking, no real attitude, just a silly little thing forgetting the game they started. It was bratting for the sake of a fun night, no real heat behind it. It’s that kind of behavior that gets you Daddy. All condescension and low heat bubbling in your stomach, the kind of treatment that dumbs you down rather than breaks you. It’s his default setting, you’ve realized over time. His tendencies geared towards care more than cruelty with you, but the dominant edge still sitting under the interaction. It’s in the way he likes to choose what you wear or how he likes to do your hair for you. It’s in the way he’ll speak for you sometimes with the guys, never over you, just settling himself right between your ears and already knowing what you need. It’s a release for you, a way to make your life easier. You’ve learned that you like handing the reins over to Yunho every once in a while.

He steps into the bedroom, hair falling into his eyes and boots shining in the low lamplight, and shuts the door softly behind him. You sit at the end of the bed, soft carpet digging into your knees as you kneel, eyes turned toward the floor. You only glance up so far as to catch the rubber of his soles.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “Good girl, waiting so patiently.”

Your hands sit folded in your lap and you try not to fidget with your fingers. Yunho’s hand pets the top of your head, tapping the back of your skull lightly. Your eyes flit up to his face. He pets over your hair a few times before his hand drifts toward your cheek, palm pressed against it. You turn your nose into his palm and place a soft kiss against it. He huffs under his breath. Fingers turn your face lightly before settling on the edge of your jaw, a thumb pressed to your mouth. You let your jaw slacken and resist the urge to close it as Yunho presses his thumb onto your tongue.

“Very good,” he hums. “Suck.”

Your lips close around his thumb, tongue circling it softly. He lets you sit like that until you start bobbing your head lightly and your eyes flutter closed. When he taps the side of your face with his fingers, you release, bleary eyes opening.

“Gotcha,” Yunho whispers and pats your cheek with his now wet fingers. He steps away from you and goes to the closet, pulling out a box you’ve grown all too familiar with. You feel an anticipatory shudder race down your spine and Yunho barks out a laugh at your eagerness. He places the box on the bed behind you. You keep your head forward.

Yunho hums melodically as he rummages through the box, the soft sounds keeping you grounded. You shift where you sit, thighs rubbing together, and Yunho laughs again.

“Needy,” he coos from behind you. The sound of rummaging stops and footfalls grow closer to your back. You hear the bed creak behind you and you feel the heat coming off of Yunho’s body where his leg hovers to your left.

“C’mere,” he pats the spot next to him and you scramble up to the bed. You settle ass up in the center of the bed, weight bared on your elbows and the cool sheets on your palms. Yunho pulls your underwear to the side, something lacy you had only been wearing for fifteen minutes but had managed to soak half through already. His fingers drift down your slit, pulling apart your lips to softly prod around at your pussy. His face is close enough that you can feel the sharp exhale of breath when he feels how wet you got. One finger dips into your entrance, testing, rotating slightly, before being pulled back out.

“You been playing with my pussy?” his voice is amused. You shake your head where your face is pressed against the bed. Yunho laughs. “Sure feels like it.”

His hand comes down sharply against your ass. You hear the pop of a cap and a small squelching noise before cold hits your entrance. Yunho presses two fingers inside of you, pressing lightly when he finds that spot before quickly drawing them back out. There’s another squelch, a slick noise, and then silicone is pressed into you. Your back arches and you let out a whine, Yunho’s other hand comes to rub lines up your spine.

“I know, baby,” his voice is pouting, but you know if you turned around there would be a wolfish grin on his face. It makes your cheeks burn. The silicone is pressed into you once, twice, three times before it’s settled inside, a bulb pressed to your clit. There’s a press of a button and your nerves light up. Yunho pulls your underwear over the vibrator to hold it in place. He moves up the bed and places your face in his lap as you writhe.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he coos, petting over your hair as you squirm. “But you were so mean. You just gotta cum a few times and I’ll forgive you.”

Your moans fill the room, body shaking as the vibrations hit exactly where you need them. Yunho hadn’t started easy, he had cranked the vibe up high as soon as he hit start. You reach your hand out blindly, face pressed into his legs. He grabs your hand and you squeeze.

“So good, Daddy,” you whine into his pants. Yunho laughs in response.

“Yeah? Good?” his voice tilts at the end, mocking. You whine. “You should cum then, show me how good it is, huh? Show me how good Daddy makes you feel.”

You push your face further into his legs, biting down lightly on the fabric. Your hips twitch, pushing back on the vibrator. It’s intense and you find yourself getting close even though you just started. You angle your face toward Yunho’s, wanting to see him. He caresses your cheek softly.

“Good, good, good, so good,” the words come out in one breath and you feel your core tensing. Yunho reaches down with his unoccupied hand and smacks your ass. You shatter. It’s so loud and you squeeze his hand so hard he thinks it might break. Yunho just laughs in response, smacking your ass two more times before pushing your face off of his lap and moving back down the bed. You can’t come down, the buzzing still relentless in your pussy, and you feel your legs start to shake. You reach your arms up and grab a pillow, pressing it under your chest, needing something to keep you grounded.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” the sentence is breathed over a laugh. Yunho positions himself behind you, one leg hanging off the bed and the other tucked in front of him. He grabs your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before smacking a hand down on one side again. You squeal. He laughs again.

“C’mon, baby. Daddy wants to see you come again. Don’t you want to make Daddy happy? Don’t you want to come again? Huh?” he looks up at your face where you’ve buried it in the pillow. “Oh no, none of that. C’mon, let me hear you.”

Yunho reaches a hand up and fists it in your hair, pulling your head out of the pillow. You let out a long, high pitched moan and he smacks his lips before humming, high and condescending.

“So cute,” he draws out the vowels. “I think you can give me another, princess, right?”

You nod your head and Yunho’s palm lands softly against your cheek, the words drawn out again. “Good girl.”

He presses a hand against the vibrator and you buck away, but he plants a firm hand on your waist holding you in place. You kick your legs and scream as another orgasm crests over you.

“Good, good, good,” Yunho praises, each word punctuated with a smack to your ass. “Hold on, baby. C’mere.”

The vibrator switches off and you feel yourself heave in a breath as Yunho pulls you up by your forearms and down the end of the bed. He grabs your face, pressing a kiss to your mouth. You try your best to return it, but end up just licking over his mouth. Yunho smiles against your mouth and pulls back, staring at your fucked out expression with a manic one of his own. He positions your body at the end of the bed, knees digging into the carpet once again. The sensation lets you come back to your body a bit—the burn of the carpet, the warmth of it in comparison to the cool sheets.

“Hi, my angel,” Yunho coos down at you, kicking your knees apart with the toe of his boot. “Want to try something?”

You tilt your head dumbly, but nod anyways, and Yunho’s face breaks out into a grin. He grabs the remote from the bed, sprawling backwards for a moment and reaching with a long arm, and switches on the vibrator again. He shoves the toe of his boot under you, laces digging into your worn pussy and pressing the vibrator into your clit. You cry out roughly and grab onto his calf before quickly pulling your hands back.

“No, no, no, baby. It’s okay. You can touch. I’m sorry, I should have said that earlier,” Yunho strokes a hand over your hair affectionately, all the while tapping his foot under you making you moan. Your hands fly to his calf and grip it tightly. You can feel yourself dripping onto his boot below you, drenching the laces where they meet your covered cunt. Yunho places a hand under your chin and tilts your face to look up at him. From here, shrouded in the lamplight through your bleary eyes, you could almost think he’s an angel.

“Look so pretty for Daddy, yeah?” his voice is terribly gentle, grin still plastered on his face as he watches you twitch against his leg. “Look so pretty. Lemme take a picture, baby, huh? Lemme take a picture for Min.”

You whine out at the mention of Mingi and Yunho laughs. “Oh, you miss Min, baby? Yeah, me too. Min’s not bratty like you. But it’s okay, angel. Love you anyways, yeah?”

“Love you,” you slur against his knee and Yunho hums, pressing his toe up again. Tears line your lashline and Yunho lets out a sigh. He brushes his fingers over your cheek and you let them fall freely. You cum like that, sobbing into his knee as he bounces his foot up against your cunt. Your whole body is shaking, using all of your energy to hold yourself up against Yunho’s leg. The vibrator slows down, then switches off, and a warm palm is pressed to the top of your head.

You lean against Yunho’s leg, heaving sobs coming out of your mouth. Tears still fall down your face as Yunho continues to stroke your hair. Hands come under your armpits and pull you up into Yunho’s warm lap. He pulls you against his chest, legs draped over his own. He pushes your underwear to the side, shushing you softly when you start to protest, and pulls the vibrator out of you carefully. He tosses it somewhere on the bed to be taken care of later and rubs a hand over your back. You grasp his shirt in your fist softly and lean your full body weight into his chest.

“You did so good,” Yunho whispers into your hair, placing soft kisses into your hairline. “So good. So proud of you, my love.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest and shiver lightly, the cold air of your bedroom finally registering to your shot system. Yunho wraps careful arms around you and carries you to the bathroom, sitting you gently on the edge of the tub. He gets a warm wash cloth with one hand, the other grasped lightly in yours when you don’t let him go too far. He wipes you down carefully, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs and along your stomach. You wrap your arms around yourself as Yunho grabs your robe, something big and fluffy you had bought a number of years ago that’s held up over time. He helps you put your arms into it before carrying you back to the bedroom and placing you on the edge of the bed. He keeps pressing soft kisses into your skin as he kneels in front of you, hands grasped in his own. He reaches up and lays a palm on the side of your face, you lean into it.

“Do you want me to strip the bed or are we sleeping on dirty sheets?” Yunho’s voice is playful, lighter than before and with his familiar edge.

You nuzzle further into his palm. “Dirty sheets.”

He huffs out a laugh and stands up, helping you back to the head of the bed. You curl up on your side over the blankets, waiting for Yunho to finally tuck yourself into bed. You watch as he toes off his boots, making a face at the slick spot on one of them. You giggle and he looks back at you, face softening as your eyes meet. You reach out a hand and he takes it, pressing soft kisses over your knuckles. You try to pull him into bed, but he pulls away, making you whine.

“One minute, my love. Need to change,” Yunho presses a final kiss against your temple and you follow his body to your dresser. Drawers had been cleared a long time ago, clothes mixed over time and only discernable by personal taste. He strips down to his boxers before glancing down at them and deciding to strip them off too. You catch a wet spot on the front of them when he shucks them over to your laundry basket. Yunho throws on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt you recognize as one of Mingi’s from his college, and he reaches into the top two drawers pulling out clothes to bring back to the bed.

Yunho sits next to you on the bed and you let him dress you, happy to be taken care of even if you don’t need the help. You settle back down and he crawls on top of you, kissing you on the nose before collapsing his weight on top of you and rolling to your other side. You groan, but allow him to grab you and pull you into his arms. He nuzzles into the back of your neck and squeezes. You let out a loud laugh and tilt your head over your shoulder to look at him. He captures your mouth in a kiss, letting it stretch on longer than necessary before encouraging you to roll onto your other side.

“Did you really take a picture for Mingi?” you whisper, shy. A grin stretches over Yunho’s face.

“Of course I did. I came in my boxers just watching you, needed Min to see it too,” his voice is light and his fingers play with the strings of the hoodie he gave you, also Mingi’s. “He asked if he could come over when we were finished, but I figured I’d let you come down first.”

“Yeah, of course. Tell him to get here before I fall asleep,” you say around a yawn. You close your eyes and feel Yunho kiss your forehead briefly before his weight shifts toward your bedside table, presumably reaching for his phone. You can feel yourself drifting off as you tuck yourself into Yunho’s chest, one arm wrapped around you as he texts Mingi to come over. You think you could stay like this for a while.

[gunbunnyhwa]

ot8 stalker MY BELOVED. god im in LOVE with this series. love love love love loooooooooooove it. i wish there was more jongho but you write wooyoung and san so sweetly 😭 mingi is interesting. yunho and seonghwa are perfectly themselves. i like the duality of your yeosang. and of course hongjoong being a tyrant and a stubborn prick is biblically accurate.

ive ALWAYS been a stalker fan and got so desperate for good stalker content that i started writing it myself. its hard and its even harder to make it good but i LOVE the way youve done it. you NAIL the parts of this genre i love most. thank you so so much for this. i love it. even when i want to smack joong and when i miss jongho i just. this is exactly what i love.

the warmth of presence is so important to what i like and you got that perfectly.

love it, love you, thank you

THANK YOU!! THIS IS SO KIND!!

i also am a huge fan of stalker fiction and i think it’s really hard to come by stalker fiction in fan spaces that’s not solely smut based (not that there’s anything wrong with that, shoutout smut writers doing the lords work frfr) i also wish there was more jongho, but i always have a hard time solidifying how i want him characterized. i feel really good about how he’s ended up in the part im working on right now though, so you’ll definitely be seeing more him soon :)

i am hoping to have the last main part published next week, but it definitely won’t be the last of these guys in this universe. i’m having wayyyyy too much fun with them honestly :)

[imthisyearsold]

[gunbunnyhwa]

let the light in

stalker!ot8 ateez x reader

it breaks, but then it mends.

wc: 9k

note: double update, lfg. also, i totally lied and this part got away from me so expect maybe one or two more before things are all wrapped up. longest part to date so i hope you all enjoy it :)

Hongjoong doesn’t text you the next morning.

It sets you on edge for the first time in a year. As January’s bitter edge sets in, you feel the chill seep deep into your bones. For the first time in a year, you do all the things you typically would with no shadow. No one waits outside your apartment, no one watches you quietly on your way to work, no one leaves coffee or flowers outside of your door. There are no notes on your fridge or coffee brewing for you the next morning. You pay for your own nails. You cook your own food. You buy your own takeout. It should feel like freedom, but it tastes like dread.

Your landlord comes and replaces your locks after two days. He’s a nice older man, about mid-50s, with gray splattered along his temples like a gunshot wound and calloused knuckles. His dark complexion glows bronze in your lamplight and you watch as he quietly tinkers away on your door.

“How did that happen?” he asks calmly, gesturing to the corpse of your coffee table still in the middle of your living room.

“A few friends of mine had too many drinks,” you respond. You don’t look away from where he’s tinkering with the doorknob.

“Those friends have something to do with the yelling the other night?” he smiles up at you, too knowing. “You got a noise complaint from Mrs. Haggerty, but you’re not a troublemaker so I didn’t see the point in telling you. I figured it was a bad night from what she said.”

You turn your face away and that seems to satisfy his curiosity. He mumbles, “You should be careful.”

“What?” you turn back to face him, eyebrows knit tight in the middle. You feel your shock spread open on your face.

“Boys like that tend to be more trouble than they’re worth—get dangerous when they get bored,” he’s not facing you, still staring ahead at the doorknob like he’s discussing the weather or the news. You feel your hands start to tremble. You clasp them behind your back. A noise comes from the back of your throat and you turn away into your kitchen. You feel his gaze prickle at the back of your neck as you make coffee, something to do to keep your hands busy and your mind quiet.

“I’m not kidding,” his voice comes from the doorway of the kitchen now and you startle. “You’ve been here a while. I’ve grown used to seeing you. It would be a shame if something happened and I have a feeling that I know who it would be.”

You never realized how short he is until you see him in your doorframe. But, maybe you’re just used to bodies filling them fully. You nod softly and hand him a cup of coffee for the road. He understands that you are politely ushering him out of your apartment and sighs, but he acquiesces and turns to leave anyway. Before he exits your apartment, he presses a cold key into your palm.

“Don’t leave a spare out anymore.”

You close the door behind him with a click.

Your days blend together. You clean your apartment almost every day, scrub at the tiles of your kitchen like it could erase any trace of a presence other than your own. You go to work, you go to after work drinks, you see your friends. You do anything you can to fill your time. You begin to feel the reaper drawing closer and you can’t stand to do nothing in the meantime. Despite your full days, you still feel empty. Your bed is cold. The show you started with Wooyoung sits unwatched on your Netflix. The sink fills with one dish every night instead of two or three.

Your Friday nights are the worst. What used to be filled with laughter at a bar is now filled with you and a bottle of wine. It’s depressing. You feel old. At the same time, you feel too young to be lamenting like a divorcee. You do feel like a woman scorned in a way. Three weeks in, you gather your coat at 9:34 and head across the city. The jostling of the train does nothing to calm your nerves. You tug your hood further down your head and pull your sleeves over your fingers to fight the cold that sets in fully at night. The wind bites your face as you trudge up the stairs onto the street. You look out into the park briefly and turn away. You head three blocks north past the pizza place with the front wall of windows, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and lighting one. You’ve been smoking more when you’re sober, a nasty nervous habit you had broken after college. You pull open the door to the bar where you were hunted. You sit in the back corner, where you can see the door but people entering would have a hard time seeing you through the other heads at the bar. You order a shot, then another, then another. The hours blur as you sit there. Your head is now cradled in your arms as your finger swirls around the top of the scotch glass sitting to your left. You pull out your wallet and leave fifty dollars on top of the bar.

You pull your coat on and exit the bar, stumbling. You catch yourself on the doorframe and laugh. It’s nasty, something that pulls out of a piece of your chest that had been cracked open. You pull out another cigarette and perch against the front wall of the bar, struggling with your lighter through your drunkenness. You’re crouched down in a squat and your jacket pools around your ankles where it touches the ground. You can’t be bothered to care about the dirt right now. Bodies pass you, footsteps come and go. You keep fumbling.

A pair of legs stop in front of you. You feel a stare on the top of your head. You continue to flick your lighter. A hand comes down to wrap around your own and a face comes into view as the body attached to the legs crouches in front of you, the smell of sea salt surrounds you.

“Finally come to get me, huh Mr. Reaper,” you spit around your cigarette.

Seonghwa’s face splits into a sad grin. “I wouldn’t go that far, darling.”

He takes the lighter from you, cupping his hand to block the wind. Your cigarette finally lights and you take a long drag, blowing it into his face. Seonghwa laughs. His hair is light now, almost white, with his eyebrows bleached to match. You find yourself thinking his features are sharper with his hair like this, and that he looks particularly handsome tonight. He looks far too well dressed to be in this part of the city, with his tailored coat and pressed pants and shiny shoes.

“You look like shit,” you slur as you take the cigarette out of your mouth in an exaggerated gesture. He just laughs in response.

“Let me take you home,” his voice is tender. “Please.”

“I think I’d rather you kill me here. Less for my landlord to clean up. He’s a nice man, but I think he’s seen too much shit. Don’t want to leave a mess for him.”

You still take his outstretched hand and let him entwine your fingers with his. He tucks your arm up so it’s wrapped around his own. He walks slowly and keeps careful watch of the sidewalk, avoiding any cracks or deviations that would cause you to trip in your current state. You notice—because of course you do, it’s Seonghwa—and look up at him bitterly.

“I hate you,” it comes out as a venomous whisper. He just nods in response and keeps you on the path.

You get back to your apartment in one piece, the rest of your travel spent in silence. He reaches under your mat for your spare key and you laugh at him. You pull your own keys out, struggling to find the lock for a moment before sliding them in and barreling through your apartment door.

“Took that shit away the same night,” you’re still laughing at him and it’s caustic. You struggle with your coat and slap his hands away when he tries to help. You drag your tired body to your kitchen and get yourself a glass of water. Seonghwa stands in your foyer. You lean against the wall lazily as you watch him watch you.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Seonghwa murmurs, his voice knitted with concern and something you can’t place. He takes a step forward and you recoil away from him. He freezes.

“Of course I haven’t been sleeping. My stalkers decided they’re bored of me. They’re done playing. I’m on my last game, Seonghwa. You know that,” your tone like acid. “Every day, I wake up and I wonder, ‘Is this it? Am I going to die on a fucking public bus today? What about in the alley outside my workplace?’ Every day, I think about you breaking my fingers, I think about how it would feel for me to have to watch myself die slowly. I think about Mingi hauling my body into a chair when I’m too broken to run away and Yunho flaying me alive and Yeosang sitting there watching from his stupid fucking cameras. I think about all of you laughing at me being so fucking stupid to let you into my life and I see Wooyoung and Hongjoong delivering the final blow. Do you know how that feels, Seonghwa? Do you? To know that death is at your doorstep and you don’t know when he’s going to knock.”

You’ve inched closer during your tirade, finger poking at his chest with every sentence. Your nose almost brushes his. Seonghwa doesn’t answer, just gently grips your wrist and puts it down at your side. He takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair completely ruining its nicely styled appearance. He’s still too handsome, you hate it. He leans back against your front door and takes a deep breath. Then, he rubs a hand over his chest, right where you had pressed your finger into it.

A bitter laugh cuts through the silence at his dramatics. “Fuck you, Seonghwa.”

You turn on your heels and walk through your apartment. You get ready for bed, not caring to check that he left. In your mind, the conversation is over. It’s been over for weeks. The only thing left is for the reaper to come knocking and for you to answer the door. You’ve accepted it, accepted it a while ago. You think you accepted it that first night in the park. You scrub your face raw at your bathroom sink and skip your skincare. You throw clothes around your room before settling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a pile of dirty clothes that you haven’t gotten around to washing. You settle into bed and dream of flayed skin and sharp knives and too wide, too white grins.

Seonghwa never left. You learn that the next morning when you walk into your kitchen to a plate of fruit and coffee made exactly how you like it. You didn’t know that Seonghwa knew how to use your espresso machine. You don’t acknowledge him as you move toward the fridge. You move through the room like a storm, every glass slams on the counter and every utensil scrapes sharply against ceramic. You don’t look at the plate of fruit or the coffee or Seonghwa.

His voice breaks through your tirade of sound. “I talked to Hongjoong.”

You freeze, blood chilling. You feel the tremble return to your hands. Men like Hongjoong grow dangerous when they’re bored. You wrap your fingers around the cup of coffee you made, letting the warmth against your fingertips ground you.

“I’ve been talking to him,” Seonghwa corrects himself. “You don’t need to worry about anything. If you want to call it here, say the word. You’ll never see any of us again.”

You scoff. “Seeing you isn’t the concern and you know that.”

“I meant that–” he stops, frustrated. “You know what I meant.”

“No, Seonghwa, I don’t. I never do. Will you all leave me alone if I ask you to?”

“Yes.”

Your world tilts on its axis. You think about it—no shadows, no secrets, no weird in betweens. You consider your life the past few weeks. You consider the loneliness and the emptiness, but you also consider the way you’ve grown used to it. You could make a home in this emptiness. You know you could. You could get a therapist, maybe some medication. You could have a normal relationship with no terrifying extracurriculars in the background of every interaction. You could.

But you turn around to face Seonghwa. “I never asked you to. Any of you. And you’ve left me alone for the last three weeks. You all keep making choices for me. I’m tired of it. If this continues, it’s with my rules.”

Seonghwa’s face cracks open, his usually cool demeanor is destroyed in the few seconds it takes for you to spit out your words. “I’m listening.”

“First rule, no more secrets. I’m tired of you all keeping me out. If I ask, it’s because I want to know and because I think I can handle it.” You watch Seonghwa nod his head in agreement. “You either trust me or you don’t. You need to decide that now. I trust all of you. I need that to be returned.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft and broken and he’s looking at you like you hung the stars. “What else?”

“Second rule, no more free entry to my apartment. No spare keys, no picking locks, no busting down the door. You knock and if I don’t answer, I don’t want you here.” your voice is pointed and he ducks his head in shame. “Third, I need apologies. From everyone. I’m mad at Joong, but I’m also mad at all of you. You all let me believe I was different when this whole time it was another game I didn’t know I was playing. You all let him talk to me like that. You let it get to this point. It never gets here again.”

“Anything else?” Seonghwa’s attention is fully captured by you, there’s a look on his face like he would crack open your skull and inspect your brain if he could. You like it.

“Fourth, my life changes and you don’t know. We make this more normal. I change my routine and no one follows. I go out with my friends and I don’t run into any of you there unless it’s a coincidence. I’ll know.” your voice is scathing.

“That one will be tough, you know that,” he leans forward over your counter.

“I know, that’s why it’s your job to convince them,” you reply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Those are my conditions. If they can’t be met, you might as well kill me now.”

“We’re not interested in killing you,” he bites back.

“Sure haven’t convinced me,” you hiss. He nods, acquiescing, and stands from the kitchen island. He pushes the plate of fruit in front of you and you take a piece off the plate and pop it in your mouth—peace offering. You trust him. Seonghwa rounds the island slowly, letting you push him away at any moment. He crosses into your space and places a hand on the back of your head. He brings your forehead to his mouth and presses a kiss against it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. You grasp his shirt loosely in your fists. “I’ll say it until the day I die. I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for not stopping him, I’m sorry for invading your space. We want you. We want to keep you. I want to keep you. I want you to be here with me every day. I’m sorry and I missed you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I missed you too, Hwa.”

A smile blooms in your hair and he presses another kiss into your hairline, firmer this time, and it feels like a new beginning.

Their presence is different than before. They don’t hover like a shadow at your back any longer, now they meet you where you are. They show up in new ways. Nothing is done silently. San is the first to cave after you assume Seonghwa delivers the message. The day after your conversation with Seonghwa, there’s a knock on your door. It’s insistent and non-stop. You groan and open your door with force. San stands there, fist hovering in the air where it just was banging on the door.

“Hi,” his voice is breathless and his grin is the brightest thing you’ve seen all month. “Can I come in? Seonghwa said we’re supposed to ask now.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads over your face and you gesture to your foyer to get him inside. He reaches for you instantly and you let him. His hands trail down your shoulders before settling on your waist. He scans you, as if he’s checking you’re in one piece. Then, his arms wrap around you, squeezing exactly like the last time you saw him, like nothing’s changed.

“I missed you so much,” San’s voice booms through your apartment. You can’t help but laugh at his excitement. He swings your body back and forth as he hugs you and your laugh grows stronger. “Oh my God, I missed that sound.”

“San, enough,” you push him off of you fondly.

“I’m sorry. For all of it,” his voice is more serious now and the shift in the atmosphere throws you off balance for a second. “And I’m not just saying that because Seonghwa told me to. I wanted to come over here the morning after Hongjoong said that shit, but everyone told me to leave you alone. But, I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to. I missed you so much and I couldn’t help you and I wanted to so badly. I’m sorry that I let him tell you all those things and I’m sorry that we kept it all a secret and I’m sorry that we never listened to you and I missed you and I’m so happy you let me into your apartment.”

You stare at him and he takes a deep breath after spitting out his whole tangent in one breath. He stares back, eyes pleading you to forgive him. As much as you want to be angry at the moment and as much as you should be, it’s San. San who was always tender with you, who always had gentle hands, who cared about Wooyoung as much as you did, if not more. San who greeted you every morning and every evening with a smile and a compliment. San who cooked for you, who hosted dinners every week so you could grow closer to all of the guys. San who brought you into the fold and made you feel like you belonged with them.

You reach up and cradle his face, bringing him nose to nose with you and shaking him lightly as you say, “Sannie, breathe. I forgive you.”

His face lights up and he giggles, grasping your hands over his face and holding you there. He rubs the tip of his nose against yours before wrapping his arms around you again, he smiles into your cheek.

San quickly pulls away from you and places his hands on your shoulder, leveling you with a serious look, “Do you want to get dinner?”

San becomes a fixture around your apartment after that. He keeps knocking insistently, like the world will end if you don’t open the door. You can’t help but find it endearing. He lazes around your living room typically, typing away on his phone and occasionally looking up to tell you about something funny one of the other guys sent him. Seonghwa sometimes joins the two of you, evening out San’s energy and often bringing dinner with him. San always whines that Seonghwa brings better food than him. You always laugh. Your apartment starts to feel like home again.

The night Wooyoung comes to see you, San is there. He’s splayed over your living room floor where you once had a coffee table and is complaining about how cold your apartment is. He whines that you guys should just hang out at his place and you ignore him. You tell him that he doesn’t pay the utilities and he offers to. You laugh him off. His continued whines are cut off by a knock at the door. San’s eyes widen and you narrow your own.

“Expecting anyone?” you purse your lips at him. San shakes his head, but the tips of his ears bloom red.

Wooyoung stands on your doorstep, a bouquet of purple hyacinths in his hands. I’m sorry. Your face crumbles and so does his. He looks down at his feet.

“Please let me come in,” Wooyoung’s words are wet and shaky. “I’m so sorry.”

You reach a hand out and bring him inside steadily. You take the flowers from his hand and lay them carefully on the table in your foyer. You look at him, really look at him. He’s in a worse state than when he left. His hair is cropped short now, almost buzzed around the sides. It’s blond now and you wonder if he dyed it with Seonghwa as some sort of mourning ritual. Wooyoung’s eyes are sunken in and his face is almost skeletal. His clothes hang off his small frame in a way you haven’t seen before. It scares you. You slowly reach up to his face, placing a hand on one side under his ear. Your finger brushes a new piercing and you smile softly at him. You press your lips against his, giving him the opportunity to move away. He doesn’t. His hands reach up, one on your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He returns the kiss, hard. He fills your senses for a moment and when you pull away you’re both out of breath.

“I forgave you the night I made you leave,” you tell him. “I love you.”

The tears that threatened to fall are free now. Both of you standing in your foyer crying and holding each other. He runs his hands through your hair and over your body. You know that he’s inspecting you like the others were. His hands run over your ribs and his face scrunches.

“You lost weight,” he pouts.

“So did you,” it comes out in a wet chuckle.

“We need to order food, you need to eat,” he deflects.

“We already did,” San’s voice comes from the other end of the foyer where he leans against the wall, watching, a soft smile adorned on his face.

“Hi, Sannie. I almost forgot you were here,” you joke around the end of your tears and Wooyoung pulls you further into your apartment toward San. San grasps your other hand and traces circles into the back of it with his thumb.

“I love when my two favorite people get along,” his voice is warm as he looks at your and Wooyoung’s joined hands. You bump your shoulder against his own and move into your living room. You settle on the couch, smushed and warm against two bodies. The food comes and Wooyoung has a portion already saved for him. Your night is spent sandwiched in between two grown men and the next morning you order a bigger bed. You also start to think your life is feeling a bit more complete than it has in a month.

Jongho appears next, but you think you ambush him a little bit. You and San are going to a bar that Wooyoung works at to keep him company for the end of his shift. It’s a Thursday night routine you quickly settled into now that Wooyoung was back in your life. Seonghwa would sometimes join you, but tonight it was just you and San. You both settle at the bar and watch Wooyoung work, admiring his lithe muscle under the low light and occasionally exchanging some less than acceptable words to share in public about him. Wooyoung still tries to show off, but this time for you and San. About an hour after you arrive, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You make it to the hallway where the restrooms are when you slam into a body. You quickly go to apologize, brushing off your clothes before looking up and—oh, it’s Jongho.

His face betrays anything he was going to say as he stands there and sputters, hands frozen hovered over your arms where he intended to steady you. As he ducks his head and goes to walk away, you grab his bicep and pull him behind you, stomping toward the staff exit and pushing him out into the alley next to the bar. He is utterly frozen where he stands. You wrap your arms around yourself in the cold and start to regret your choice to bring him out here.

“You started paying for my nails again,” you start. Jongho nods. His eyes dart around the alley, avoiding all eye contact with you. You walk closer and stand in his eyeline. He sighs. This is not a winning fight for him.

“I want to apologize,” he responds.

“Were you going to if I didn’t force you?” you probe, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably not,” he grits. You knew that. Jongho was a man of action, not words. When he started paying for your nails again, it was through Venmo transactions that you tried to decline. Every time you would return the money, he would double the amount and send it right back to you. You stopped fighting him after it hit four digits. Jongho was bankrolling a lot of your life right now. Not only did he pay for your nails, but he covered every tab at every bar he worked at. He sent San and Wooyoung money to take you on dates. He started paying for your hair and had new clothes sent to your apartment every week like clockwork. After the second week of this, you began to realize he would never show his face unless you found him. It grated against you in a way you couldn’t explain. It felt cowardly, but you knew that wasn’t like Jongho.

“You can’t just bankroll my life and expect that to be an apology,” you goad him. “You’re kind of being a coward.”

His eyes cut to yours and his eyebrows furrow. Jongho shakes his head and fixes his face in a scowl. He looks away from you, then looks back. He shakes his head one more time before he speaks.

“I’m sorry, are you happy now?” he grits.

“I think I need it one more time, with feeling,” you smirk.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” his tone is more genuine this time. His mouth tilts at the corners and you feel your facade crack. You reach out a hand and squeeze his bicep.

“We’re good, Jjong.”

He watches you shiver and slides his jacket over your shoulders, suddenly very aware of the outside air. You smile and lean against his torso as you both walk around the bar to the front. He lifts the rope and guides you inside, following close behind you as you make your way back to the bar. San’s eyebrows lift dramatically as he sees the pair of you.

“Thank God, I thought he would never talk to you again,” he yells over the music. You laugh and double over, steadying yourself on his shoulder. You slip Jongho’s jacket off and hand it back to him, fingertips brushing. You watch Jongho’s cheeks glow red and you pinch them as you coo. He swats your hands away, a shy smile blooms on his face, and he waves at the pair of you as he turns to head back to work. San’s arm wraps around your waist and you lean back against his body where it sits on a bar stool. He tips his head over your shoulder and leans into your neck.

“Feel good about that?” he asks against your ear. You turn, smiling brightly, and nod. He returns your grin and you both watch Jongho slip away into the crowd.

Yunho and Mingi come in a pair. They have the entire time you’ve known them, so you should have figured they would come as a set this time, too. It starts with breakfast.

There’s clattering and hushed whispers coming from your kitchen one weekend and you awake with a start. You freeze where you lay in your bed, not quite sure what to do. It’s been a while since you feared intruders in your house, but with the general respect for the rules you set, you assume it can’t be one of the guys. You fumble around for your phone, wincing as you knock a bottle of aspirin off your bedside table. You look at your bedroom door and listen for any change in sound. When you find none, you anxiously scroll through your messages. Wooyoung worked a late shift at the bar last night with Jongho and didn’t stay the night. San’s out of town visiting his family. Seonghwa is working an early shift at the gallery. You can’t or don’t want to bother any of them right now to check it out for you. You’re kind of out of options right now. You slowly get out of bed, trying to be as quiet as possible, creeping toward your closet where you keep a baseball bat for protection. You raise it over your shoulder as you step slowly down your hallway. You jump as you reach the threshold of your kitchen and scream at the two tall men standing over your stove. They scream in response.

“What happened to no surprise visits?” you yell. The tips of Mingi’s ears go red.

“Okay, so hear me out,” Mingi starts, hands still raised in defense where he stands. “It was supposed to be a nice surprise?”

“No,” your voice indicates finality. The bat makes a solid noise where the tip of it hits your kitchen floor as you relax your arms by your sides. “Nope. I am not doing this today. Leave, please.”

“Wait, no. Please, we worked so hard,” Mingi’s voice is whiny and his whole body slumps as he says it. His hands are outstretched, reaching for you but not touching. “Just try it first and then we’ll leave.”

Yunho shoots him a glare at the back of his head. You stare at them both incredulously. You watch as Mingi rounds the island and stands in front of you before dropping to his knees. He clasps his hands together and stares up at you, pleading. You continue to stare at him as he continues to whine.

“Oh my God, fine,” you state, clipped. Mingi pumps his fist. You realize this is the least formal he’s ever been with you. You wonder if he’s high. You seat yourself at the island and Yunho slides a plate toward you. It’s shockingly fancy french toast. There’s some sort of berry compote in between each slice with fresh cream on top. You stare down at it, unnerved. You take a bite anyway. It’s good and you sigh.

“We thought it would be nice to apologize and also make up for time,” Yunho starts when you glance up at him. You gesture for him to continue when he pauses for too long watching you eat.

“It was fucked up to let it all go on and keep you in the dark. We all thought it would be better to just let you live without knowing we originally planned to kill you, but you deserved to make an informed decision on whether or not you wanted us around. So, we’re sorry,” the way Yunho says it is easy, like it’s just any other piece of information. You like the fact that he’s the first one to say it outright. You look at Mingi, still kneeled on the floor.

“Get up, you freak,” you say between a mouthful of food. He scrambles from the floor to the barstool next to yours. His face is too close to yours. “Are you high or something?”

“I’m so sorry and I missed you,” he breathes and you laugh gently. “Also, I’m so jealous San got to kiss you before I did.”

You choke and Yunho reaches over the counter to smack the side of his head. You look at Mingi as he sputters, his eyes wide and hands vaguely gesturing at the air. You turn to look at Yunho, whose eyes are fixed on the side of Mingi’s head, but his ears are bright red. You look back at your plate and cut yourself off another piece of french toast.

“Guess you should’ve apologized sooner,” your voice is casual before you put another bite in your mouth. Mingi keeps sputtering.

The rotation continues after that, but much less formal than the first time. They care less about overlap now. Sometimes, Jongho comes over after a shift to find you and Wooyoung curled up on the couch watching something on the television. The three of you trudge tired bodies toward the diner and you let Wooyoung fill the silence. Jongho will complain about somebody at the door giving him attitude and Wooyoung will fire back some new threat to give them the next time it happens.

Mingi and Yunho start sleeping in your bed at some point, you can’t exactly figure out when. You just know that one morning you woke up to a much taller body than you were accustomed to pressed to your back and it just started happening after that. Mingi likes to come over after a rough day at the site he manages and watch you do chores in your apartment. He never helps, but he observes carefully. He’s quiet and patient and softly sings along to the music you play. About an hour after he arrives, he takes your phone and changes the music to something more upbeat. San usually comes over concerned from the yelling. You’ve learned that Yunho sleeps like the dead and is the worst person to share a bed with when you have something to do the next day. One morning, you woke up late for work and had to battle Yunho’s tight grip on your waist before rushing out of your apartment. He sent you a text later about how he was so sad that you didn’t kiss him goodbye. You roll your eyes and shoot something sarcastic back, but a fond smile sits on your face.

There are times when Wooyoung knocks on your door, only to turn around when your voice pops out of the other side of the hallway. He grins as he strides into San’s apartment and buries his face in your hair. He presses a kiss to the side of your hair before walking over to the stove and pressing a kiss into San’s. You think you should feel jealous, but something soft blooms in your chest instead. You love when your favorite people get along.

Seonghwa appears often, usually popping by when the others are already there. He learned to start texting before he comes, though, after San opened the door while you were giving Wooyoung head on the couch. You’ve learned their concept of privacy differs greatly from your own. Wooyoung walks into the bathroom while you’re showering for the first time and you scream, yelling something about knocking and he laughs. He has no interest in doing anything, he just wanted to talk to you. It would be sweet in a weird way if he had asked beforehand.

“I’ve already seen it, baby. I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” he says while sitting on the toilet seat. You realize after fifteen minutes of bickering that this is not something you will get through to him on.

San walks in on you changing more than once. Mingi digs through your laundry. Yunho goes through your underwear drawer in front of you. Jongho has, on more than one occasion, scrolled through your camera roll just to do it. Seonghwa asks overly probing questions like he doesn’t already know the answer. You realize eventually that this is their way of satiating the urge to know without you knowing. It lights up the same part of their brain that gets a thrill from following you. It lets them know you without asking, dig into your brain without ever saying a word. You stop questioning it when Seonghwa mentions it.

You’re at the grocery store and Seonghwa is pushing the cart as he watches you scan the aisle. You pick up a jar of sauce and inspect it for a moment before going to place it in the cart. Your wrist is grabbed before it hits the bottom. You look up, puzzled.

“You don’t like that one,” Seonghwa says, pulling the jar out of your hand and placing it back on the shelf. You tilt your head for a moment.

“It’s on sale, it’s fine,” you grumble and reach for the jar again. “How do you even know that? It’s fine. I’ll eat it.”

“The last time you bought it, you used it once and let the rest of it spoil in your fridge. Even though it’s been on sale multiple times since, you’ve never rebought it because you don’t like it,” he stares at you as he says it, face flat. You give him a look and he shrugs.

“You guys track my habits, don’t you?” you pick up a different jar of sauce and he smiles softly at it.

“I like to think of it as ensuring you take care of yourself, but sure,” he smiles and leans over the cart toward your face. Seonghwa leans in and presses a soft kiss to your nose as you stand in the aisle, dumbfounded.

“How am I just realizing this?” you call after him, speeding up your steps to catch up to him.

“You’re not very observant, darling,” he looks over his shoulder at you and grins.

The day Yeosang comes to apologize is surprisingly normal. Yunho is standing in your living room as you lounge on the couch. He’s been pacing around your apartment since he woke up in the morning. You can’t tell what’s gotten into him, but you keep glancing at him to make sure he’s not getting into anything. You know a bored Yunho is a particularly troublesome version of the man. He disappears into the hallway and reappears into the livingroom, standing solidly in the center of the space. You see something purple swaying from his fingers as you scroll mindlessly on your phone.

“Are these new?” he grins as you glance up. You shoot up from the couch to try to grab your underwear, yelling at him the whole time. Yunho’s arm is outstretched over his head in a game of keepaway when a voice comes from your doorway.

“Am I interrupting?”

The two of you freeze and you see Yeosang standing at the edge of your foyer. Yunho lowers his arm and you snatch the underwear away from him as you shove him towards your door. He laughs the whole way there.

“No, he was just leaving. Bye, Yunho,” you grit as you continue to shove him out. It’s playful, though, and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he leaves.

“You were supposed to knock,” you press your lips in a line and lean against the wall.

“I did, but I didn’t think you could hear over all the yelling,” Yeosang fires back.

“Fair. Do what you came to do,” you gesture vaguely with your hand. You have gotten tired of the endless apologies from everyone but who you want one from. Yeosang hands you a USB stick and a remote from his pocket. You squint down at it in your hand.

“For security,” he starts. “I just finished installing cameras outside your door, closed circuit. The only way you can access them is with that.”

He points down at the USB and your eyes dart up at him, narrow. “Genuinely?”

“Genuinely,” he shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet, nervous. “I figured it would be a good way to know if you want to pretend you’re not here when we knock.”

You smirk and let out a quiet laugh. “Thanks, Yeosang. That’s really thoughtful.”

“I figured that saying sorry wasn’t enough,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to give you some extra security.”

You clutch the USB and remote in between your fingers softly and reach a hand up to smooth his hair away from his forehead. Yeosang freezes when your fingers make contact with his skin.

“You need new conditioner,” your voice comes out soft. He laughs lightly and smacks your hand away, toeing off his shoes before following you into your apartment.

Yeosang rejoins the fold of your routine easily. He’s a solid presence on your work from home days and even on days you work in the office. He and San argue over dinner. He laughs at Mingi’s jokes at the bar. He joins you on the dancefloor and is a quiet presence at your back as Wooyoung and San walk you home. The weeks drag by and your apartment is always full. There’s always a body or two in your bed, another on your couch. Your sink is always full of dishes. You consider charging them rent if they keep staying over so much.

It’s two and a half months from then until you hear from Hongjoong again. The spring rolls in and the world takes on more color in a way you haven’t seen in six months. You’ve heard about him. His name comes up over dinner sometimes, always with a glare from one of the others. They’ll mention his name in a funny story or when talking vaguely about a recent hunt. It’s never anything specific, never anything where you’re involved or where he’s talking about you, but they still hover when someone says his name, like you’ll break at the mere thought of him. You think it’s meant to be comforting, that they are doing their best to protect you from Hongjoong, but it just makes anxiety swirl in your gut. You always wave them off, the mention of Hongjoon isn’t going to kill you, but they still hover, still glare, still spit out his name quickly to get it over with. Wooyoung and San talk about him in hushed whispers when they think you’re asleep. They mull over whether or not they should tell you that he’s asked about you or that he tried to send something to your apartment but it was intercepted by one of the others. Other times, you catch them all huddled over San’s dining room table with beers between them. They hadn’t heard you enter through San’s unlocked door. It’s almost conspiratorial the way their bodies are hunched over, leaning into each other’s spaces to speak in soft voices. You catch them on a high after a hunt, and Yunho lets it slip that Hongjoong hadn’t been out with them in two months, just setting up the pieces for the rest of the guys to finish it off. It unsettles you, the way Hongjoong would go against his very nature to keep the peace. It’s antithetical to the man you know him to be—desperately selfish, terribly private. It’s at this point that you debate reaching out to him first, but ultimately decide against it. On one hand, you feel bad. There’s a reason that he seems to be avoiding everyone else and you assume that your bitter disposition isn’t helping dispel the tension between them and Hongjoong. On the other hand, you can’t feel bad at all. If he’s going to keep running away from this, whatever it is, then he has to live with it. But it always feels off. It always feels like there’s something missing. Sunday dinner at San’s is always with one less plate and all of you stumble over it for a little bit once Yeosang apologizes. Your apartment is tangibly missing one body and you can tell that they all don’t know what to do without Hongjoong.

At 8:47 on a Tuesday, you get a text. You had only been at work for a little bit, but the name on your screen makes your stomach pull. You think you might throw up. It’s a pin drop with one sentence.

“Two hours to find me.”

You tell your job you aren’t feeling well and hop on the train. You step through the entrance of the park and walk aimlessly for thirty minutes before heading toward the entrance on the opposite side. You figure if he’s going to be anywhere, it will be where you first prepared to die. Dramatic.

A shock of red hair is the first thing you see. He’s bent over leaning on his knees on a bench. His hands grip his phone as he taps away. The tip of his left foot rises and falls in a rhythm and you can’t place where it’s from. Your shoes crunch over loose rocks and you stop in front of him. He tips his head up and smiles, genuine. You reach your hand back and crack your palm across his cheek. His sunglasses hit the ground about a foot away.

“You’re such a dick, you know that,” you start. “And you still owe me a coffee table.”

Hongjoong laughs and stands up, crouching to pick up his sunglasses before wiping the lenses on his sweatshirt. A handprint is blooming across his face. You can’t find it in yourself to feel empathetic.

“I know,” his face is still fixed in a grin. “Walk with me.”

“To my death?” you question as he turns down the path. He just laughs. You jog lightly to catch up with him. The two of you walk in silence for a while. He doesn’t try to initiate any conversation and you’re too busy seething. His body hovers close to yours, but not touching. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, something oversized and brown. You’ve never seen it before. Your arms sway awkwardly at your sides and you trip every so often where the heel of your boot scuffs over a crack on the path. You weren’t dressed for a walk. He turns quickly to the left, striding six long paces before freezing where he stands. When you stop, you’re overlooking a field of wildflowers in the center of the park. He guides you to a collection of rocks at the edge of the field, still not touching, just gesturing with a cock of his head. He sits cross-legged on top of one and raises a hand at the one across from him. You settle on top of it, looking out across the field.

“I fucked up,” his voice is serious and you nod, still not looking at him. “I realized that I couldn’t talk my way out of this when Seonghwa told me that you set rules. None of them spoke to me until Wooyoung had patched things up with you, he wouldn’t let them.”

You find yourself laughing at the way he says it, like he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I think that was when I knew that I fucked up. Wooyoung is—” he pauses, mulling over the words. “He’s particular. He’s good at drawing people in, but there’s not a lot of people he’s interested in keeping. He’s my litmus test. He’s how I found everyone else. When I realized he was keeping you like he kept the guys? That was when I knew. I overstepped. I made you out to be just a target. You hadn’t been that in a while when I said that.”

You scrunch your face and turn to face him. “Is that it?”

“No, you just have to let me finish first,” his smile is more genuine and you think he should wear this expression all the time. “I don’t regret telling you, but I regret how I did it. You had a right to know. You still have a right to know. I shouldn’t have been so vindictive about it, though.”

You squint, but nod anyway and he continues, “I think I was jealous.”

“What?” your face tightens in confusion.

“You were the first one that I didn’t pick.”

“Who did?”

“Who do you think?” he laughs out and you feel heat bloom in your cheeks. “I should have known something was different from the start, but I let myself get so caught up that they wanted to keep you and it wasn’t even my choice. You know our dynamics. You know how we work. I got in my head and I took it out on you. It’s not an excuse, it’s just… what it is. I shouldn’t have done it like that, but it’s done. If you don’t want me around, then that’s it. I just wanted you to know.”

“You’re infuriating,” you whisper and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “If I didn’t want you around, I wouldn’t have wanted an apology from you so bad.”

He reaches out a hand and you take it. You run your fingers over his knuckles. You didn’t notice they were cut up until now. You wince as you inspect them.

“You are distant and hard to understand and an absolute dick, but I want you around, Joong. You just have to prove you deserve to be here,” you look up at him as you finish. He squeezes your hand in agreement.

“Yeah,” he breathes, staring at your joined hands. “I can do that.”

It’s not the end of the conversation, and you both know that, but it’s enough to settle the anger that had been sitting behind your ribs for months. He walks you to the train station, squeezes your hand goodbye, and you don’t see him for another two weeks.

You reach your apartment and Wooyoung is still there, propped up on the pillows in your bed and staring blankly at his phone. You slam open the door to your bedroom and walk over to the bed, tossing your boots somewhere near your closet before crawling into bed and tucking yourself into his side. He’s visibly confused, but lets you do what you need. He strokes the back of your head softly where it lays on top of his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, eyes never leaving his phone. It’s not a distracted gesture, just giving you space in a way, letting you figure out what you need without all of the attention being on you. You nod softly after a second.

“He makes me so angry,” you whisper. Wooyoung’s hand keeps stroking the back of your hair, mussing it up from the presentable style you had worn it in to work. “I never know if he’s telling me the truth.”

“Fair,” Wooyoung replies. “I can tell you what I know if you just ask.”

You feel his lips press to the top of your head and you lean up to face him. His face is open, unguarded in a way that’s reserved for few people. You sigh and roll over, sitting on his lap so you’re facing him. He places his hands on your waist, gentle and unmoving. There’s no ulterior motive, no unsavory intentions. He just grounds you where you sit before you take a deep breath.

“Did you pick me, yes or no?” your face is determined, but your voice is fragile. His hand moves up to cradle your face, observing you carefully.

“Yes.”

“Did you tell everyone to not talk to Hongjoong until you apologized?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I deserved to know?”

“Yes, but not like that.”

Every word is precise, like it’s obviously the correct answer, like there’s no other possibility in the world. You feel your lip twitch slightly and he moves his thumb to smooth over it.

“Would you have killed me? If Hongjoong had asked you to?” you whisper against his thumb. His movements freeze and his eyes narrow.

“Honestly?” he asks and you nod. “I would have let him kill me, too.”

You smack his chest and he grabs your wrists, softly holding them together.

“I’m being serious. I didn’t pick you to kill you, I picked you to keep you. I knew from the second I saw you that you would get it,” his voice is even but his eyes are vulnerable. The sentiment scares you a bit, the idea that this has all been an elaborate ruse to keep you with them—with him. But, there’s a bigger part of you that knows if Wooyoung wanted you to himself, he would have you. You wouldn’t be able to fight him, physically or otherwise. It’s not because Wooyoung wanted to keep you that you’re alive or that you’re with him or that you’re something to every one of the guys. It’s because you get it. You get what they do, you understand death, it’s not something that frightens you any longer. You understand them in ways that they only ever experienced with each other. It’s stomach churning the way you understand it, and you’re not sure when you started to get it. The killing never bothered you, you realized, it was just the secret of it.

You fight lightly against his hold and a smirk takes over his face. He grips your wrists a little tighter and you lean towards him. He captures your lips in a kiss and pulls his face away briefly, letting you chase him.

“Want a distraction?”

You let him flip you over on the bed.

[gunbunnyhwa]

a heads up: the next story i am working on is a highly self indulgent work place romance. tonally, very different from the works that are popping off right now on my page. i hope you will all still enjoy regardless!

[gunbunnyhwa]

hi!! loved the new part of your series (i am a sucker for angst), can’t wait for the next part <3 honestly reading the parts so far has been the highlight of my week, you write so incredibly well

hihihi!! thank you so much!! i’m glad you are enjoying!!

[gunbunnyhwa]

also hihihi, inbox is open. if you want to send anything. or not.

[gunbunnyhwa]

bend and break

stalker!ot8 ateez x reader

listen, things have to get worse before they get better. you didn't think this was the original plan, right?

wc: 5.2k

note: hello everyone, thank you for all the support on the last 2 parts of this series! we are hitting angst territory, so sorry if that's not your thing! the next part will be much longer and honestly might be the last one in this universe in terms of major plot! pls enjoy!

cw: pretty graphic description of murder and gore, these are not good dudes but you knew that! now we're just getting proof of it!

By the winter, you’ve settled into a routine with them. Sundays are what San calls family dinner. Everyone gathers into his living room, bodies piled onto the furniture and the floor, and settle into conversation about the week and what everyone has been up to. The guys tend to throw elbows while you settle on San’s couch, Wooyoung curled into your side or into your lap. Sometimes one of the others perches on the arm of the couch next to your head, usually Yunho, and pets a hand over your hair. If it was anyone else, you’d feel condescended, like a dog, but somehow you don’t mind as much when it’s them. The apartment fills with noise and warmth and once everyone’s bellies are full, San throws on some movie and everyone groans because it always turns out to be terrible. Once he put on a romcom and you were kind of into it, until it turned into a psychological thriller in the third act and you couldn’t quite follow it at that point. Eventually, everyone piles their way out of San’s apartment and into their cars, you and Wooyoung stay to help San clean up, and you part ways back to your apartment. Before you leave, San always pulls the both of you into the tightest hug, pressing a soft kiss to both of your foreheads. The hallway fills with giggles as you and Wooyoung stumble back to your apartment on tired legs and with full hearts.

 Mondays are Seonghwa’s day. He takes you out to lunch near your office. It’s always some new upscale place that you would never budget for, but he always puts his card down despite your protests. He tells you about the new artists at the gallery and the stuffy old women who request to “rent” the art for some sort of social gathering. You laugh as he describes their faces pulled taut when he tells them no. He presses his palm over yours as you finish your espressos and gently kisses your fingertips before walking you back to your office. 

Tuesdays you work from home and Yeosang joins you. You both work in your apartment. It’s quiet, but comfortable. There is always a point in which he gets frustrated with a client and walks into your kitchen, coming back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You chuckle and tell him no, but once five o’clock hits you happily pour yourself a drink. The two of you toast to a day gone and slowly get tipsy on your living room floor. It’s the most noise your apartment has seen all day and eventually he pulls you into a dance before he heads back to his own apartment. You find yourself smiling the rest of the evening.

Wednesdays are almost always Wooyoung and San’s day. Originally, those days just belonged to Wooyoung, but San invited himself over once and never stopped coming. San cooks dinner while you all chat and Wooyoung always stays the night in your bed. Nothing ever happens, not that you don’t want it to, but Wooyoung always seems to fall asleep before anything can really happen. Occasionally, San stays the night, too. The three of you tucked into your full size bed. It’s a bit too small for three full grown people, but you’re squeezed between two personal space heaters to block out the winter chill. You lower the heat when the two of them come over because you always know you’ll wake up too warm the next morning if you don’t.

Thursdays are Mingi and Yunho’s day. Yunho brings takeout and Mingi picks a movie. He says he’s too tired of San’s horrible recommendations and Jongho’s lukewarm picks. You laugh and cuddle into the couch. Now, you sit sandwiched between them—half perched in someone’s lap with your legs curled into another. Mingi has started to pick up your hands and absentmindedly play with your fingers as the movie plays. The calming repetition of Mingi’s hands drifting from finger to finger usually puts you to sleep about twenty minutes into the movie. You always wake up in your bed with coffee brewing and a note on your fridge.

Fridays you typically join a few of the guys at a bar. The one night out accosting Wooyoung and Jongho turned into a Friday night tradition at some point. Not everyone shows up every time, but you’re never alone and Wooyoung appreciates getting to walk you home and sleep over an extra night. He loves seeing you at the bar while he works, often shooting you a wink and a cheeky smile from across the bar. You laugh as he fails to hit on a male patron one time for an extra tip and gets a drink thrown at him. Another time, he tried to do some sort of trick while mixing a drink and broke three glasses. When he gets a break in customers, he floats to your end of the bar and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He listens as you tell him something about your day and brushes a stray hair out of your face. Jongho, on the other hand, has grown tired of your nonstop talking as he works the door. You perch yourself on the stool behind the open door, jacket wrapped tightly around yourself and a scarf over your ears as you talk his ear off about God knows what. Sometimes you comment on the quality of people’s fakes, other times you give opinions on whether or not people fit the dress code of the bar. His boss will yell at him that he can’t have his girlfriend hang out with him while he works, neither of you correct him. At some point, his gloves are passed over to you as you shiver, the ice in your glass not helping keep the chill out of your bones. You smile softly at him and he pinches your knee softly. You know that’s your sign to leave him alone.

On Saturdays, you typically wake up to a breakfast delivery from Hongjoong. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn’t, but throughout the day there are packages and meals delivered to your door. He always texts you when something arrives to make sure the gift doesn’t get stolen or that your food doesn’t get cold. On the Saturdays that he decides to join you, he talks to you about what he writes in his journal. Sometimes he shows you things, sometimes he doesn’t. Other times, he pulls out his phone to show you something funny one of the other guys sent in the group chat they have without you that week. You find it doesn’t bother you, there are some things you’d rather not know right now. Your days are filled with laughter and soft brushes of hands as Hongjoong settles close to you to pass the phone to you.

Saturday nights are Jongho’s. He takes you out to dinner after he gets off his shift, knowing you’re up at that hour regardless. His soft knocks on your door always startle you, but you slip your shoes on anyways and start the sleepy trudge to the diner around the corner from your apartment. Neither of you really talk, the silent companionship is really what both of you need. As you walk back to your apartment, he adjusts your hood or your scarf, tucking you tighter into the warmth to break up the winter wind. Sometimes, he tucks you into his side as you walk and your cheeks warm.

The only one that ever shares your bed is Wooyoung, and sometimes San, not that any of them would pass up the opportunity. They do stay the night, or at least you think they do, but no one ever dares to cross the threshold of your bedroom. You can’t exactly understand why, but you think it’s out of some form of respect for you. When Wooyoung spends the night, it’s all soft touches and whispered compliments. From the time he enters your apartment, Wooyoung’s voice is low and his footsteps are measured. He moves through your space in virtual silence and you have trouble tracking his footsteps from room to room. You wonder if that has more to do with the careful footwork needed for food service or his…extracurriculars.

Neither of you talk about work when he stays over. He drops the pretense of not knowing anything about you or what you do in your day, and you can tell he just doesn’t particularly like talking about his job. You both talk about the show you’re watching (a romcom that Wooyoung came home from work talking about one night because his coworkers were raving that it was So Good), music you’re listening to, and, on occasion, he discusses his extracurriculars. This only really happens, though, when he hasn’t been out in a while—like that first night. He is always reserved, too quiet and too shy for your liking. The first time you ask him if he wants to talk about it, he hesitates.

“I’m afraid if I talk about it, you won’t like me anymore,” he whispers into your torso. The two of you have migrated to your bed, his arms envelope your body and you run fingers up his spine. You turn your face into his hair and press a kiss there.

“I think it would take a lot for me to not like you, Wooyoung” you whisper back, voice broken from how much you mean it. “I think you forget that I know who you are and I still let you into my bed.”

He sniffles a little and presses your face into your collarbone. You feel his ribs expand against your own as he takes a deep breath. 

“Sometimes, I miss hurting people,” he starts. “We don’t go out as often anymore. I think it’s because of you, and that’s a good thing. I like that you changed us–changed me. But, I miss it. I miss when we would do it all the time. It’s like the ultimate release. And I don’t expect you to understand it, or to like it, but it’s a part of me. And I need you to know that it’s a part of me. And I’m having a hard time hiding it from you on days like this.”

He pauses and you run your other hand down his arm to take his hand. You squeeze it once and he continues.

“There was this one time where we stalked a guy for a month and he didn’t even notice. We weren’t even sneaky about it, he was just unobservant. We picked him up at a bar on the other side of the city. I remember the name was stupid, like Serpent’s Tongue or something like that. We made jokes about it while we buried him. San was on top of the world. I think that was one of the first times it was all eight of us.”

“What do you mean?” it’s still whispered where your mouth presses against the top of his head.

“It didn’t start out with all of us. Joong found us and brought us together. For a long time, it was just me and Joong. Those were quick and weren’t half as elaborate as the shit he sets up now,” he laughs quietly and the room gets a little brighter. “It was always a quick slash and dash. I think that’s the kind of stuff I miss the most. Not the mess or the quickness, but that it was just me and Joong. I liked the secret and I liked that we shared it. I liked that it was just the two of us. And I love the others, I do, but it was just a different experience, I don’t know. I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out right now, but the guys are tired of me talking about it and moping around their apartments and I just need to get it out. I don’t know.”

“Woo,” you start, voice sad.

“No, wait,” he interrupts, pushing away from your body. You reach for him on instinct. “I need to know if this is okay. If any of this is okay, I don’t know, I’m feeling weird about it. I feel like you didn’t have a choice and I forced my way into sharing your bed and I don’t know. I know this is all weird, but I need to know if this is okay, if I’m okay.”

He’s leaning over you propped on one arm and you reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair. You’ve never seen him wear an expression like this before, he looks devastated. You brush his bangs out of his face and pull him towards your face. Your lips meet and you feel him gasp.

You press your forehead to his as you pull away. “You’re okay. We’re okay. This is okay. I want this. I want to be here with you and I am happy with whatever you want to share with me. You have been nothing but kind to me, baby. I stopped being afraid a long time ago.”

He slumps into you, putting his whole body weight onto your chest. You let out a sound as he collapses. Wooyoung digs his face into your neck and squeezes your hand, still entwined with his own. You feel him inhale hard on the side of your neck and you laugh as it tickles the hair he’s buried himself in. You push him off of you and roll onto your side. You don’t ask if he’s okay. You know he would never give you an honest answer, but when you hit the light to go to bed, you feel him hold you a little bit harder than usual.

Nights like that are a rare occasion, though. Most of the time, the two of you sit together on the couch and shoot the shit. Like the night he comes to you fresh from a hunt. You can tell from the manic energy still radiating off of him and the two word text from Hongjoong.

“Wooyoung incoming.”

You open the door and he’s standing there bouncing on the balls of his feet. The front of his shirt is drenched in sweat and what you think might be blood. It’s the first time any of them have exposed you directly to what they do. Your eyes widen and you grab his bicep, tight. You yank him through your doorway and slam the door behind you, looking out the peep hole to make sure he hadn’t caught any unwanted attention.

“Are you fucking insane?” you reel on him with your arms outstretched. He grasps your hips, rubbing circles into your skin and sticks his face in your neck breathing you in.

“Hey, baby,” his voice is so fucking fond. “How was your day? I missed you so much today, it was crazy. Yunho and Mingi wanted to kill me because I almost blew it.”

He presses his lips into your neck, trailing kisses from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. You lean your neck away from him and he whines.

“Go shower, you stink,” you scrunch your face. “We can talk, but after you take a shower.”

He slinks away from you, crestfallen, and keeps throwing sad looks over his shoulder at you. He does it like a dog tries to make you feel bad. 

“And throw your dirty clothes out!” you yell down the hallway at him. You press your fingers into your eyes and groan. You knew this was a part of being with Wooyoung, not that you’ve put any kind of label on it. Maybe that’s a conversation you should have. Another night, though. After a year of mental preparation, you are handling it rather well. A therapist would surely have a field day with you, but that’s a line of thinking to explore at a later date. For now, you focus on the things you can control, like the mess that Wooyoung has dragged into your apartment.

You tidy up his shoes where he threw them in your foyer, cleaning up the dirt that he tracked in, and look back at your phone. You think about texting Hongjoong and forcing him to explain. You think about texting Jongho to drag Wooyoung out of your apartment. 

You text San to ask if he’s home. 

When he confirms, you march over to his door and swing it open. The other seven are sitting at his kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey in the center of it between them.

“Guys, what the fuck?” it spills out of your mouth before you can stop it, exasperated. They all stare at you silently. They look worn, eyes heavy and bodies hunched over the table. They’re all covered in mud and sweat and what still looks like blood. Some of them are bruised up. Whoever they were after tonight put up a fight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Yunho sighs. “He wanted to see you.”

“You sent him over covered in blood. Can you make sure he changes next time? I really don’t want him walking around the complex like that,” your voice is almost whiney and you can feel your dignity bleeding out of you. They all look surprised, you just keep surprising them. Then, they all nod.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Yunho sounds breathless this time. He’s straightened up in the last moment. You look around at them and sigh.

“Do you guys want to come over after you all clean up a bit?” you ask shyly. Their staring is getting to you. They all stare at you like you’re the only one in the room and sometimes it freaks you out. They nod again and watch silently as you exit San’s apartment with a brief wave.

As soon as you step across the threshold of your apartment, Wooyoung is on you. His arms wrap around your waist and his face is buried into your hair. You know it’s impossible to pry his arms off of you, so you move through the room with him attached to you like a parasite. You push shoes to the side of the doorway so no one trips coming in and move the extra pillows from the couch onto the living room floor.

“What ‘re you doin’?” Wooyoung whines smushed into your neck. You guide him back to the couch and settle into his lap where he continues to cling.

“The boys are coming over in a bit,” you yawn around the words. “Everyone wants to hang out.”

He groans a little bit, still buried in your neck. “Wanted you to myself tonight.”

“You have me for a bit, and then you have to share for a few hours. You’ll survive, baby.”

“Sannie went on a date the other night and she walked out twenty minutes in,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

You wrench yourself around in his lap to face him, jostling him away from your face. You grab his cheeks and squeeze. “You need to tell me everything, they’re going to be here in like an hour.”

Wooyoung smiles against your hold, and presses kisses to both of your palms before starting the story. Apparently, San had been really strong over text and according to Wooyoung that was all his doing. When San got to the date, he was late and said some “unsettling” things—Wooyoung’s words—and the girl had been so put off that she left. By the time Wooyoung is finished, with all the gory details, you’ve both migrated further into the couch. You’re laying horizontally with your face on his chest. You jump a little when the door opens.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Yeosang smirks as he leans over the couch to stare at you both, six inches away from both of your faces. You laugh and push him away, palm splayed across his face. Bodies pile into your living room and they’re all noticeably cleaner. San comes and sits on the opposite end of the couch, pulling you towards him by your ankles. Wooyoung whines, but accepts that he is giving you up temporarily. San pulls you into his chest and squeezes.

“Okay, big guy,” you wheeze and pat his bicep as his arms squeeze you one last time. You do, however, let him wrangle you until you’re pressed against his side with your legs tangled with Wooyoung’s. San uses one hand to play with your hair and the other to rub at Wooyoung’s ankle where it sits against your side.

Chaos quickly spreads over the room as Yunho says you all should order food and a fight breaks out over what to get. Yeosang throws an elbow at Mingi to get to Yunho’s phone and all hell breaks loose from there. But, you stay safe in your little bubble of San and Wooyoung as the two speak in soft voices about God knows what. You think about their tired faces in San’s apartment, you think about Wooyoung covered in blood in your foyer, you think about what’s been previously said about their hunts and how little you are actually aware of. You feel the burning need to know in your chest and you look around the room a few times before gaining the courage to speak up. It takes you enough time that they’ve decided what to eat, with Wooyoung speaking for you because you’re so caught up in your head, and Yunho turns to you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” his eyebrows furrow in concern.

“What did you guys do tonight?” you ask, and you meant it to be more confident, curious, maybe nonchalant, but it comes out as a whisper, terribly shy in a way you usually aren’t. Your eyes drift around the room before finally falling on Hongjoong.

“Joong,” your voice is weak. “Please tell me about tonight.”

The room is silent. They glance at each other before their eyes finally fall on Hongjoong, waiting. He’s standing in the corner of the living room, body pressed against the wall. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, stepping fully into the room and perching himself on the armrest of the couch. Hongjoong reaches out a hand and brushes your hair back from your face. You feel Wooyoung stiffen and San’s arm wrap tighter around you. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room a few movements and the silence sits for a moment.

“There was a woman,” Hongjoong starts. His voice is almost condescending and you start to feel like a child being scolded. “We followed her for six months. We infiltrated her life until she couldn’t avoid us. Tonight, we took her to the woods and told her if she could escape us in an hour, we would let her go. But, we showed her our faces. She knew she wasn’t getting out alive. She still fought like hell, but we caught her. You know that. When we caught her, we took her to a cabin that I own and we tortured her until she passed out. Then, we electrocuted her to wake her up.”

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung’s voice holds a warning. He’s sitting up now on the couch, face pinched and serious.

Hongjoong ignores him and continues, “When she woke up, we kept going. We broke all her fingers and all of her toes. It was slow and we did it with pliers. Seonghwa did that, it’s his favorite part.”

“Hongjoong,” another warning, from Seonghwa this time. You don’t know if it’s defensive or protective.

“Then, we ripped all of her nails off. She had acrylics on so it was extra painful. She can thank Jongho for that,” a cruel smile starts to stretch over Hongjoong’s face and you feel your stomach curdle. Jongho avoids your gaze. “We severed her eyelids and cauterized the wounds so she was forced to see what we were doing to her. We put a mirror in front of her so that every time we left, she had nothing to do but stare at herself and what we did to her. That was all Sannie’s idea.”

“Please,” San begs in a whisper. You feel yourself pull away from him, you don’t know if you mean to do it.

“We broke her ankles and then took off her ropes. We told her that if she could run away we would let her go. She tried and tried. It was pathetic,” Hongjoong’s voice drips condescension, his hand never stops moving in your hair. “We gave her fifteen minutes of struggling before Mingi hauled her off the floor and put her back in that chair. Then, we ripped out all of her teeth so she couldn’t be identified.”

“Okay, I get it,” you whisper, at some point you had stopped looking at them. Your gaze is now fixed on your feet where they rest on the couch. You dig them into the cushions to ground yourself.

“No, I’m not quite finished,” Hongjoong coos. “Then, Yunho strung her up from the ceiling and took off pieces of her skin. He smiled while he did it. She screamed so loud. And every time he peeled a piece of her skin off, we would light it on fire so that she didn’t bleed out. But, also so that it really hurt her.”

Yunho finally breaks out of his stupor. “Hongjoong, that’s enough.”

“I’m not finished,” Hongjoong’s voice is hard, but then curdles into something sickly sweet when he turns back to you. “Do you want to know who finally killed her?”

You keep staring at your feet and he takes your silence as an answer.

Hongjoong curls a finger under your chin and tips your face to meet his, inches apart, and whispers, “Wooyoung. He laughed while he did it. Had Yunho flip her upside down and bled her like a deer.”

There’s a blur at your side and Hongjoong’s touch is wrenched from your face. Your coffee table breaks under the weight of two bodies being thrown onto it. The guys bolt up from where they’re scattered around your living room and they move towards the center of it. Wooyoung is on top of Hongjoong with Hongjoong’s collar grasped in his fist. Wooyoung gets a few good punches to Hongjoong’s jaw, while Hongjoong just grins up at him where he’s pinned on the floor. By the time their bodies are pulled apart, Hongjoong’s nose is visibly broken. Wooyoung fights the hold Mingi has him in. You stay seated on the couch.

“Why did you say that?” Wooyoung roars at Hongjoong. “Why would you say any of that? We said that it was just between us. We said that this time was different. Why the fuck would you do that, Joong?”

Hongjoong just chuckles lightly where he lays on your floor. You stare at him. Then, you stand up and walk over to where he lays. You loom over him, glaring.

“Hongjoong,” your voice is the steadiest it’s been all night and devoid of emotion, you kick his side lightly with a socked foot. “You need to leave.”

He stares up at you, the smile slips from his face. Your bland delivery seems to wash over him like ice water. He sits up and you stay planted where you are on the floor. You refuse to give him ground in your own space. He continues to stare at you, almost daring you to look away. You tune out Wooyoung’s yelling and kick Hongjoong a little harder.

“Get out of my apartment, Hongjoong. Don’t come back until I’ve invited you,” your tone is decided. You feel eight pairs of eyes on you and you don’t back down this time.

Hongjoong scoffs and then picks himself up off your floor. He brushes off his pants and looks around the room. Eight pairs of eyes stare back at him. He shakes his head.

“Fine,” he clips and heads toward your apartment door. It rattles on his exit.

Your body slumps into the couch and you look at the ruins of your coffee table. A head of long brown hair comes into your view and a pair of hands grip your own, hard. Wooyoung is kneeled in front of you on the floor with his head bowed. He’s whispering and you can’t make it out. You lean forward to hear him better. He shoves his face into your clasped hands.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would do that. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t want you to know. None of us wanted you to know. You didn’t need to know that, any of it,” he whispers. His voice is too clipped and you realized once you register the backs of your hands are wet that he’s crying. You stare at him blankly.

“I think you should go home, Woo,” you whisper back to him. His eyes fly to yours.

“Please, please, please,” he begs. “Please don’t make me go home. Please don’t make me leave. Please.”

He’s sobbing now and you reach up and wipe the tears from his face. Wooyoung flies forward and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. San moves forward and puts a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Woo,” San croaks. Wooyoung just sobs harder.

“Baby,” you lean down into Wooyoung’s hair and reach your hands down to pull him away from your stomach. You cradle his face in your hands, wiping away tears as they fall. “I need you to go home tonight. Just for tonight.”

Wooyoung’s breaths are coming in wheezes and his eyes search yours for any secret meaning to the words. He nods and presses his face into your legs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I love you. I’m sorry.”

San presses a hand gently to the back of Wooyoung’s head and strokes his hair. He taps Wooyoung’s shoulder lightly as a signal to stand up and Wooyoung does. San shoots you an apologetic look as he walks Wooyoung to the door. You turn your attention to the other men in the room.

“I hope you know I expect an apology from him.”

Seonghwa steps forward and keeps his gaze trained on his feet. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You let out a wet chuckle.

“We’ll get you a new coffee table,” Yunho replies.

“I have a question and then you need to leave,” you comment, trying too hard to sound casual. They nod and Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours for the first time since this all started. “Was that going to be me?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flick away from yours and that’s all the answer you need. As he leaves your apartment, he turns back to meet your gaze one more time.

“Don’t–” he starts and seems to reorganize his words in his mouth, feeling them before they spill over. “Don’t take out his actions on the rest of them. They just follow the leader.”

You nod and the door shuts behind him softly. You pull the spare key from under your mat. You lock your door and deadbolt it. You need to call your landlord tomorrow to get your locks changed again. You stare at the ruins of your living room. You go to bed with a pit in your stomach.