manifestobackshot

[manifestobackshot]

this was so fire im foaming at the mouth

Jay calls you “baby” like a threat. Heeseung fucks you like he hates you. You say you’re confused, but you’ve got both of them on their knees and still keep the door open. Someone should stop you, too bad they’re both in love with the wreckage.

➺ minors do not interact

➺ pairing: jay x afab reader x heeseung

➺ wc: 12k

➺ content tags: SMUT, toxic relationship, manipulative behavior, possessive ex, jealousy, dubcon undertones, emotional whiplash, angst, degradation, praise, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, obsessive love, heartbreak, crying during sex, coercion, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, blurred boundaries, rough sex, aftercare (questionable), guilt, shame, self-worth issues, eroticism as control, reader with poor coping mechanisms, kind of a self righteous slut, complicated ex, trauma bonding, spiraling emotions, unhealthy attachment. NOT PROOFREAD.

➺ a/n: going against all tumblr protocols/norms and posting fics without wips or teasers, let’s consider this my comeback after taking so many BEATINGS. i wrote this with like zero emotional stability and no moral compass whatsoever and i wrote the ending with so much anxiety about my work, i feel so insecure about it but whatever. enjoyyyy and block your ex! reblog and heeseung will appear in your dream calling you angel face

➺ nsfw warnings under the cut

oral (f receiving), rough sex, degradation, threesome, double penetration, hair pulling, mean dom!heeseung, kind of switch!jay, crying during sex, jealousy sex, handjobs, manipulation kink (implied), ass play, saliva for lube (lots of it), power play, coercion themes, sub!reader, possessive behavior, humiliation, slut shaming (not corrected), multiple partners, use of pet names, hand over mouth, spanking, forced positioning, reader cries but doesn’t stop. let me know if i missed any.

Jay's room always smells like wood smoke and something mixed with his cologne and boy musk, but you've grown way too used to it over the years. You're currently stretched out across his bed with your laptop propped against your thighs and your phone in your hand, hovering a finger over a barely there lace slip in your shopping cart. "Is it too much?" you ask, turning the screen toward him.

He barely glances up from where he's messing with his journal on his desk. "It's basically dental floss. You should get it." You snort, clicking to add it to your cart. "How supportive."

Jay turns then, walking back over with a bottle of water in hand, eyes flicking toward the screen like he's expecting more lingerie picks. He drops down beside you, one knee brushing yours, lazy and comfortable and way too familiar.

You scroll through another site, mindlessly showing him crop tops and overpriced boots. He makes stupid little comments until eventually, you lean across him to grab your charger from the nightstand beside him and your tank top slips. Just slightly thin straps sliding down your shoulder, fabric dipping lower than you meant to but it's enough for him to see them. The darkened, wine colored shadows blooming along the swell of your breasts, stark against your skin.

He goes still and you don't even notice at first, you’re too busy trying to untangle the cable, but Jay reaches without asking, curling his fingers under your strap and tugging it down a little more, his eyes sharpening. "You let him mark you up like that? Heeseung?"

You frown a little, brows raising as you glance down at where his hand is still lingering so close to your breast. Then you swat him away, annoyed. "No, Jay. The fucking tooth fairy. Who do you think?"

He doesn't laugh like you assumed he would. He leans back against the headboard, jaw tense, tongue poking the inside of his cheek like he's chewing on something he won't say. You can feel his stare, heavy and unreadable.

You roll your eyes defiantly and turn the screen back to yourself. "I didn't realize I needed to send you a memo every time I get fucked."

Jay scoffs out dry and humorless. "Guess not," he says, "just didn't think you'd still go back to him." He glances at you. "What? I didn't meet up to his standards?"

That makes you snap your head toward him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing. Where you act like I owe you something."

Jay laughs low under his breath. "You don't owe me shit," he says, "but maybe you could admit you liked it."

You go quiet. Just long enough for him to know he's hit a nerve and now he looks smug, but not in a gloating way, it’s in that I know what gets under your skin and I'm going to sit there and rot it out kind of way. He shifts a little closer, gaze lingering too long on your collarbone.

"You're said we were just having fun," you say, stiff.

Jay grins. "I did."

You don't know what pisses you off more—his smile, or the fact that part of you wanted to hear something else.

You open your mouth to say something, maybe something catty but the buzzing of your phone on his bed interrupts you.

What shitty timing, you think as Heeseung's name flashes across your screen, loud and abrupt in the quiet lull after Jay's last comment. His lips curl in amusement, and he lets out this mocking laugh, like of course it's him. "Speak of the devil," he mutters.

You want to melt into the floor or throw your phone out the window, but instead you sit frozen, watching the screen pulse with Heeseung's name.

Then it goes silent—only for a text to flash up a second later.

Heeseung: you coming or not?

Jay hums, mean. "Such a romantic."

Your stomach drops as he reaches for your phone. "Jay—don't," you snap, lunging forward, but he catches your wrist easily, holding the phone up and out of reach with a bored flick of his hand. You try to grab it with your free hand, but he's quicker, suddenly twisting you around with too much ease, like he knows every way you move. In one slick move, he tosses your phone across the room and catches your arm behind your back, pinning you on the bed.

"Jay!" you gasp, twisting under him.

He leans over you, lips brushing your ear. "You were really about to go crawling back to him again?" His voice is soft but razor-sharp. "After everything he's done?"

His thigh slides between yours, pining you in place. His grip on your wrist tightens a little and you can feel his warm steady breath against your cheek. "Is that what you like?" His voice is rough now. "Being treated like a fucking afterthought."

You try to twist away from him, to say something, but he turns you over and kisses you before you can, with brute force and possession. You can feel the frustration radiating off him as he swallows the sound of your protest. Your heart rate increases and you hate how quickly your body turns against you, how familiar it feels, how much worse it makes it, the fact that it's Jay. The one person who's always known how to get under your skin.

"I just didn't think you were still that easy," he says lowly, right at your ear. "Still letting him fuck you like you mean nothing."

The words sting somewhere deep in you. You try to jerk away from him, but his hand doesn't move. "That's all he does, isn't it?" Jay adds, almost casual. "Fuck you and leave. And you run back like some good little pet."

Your heart's racing faster now and you’re trying to twist harder in his grip.

But he cuts you off by pressing in, his lips brushing your jaw in a cold and measured contact. "You let him treat you like that. But I'm the one you keep in your bed?" He asks. "Don't think that's fair."

You're too stunned to respond and he knows it. Jay releases you just as suddenly as he grabbed you, pulling away like it didn't mean anything, like he hadn't just shifted the air in the room.

He doesn't even apologize, he just watches you with that stoic look in his eyes, waiting to see what you'll do next. His eyes never leaving yours, even as he stands up from the bed.

You're panting, chest rising and falling as you sit back up on the bed, glaring at his retreating figure. He's already halfway across the room, calm like nothing happened, when he says, too offhandedly, "Your mom called me."

You frown, confused. "What?"

He looks at you. "Said you haven't been eating."

Your stomach twists and you shoot up to your feet, face hot with frustration. "You bring that up now?" you snap, breath catching in your throat. "Seriously?"

Jay just shrugs like he doesn't see why you're upset, like it's just another data point he's sliding across the table. "I'm just trying to show you what he does to you," he says simply.

Your jaw clenches. "Don't blame Heeseung for that," you bite out, angrier now. "I had issues with food way before him. You know that."

There's a pause and the air in the room feels way too heavy for how quiet it is.

He doesn't argue this time, he just flops on the bed again and says, "Come here."

You don't move at first, you shouldn't move—in fact you should get your shit and leave his apartment. But his voice is soft and smooth and too familiar, like a trigger your body's been unfortunately conditioned to obey.

You go, as if something tugs you forward, your legs moving even without your consent.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed by the time you reach him, and without asking or saying a word, he takes your wrists and pulls you into his lap, guiding your thighs to straddle him.

You settle there, shaky and annoyed, but too used to the way this goes to resist. His hands settle on your hips, holding you there. "I’m not the problem." he says, looking up at you. "I'm the one who cares, baby."

You stare back at him. At his straight face. At the boy who always knows exactly when to twist the knife.

You don't answer him right away.

Because all you can think of is how this whole fucked up thing between you and Jay didn't even start with care. Not really.

It started with rage.

Two nights after your third breakup with Heeseung.

You'd shown up to Jay's apartment with mascara bleeding under your eyes, your hoodie sleeves pulled over trembling fingers, and that look you always wore when you were ready to swear Heeseung off for good.

Jay didn't say a word when he opened the door. Just stepped aside and let you in. You stormed past him, fuming, fists clenched like you wanted to punch something.

"I'm done," you'd said. "This time I mean it. He can fuck himself—he can rot."

Jay had nodded, slow. "So he said it again."

You broke. Right there on his couch. Hot, angry tears spilled down your cheeks, your voice cracking with how bitter it all tasted. You told Jay everything. What Heeseung said, even what he didn't say and how he always knew just how to keep you hooked.

Jay sat there the whole time—legs spread, arms resting over the back of the couch, like he was soaking it in.

And then he leaned forward, pressing a hand to your thigh. "Let me help." His voice was quiet, measured even. "I could make you feel better? Or…forget?"

You didn't really know what he meant until he dropped to his knees. You definitely didn’t expect the way he grabbed you by the hips, dragged you down until your back hit the cushions of his couch. You didn't expect how gentle he was when he peeled your sweats down, your underwear off. How he kissed the insides of your thighs like they were bruises only he could soothe.

How he said—"Just let me do this. You don't have to think."

And you didn't think, in fact you couldn’t. His mouth was too good—hot, slow and sinful, tongue fucking into your soaked pussy like he was trying to reclaim every inch of you Heeseung had tainted. He moaned when you gripped his hair, when you cried out, "Jay—Jay, I'm—"

You came with your fists in his hair and your mouth slack from the shock of it, thighs shuddering where he’d placed them over his shoulders. You'd never cum like that before, not even with Heeseung.

He just looked up at you, lips wet, expressionless. "Feel better?" he'd asked.

You could barely nod.

But that was how it started and how it didn't stop.

After that night, you kept coming back. You told yourself it was casual, just a physical thing to get your mind off your ex. Jay never made a big deal about any of it, never even asked for more.

Until he found out you'd gone back to Heeseung.

He didn't yell or sulk that day. He just looked at you one morning while you were still naked in his sheets, and said, "So you let him fuck you again?"

You froze, mind scrambling for a lie to give him, but nothing came out.

He didn't press further or accuse you of anything. He stared at the ceiling and muttered, almost to himself,

"I didn't realize you liked crawling back to someone who doesn't even pretend to care about you."

And then he got out of bed.

He didn't touch you for two weeks after that. Not until you caved and showed up at his door at 1am, asking if he hated you. He just gave you that same look and pulled you into his lap like always.

Jay never needed to yell, he only needed you to come back. And somehow you always did.

The memories fade, but Jay's mattress is still beneath your knees and his hands are still coasting lazily over the backs of your thighs, because to him he's always had the right to touch you. He's moved up against the headboard now, taking you with him, dark hair messy from where you yanked it earlier. His eyes pin you in place with calm surface to them but cold calculations rippling underneath.

His thumbs press just above the curve of your hips.

"Promise me you're done with him."

It isn't a question, it's merely a line in the sand. No heat, no coaxing, just the terms of staying right here. Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out. Jay lifts one brow, waiting.

"I...can try," you whisper, hating how small it sounds.

He shakes his head once. "Not good enough." Followed by a slow inhale, an almost disappointed one. "I've cut off half the girls I see for you—stopped answering DMs, stopped returning calls. You know that."

You do and part of you was always stupidly flattered every time a name disappeared from his phone.

Jay's fingers slide under the hem of your tank, thumbs brushing skin. "So here's what you're gonna do." His voice stays level, matter of fact, with nothing pleading or cruel. "You're going to block him. Delete the number. The next time he wants someone to fuck when he's bored, he can call literally anyone else."

You swallow, feeling the air too thick in your chest.

"Say it," he demands, eyes never leaving yours. "Promise me."

You despise your pulse for fluttering and that it feels like gravity tilting the room. But all you manage is a small nod and a softer, "Okay...I promise."

Something in his jaw unclenches as his palms slide up your sides, settling possessively at your ribcage. "Good girl," he says, and it isn't praise so much as confirmation that you've aligned yourself correctly. His hands guide you down until your chest brushes his. "Keep me happy," he adds, voice almost gentle, "and I'll keep making you forget why he ever mattered."

Your eyes flutter shut, equal parts relief and dread. You want to keep him happy. God, you do. Even if it means burning every other bridge until only Jay's hands are left to catch you.

So you kiss him, seal the promise on his tongue, and try not to notice how pleased he sounds when you sigh into his mouth—like he's already sure you'll never break your word.

He laughs into your mouth condescendingly, like he's entertained by you and it knocks the rhythm right out of your kiss.

"Fuck," he murmurs when you bite down on his bottom lip, his hand tightening briefly at your waist. But it's still followed by a chuckle, smug, cruel and lazy. "You're so eager now. Look at you."

You grind down on him, hips shifting instinctively, desperate to make a point, but it only makes him laugh harder. "Aww." He tilts his head, voice thick with derision. "Look who thinks she knows how to ride now."

Your stomach flips as you feel the heat of shame curling with arousal prickling up your neck.

"So precious," he keeps going, hand dragging down the small of your back, right over the curve of your ass. "You kiss like you're starving, but your hips still falters every time."

"Shut up," you mutter, breathless, but it comes out whinier than you want.

"Oh, now you're embarrassed?" His smile sharpens. "Didn't seem so shy when you were humping me just now."

You shove at his chest, but his hands only tighten, grounding you in place, locking your body against his.

"Go ahead," he says, softly now, teeth grazing the underside of your jaw. "Get mad, but prove me wrong, baby. Show me you finally learned how to fuck me properly."

And fuck—he knows exactly what he's doing. His voice, his words, his mouth, all of it designed to crack you open. He drags the shame, defiance and desire out of you like he's mining for gold.

Your hands shake a little where they press to his chest.

But you roll your hips anyway.

Because God help you, you do want to prove him wrong. But when he doesn't move you nearly falter like he predicted, he doesn't help you or even touch you, he's leaned back against the headboard, arms spread uselessly beside your knees, his expression deadpan but his eyes locked on you with sharp, dark, and maddening patience.

You're the one shifting on top of him, dragging your skirt up around your hips with trembling fingers, your breathing shaky as you tug your panties to the side yourself. He doesn't make a sound, not even when you reach down between the two of you to palm him through his sweats, trying to coax his cock hard.

Still, he just watches. You're a private show, meant only for him. Not someone he's touching, but someone he's witnessing, every breath and movement is a performance he can't tear his eyes from.

His dick twitches in your hand, slowly filling, but he gives no reaction—not a moan, not a sigh, not even a shift of his hips. Just that steady gaze that makes your skin burn.

"You won’t help me?" you whisper, a little breathless.

He shrugs, that same frustrating smirk on his lips. "Thought you were trying to prove you could ride me good now."

You glare at him, fingers curling tighter around the base of his cock. You stroke him a little rougher than necessary, but he only raises a brow like he dares you to keep going.

"Come on," he murmurs, voice low, goading. "Figure it out. You wanted to be the one in control, didn't you?"

You press your lips together, swallowing a shaky breath as you line him up, lowering yourself slowly on the thickness of him and shaking just slightly, fingers clutching his shoulders for balance.

You gasp as the bulbous head of his cock slips in. But he just watches quietly like he’s waiting.

And somehow, to you that's worse than anything he could've even said.

You're whimpering, trying to take more of him rolling your hips just right, moving slow and deliberate like you think he wants. Like you hope he wants.

Your hands brace on his chest, your thighs burning already, and you move with every ounce of desperation you can muster—arching your back, biting your lip, trying to look as sexy and confident as you can manage.

But inside, it's sheer panic. Because you know what Jay could have, you know all the other girls he's brushed off for you. All the girls who would've killed to be in your place, bouncing perfectly in his lap, earning his soft praises and smug grins.

What if one of them would've been better? What if you're just…forgettable?

The jealousy twists sharp in your gut. And the need to matter and to mean something to Jay pushes you harder. You grind your hips down with more focus, swiveling just right, clenching around him tight and desperate.

And it finally pulls a real moan from him. It seems so raw and almost involuntary, but your heart stutters in your chest anyway.

You look down at him through your lashes, still rocking your hips, barely breathing. "Am I..." Your voice is shaky. "...doing good?"

Jay's eyes lift to meet yours—half-lidded and blown black, finally trailing his hand up to rest on your waist, not guiding you yet, just holding.

He exhales slowly, like the sight of you ruins him.

"So good," he croons. "So fucking good, baby."

And like that, you feel your whole body light up with relief, pride and maybe even power. Like maybe you’re finally enough for him.

His fingers suddenly tighten around your waist, and without warning he starts moving you himself, bouncing you harder on his cock. It’s not gentle or kind like you had hoped it would be when you’d asked him to help you. No, Jay is using his strength like it's second nature, like he's been waiting for you to tire out just so he could take over.

Your breath punches out of your lungs when your hips are dragged down hard, the thick length of his throbbing cock pushing in deeper than you'd dared to go on your own.

"Jay—!" you cry out, head snapping back, thighs trembling. But he's already covering your mouth with one large palm.

"Shhh," he breathes, lips brushing your cheek as he leans forward. "You're gonna get me a noise complaint, baby."

You can't help the way your eyes roll back, the stretch, the pressure, the depth of him inside you making your body seize with too much sensation. "Mmpfh."

His grip on your waist is absolutely bruising, dragging you down again and again, faster and harder. Your moans go muffled into his hand, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your body turning to nothing but a puppet in his lap.

And Jay just watches you fall apart with that same infuriating calmness. "Look at you," he mutters. "Didn't even know how to ride it right five minutes ago."

His voice is smug and dirty. "But now? Now you're screaming for it." He says shifting his body a little, just his hands, one still rests at your waist while the other slips off your mouth and between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit with perfected ease. You gasp when he finds you, the slick sound of your wetness absurd in the quiet of the room.

He presses his thumb just right and you jolt, the sudden pressure driving you dangerously closer to the edge. Your hips start to stutter, rhythm completely lost, but he picks it up for you—gripping your waist and moving you with a strength you'd forgotten he liked to flex. The next thrust is deeper, more brutal, and your head tips back with a cry, body arching into his. "J—ay! Ngh—Y—yes! There! There!"

Jay doesn't let up at all. "You're babbling now," he says, voice like velvet and venom. "What, you getting stupid for me already?"

You try to respond but your mouth won't cooperate, nothing comes out but a broken whine. Your limbs are trembling, your head swimming. He can feel it in the way you're squeezing around him, right on the brink.

Then he leans forward, mouth at your ear, voice a low rasp, "Do it again."

Your whole body slows to the stiff point. You know exactly what he means, exactly what it means and panic flares across your face, just for a second. Then his hand is on your throat, but not to choke you, just guiding you and pressing you gently back down onto the bed. Your back hits the sheets, chest heaving and Jay climbs over you, slow and deliberate, gaze fixed on yours.

You don't have to say a word. He sees the desperate, delirious relief in your eyes now that he’s on top. The smirk that spreads across his face is so mean and satisfied.

"There she is," he whispers, brushing your hair back with mock affection. "Right where you belong."

Then he moves inside you again, and your world splits open. The new angle is different and it’s letting his cock brush something achingly good inside you.

Your mouth opens, forming a silent no, but it's already happening, he's coaxing it out of you with the same rough rhythm, the same maddening meticulousness.

Your body starts to stiffen again as the pressure boils over, and just as you start to panic more. "Relax," he breathes. "Let it happen."

"I said do it again."

Your thighs quake. The wet slap of skin, the slick mess between your bodies—it's so overwhelming, so humiliating, and so perfect.

You choke on a gasp as your orgasm crashes down, blinding and involuntary, and then it happens. You feel it. The heat, the release, the wet flood you tried to hold back.

Jay's eyes light up, fucking triumphant. "Look at the mess you made," he says low, like he's proud of you and taunting you all at once. His hand glides down, wet with you, lifting his soaked fingers to your mouth. "Open."

You do. Of course you do.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, and you suck them obediently, tongue swirling slow even as your chest still heaves from the aftershocks. His eyes darken.

"You like it nasty, don't you?" he mumbles, pulling his hand away with a wet pop, dragging your jaw open with his thumb. "So fucking easy."

He shifts then, the weight of him pressing your legs wider as he strokes himself once, twice, and not gently. He's so hard and even almost angry with it, and it makes you realize he's been holding back, waiting for you to cum first.

He leans forward, teeth at your jaw, whispering, "You want to be used, right? That's what Heeseung doesn't get. You don't need love. You need to be ruined."

Then he pushes deep in again, faster and meaner.

You scream a loud sound you really try to swallow but it comes out anyway.

He doesn't hold back this time, his pace is rougher now, desperate, driven by something darker. He holds your leg up over his shoulder, trying to mark his name into the deepest part of you.

"Fuck," he grits, breath coming hot against your throat. "You're still so wet—squeezing me like you want me to finish inside."

You can't seem to form any sensible thoughts so you just grip his shoulders like a lifeline, head rolling back, another moan choking in your throat.

"Still so tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his temple, his thumb dragging across your spit-slick mouth. "Still...fuck—still letting him fuck you like you're not already mine."

You sob when he shifts your legs higher, deeper now, hitting that spot that makes you claw at the sheets.

"Jay—" it's all you can manage, too far gone to stop him but too full of him to breathe. But it’s not like he's even listening. Not really. He's watching the way you fall apart, as if he's memorizing the proof that he can still undo you this thoroughly.

His hips pulse, the rhythm of them breaking down—he's close. You feel the way his breath goes jagged, the way his arms start to tremble, how his teeth dig into the underside of your jaw before he groans right there, like he's in pain.

"I'm gonna cum," he grits, voice tight. "You want it, don't you?"

You nod frantically, already crying from the sheer overstimulation. He's everywhere—his scent, his voice, the weight of him fucking you into the mattress.

"Say it."

You try, you do really try. "Want it—want you to cum—inside, please, Jay, please—"

And that's what does it for him. He buries his cock inside you to the hilt with a broken sound, hips grinding into you as he cums hard, long and deep, filling you with thick ropes of his cum until you swear you can feel it pooling inside. His whole body jerks, muscles clenching, breath catching at the base of his throat. He stays like that for a long moment, frozen over you, forehead pressed to yours, both of you slick with sweat and sex and something even heavier.

He props himself up on his hands to look down at you when both your breathing slows, but he still doesn’t pull out. He just stares down at you, still inside, his hand sliding up your ribs until it's cradling your jaw.

"Next time you go back to him..." His thumb strokes over your bottom lip. "I'm done with you."

"And if you do...you better make sure I don’t find out."

His voice isn't even loud but it's steady and enough to make your stomach drop. He ignores the look on your face and shifts your panties back in place then gets off you.

Sometime between the kisses he peppered all over your face, the threat and the uber he'd ordered you, Jay had helped you get dressed again, his touch cool and careful, not speaking as he smoothed your hair down and tucked your phone back into your hand like a peace offering.

You're curled up on your bed, thumb hovering over the keyboard of your phone, the half-typed message to Heeseung glowing like a bruise.

you: ok fine. you win. when?

You stare at it too long, not because you're hesitant but because you know you should be. True to your word and your promise to Jay you had deleted Heeseung's number but you hadn't blocked it, and what use was that when you had it memorized.

Jay had looked you in the eye not even an hour ago and basically told you to choose between them. And maybe you'd meant to take it seriously. Maybe.

But then the soft thud against the glass pane of your window that has you blinking and turning you head—changes everything.

And there he is, changing everything. Heeseung.

Climbing through your window like it he would when you first started dating, but it's not with a smile and an embarrassed chuckle like those days, it's with a frown.

He's mad.

You can tell from the second his feet hit your floor, his jaw locked tight, his eyes raking over you with that specific brand of fury only Heeseung has, that’s quiet and cold, but mean under the surface.

His gaze drops to your legs tucked beneath you on the bed, your wrinkled tank, your flushed skin, and something shifts in his expression—tighter, darker.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer my text?" he says, voice low but sharp enough to cut.

You swallow hard. Your phone's still in your hand, the screen glowing with the message you never sent. He sees it.

"I was gonna—"

"Yeah?" He takes a step closer. "You were gonna what?"

You flinch at the heat between your legs cooling too slowly, the sticky ache of Jay still clinging to you. You didn't even shower or change, the drop in serotonin you experienced after leaving Jay's house left you in a rut.

And now Heeseung's standing here, inches away, breathing the same air as you.

He stops beside your bed, looking down at you, and you can't seem to meet his eyes.

Your shame feels loud, you're even scared he can probably smell it on you.

All your fears are validated when he grabs you by the ankle, one strong hand curling around and dragging you down the bed like a ragdoll. You gasp, your phone slipping from your grip as your back hits the mattress edge.

"Don't ignore me," he mutters, but it's distracted now. His hands are already on your thighs, pushing your skirt up. You squirm, legs instinctively snapping shut, but he doesn't allow that, never does. He spreads you open with one rough motion, ready to scold you, tease you, touch you but then he looks between your legs and his hands stop moving.

Your panties are soaked. Still a little askew. You hadn't fixed them right. Hadn't bothered.

You watch his face twist in real time—brows pinching, mouth parting slightly, like he can't seem to believe what he's seeing.

"What the fuck?" he says, low, breathless. "Did you let someone else fuck you?"

Your stomach flips violently. You try to sit up, to cover yourself, to explain, to say something but he grips your inner thigh tighter, forcing you to stay open.

His voice is flat now. "Who was it?"

He blinks at your silence.

And then, without even looking at you, just staring down at the complete mess between your legs, he lets out a laugh. It's not loud, it's not even mean at first, it's actually almost like he's stunned.

"So you're a little slut now, huh?" he whispers.

The word hits you like a punch to the stomach. Your chest caves in a little. Not because of what he said, but because he said it. Heeseung—who's never called you that. Who's always had this unspoken softness for you, even when he was being cruel. Even when he was distant or cold or high out of his mind, he'd never call you out of your name.

"You don't get to say that," you whisper, voice shaking. "We're not even—" You break off, choking on the heat rising in your throat. "We're not together anymore."

"Right," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "You just keep my name in your phone. Keep my number on speed dial. Let me fuck you whenever I want. But now suddenly I don't even get to ask?"

"You don't," you snap. Your hands slam into his chest, weakly at first then harder the second time. "Get out. Get the fuck out, Heeseung."

He doesn't budge.

You push him again, as hard as you can, trying to guide him toward the window he so casually crawled through as if things were normal between you two. "You can't just show up here and—and check my fucking underwear—"

That makes him grin. A slow, infuriating grin.

You hate him.

You want to cry.

"You're really throwing a tantrum right now?" he says coolly, dodging your push like it's child's play. He catches both your wrists with one hand, effortlessly holding them in place. "What happened to that little whimpering mess I had in my lap last weekend?"

"Fuck you," you spit, writhing in his grip, breath catching. "You don't get to shame me and then act like you care!"

He just shrugs. "Didn't say I cared."

Then his grip tightens just enough to make you stop squirming. "But I'm not leaving either."

He walks right past you like you're not even standing there, like the argument didn't just happen. He moves with lazy arrogance—shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets.

You watch, stunned, as he sinks down into your bed, like he's done it a hundred times before. Which in his defense, he has.

He reaches over to your nightstand and picks up your phone. Just grabs it, thumbing through your screen, looking for God knows what, maybe the name of the person he's so sure you fucked earlier.

Your throat is too tight. Your fists clench by your sides, but he doesn't even glance at you, he's sat there, scrolling through your phone and the silence starts to ache.

Then he looks up.

Expression calmer now. "Go shower." He says with a flat and final tone.

You don't move, the twist in your stomach and the ache in your chest from the shame blooming there makes it hard to move. The worst part is that you don't even know if it's from what he said, or the fact that a part of you wants to listen.

"Now," he adds, eyes flicking back down to your phone.

Like you're just some mess he needs to clean up. You do as you're told—of course you do because Heeseung said so.

Your bathroom light is too bright, too exposing. You scrub harder than you need to, the soap scalding your skin as the shame now settles thick in your chest. You clean yourself like you're trying to erase something. Like you can.

What if Jay calls? What if Heeseung picks up?

Your mind races as you step back into the room, wrapped in a towel, your hair dripping, your skin flushed from the too-hot water. Heeseung looks up from where he's sprawled across your sheets and laughs, so casually amused.

"That supposed to impress me?" he asks, gesturing to the towel. "Like rinsing off some other dudes cum suddenly makes you clean?"

"Cute," he says, tilting his head. "You look nervous. Is it guilt or just performance?"

"Don't just stand there," he says after a beat, voice slow like syrup, sliding back into his usual apathy. "You think we're gonna cuddle or something?"

You shift uncomfortably, still frozen in place, clutching your towel.

He finally sits up, rolling his shoulders back, spreading his legs and patting the edge of the bed like he's calling a dog.

And somehow, stupidly, your body moves before your brain tells it not to.

You sit beside him, still shaking a little, heart hammering against the wet towel. You don't look at him, and you wish he couldn't see the panic painted all over your skin.

He doesn't touch you.

Just leans closer, nose grazing your ear, voice flat and low.

"I'm not gonna fuck you in the same hole you just gave another guy." He exhales a soft, sharp breath

You jolt, but his hand grips your waist tight enough to make you shut up and stay still. "You wanna make it up to me?" he says, voice so calm it cuts deeper. "Then get on all fours. Be useful for once."

"You know what I want."

The worst part is that you do know and you feel it breaking something open inside you—something ugly and raw and so, so tired.

But regardless of the tiredness, your body still moves.

Because that's what you've always done when it comes to Heeseung.

He shifts over you, his chest grazing your back, towel slipping as he cages you in. His mouth brushes your shoulder in a slow deliberate kiss, laced with the kind of false tenderness that makes your skin crawl. You shiver, more from the pressure than the heat of it.

Then he reaches around and pushes two fingers between your lips.

"Open up for me, angel face." he says, voice low and close to your ear and when you hesitate, his other hand presses down on your lower back, a clear warning. You part your lips, and he pushes the fingers deeper, right against your tongue. You nearly gag, your cheeks heating with sheer mortification. He doesn't move them until your saliva begins to pool around them.

"That's enough," he says, yanking them out and watching a strand of saliva cling between your lips and his fingers.

Without pause, he brings that spit slick hand behind you, reaching between your ass cheeks, spreading you open.

He coats his cock with the spit lazily, intentionally letting you feel every second of the slow glide of his fingers against you. You flinch when he teases the tight ring of muscle, his voice flattening into something amused.

"What?" he asks, tauntingly innocent. "You gave him your pussy. I'm just working with what's left."

You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking of how his cruelty has never sounded this casual.

"You should be grateful," he continues, positioning himself behind you. "Most guys wouldn't want you after that. But me?"

He chuckles.

"I'll still fuck you."

His hand comes up to your throat in a choke. A reminder, as his hips press in slowly, forcing your body to adjust. Your legs tremble, stretched awkwardly on your knees, hands digging into the mattress. You can barely breathe through the sting, and he hasn't even started moving yet.

"You look so pathetic right now." He says, feeling the way the walls of your asshole spasm around him as he pushes in deeper, hot and slick with your saliva and his precum. "Poor you, helpless and weak. You just take me whenever I show up, uhn?"

You squirm in pleasure at his words, nodding, repeatedly moaning words about being his slut and for him to give you his cock, completely forgetting about the promise you just made Jay—like a true whore.

"Yeah?" He taunts you, slipping one hand under you to your tit and pinching your nipple so hard you arch your back at it, arching into him as you feel the pain shoot all the way through you in pleasure. "You're only good for taking my cum, right angel face?"

A gasp rips from your throat when his nails bite down on your nipple again, the sting shooting straight through you. Waves of goosebumps ripple across your skin, relentless, and all you can do is nod harder, desperate to keep up. "Ah—Hee, oh my god!"

"Shhh, isn't your mum home? You want her to come in here and see me fucking your needy hole? See how much of a fucking slut her daughter is?" You shake your head violently but the drag of his cock against your walls and the slap of his balls against your cunt that's dripping onto the bed as you doing otherwise.

His thrusts stay unrelenting, each one a willful reminder that this is only about release, not some sort of reunion. He leans down, mouth beside your ear, the rasp of his breath harsher than the slap of skin against skin.

"This doesn’t mean we're getting back together?" His laugh is cold and cruel, hips snapping forward harder just to hear you gasp. "Keep dreaming. I'll fuck you, but I'll never get back together with you again."

You clench around him, feeling the shame, hurt and sheer pleasure all tangled, and he hisses, the smile in his voice turning near vicious.

"That's it—tighten up like you don’t believe me," he taunts, hand curling in your hair to keep your face buried in the pillow. "We're done, angel face. You're just a convenient hole I'll use when I'm bored."

He punctuates every word with another sharp thrust, voice dropping even lower. "So stop pretending, stop hoping—because when I pull out, I'm gonna walk away, and you'll still be nothing but leftovers in another guy's bed."

You’re nearly in tears at his words, feeling it pooling on your lash line. You’re starting regret breaking your promise to Jay or for not standing your ground and pushing Heeseung out of your window. "Hee—Heeseung, please."

In one swift motion he pulls out and drags you to the edge of the bed and onto your back, pushing in again, completely ignoring your pleas. "Oh fuck! Shit’s so fucking tight—You let him fuck you here?"

"No! N—Never!" your response has him fucking forward faster, pinning your knees to your shoulders as he fucks deeper and rubs his fingers all over your clenching pussy. "You gonna squirt for me like a good girl?"

The sounds your pussy is making are messy and obscene, and when he hooks two fingers inside your pussy and curls them up? You don't stand a chance in the world, you cum hard, body spasming violently as the liquid shoots out of your cunt and sprays his chest and stomach, he laughs at the sight, "Yeahhh, there we go."

It drives him on towards his own orgasm. He thrusts faster and harder, pushing your legs into your chest harder, so hard that all you can do is bask in the pain. Your ass is burning deliciously, your pussy is hot, and your clit swollen as he finally groans and spills inside you. Hot strings of his cum filling your ass, making you keen and moan at the delicious feeling.

His skin is slick against yours as he falls over you, caging you in with your sweat cooling in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You lie tangled together on the rumpled sheets, the aftermath of your stormy reunion thrums through every nerve of your body. His breathing comes out in ragged gasps as he shifts, body weighted onto you.

His hand drifts across your waist, the pads of his fingers rough where he's still too worked up. He leans in, voice clipped on your neck, every word laced with that familiar sting, "Don't get soft on me now, angel face. I'm not your boyfriend again."

Your heart thumps at the barb because you want him to be. But instead you force the usual shrug, feigning like you don’t care and wincing at the ache between your legs.

"Yeah," you whisper, a little out of breath. "I know."

He presses closer, chest against your spine, and you feel the heat of his body like something too close to a claim for someone who just outwardly said he doesn’t want to be with you again.

"Good," he mutters through a sharp exhale. "Then you know I'm sleeping here. Don't bother moving."

You don't argue, not because you don’t see the need but because you’re far too exhausted and you know damn well he won’t listen to you anyway. You're too used to his cold commands and your quiet yielding, so you let him pull you tighter, you let his arm settle across your ribs.

No kisses or soft words or aftercare, at least Jay had tried to make you look more presentable—smoothing out your skirt and trying to tame your here it’s just the steady thump of Heeseung’s heartbeat against your back and the whir of the street outside your house.

You close your eyes, mind drifting instead to Jay as you try to ignore the not so soothing circles Heeseung’s thumb is rubbing into your stomach.

He'll kill me, you think, eyelids heavy. He said he'd be done if he finds out, he actually said to make sure he doesn’t find out. The worry threads through you, sharp and anxious, but sleep drags you under before you can chase it down.

And for a moment, you're caught between their worlds—Heeseung's cold possession holding you in the dark, and Jay's promise of finality echoing in your head as you drift off.

You wake up to the sound of someone exhaling sharply through their nose, it’s not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. But it's enough to pull you from the tangle of sleep, your limbs feel heavy and your skin is too warm beneath the sheets. Your body aches, but not sore in the good way, this is in the used up and exhausted way.

There's a dull throb between your legs and the rawness in your throat reminds you that you cried hard last night. For a second, you don't even remember where you are, but then you shift, and the bare skin against yours moves with you.

Heeseung still asleep beside you, with his chest rising and falling steadily. One of his arms is draped across your waist. You're completely naked with sticky thighs and a dull ache between your ass cheeks. The air in your room feels wrung out and the smell of sex is clinging to the sheets.

That same breath comes again and you realize it’s not from Heeseung, so you blink your eyes open.

And Jay is standing above you.

Dressed in sweats and a white tee that clings to him like second skin. His face is stoic, eyes flicking between the shape of you under your blanket and the man lying beside you.

Your heart stops, it actually stops before crashing into a violent rhythm inside your chest.

"Wow," Jay says, voice calm in that terrifyingly low way. "Not even twenty-four hours."

You shoot upright, dragging the sheet over your chest, like it'll somehow undo everything or erase the guilt growing like mold in your throat, threatening to suffocate you. You feel exposed and nauseous, like you could throw up right there in the bed.

"Jay—" you start, voice cracking.

But he just lifts his hand, not even to silence you, just so incredibly dismissively. Like your words aren't even worth hearing.

"Your mum said you didn't eat dinner," he says after a beat, not even looking at you now. "That's why I came. She said she was headed out for the day. Thought I could check on you."

Your stomach sinks. Shame slams into you so fast you have to look away. You want to be so angry at your mother for thinking Jay is so responsible with you but you can’t because he is responsible, especially with you.

Heeseung starts to stir at the sound of voices around him. He blinks up at Jay, completely unbothered. "What the fuck—?"

You can't breathe, not to talk of move. You feel like a child about to be punished, or more like a criminal caught red handed, but worse than all that, you feel absolutely pathetic.

"Is this how you let random guys barge into your room now?" Heeseung grumbles, rubbing his eyes. He squints at Jay. "The fuck are you even doing here?"

You want to scream at him to shut up. You want to cry, as you watch Jay stare into your eyes.

Heeseung sits up slowly, scoffing under his breath. "Get the fuck out, dude."

Jay doesn't budge or even feign like he’s about to. No, instead he plants himself at the foot of the bed—arms crossed, back straight, that unnerving calm carved into every line of his face. His gaze stays glued to you, not even wavering when Heeseung pushes up onto an elbow, blanket slipping low across his hips.

"Get dressed," Jay says, voice quiet but completely resolute. He isn't loud, because remember? he doesn't ever have to be. The authority in his voice is always ice cold and precise.

You scramble at the sheets, fully dizzy with panic, shame and adrenaline. Your hands are shaking so badly you can't tell if you're gripping cotton or fucking air.

Heeseung scoffs, a bark of incredulous laughter. "Who the fuck are you to tell her what to do?"

Jay doesn't still spare him a glance. He just extends a lazy hand toward your dresser. "Clothes. Now."

Heeseung's eyes narrow, confusion dawning into something uglier. "Wait." He sits all the way up, raking his gaze over Jay's face, then yours. "Hold on. Is this—" He points between the two of you, lips curling. "You? You're the guy who fucked her?"

You fathom speaking now, even though he truth is screaming inside your skull, your throat feels cemented shut.

Heeseung lets out another humorless laugh. "Wow. Your so called best friend, huh?" He looks you over, disgust edging his tone.  "You'll really spread your legs for just anyone, won't you?"

The words punch a hole straight through your chest, it has your vision blurring, but you still slide from the bed, clutching the sheet to the front of your body—the ache between your ribs way louder than the ache between your legs.

Jay's jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise to the bait of Heeseung referring to him as just anyone. He still doesn’t look at him. Rather, he turns slightly, exposing his profile to you, creating a corridor of privacy in the room that somehow excludes Heeseung entirely.

"Drawer," he says softly. "I'm counting to ten."

The absurdity of it almost makes you laugh—or sob. You stumble to your dresser, jerk it open, and pull the first t-shirt you find over your head. Your fingers fumble with a pair of panties. You feel Heeseung's stare on your back, burning with hate and disbelief.

Jay murmurs, "Eight...nine—"

You wrench the panties up just as he reaches ten, heart jack-hammering in your throat. Then you stand there, arms wrapped around yourself, sheet puddled at your feet like evidence.

Finally Jay shifts his gaze to Heeseung—slow and intentional with his eyes flat and glacier cold. "Out," he says. One syllable and absolutely nothing more.

Heeseung brims with tension, rising from the bed. "Fucking make me."

The air in your room turns heavy, electric, charged with something darker than anger. You tug the oversized shirt lower on your thighs, cheeks burning, pulse rabbiting beneath your skin. You should tell one of them to leave, you should scream, you should do something. Instead you stand there uselessly with a pounding heart and a twisted gut while the two men who know your body like a map stare each other down over the wreckage of your sheets.

Jay breaks the silence first, voice low. "You promised."

Heeseung lets out a dry laugh, eyes flicking to you, then back. "And? She promised me once too. Didn't stop her moaning my name last night while I fucked her ass."

Your breath catches so hard you think you might faint. You taste shame, guilt and it’s something sour that turns strangely sweet when both their gazes snap to you at the same time, like you're the prize in a game neither of them intends to lose.

"You proud of that?" Jay asks, still calm, but you hear the steel under the words.

Heeseung's smirk widens. "Looks like she is," he says, nodding at the way your knees knock together, the way your fingers twist in the hem of the shirt that ridiculously smells like Jay's detergent and Heeseung's sweat. "Little thing's shaking."

Your stomach flips with equal parts dread and a perverse thrill. Yesterday's memories flash hard behind your eyes, both of them inside your head, under your skin. You know you'll never be able to choose. Because part of you likes this, you like their attention crashing over you from both sides, two tidal waves colliding with you caught in the undertow.

Jay steps closer, toying with your phone in his palm. "Show him you can fucking follow instructions." he says quietly, gaze never leaving Heeseung.

The command sinks into your bones, all too familiar and unraveling. Your lips part but you don't even know what you're about to say or do. But then Heeseung's hand snakes out, catching your wrist and pulling you toward him instead.

"She listens to me just fine," Heeseung declares, fingers sliding to your chin, forcing your head back so you're looking up at him. "Don't you, angel face?"

You swallow, throat tight. A tiny sound, half-whimper, half-yes escapes your lips.

Jay's eyes are blazing when Heeseung shifts you to have your back against his chest. His hand traces a slow, infuriatingly confident line down your stomach, and you flinch at the intimacy of it. You don't even have time to move before Heeseung's mouth is right beside your ear, dragging a lazy kiss against your neck, possessive and smug.

Jay doesn't say anything, but his eyes darken, you see it and so does Heeseung.

"Seriously?" Jay finally mutters, voice low, somewhere between daze and something shockingly hungrier. "You're letting him touch you like that, right in front of me?"

Heeseung just laughs, warm breath skating over your shoulder as his hand slips lower, palming your pussy like he has every right to. "You can't look away though, can you?" he says, eyes fixed on Jay now, goading. "What's the matter? Didn't get enough yesterday?"

Jay's fists curl at his sides but he doesn't move, the tension radiating off of him is palpable. His stare drops to where Heeseung's hand is inside your panties you put on, groping like he's testing ownership.

"You're disgusting," Jay snaps, but his voice is thinner now, less conviction. His gaze is low and lingering.

Heeseung hums. "And you're hard."

That hits Jay like a gunshot and he freezes, nostrils flaring because he is hard.

Heeseung turns his attention back to you, smirking a little. His fingers slip between the folds of your pussy, finding your clit and you whimper, head dropping forward into your hands, embarrassed, but not enough to tell him stop, or enough to make them leave.

"Don't pretend this isn't what she wants," Heeseung says, dragging his lips along your neck. "She's been taking both of us, hasn't she? Plus I don’t really care about her, she just lets me do things other girls don’t."

Jay doesn't answer, but he does step closer. Close enough to see everything and close enough that your skin burns from the weight of both their attention.

"You gonna join me?" Heeseung asks him, too cocky now. "Or you gonna watch with your dick in your hand like a fucking cuck?"

Jay looks at you and the way his eyes soften is the only warning you get before he grabs your chin and kisses you, rough and unrelenting. Now you know neither of them are leaving at least not until one of them wins or they break you.

Heeseung's grip on your waist tightens, but his gaze is all on Jay now, trying to stand behind you like he's bored, like he's not fully hard from just watching Jay kiss you. He lets out a slow exhale, smirking a little as he confesses something that seems to not matter to him anymore.

"You know," he starts lazily, still watching as your tongue collides with Jay’s, "when I was with her...back then? You used to piss me off. Thought you were some kind of threat."

Jay pulls his mouth from yours. "Shut the fuck up."

"But looking at you now..." Heeseung tilts his head, continuing and dragging his eyes lower in a way that makes the air shift. "I don't think I wanna fight you anymore."

There's a beat of silence, something electric buzzing underneath it. You blink, unsure if you heard him right.

"I kinda wanna fuck you instead," he adds plainly.

Jay's lips part slightly, brows drawn in confusion that's quickly swallowed anger or curiosity, you can't truly tell.

Heeseung laughs at Jay’s reaction and then leans in closer to you, resting his chin lazily on your shoulder, eyes still on Jay. His tone drops. "Bet you taste good too," he says, like it's nothing, like he's not teasing the both of you. "Wouldn't mind finding out."

You tense between them, pulse thudding, because you see how this is power, pride...and a pull between them that neither of them wants to admit but both of them feel.

"Fuck off," Jay mutters, but his voice is hoarse now. "That’s not fucking happening."

Heeseung grins, victorious, and kisses your neck again, but slower this time cause he knows Jay is watching.

Heeseung's palm slides possessively over your stomach again while his mouth works a heated trail up your throat—never taking his eyes off Jay. Every flick of Heeseung's tongue feels like a dare thrown directly at the other man, and Jay's control is visibly eroding, his jaw flexed, chest rising faster, fists clenching as though he's deciding whether to shove Heeseung away or drag him closer.

"Getting worked up just watching?" Heeseung murmurs, lips brushing your earlobe, but the words are for Jay. He drags his hand lower across your thigh, slow enough to make you squirm. "Thought you were the one giving orders."

Jay's reply is a dark and unamused laugh. "Keep talking."

Heeseung does—whispers something filthy against your skin, hips nudging his hard clothed cock against your ass until you gasp and he continues to goad Jay.

"Tell me," Heeseung says, voice low as he noses along your jaw. "Is he a good kisser?" His question hums with challenge, and his fingers flex on your hip, reminding you how completely you're pinned between them.

Your pulse thunders. Shame and anticipation collide in your chest, and something reckless slips past your lips, something soft and breathy and meant only for him.

"Why don't you...find out?"

For a beat neither man moves. Jay's eyes flash in shock and something close to resentment, a flare of something hungry. Heeseung's grin spreads, slow and wicked. He leans past you, crowding closer until his breath mingles with Jay's.

The charged silence hangs, but then Jay closes the distance, grabbing the back of Heeseung's neck like he didn’t tell him a moment ago that it would never happen. Their mouths crash together, raw and forceful. You're caught between them, heat bouncing off their bodies, every muffled groan vibrating through your spine.

It's messy and competitive—Jay bites Heeseung's lip and Heeseung answers with a low growl, hand sliding boldly down Jay's side before circling back to squeeze your thigh. You feel the tremor that rolls through Jay at the touch, and pride twists with awe in your lower belly.

Heeseung's grip on your thigh loosens just long enough for him to shove you forward, away from the collision of their mouths. You stumble onto your knees beside the bed, watching as he turns fully to Jay, eyes blazing with hungry curiosity.

Heeseung presses his palm to Jay's chest, sliding it down over his ribs, fingertips tracing the line of his abs. Jay's breath draws sharp, caught off guard.

"Ever been with a guy before?" Heeseung's voice is soft, teasing, every word loaded.

Jay blinks at him. "No," he manages, tone rough.

Heeseung just laughs, soft and smug, thumb brushing over Jay's exposed skin. "That's alright. I'm honored to be your first..." He glances at you, eyes gleaming. "Just like I was hers."

Jay's jaw tics, but he doesn't move away. Heeseung steps in closer, chests brushing, heat rising in the thin space between them. His hand moves higher, curling around the back of Jay's neck, pulling him in again. And this time the kiss is filthier, open-mouthed with teeth grazing and tongues sliding without hesitation.

You're breathless watching them. Jay's hand grips Heeseung's side, uncertain but firm causing the other to groan into his mouth, hands slipping lower to snake between both their bodies to palm Jay’s hardened cock over his sweats. Jay jerks, gasping into the kiss, hips twitching forward in shock.

"Fuck," Jay hisses, pulling back just enough to suck in air.

"Sensitive already?" Heeseung grins, licking his lips. "That's cute."

You press your thighs together, pulse pounding at the sight of them, Jay's cheeks are flushed, Heeseung's calmness is near predatory, and the sheer tension vibrating between the three of you. Your body still aches from the night before, but all you can think about is them.

Heeseung bites his lip, fingers curling tighter around Jay's waistband, tugging it down enough to expose the hardness beneath.

Jay shudders. Heeseung raises an eyebrow. "You hard for me already?" he murmurs. "Or is it for her?"

Jay doesn't answer and it causes Heeseung to grin wider. "Guess it doesn't matter."

And then he spits into his hand, slow and deliberate, before wrapping it around Jay’s dick without breaking eye contact with him.

You swear you feel your clit forming a heartbeat.

Jay takes a sharp inhale he tries desperately to stifle. This is new to him, but his chest tightens either way and his pulse hammers in his throat when Heeseung wraps his spit covered hand around his dick. Everything in Jay screams that he shouldn't want this, that Heeseung is the enemy, but beneath that war, a dark current of arousal is coiling.

Heeseung's fingers pump him slow and sure, eyes locked on his as if he willing him to break. Jay's lips part, and for a heartbeat, he almost moans but he clamps his jaw shut instead, head tilting back so only the curve of his throat shows, as heat floods his face.

His hands twitch at his sides, yearning to grip something, anything. He lifts one to knot in Heeseung's hair, not in anger, but instinct like a desperate plea for more and it makes Heeseung's grin flicker with victory.

Jay's vision darkens at the edges as the pleasure builds, electric and terrifyingly sweet. He fights for control, but his body betrays him when a low groan slips free, startling even him, one which has you trailing your hand between your legs to find some sort of relief.

Heeseung doesn't even glance your way but his voice slices through the thick air like a whip, "Touch yourself and neither of us lay a hand on you."

Your fingers freeze, inches from your cunt, the sight before you too overwhelming, their bodies are close, with tension humming like live wire, and you’re drowning in it, arousal clouding everything else.

A pit of embarrassment forms in your chest. You slowly lower your hand back to the ground with your heart racing.

Jay looks you too now with a dark gaze, you notice his chest rising and falling hard like he's on the edge of saying something—but doesn't.

Heeseung's pace stroking Jay's cock quickens, it turns somewhat relentless, he has one hand still steady at Jay's hip while the other pumps him with confidence. Jay's eyes flutter shut as the pressure builds, you know that look.

"You like that, don't you?" Heeseung says, voice laced with amusement.

Jay's fingers cling to Heeseung's shoulders, body trembling under the rising tension of his orgasm. You watch, breath caught as Heeseung leans in close, lips brushing Jay's ear.

"Look at you—so proud you could handle her, and yet here you are, helpless for me." His thumb presses in right over the phallic tip of him, dragging a trembling, lewd pulse through Jay's cock. It makes Jay's hand jerk, scrabbling at Heeseung's wrist, helpless.

Heeseung smiles knowingly against Jay's skin—slow, knowing. "No hiding," he teases, brushing fingertips over Jay's lower lip until Jay parts them, letting Heeseung trace the wet line. "You don't sound like the tough guy you pretend to be."

You watch Jay try to swallow, try to form a retort, but his voice is gone, it's replaced by a soft, whimpering moan that vibrates through his whole body.

"Go on," Heeseung says. "Let me see what you look like when you cum.”

Jay's head falls back, neck bare, throat exposed. And then it happens, a trembling exhalation, guttural and urgent, as Jay's body shudders and clenches. You see the flush spread across his cheeks, you hear the wet heat of Jay's cum slicking across Heeseung's palm.

Heeseung strokes him through it with a steady hand, letting Jay's orgasm roll through him until the final shudder. Then he slowly withdraws his hand, setting Jay's spent cock free to twitch in the cool air. He watches Jay's chest heave, eyes still closed, mouth parted.

For a heartbeat, there's only the sound of Jay's ragged breathing, then Heeseung's gaze flicks downward, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he notices Jay still hard, flushed and ready like he hadn't just come undone seconds ago.

"Well, shit," he drawls, low and smug. "Didn't think you had stamina like that."

Jay doesn't respond at first, he just eyes Heeseung up and down, standing firm, his chest heaving with barely restrained unease. But there's a flicker in his eyes of something darker, especially when Heeseung keeps looking at him like that, like he's impressed and still in control all at once.

Heeseung's grins because he doesn't miss the look Jay gives him. He leans in a little, "I wanna know, Jay. You ever fucked her ass?"

That hits. Jay's head snaps toward you, and there's a twitch in his lip, his whole body tensing like he's about to swing, but it's not from shame or shock but something possessive and territorial, and it makes his tone is clipped and bitter when he replies, "No. I haven't."

Heeseung hums in jest, clearly savoring it, but then Jay steps in, crowding his space more with a tight jaw. "You think that makes you better than me?" he mutters, eyes narrowing. "You think that means you get to take what's mine?"

Heeseung raises a brow, not backing down. "You really think she's yours right now?" he says, voice velvet-smooth. "She let me in first. And look at you..." He chuckles as his gaze drops again. "Still acting like you've got any say."

But instead of escalating, Heeseung steps back a bit. A surprising glint of generosity or maybe twisted mischief shines in his eyes. He turns to you, then grabs your wrist, dragging you of the ground effortlessly toward him.

"Come here, angel face," he says, already sitting back on the sheets.

You shake as he guides you to straddle him, already pushing your panties down your thighs.

Jay's confusion flashes at the sight, followed quickly by understanding. His eyes drag across your body as you're pulled onto his lap. The way you're still pliant, already slick, flushed from everything that just happened. You settle over him like instinct, thighs shaking.

Heeseung lays against the bed with his hands spread on your ass, satisfied. "Go on," he tells Jay, like he's giving him a gift. "Or you don't wanna fuck her ass?"

Jay doesn't speak, he just gets on the bed behind you and grabs your hips roughly, eyes never leaving Heeseung's. The tension between them is tangible now, some primal challenge in the air and you're caught right in the center of it—torn and dizzy with it, as Jay pushes you down onto him, every inch of him searing and full of purpose. And all the while, Heeseung just watches cause he likes what he sees.

The sheets are cool under your knees as Jay's hands splay around your ass, guiding you to angle back against him. Every breath from you seems too loud in the sudden hush of your room, it's just the faint creak of the mattress and the muted hum of morning outside your window. Jay's hands are warm against your spine, his skin damp where he's still riding the edge of anger and desire.

Heeseung lounges at the head of the bed and under you, propped against the pillows, dark eyes tracking every twitch in your body and every flicker of tension across Jay's jaw. You're hyperaware of his presence—how his gaze sears like a brand, claiming you even as Jay'sce fingers spread across your waist in their own possessive pattern.

You're pinned between them—straddling Heeseung's lap as Jay lines his spit and cum covered dick up with your clenching hole. Heeseung's hands grip your hips too, trying to keep you in play for Jay, his thumbs digging into the flesh of your ass, forcing you back hard on Jay's cock behind you. You moan out something incoherent, "Oh—! W—Wait! Nggh."

Heeseung's voice is a rasp at your ear with something wicked and out of breath, "Look at you—between two men like some cheap toy." He adjusts himself under you, pulling out his cock from his boxers and gently lining it up with your pussy. "Oh my god! Heeseung wait!"

You gasp, heat roaring through your core as Jay picks up a steady pace of fucking his cock into you and Heeseung pushes his up into your sopping cunt, each stroke makes you push back Jay, the feeling of both of them in your holes has you digging your nails digging into Heeseung's shoulders.

Heeseung chuckles darkly. "You like that, don't you? Two big dicks fucking you?" His grin is jagged, but you can't even look at it for too long because the fullness is so intense you have to close your eyes. "So good! So good!"

Jay's hand finds yours on Heeseung's shoulder, gripping tight, his is palm hot on yours. He doesn't say anything, but you feel the strain in his muscles as he drives his cock into you harder and faster.

Heeseung leans upward, kissing you quickly before shoving his fingers into your mouth. "Ngh! Oh! Goddamit! I can feel your dick through her." He takes his fingers from your mouth and uses the same ones to rub your clit in harsh circles.

"Too much! Heeseung! Jay!"

"Sloppy little thing," he snarls. "But Jay'll fix that, huh?" He fucks up into you with renewed determination, the pressure of your orgasm building inside you in a jagged, desperate wave.

Tears sting your eyes as Jay's grunts fill the room. "Hole's so tight—My God."

"She ever squirt for you before?" Heeseung asks Jay, pace never failing, "Yeah," Jay groans, his eyes screwing shut and his head lolling back.

Heeseung laughs. "Yeah? Think you can go faster?"

You hear Jay grumble in agreement as his pace picks up along with Heeseung's and they both brush something delicious inside your two holes. The stretch is impossibly overwhelming, it has you drooling right onto Heeseung's chest.

You're right at the edge of losing control and you know they are too, every nerve ending in your body erupts into a blazing white-hot spark. You can feel the relentless fullness of Heeseung thrusting into your pussy and the deep burn of Jay pushing into your asshole like two currents of pressure that clash inside you, building into one ridiculously impossible wave.

"I'm gonna cum! Hee!—Jay! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!"

In that instant, your vision blurs at the edges, your breath catches in jagged gasps, and your holes clench down around them both. Your hands slam into the headboard as a rush of heat floods outward from your cunt, simultaneously constricting and exploding, like every drop of blood in your veins has turned to molten fire. "Yes yes yes! Use me! Use me!"

Your whole body convulses with Jay's name on your lips, need shooting through every nerve until Heeseung's words pull you back from the edge. "Fuck, that's right—Ugh."

A strangled moan tears from your throat, your back arches, and your toes curl as the wave crests. You're suspended between fierce ache and a blissful orgasm, every inch of you humming with overload.

Time fractures and each of your heartbeats thump in your ears as your orgasm rolls through you again and again with thick surges of bliss that crackle with humiliation and joy all at once. Your vision swims with dizziness, you're so fucking elated and completely undone.

Behind you, Jay grunts grow louder, his own ripping orgasm from him in a raw exhale as he cums into your asshole, continuing to pump himself into you. His hips jerk with every pulse, driving you higher even as you cum. "Oh fuck me."

Beneath you, Heeseung's breath snarls in your neck, with a husky voice. "Cumming!"

You feel his cum spill inside your pussy, so warm and grounding, as his hands tighten on your hips and hold you in place.

You're suspended between them with Jay's and Heeseung's pleasure and yours intertwining in a moment of pure, overwhelming abandon. Your body trembles so hard you think you might shatter, tears slipping free as the last tremor fades.

You feel trapped in their storm of shame, lust, and fear. It has you dizzier and you start to drift, so close to passing out. Your limbs feel heavy and detached, as if you're watching someone else slumped between them. Their bodies surround you so steadily while the world outside your bedroom window carries on oblivious.

Heeseung's breath is soft against your neck, his hand still resting on your hip. Jay's steady weight behind you reminds you of every promise made and every threat whispered. But no one speaks and time thins.

All you can feel is the slow pulse of your heart, the faint sting of tears on your cheeks, and the relentless press of desire still humming through your veins.

Then, almost too quietly to hear, Heeseung shifts, voice against your skin but eyes on Jay.

"I wanna fuck you next."

➺ taglist: @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @inawonderfulworld @usuallyunlikelyfox @starry-eyed-bimbo @strayy-kidz @mheretoreadff @bloomiize @xoenhalover @mamuljji @rawwwre @gabrielinhaa @cherrieikeu @niyzu @ieatwon @rialikesbts @lunacrtk @dulcetnostalgia @bussolares @lovel1z @dearestdreamies @kristynaaah @rosepetals09 @c1eod1n3 @kiikiisblog @plumdove @pqrkjyx @tojiworshipper @loverseon

[manifestobackshot]

please feel free to send us inboxes of anything!! swift and i talk everyday and we like looking at and responding to our asks :)

[manifestobackshot]

i need to finish her ... its coming yall

[manifestobackshot]

not kidding we love tf out of this fic

[manifestobackshot]

babes listen,

corruption with 250621 Walk the Line Bangkok Lucifer 02z has been fogging my brain the whole day (つ╥﹏╥)つ (also, luv y'all<333 xoxoxoxo)

WE LOVE U TOO!!!

and oh my god don’t even get me started on corruption kink or religious sin, swift and i talk about this all the fucking time and our text conversations are plagued with the nastiest shit regarding it

so the first time we saw priest sunghoon on bad desire stage it sent us into a frenzy, so you can imagine how i felt when i woke up to missed calls and voicemails from swift about walk the line bangkok priest hoon. i literally almost threw my phone at the wall and drove into a ditch.

like you have no idea what box you just opened.

also, i don't wanna leave this rotting in my drafts so i'll leave you with this instead:

yes, i'm making it an actual work. pls be excited :))

[manifestobackshot]

Hi! Can we ask for a teaser for that sunghoon wip 😃😃😃

we're soooo sorry but ... it's gonna be over 100k so we're just gonna drop it part-by-part sometime in the next few months (no teaser for now </3)

[manifestobackshot]

who up pumping out 2.7k words in one sitting. yes i’m posting about it because i’m proud ok

[manifestobackshot]

sunghoon wip looking good!!!

[manifestobackshot]

we're working on a longform slow burn rn so we havent worked on anything shorter -- send us asks bc we still wanna post!!

[manifestobackshot]

can you tell we love sunghoon and we love slow burn

[manifestobackshot]

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 19.1k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, implied breeding kink, some girl on top action, jealous heeseung, work bestie sunoo, etl jungwon

AUTHORS NOTE: some possible useful terms... ETL: Executive Team Lead (manager) Team Member/TM: employee Zoning: organizing and making an area accessible to customers Tarbucks: Starbucks in target  Bullseye: the Target dog “What’s your 20?” : What’s your location/Where are you?

“Girl, fuck it. Put your pleasure first, it’s not that serious.”

“Didn’t you literally tell me, at orientation, to not mix business and pleasure?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, “Well, that was HR Sunoo speaking. When my apron’s on, I get real.” 

“Whatever, just give me my damn latte,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from Sunoo. 

“Grande caramel macchiato for… HR disaster?” 

“Oh my god, stop,” you rolled your eyes. “I haven’t even done anything worth a write-up—”

“Yet,” Sunoo interrupted, earning him a middle-finger as you walked away from Tarbucks.

You couldn’t help but find humor in the irony of Sunoo walking you through the ins-and-outs of Target from the corporate level all the way down to the unwritten rules during your orientation, just to now tell you to indulge in your desires. For the first week or so of your employment, there was a new horror story from “HR Sunoo” about Target drama prior to your time there. 

Retail’s number one rule, don’t fuck your coworkers. 

At some point, “HR Sunoo” stopped telling you old tales of hook-ups and dating. Maybe it was him spending more time in his cross-trained department as a Tarbucks barista, or maybe it was the way someone looked at you that made him annoy the shit out of you with questions, all along the lines of ‘got a work crush yet?’

You’d never guess that Sunoo worked in HR the way his eyes lit up the first time you said, “Well, there’s this guy,” a couple months into your specialty sales role. You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he interrupted, “which team member is it?” 

“Well about that…it’s Heeseung.”

“Girl. You know you can’t do that, he’s a team lead.”

…Retail’s second rule, don’t fuck your manager. In your defense, he wasn’t your manager, he was just a manager. 

You were rarely around Heeseung at work, though. You spent most of your time running around in the clothing departments and in the backrooms. He spent his time in the front by the check lanes and guest services, usually having no reason to interact with you. 

It started with glances, continued with greetings, and escalated with conversation. It was hard to forget him when you passed by the front. At first, it was simply because he was attractive to you, just being the hot dude by checkout for some time. Then, you learned his name. You greeted him. He greeted you. You would find reasons to come to the front. He would stop by your section to make conversation. 

Before you knew it, Heeseung became the highlight of your shifts, and you’re sure other people noticed too. Sunoo certainly did. 

In the beginning, Sunoo would remind you of the rulebook—of what’s wrong and what’s right. But, as with most things, he gave in to the drama of it all. During your 15 minute breaks, during your lunches, during work, outside of work…he always wanted updates, and best believe, he was getting them.

To Heeseung, every gesture or interaction of yours was all for him. Thinking as much was what motivated him to actually give a shit after clocking in. 

At first, he tried to fight it—work is work, keep everything else in life separate from it. But, it bubbled and grew to a point where it was undeniable. Perhaps he was seeking a little more than cordiality, and why not play into it? It’s not like he was actually crossing any boundaries with you.

Unfortunately for him, other men were hoping for the same with you. The sleazeballs at the front would talk about you, ogling at the same things Heeseung did, only difference being they vocalized their thoughts.

Heeseung would internally roll his eyes every time a male team member would bring up your different hairstyles, the way you carried yourself on certain days, the way the denim of your jeans would hug your curves… they just didn’t get you the way he did. 

Yes, he had the same thoughts. Yes, he hated when they talked about you like that. 

Maybe it was delusion, maybe it was reality, but Heeseung would scoff whenever his front-end team members would swear up and down that you ‘looked at them a certain way,’ or that you ‘wanted them.’ In his head, you don’t do that with anyone except him. 

In particular, Jake was guilty of indulging a little too much in this coworker fantasy, and it pissed Heeseung off. 

“Nah she wants me,” Jake told Sunghoon, “she came into my checkout lane today before she clocked in. In that outfit? She does it on purpose—”

“Does what?” Heeseung chimed, cocking a brow at Jake. 

“Dress like that,” Jake breathed, “it’s fucking crazy. Not to be brash but, I’d hit.” 

Like what? he questioned, pondering for only a moment before you passed by, as if on cue.

Jake nudged Heeseung, “Like fuck, you get me right?” 

Heeseung outwardly rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was ogling at you, possibly even worse than Jake was. He knew that he was down bad because the mere implication of you dressing for Jake or anyone that wasn’t Heeseung raised his heart rate more than he’d like to admit. 

He completely drowned out Jake’s horny rambling as he replayed the vision of you walking by in his head. You like your tight tops, you like your cropped tops too, but never have you worn this shirt or anything like it. Heeseung knew he should write you up for a dress code violation, but that would mean you’d never wear that around him again. 

All day, he lingered around your section longer than usual, finding any excuse to make conversation, personal or professional. Every time you bent down to fix something or reached up to adjust items, Heeseung watched you like a hawk. Every sliver of skin he got to see made the pit in his core burn hotter. 

God, you had to have been doing it for him, right? 

You had to have known what that was doing for a man like him—the way you looked at him through your lashes, knowing he can see straight down your shirt at your cleavage, or the way you turned away to pick something up, or simply the way you looked at him. 

He hoped that all the effort you put into your looks was for him. The thought of such made him ache, desire bubbling beyond the point of simple fantasy and crossing over into the territory of taking action. Heeseung was not a stupid man, and he could see right through you.

Just like how you could see right through him. 

“Honestly,” Sunoo said during your last break, fiddling haphazardly with the milk steamer, “I think you could seduce him without even trying.”

You sipped your drink and stared at him. “Why is that the most dangerous thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“Because it’s true,” he said, swirling a straw in his pink drink. “You’re giving workplace eye candy realness, and he? He literally leaned on the service desk just to show off his arms.“

“He was probably just tired. I think that apron is tied so tight it’s cutting off blood flow to your brain.”

“He was definitely trying to look hot while staring at you near swimwear. It’s his thing.”

You groaned. “I’m not flirting back.”

You tried not to think about it too much—how close Heeseung stood when he asked how your shift was going, or how he said your name in a tone that made “What's your 20?” sound like an invitation.

It didn’t help that every time you walked past Guest Services, he looked up. Even when he was with a guest. Even when he was deep in conversation with a cashier or another TL. Like his eyes were always looking for you.

You chalked it up to coincidence.

Until he started showing up in your section.

The first time it happened, it was easy to rationalize.

“Just making rounds,” Heeseung said, casually glancing at the endcap you were resetting in Women’s Performance like he knew what any of it meant. “You need anything back here?”

You blinked. “You’re doing rounds... in Softlines?”

Heeseung smiled. “You’d be surprised what gets stolen back here.”

Sunoo walked by five minutes later, barely disguised glee on his face. “Oh wow,” he said loudly, “Front End is in Style? Should I call AP?”

Heeseung in the fitting room hallway. Heeseung casually grabbing a damaged tag off a floor fixture that wasn’t even in his department. Heeseung asking you about your  weekend availability like he hadn’t seen your schedule a hundred times.

You started noticing the way other people noticed, too.

Jake, mostly.

There was the time that Jake helped you stock the graphic tees, deliberately knocking piles of tees into your arms just so he could brush against you while “catching” them. His timing was too perfect, his movements too calculated to be accidental.

“Whoops.” he’d say, not even pretending to be sorry, fingers lingering on your waist a beat too long as he steadied the falling merchandise. The heat of his palm burned through your red shirt, and you found yourself leaning into the touch before catching yourself. You retaliated by “accidentally” sending a band tee sailing at his head. He caught it one-handed, winking. “Nice throw. But if you wanted me on my knees, you could’ve just asked. No need to knock me out.”

The flirting had become a dangerous game. Jake would find excuses to squeeze past you in the narrow stockroom aisles, his chest brushing your back as he reached for boxes on high shelves. “Excuse me,” he’d murmur, voice low and warm against your ear, staying pressed against you for just a second longer than necessary. You’d started timing your breaks to coincide with his, stealing moments by the loading dock where you could trade jokes and loaded glances without management breathing down your necks.

Then, there was that shift two weeks ago when you were both assigned to work the fitting rooms. Jake had cornered you by the return rack, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with that generic retail store scent of fabric softener and industrial carpet cleaner. 

“You know,” he’d said, fingertips trailing along the sleeve of your polo, “we could make these boring shifts a lot more interesting.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, and for one reckless moment, you’d almost said yes. Almost let him kiss you right there between the clearance racks and the abandoned shopping carts. But then you heard Heeseung’s voice echoing from the main floor, calling for a price check, and reality crashed back down.

Speaking of Jake—you groaned internally as he sidled up next to you, his nametag crooked.”Hey, did you see the new schedule? Heeseung cut me down to eight hours this week,” the grumbled, arms crossed. “Think he’s got it out for me?”

You remembered other moments, too. The way Jake’s laugh would get a little too loud when you were within earshot. How he’d started wearing that cologne that made your head spin during your shared shifts. The time he’d “helped” you reorganize the jewelry display, standing so close behind you that every movement made his chest brush against your shoulders.

Once, you caught him muttering to Sunoo by the lockers, voice pitched low but still audible: “She’s not even being subtle anymore.”

To which Sunoo, your ever-loyal work bestie, had replied with characteristic bluntness: “Heeseung’s the one who scheduled her closing shifts three nights in a row. She’s just clocking in.”

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him? 

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit. 

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

“HEESEUNG COME IN?”

He groaned as he stepped back from you and unclipped his walkie from his waistband.

“Go ahead.” 

“Can you please come to the parking lot? Blue Prius just tapped me at 5 to 10 miles per hour,” Sunghoon pleaded. 

“Copy,” Heeseung unenthusiastically responded, as he turned on his heels to head towards Sunghoon’s location. “I’ll be back.”

Dumbfounded, you just stood there, questioning what the hell just happened with Heeseung, your ETL. And fuck, you still have to close with him later.

“Are you the only one closing style?” Heeseung asked, speech muffled from the walkie.

“Think so,” you responded, “Jungwon’s here but he’s doing TL stuff in the office. He’s not gonna be in the sections it seems.” 

“You doing okay with that then? Need help with something?”

“Sure...”

“Copy, I’ll be right there.”

Truthfully, you were doing fine. You had more than enough time in the past few hours to close all the sections and do a good zone. For once, you wished that some group of rowdy teenagers or a pissed off Karen would come in and wreak havoc in a section. Just so you could potentially see Heeseung fixing it, getting all sweaty and frustrated while organizing.

…And as if Bullseye heard your nasty, internal wishes, Heeseung approached and spotted the world’s smallest, most insignificant section that anyone could attempt to fix. 

Instead of doing your job, you looked at Heeseung, his red polo looking too good under the dimmed lights. His top button was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint veins along his forearms. 

“Alright, all done,” he remarked, quickly continuing to walk the rest of Style. He stopped just inside the fitting room entrance, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Have you cleared these out?”

“Don’t think so,” you replied as you went to grab the fitting room keys from one of the hooks to unlock and inspect all the rooms. 

Heeseung started on the closer end of the fitting rooms, working way faster than you were. You worked from the last room to the standard ones. The difference in size made you realize how cramped the spaces were, hardly enough space for you to reach from end to end with your wingspan. You wished you hadn’t taken notes of the double mirrors, allowing you to see both your front and back, or the small bench in the corner, large enough to fit one—maybe two— people.

Your mind supplied images—him pressing you against one of those mirrors, his hands rough under your shirt, his mouth hot on your neck. The way he’d look at you, all dark eyes and bitten lips, as he—

“All clear,” Heeseung said, pulling you from your thoughts. He entered the fitting room you just opened and stepped into, the standard size fitting rooms, small… and now clear.

You blinked. The fitting rooms were clear.

But Heeseung hadn’t moved.

He stood there, watching you, the air between you thick enough to choke on.

In the enclosed space, you took in all of him, from his height down to the way he looked at you. It was like he was waiting on a question from you, his gaze unwavering. His lips slightly parted, as if to say something. 

Instead, he closed the gap between you two.

“God, can we just stop ignoring it?”

Heeseung shut the door of the fitting room behind him, admiring your form right in front of him and in all the reflections of the mirrors adjacent to the two of you. 

No words were exchanged, yet you felt the tension and ache in your body grow with him so close to you. Right in front of you. Just the two of you, distance closing in. 

The moment stretched, thick with tension, as Heeseung’s fingers trailed from your hand to your wrist, his thumb pressing lightly on your pulse point. You felt how fast your heart was racing and you knew he could too.

“Heeseung—” you started, but his name came out breathless, barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” his voice was rough, teasing, as he stepped even closer, backing you against the fitting room mirror. The glass is cold but his body in front of you is warm and solid. “You were saying?”

You swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t—”

“Probably not,” he agreed, but he didn’t move. Instead, his free hand came up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “But I’ve been thinking about this all shift.”

Somewhere beyond the fitting room door, the distant beep of a walkie interrupted— Jungwon’s voice, sharp with annoyance. “Has anyone seen Heeseung? I need him to open the safe—”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, voice barely audible. 

You didn’t.

The moment your lips met, the world outside the fitting room ceased to exist. Heeseung’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him as his mouth moved against yours with an aching hunger that only you could satisfy. Your Zebra clattered to the floor, forgotten, its screen illuminating the otherwise dark room.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a gasp from you that he swallowed greedily. “Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked in this morning”

The walkie on his hip sounded again— Jungwon’s irritated voice slicing through the haze. “HELLOOOO”

Heeseung wordlessly muted the walkie, his eyes never leaving you. 

Jungwon was definitely pissed, but you barely noticed, not when his hands were sliding under your red shirt, fingers skimming the bare skin at your waist. 

“You’ve never worn that before.” he said, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point. “I’d remember if you did.”

Breath hot on your neck, he whispered, “Or, the other guys would’ve told me. They want to eat you up so bad, you know that?”

His hips pressed forward, pinning you in place as his mouth found yours again, hotter this time, deeper. “And I listen to them talk about how fine you are, knowing I’m the only one that could,” looking at you straight in your eyes as he did so.

Heeseung didn’t even pause. Just shoved his hand down your pants, fingers slipping under your waistband with zero hesitation. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, dragging his thumb in a slow circle that made your knees buckle. “All this for me?”

His fingers pressed deeper, teasing, testing, and you bit your lip hard enough to taste copper. 

“I like watching you with guests,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “So fucking polite. So eager to please.” His thumb dragged slow over your clit, and you choked back a whimper. “You listen so well when they tell you what to do.” 

You gripped the wall behind you, knuckles white. “Heeseung—”

“Would you do that for me?” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, fingers working you with cruel precision. “Follow my orders like you do theirs?”

The risk of being caught should’ve stopped you.

It didn’t.

You arched into his touch, breath ragged. “Try me.”

He laughed, dark and satisfied, and finally sank two fingers into you. “Good girl.”

The air was thick with desire and something far more dangerous as Heeseung slowly withdrew his fingers from your pants. His eyes never left yours—dark, hungry, smug- as he brought them to his lips. 

The swipe of his tongue was deliberate. Obscene. A performance just for you.

“Sweet,” he murmured, licking the last trace of you from his skin. “Just like I knew you’d be.”

Your face burned, your body still reeling from his touch. You opened your mouth—to protest, to beg, you weren’t sure—when you heard something in the distance.

He didn’t move, just smirked, wiping his damp fingers on the edge of your new red shirt as if to mark his territory. 

Your phone buzzed violently in your pocket for the fifth time, the screen lighting up against your thigh as Heeseung’s teeth grazed your neck.

Sunoo  don’t make me come find you girl im hungry i gotta go home

You groaned, tipping your head back against the mirror. “Fuck. Sunoo’s gonna kill me-” 

Heeseung’s hand slid higher up your thigh as he nipped at your jaw. “Ignore him.”

Your phone buzzed again. 

Sunoo GIRL. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

The moment Sunoo’s voice cut through the fitting room—”Girl, I know you hear me. My phone’s about to die and I am not sleeping in this jank parking lot.” You jerked back, caught off guard.

Heeseung’s grip tightened on your hip for one delicious, dangerous second—not letting go—before he reluctantly released you with a low exhale through his nose. “Go,” he muttered, voice rough, “before he kills you… or both of us.”

You scrambled to straighten your shirt. Heeseung leaned back against the fitting room door, watching you with an amused expression as you desperately tried to look less destroyed.

Your car's engine wheezed as Sunoo slammed the passenger door. He shoved his third Tarbucks monstrosity—some unholy caramel-vanilla-cinnamon abomination—into the cupholder with enough force to shake your hanging air freshener.

“What took you so damn long?” Sunoo demanded, buckling his seatbelt with an aggressive yank.” I swear you better have a good reason ‘cause I gotta go home and watch White Lotus—”

“Heeseung.” You cut him off, gripping the wheel like it might save you from this conversation. 

“What.” Sunoo’s head swiveled toward you so fast that you could feel the migraine from your seat.

“So you interrupted something very important, actually,” you said, half-joking, half-serious.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Okay,” Sunoo’s voice dripped with faux solemnity as he leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “So you were fucking a team lead. As a team member cross-trained in HR, I’m obligated to—”

“You’re lucky I haven’t crashed this fuckass Toyota Camry yet,” you snapped, swerving around a pothole hard enough to make the loose change in the console rattle. 

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Did I make him rip it out of you or something? Not my fault. You should’ve fucked earlier in the day.”

“We were NOT fucking,”

“Okay good.” Sunoo held his hands up in mock surrender. “ I was gonna be HR Sunoo for a sec and consider writing you up.”

You groaned, thumping your head against the steering wheel. “I literally hate you. I’ll just stop taking you home the—”

“NO.” Sunoo’s composure shattered instantly. “ You know the last time I took the bus with Sunghoon, he dropped all his change coming in and the bus driver was so mad he didn’t use his brakes the entire ride.”

“Exactly,” you said, turning onto his street with deliberate slowness.” So keep this between us, copy?” 

Sunoo slumped back in his seat, stirring his drink. A long pause. Then, grudgingly:

“...Copy.”

The car rolled to a stop outside his apartment complex. Sunoo unbuckled his seatbelt with a dramatic sigh, then paused, one foot already out the door.

“...Was it at least good, though?”

You flipped him off as he exited.

The fluorescent lights of the employee entrance buzzed overhead as you pushed through the doors, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner and stale coffee hitting you all at once. It was unsettling how normal everything looked—how completely unchanged the world was after last night. The scuffed tile floor, the faint hum of the breakroom microwave, the way Riki, the security guy, nodded at you with the same bored expression he always had.

“Morning,” you said, flashing a quick smile.

Riki barely glanced up from his phone. “Hey.”

That was it. No knowing smirk, no raised eyebrows, no “So, heard you and Heeseung got real cozy in the fitting rooms last night.” Just another day.

You entered your number at the time clock, 

Your locker door stuck like always—you had to hip-check it twice before it finally groaned open. Inside: your work shoes, a half-empty water bottle, and a crumpled receipt from last week’s lunch. Nothing out of place. Nothing to suggest that less than 12 hours ago you’d been tangled up with Heeseung in the fitting rooms, Heeseung’s hands leaving marks you could still feel if you thought about it too hard.

You shoved your bag inside, trading it for a walkie. The static crackle of Jake’s voice came through—”Need backup in Guest Services, someone’s trying to do a no receipt return.” and you clipped it waist like you’d done a thousand times before. A quick glance in the mirror: hair messy, lips slightly swollen, the ghost of a bruise peeking out from under your collar. You tugged your shirt higher, ran a hand through your hair, and slapped your nametag on like armor.

Click. The locker shut.

And just like that, you were back. 

No one looked at you twice. No one knew.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the sales floor.

The world kept turning. 

On the way to check your assignments for the day, you pass by Starbucks, where you see Sunoo. 

So that’s where he was today. 

“Rough morning?” you asked, taking the lid off of your iced coffee to stir in more splenda than appropriate. 

Sunoo wiped his hands on his apron. “Jake tried to reorganize the pastry case by vibes. I made him fix it, but not before we lost two cake pops to the cause.”

You snorted. “At least it wasn’t—"

The door opened. Sunghoon stood framed in the doorway, his neon vest askew. 

“Parking lot incident,” he announced, dropping into the chair beside you.

Sunoo didn’t look up from the caramel macchiato he was arguably ruining. “Do I want details?”

“No.”

“But I will say there’s a very dented BMW out there and the guest is currently arguing with Jungwon about liability.” 

The walkie on your hip crackled before you could respond, Heeseung’s voice coming over the gravelly channel requesting you come to receiving. 

“Bruh,” you quipped, groaning before spinning on your heels to head towards receiving. 

Sunoo yelled, “Ou girl your coffee—” 

“Just give it to Sunghoon!”

Sunoo looked at the disheveled man in front of him, “you can grab it if you want…”

Sunghoon grinned,  reaching out for the drink and taking a sip. “Finally, one good thing today…I think this is what the BMW driver threw at me actually…”

“Oh, okay. Enjoy?”

The path to Receiving wasn’t long, but somehow it felt like a walk of shame. Every step echoed with yesterday’s incident,  the way Heeseung’s hands felt on your skin, the way he looked at you with such desire… And now he was summoning you to the back like it was nothing. 

It wasn’t.

You turned the corner by travel and there he was: clipboard in one hand, expression unreadable, pen tapping against his palm like he was trying not to tap it against his own forehead.

“You called?” you said, trying to sound neutral. Professional. Not like your heart was attempting to beat out of your chest.

Heeseung didn’t look up at first, shrouded in an air of arrogant nonchalance. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Inventory’s off. Again. Thought you might have seen something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?”

Heeseung finally glanced at you. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Do you want it to be?”

God, he was annoying. God, he was hot.

“Maybe don’t flirt in Receiving,” you replied, folding your arms. “You know. Cameras.”

“You think I’d flirt?” He set the clipboard down on the steel table between them and leaned forward just enough to make it unsafe. “I’m just coaching. You’re the one who keeps coming to my department.”

“I work style,” you said, deadpan. “It’s adjacent.”

“Mmm. So is HR.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Relax,” Heeseung said after a beat, quieter this time. “I just wanted to talk. You good?”

You hated how that got to you—the concern behind the smirk, the real question hidden underneath the teasing. you looked away, fiddling with a broken zipper on a boxcutter pouch.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

A beat.

Your breath caught.

“You should stop,” you said, a little too softly.

Heeseung leaned one hand on the table, voice lower now. “Do you want me to?”

You hesitated. Big mistake. He caught it immediately.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t say no—”

“But you didn’t say yes, either.”

Before you could come up with something clever, or at least coherent—the heavy roll-up door to Receiving groaned, and in walked Jay, wheeling a loaded U-boat stacked with overstock diapers and absolutely no patience.

He looked between the two of you. Once. Twice. Then raised a brow.

“Oh,” Jay said dryly, pulling out his box cutter. “Am I interrupting a highly professional inventory meeting, or…”

You immediately stepped back. “Nope. All business. We were just—”

“Discussing shrink,” Heeseung said, somehow already composed. “You know. Big shrink. Huge.”

Jay snorted and dropped the first box onto a pallet. “Right. That explains everything. Want me to log this as a ‘Team Connection Moment’ or head to HR now?”

“Jay,” Heeseung warned.

“I’m joking,” Jay said, slicing open the box with a smirk. “As long as you don’t make me write a witness statement. I have four pallets and zero help because Riki’s out there chasing someone with a shampoo bottle in their pants.”

“Again?” You asked.

“Again,” Jay confirmed, deadpan. “It’s like a weekly episode of America’s Next Top Shoplifter out there.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go check in with him in a second.”

Jay gave you both a long, meaningful look, then turned back to his pallet. “Try not to commit an HR violation on the way.”

As Jay left, Heeseung turned his attention back to you, not that it wavered much through this encounter. He lowered his voice, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. "Seriously, though. I need help in the cooler. Inventory’s off."

You scoffed. "Since when do you care about inventory counts?"

"Since the district manager’s coming tomorrow, and apparently, we’re missing three cases of almond milk." He shrugged, but his eyes were alight with mischief. "Thought you might wanna help me look."

“Fine,” rolling your eyes, “I better get a raise for this.”

Heeseung scoffed, turning to head towards the refrigerated stockroom, “For what? Doing your job?”

“Technically, this isn’t in my job description. No where on my contract did it say ‘check inventory for another department with your team lead’ or—”

“Executive team lead.”

You groaned, opening the refrigerated backroom door with more force than necessary. Upon entering, you turned to look at Heeseung, whose back was against the door, clipboard now sitting atop a random empty rack. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” 

He smirked. “You like it though.” 

You hesitated.

HR Sunoo’s voice echoed in your head: "...Don’t mix business with pleasure."

You bit your lip. “I do not.”

Heeseung’s smile widened. "Prove it."

The backroom was silent except for the hum of the industrial fridge and the sound of Heeseung’s breath hitching as your fingers traced the hard line of him through his khakis. 

“Fuck,” he gritted out, hips jerking into your touch.

You smirked, dragging your palm over him slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched. “Problem, boss?”

Heeseung’s hand snapped out, gripping your wrist tightly as he jerked you closer. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned, voice rough. 

“Yeah?” You undid his belt with your free hand, popping the button on his pants. “Then why are you letting me win?” 

Heeseung didn't answer, instead spinning you around to shove you face first against the steel shelving, kicking his pants down just enough to free himself. Your breath caught at the feel of him, hot and heavy against the fabric of the back of your jeans.

“Tell me to stop,” he demanded, breath ghosting over the back of your neck. 

You arched back into him. “Make me.”

Heeseung cursed, one hand in your hair as the other lingered on your lower back. He brought his lips right next to your ear, his hot breath contrasting the cool air, before taking it between his teeth, applying enough pressure just to make you lose any remaining composure. 

You gasped as he pulled back, temporarily stripping your skin of any warmth before pressing you back into the cold shelving, this time with his body. His hand released from your hair and made its way down to your side. 

Both of his hands found their way to your sides, thumbs tucking into your belt loops before gently pulling your hips back. You shivered as his cold hands moved from your sides to your stomach, fingertips tucking into your waistband with one hand and playing with the button closure of your jeans with the other. Heeseung undid your pants, tugging them down with your panties just enough for you to feel him press against you, skin to skin.

“You want it?” Heeseung breathed, hot against your back as his hands wrapped around to gently trace your waist, then your hips, as to entice you into begging for it. Your soft moan as his cool hands made their way closer to your core was all the affirmation he needed to retuck his thumbs into the waistband of your now-unzipped jeans, pulling them down to your knees.

Heeseung’s laugh was dark, rough even, as the edges of his hands again slid around your waist, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered against your neck, his breath hot as he stroked himself against you, the thick drag of his cock already slick from how wet you were.

One hand shoved your shirt up, palming your breast roughly over your bra before tugging the cup down. His thumb flicked over your nipple, pinching just enough to make you gasp, making your back arch into his touch. “Always so fucking responsive,” he growled, “Knew you’d be like this.”

You whimpered as his other hand slid between your legs, fingers dragging through your folds before pushing two inside without warning. “Christ,” he hissed, curling them just to hear you moan. “Already dripping for me? That’s all it takes? Just a little pressure?

You rocked back against his hand, desperate, but he pulled away with a wet sound, smearing your arousal over the head of his cock before lining himself up.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice ragged.

“Tell me you want it.”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze, lips parted. “More than anything.” 

He didn’t hesitate. 

Your jaw dropped as he fully sheathed himself inside you with a groan, pressing you harder into the cool metal shelving. You felt the stretch for only a moment before he pulled back, holding himself there without pushing back in. 

“Want more?” he asked, breathy and rough, self-restraint slowly dissipating. 

You whimpered, parting your lips to answer before being interrupted by the rough slip of him back into you.

“Sounds like you do,” Heeseung groaned, setting an increasingly fast rhythm, hands set on your hips. The shelves rattled with every thrust, the sound echoing through the empty backroom. You could feel him everywhere—the bite of his fingers, the drag of his cock, the way his breath hitched when you clenched around him.  

“That’s it.” he panted, fucking you harder, deeper. “Take it—you take it so good”

You didn’t have to use words to beg for more from him. Heeseung knew what you—your body—needed just from the way you pushed your hips back into him, craving more of him. He wished he could keep this image as a screensaver in his mind, watching the way your body pushed and pulled him at just the perfect pace.

You moaned whenever Heeseung hit just the spot—the way he hit your cervix just lightly enough for you to feel it. The slight discomfort made you wince and shiver, overstimulated from the sensation of him relentlessly punching into you. His brows stayed furrowed, savoring the way he’d bottom out inside of you, just to feel the clench of your cunt as he pulled back from you. He could only pull out so far, though, as the speed in which he was fucking you was fast and rough; The passion from last night’s encounter was evident through the movement of his hips.

His hand slid back to your clit, rubbing tight circles just to hear you sob. “Gonna come just like this,” he murmured, lips against your ear. 

Heeseung’s thrusts became shallower, making you take more of his length at once as he exchanged speed for proximity, holding your body against the steel frames as he played with your clit, relishing in the way you’d tighten around all of him when he’d pick up the pace. His thrusts synced with the staccato of your moans, with the sound of your skin-to-skin contact following. 

On one hand, he wished he could have taken it slow enough for you to hear your breaths sync as he fucked you so, so deep. On the other hand, he didn’t think that he had experienced anything this hot before—the way he could see his and your breath in the chilled air, how he could see when it stopped when his hips left you breathless—making him a crazed man that only you could tame. 

“Gonna let me come inside?” he asked, breathy and desperate.

“God yes, please—”

Heeseung’s hips returned to the same punishing speed, taking your breath away. He wasted no time to make you come undone, shattering the ceiling that held your composure intact. You released around him, coaxing him to follow suit as you came down from your orgasm. With a final thrust, Heeseung fully sheathed himself in your walls, twitching as he came inside you.

The backroom was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the slow, slick slide of Heeseung pulling out of you. His hands steadied you as your legs wobbled. 

You took time to catch your breath and regain stability in your limbs before saying a word. Heeseung quickly picked up his discarded clothing, redressing himself and straightening up as best he could’ve. 

“Let me help you,” he said, bending down to pull up your jeans and panties from your knees. He paused for a second, smirking upon seeing his essence dripping out of you. He continued, pulling your panties up over your ass, jeans following. “Turn around,” he commanded, guiding you by your hips to allow him to zip and button your pants.

You found yourself back at eye level with him, still trying to catch your breath.  

“Ready to go?” Heeseung asked, turning to grab his stuff then head towards the door. You nodded, following him as he made his way back out to the larger backroom. 

You shuffled quickly behind him, wanting to make your way out of the back as soon as possible so as to not draw attention to you and Heeseung. Just as the door is in arms reach, you heard the industrial elevator screech open. For a second your heart stops, but luckily it was just Jay. 

“How’s it going… again,” he said, this time pushing an overstocked U-boat of diet Cokes and water cases. 

“Oh y’know… Inventory’s just crazyyy,” Heeseung said, causing you to roll your eyes in response. 

Jay sighed, “Okay bruh,” pushing his U-boat towards the door, forcing you and Heeseung to move out of his way. You looked at Heeseung, mentally thanking Bullseye that it was just Jay to catch you two leaving the backroom together.

Going back to work after fucking your boss made you paranoid as hell. Every time you passed by another team member, or by the front, hell, even Sunoo, it felt like they knew what you were doing back there.

You had to quickly catch up on your tasks—not that you really started on them anyways. You sighed every time you caught yourself sweating while breaking out a z-rack, mentally cursing yourself for putting dick first and Target second. Your style coworkers absolutely noticed how disheveled and discombobulated you were. 

The fitting room saw you at your worst. Putting go-backs back on their respective hangers was more difficult than you would’ve liked to admit, mind fully clouded with images of Heeseung, his hands, the sensation of his—

“Yo, you good?” Riki asked, breaking your intense focus. You looked up at his neon green ‘asset protection’ jacket, cheeks red from the reminiscing, only able to meekly nod at him and mutter out, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You know what I saw earlier,” Riki said, making your heart stop for the second time today. 

Shit. Maybe he did see.

“Some young couple doing it in the family bathroom. I kicked them out because Sunghoon wanted to use it, and lo and behold…”

You exhaled, tuning out the rest of what Riki had to say out of pure relief. You practically confirmed that he didn’t catch you and Heeseung… You were forced back to reality, “Family bathroom, huh? I assure you it could’ve been worse,” Heeseung interjected, waltzing into the fitting room with a smirk on his lips. 

“Bro no,” Riki objected, “you’ve never had to unstick two horny twenty-somethings in the front of a Target.” 

Heeseung laughed, “And never will, hopefully,” patting Riki on the back before continuing on his way to god knows where, giving you an all-knowing look over Riki’s shoulder on the way out. 

God, that asshole. 

Riki groaned, pressing two fingers to his temple and rubbing, squeezing his eyes shut. “He doesn’t get it though for real—whatever. Let me know if there are shoplifters over here.” He leaned off the fitting room counter and gave you a small wave on his way back to the front, which you reciprocated. 

You sighed, finding yourself alone once again with your thoughts, which were either of paranoia or of desire, neither of which being helpful to your productivity. You mentally cursed yourself for being so observant, particularly of Heeseung. 

You mentally cursed him for looking disheveled in the good way, like he’s begging to be ravaged by you. Waltzing into the fitting room, smirking in reference to your private encounter just that day, knowing that you were the only person who would be on the same page. You hated that his hair was the perfect amount of messy; You were the only person who knew how it got so messy in the first place. You hated that his red tee was thin enough to stick to his skin, teasing and tempting you with the contours of his body. It didn’t help that he had just the slightest sheen of sweat, showing on his forehead and further accentuating the cling that his shirt had on him. 

It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on you. 

You especially hated that you were assigned to men’s today. Making sure that every pair of pants were hung up just right, assuring the fabric was taut on the front-facing side; Buttoning up fancy dress shirts in different colors, all imagining that you were taking these articles off of Heeseung instead. The only good thing to come out of such was that the time was flying by, making an otherwise eye-twitching shift just a smidge less painful. 

But it was like he knew that you were struggling with the thought of him in your mind, greeting you with a sly smile plastered across his lips as he passed by you in the men’s section, hanging up a belt you just imagined taking off of him. 

He didn’t leave though, stopping you in your tracks as he continued towards you.

“Take your break,” he murmured. “Now.”

You swallowed. “I still have an hour—”

“I’m your boss. I say when you take your break.” His fingers brushed your wrist, sending a shiver up your spine. “Meet me in the family restroom. Five minutes.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already walking away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.

The family restroom was empty, thank god. You slipped inside, locking the door behind you just as Heeseung crowded you against the sink.

“Knew you’d come,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

You melted into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the counter. His tongue slid against yours, hungry and demanding, and you whimpered into his mouth.

“Missed you,” he growled, nipping at your bottom lip. “Think about you all fucking day.”

You reached for the waistband of his khakis, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

“You,” he responded, voice low. You withheld any verbal response, opting to hold eye contact with Heeseung instead. You kept your hand on his khakis, noticing how the fabric below stretched taut under your touch. Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat with the sustained eye contact, wanting more from you. 

You removed your hands from his waistband, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at him. His hands fell to your ass, giving you a soft squeeze. You felt Heeseung harden against your stomach, fabric being no barrier to such. 

“I missed you too,” you purred, lifting yourself off of the sink and backing Heeseung against the tile. 

“This much?”

“Of course,” detaching yourself from him briefly. Heeseung’s breath hitched as your hands met his waistband again, this time actually undoing his belt. You swore you could hear him whimper when you stopped there, moving your hand to palm him through his pants instead. “I thought about you all day too,” you whispered, bringing your face closer to his and forcing him to bring his eyes from your hand to your eyes once more.

“‘Bout what, baby?”he asked, eyes low. 

“Well,” you started, “I was looking at pants just like these.” You reached for the button of his khakis, jangling his undone belt in the process. “And I was thinking how good you’d look in some of them.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement, hovering your fingertips above his now exposed waistband to watch his abs twitch under your touch. You take Heeseung’s face in your palm with one hand, pulling him in for a kiss, observing how his eyes flutter closed upon contact. Your other hands wander south, feeling his hardened cock straining against the fabric of his khakis.

Heeseung moaned against your mouth as you palmed him through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him nearly beg for more. You pulled away, keeping your gaze fixed on his face as you dropped your hand from his cheek to drag your fingers down his torso, eliciting a hiss, before dropping to your knees.

“I thought about this too,” as you reached up to unzip his khakis. You pulled his boxer briefs and pants down with a single tug, freeing his hard cock from the fabric.  You cursed under your breath, taking in the sight of the v-shaped contour of his hips, a bristly trail tending southwards. His face twitched upon meeting the cold air, this time feeling so different from your encounter in the fridge just earlier.

Heeseung found it difficult to keep his composure, keeping his bottom lip slightly tucked between his teeth, biting down as to not make a noise out of sheer anticipation. “All shift,” you took his length into your hand, gentle with your touch, and brought him to your cheek, “I wanted this.” You  fluttered your eyelashes at him, doe-eyed and tantalizing, seeing the heat build within him with every millisecond that passed. 

The eye contact you held paused, your focus shifting to bringing Heeseung’s tip to your lips instead. You propped yourself up on your heels, posture proper, as you kitten-licked at his weeping tip, swollen with need. He cursed upon feeling the sensation of your warm, wet tongue on him, a feeling he didn’t know he needed—craved—so badly until he felt it. 

He tasted a bit salty, mostly like the sweat from the long workday and your shared morning rendezvous. Without warning, you sank down on his length, softly humming in satisfaction upon hearing him gasp, shocked that you took all of him down your throat in one motion. He remained speechless as you slightly gagged around him, throat constricting around the tip of his cock as he hit the back of your throat. 

You pulled back with a pop and looked up at him with glossy eyes, pumping him with one hand. He ran his hand through his hair, amazed at the sight before him—you, on your knees for him, with swollen and wet lips. It felt like his wildest fantasies were materializing, and god, did it make him an utterly weak man.

With a smirk, you kept your glossy eyes on him as you tilted your head to the side, holding his length with one hand as you slowly, torturously even, licked stripes from base to tip. You wished you could have this image in your head for eternity—your boss now turned into a docile, meek man, at the mercy of you and your mouth.

Pulling yourself to his tip again, you took his length into your mouth and sank down to meet his groin with your nose. Heeseung reached down, entangling his fingers in your hair and giving a slight tug. Your hands found their way to his hips, using them as leverage to retract from his base. He whimpered as your cheeks hollowed, bobbing back and forth on his length. 

Heeseung didn’t know what to do with himself—the only sounds that could leave his lips were near incoherent expletives and the lewdest of soft moans. His hands followed the rhythm that you set, pushing your head towards his groin and shallowly thrusting to meet your lips. Tears pricked your eyes every time he met the back of your throat, his thrusts showing how needy he was. 

You pulled away, gasping and taking breaths through the web of saliva and precome spanning between you and Heeseung’s cock. Languidly, you pumped him with one hand, sitting up. You leaned forward, looking up at his flushed face before parting your lips to spit back onto his cock, using your hand to spread it from base to tip. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered closed as he tipped his head back, lips parted to unabashedly moan at the sensation. 

He gasped at your sudden absence—you stood up to again back yourself onto the sink and counter, prompting him to follow, stroking himself as his gaze stayed on you. Open arms welcomed him as you wrapped yours around him once again. You pulled Heeseung closer in to kiss him, freeing his hand from his length to wrap his arms around your waist, smearing himself on the bottom hem of your shirt. Fingertips found their way under, moving the fabric upwards to reach under the bottom edge of your bra, cupping and kneading your breast as Heeseung deepened the kiss. 

Your lips parted with a gasp, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. He softly, lewdly sucked on your tongue, tasting himself on you. Heeseung whimpered against your lips, eyes shut and brows knit with pleasure. You removed your arms, giving him a soft push to cease the kiss. He slightly backed away, leaving a string of mostly saliva between your lips. With your thumb, you swiped your thumb on his lips, breaking the thin connection between you. 

Reaching for the button of your jeans, “Want you to fuck me,” you gasped.

“Fuck, thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, helping you onto the counter as you undid the button and zipper closure on your jeans. You leaned back, kicking off your shoes and letting Heeseung pull your jeans off of you, placing them on the adjacent vacant changing table. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and mentally thanking the architect for the height of the counter. You sat with your aching core at the edge of it all, letting Heeseung rub his length against the dampened fabric of your panties. 

“Got you all worked up?” Heeseung breathed, observing you beneath him. He leaned over you, pressing his length against the skin of your stomach as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up. He moved the wire and cups of your bra towards your face, exposing your breasts to him. 

“You could say so,” you whispered in response. 

Heeseung lost no time, hooking his fingers on one side of your panties and pulling them aside. He rubbed his tip against your folds vertically, hissing at the sensation of you. The ache in your core overwhelmed you, pulsing and pleading in need of Heeseung. “So warm,” he huffed, “so wet.” 

His hands met your hips to again pull you towards the edge of the countertop. He took his length in his hand, resting it on top of your mound towards your belly button, “You gonna take all of me again, baby?” voice dripping with seduction. 

“Yes, please,” you mewled, throbbing at the sight of his thick, hot length resting atop your womb. 

Without hesitation, Heeseung drew his hips back and lined up his tip, hot and dripping, at your entrance. Heeseung groaned, slipping himself in in one smooth movement, filling you up entirely. You moaned, slightly wincing at the sore stretch in your core. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Heeseung breathed, withdrawing halfway to push back into you again, brows knitting at the sight of the slight bounce of your tits. He grabbed your hips, digging his thumbs into your flesh. He wasted no time taking it slow; He wanted you and he wanted you now. 

He fucked into you with enough force to draw yelps from your lips, mercilessly pounding into you like he’s been craving this entire time. The ache in your core was gone, instead replaced with the stretch you had become addicted to. He kept his pleasure no secret, moaning as you gripped around him, drawing him back to your womb with every retraction of his hips. He grew hot with lechery, indulging in what your body had to offer him. 

Hooking a finger under, he pulled the fabric at the seat of your panties further to the side, leaning over you to press deeper into you. He fucked you harder, deeper, enamored with your sex. 

“Make me yours,” you moaned, begging for more of him, if that was even possible. 

“Say it again.”

“Fuck—make me yours.”

Heeseung threw his head back in pleasure, gripping your hips to fuck into you—faster, nastier now. The slap of your skin meeting was obscene, reverberating through the tiled walls. Your insides molded to the shape of him, pounding you into his—fully and wholly his. He hissed at every clench of your cunt, eager to milk him empty. 

“Gonna come,” rhythm of his hips rattling his cadence. 

“Inside—please,” you pleaded.

You didn’t have to beg again—Heeseung plunged his hips into you hungrily, chasing climax. His. You were his. Primal desire consumed him; His thumbs dug into the flesh of your stomach and hips as he thought about your womb taking all of his seed, desperate to be his and only his.

With a final snap of his hips, he fully sheathed himself inside you, coming against your cervix. You followed, climaxing with a sob and full-body shiver that wrung Heeseung dry, evident from his soft whimpers. He continued to shallowly fuck into you, pressing his come deeper into you. 

He pulled out of you, breathless. Heeseung smirked, watching your chest rise and fall as you laid there, completely fucked out. He wished he had the time to fuck you again upon seeing his come smeared in your folds from him pulling out. His fingers tucked your dampened panties back in place, soaking up the remnants of his come with the already ruined fabric. Shaking, you let him hold your hands to help you to your feet to get redressed.

“Let’s tidy ourselves up, yeah?”

The flickering light above the family bathroom mirror hummed like a dying insect as you braced your hands against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Tiptoeing to examine as much as you could, you groaned. Your reflection was a disaster—hair wild, lips kiss-swollen, the collar of your uniform shirt tugged sideways where Heeseung’s fingers had gripped a little too hard. 

Behind you, Heeseung smirked as he adjusted his belt buckle with a click, his own shirt half-untucked. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his mussed hair. “We gotta stop doing this at work.”

You shot him a glare in the mirror, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on your face. “Says the guy who started it by getting inspiration from two ‘horny twenty-somethings.’”

Heeseung just grinned, unrepentant, leaning over your shoulder to steal a paper towel . The scent of him—warm skin, cologne, and something unmistakably sex—clung to you both, and you prayed to every god you could name that the bathroom’s industrial-strength air freshener would do its job.

You wiped the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, then froze—shit. There was a bruise forming just below your ear. You yanked your collar higher. “You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, but Heeseung just pressed a kiss to your temple, laughing when you shoved him off.

“Go,” he said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll wait two minutes, then head out. See you later?”

You took a deep breath, smoothed your shirt one last time, and cracked the door open. The store was chaos—a line snaking past guest services, carts clattering, and a guest screaming at Sunghoon over their drive up order being late. Perfect cover.

You slipped out, keeping your head down as you beelined for the nearest display to pretend to straighten it. A few feet away, Sunoo was obliviously scanning a price check, and Riki was too busy patrolling to notice you.

Home free.

Until—

“Hey.” A hand touched your arm.

You nearly jumped out of your skin before realizing it was just Jungwon, his brow furrowed. “You good? You look… flustered.” 

You cleared your throat, willing your pulse to slow. “Fine. Just—uh—spilled coffee on myself earlier. Had to clean up.”

Jungwon’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom, then back to you. A beat. Then

“Okayyyyy” he drawled, “Well FYI, your name tag’s upside down.”

You glanced down—fuck. You flipped it hastily as Jungwon walked off, shaking his head.

Behind you, the bathroom door creaked open.

Heeseung strolled out like he hadn’t a care in the world, whistling as he passed you without a glance. 

You exhaled.

Back to work.

Pretending to clear the fitting rooms, you gently shut the door behind you to check your appearance, front and back. Apparently, you had a lot of oversights that were essentially circled in red in a full-length mirror. You attempted to pat your hair back into place. You checked your nametag again, making sure it was perfect this time. You straightened out your shirt—

That asshole. 

You stared at the spot where he decided to smear himself into your shirt and groaned. You unbuttoned your jeans and tucked your stained bottom hem in to hide the evidence. Sighing, you accepted that you were going to look a hot mess for the tail end of your shift, but it was the best you could do after taking it twice in a day. You grabbed the stray articles of clothing from the fitting room, exiting to go to work, for real this time.

Sore, you were careful to do the rest of your men’s go-backs for the night. Every step, every stretch, made you ache. You moved slowly, eager for your shift to end so you could get some rest and relief from the discomfort.

Then, you were actually at the time to take your lunch, freeing you from the physical work temporarily.

“Taking my 45,” you muttered, hearing your voice echo on surrounding walkies, You turned your walkie off and headed to clock out. Opening the door to the break room, you begin to take off your nametag and head to your locker. You let out a sigh of relief remembering Sunoo worked a morning shift today, leaving no one to question and prod at why your hair was so fucked up, why your shirt was now tucked, or why you generally looked a mess. 

Except him.

“Yoooooo, look who it is!” Jake smiled, sitting in an office chair tucked in a cubicle on his break.

Great.

You gave him a “Hi Jakey," and a meek smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice any—

“Going for the messy look today, I see,” he remarked, eyes raking over your body. You attempted to laugh it off, unsure of how receptive he was to the whole thing. “Kinda hot.”

You brushed him off as you usually do, and proceeded to play with your hair, entertaining it a little. Before Jake could respond, the door opened again, this time being Heeseung and Jungwon. Heeseung gave you a smile and nod, this time surprisingly timid. Jungwon greeted you and Jake before heading to his office with Heeseung, stack of paper in hand.

As Jungwon’s office door clicked close, Jake scoffed, “That fool always tries to act so nonchalant.” He leaned in, lowering his voice, “You know, he actually really likes you. But I tell him all the time, ‘she’s only someone you can dream of having,’ just to piss him off.” He leaned back again, putting his arms behind his head. “Plus, I think you like me more.”

You rolled your eyes, “You play too much,” before turning to clock out and exit to your car in the employee lot. You spent lunch napping, in an attempt to both physically and mentally recover from having your brains fucked out by Heeseung.

Freshly awake, you come back into the office to clock in. You spotted Heeseung and Jungwon at the HR desk, starting intently at the screen in front of them, brows furrowed. Their attention didn’t waver a bit, both laser focused on whatever admin shit was askew and whatever management schemes were supposed to take place the next morning.

Coming back from lunch, you only had 45 minutes until close. Time soared by with you idly doing the same repetitive zoning tasks over and over again. By the grace of Bullseye, your zone looked good. 

You questioned why Heeseung didn’t come ‘do his rounds’ with you tonight, but you brushed it aside. You exited through the side door alone, looking forward to the comfort of your bed, especially needing it after this shift.

“Did you see who got fired?” 

Your pulse spiked—shit, did they find out about—

“Relax, paranoid.” Sunoo singsonged from behind the espresso machine, not even looking up as he steamed milk into a cup that definitely wasn’t on any menu. “It was just Jake.” He slid the drink toward you, a viscous green that looked suspiciously like the color of his apron. “Here. You look like you’re about to smash your head into the pastry case.” 

You scowled but took it. “Why is it green?”

“We’re all trying to be more healthy” He wiped his hands on his apron, smirking. “Besides, Jake’s exit was hilarious. You should have been there. Heeseung said his ‘registers were short’, and that idiot thought it was a height joke.”

You swirled the murky liquid, watching it cling to the sides like swamp water. “This looks like a product of the last time Jake made a matcha.” You muttered, already mourning the loss of taste buds you were about to experience.

“Tastes like it too.” Sunoo chirped, already restocking the syrup bottles. 

Sunoo let out a dreamy sigh, restocking syrup bottles with unnecessary vigor. “Man, we’ll never see that particular shade of radioactive algae again.”

You snorted. “Damn. Miss him already.”

“Well, better drink up, champ. Your shift starts in…” He made a show of checking his (empty) wrist. “...three minutes.”

You took a reluctant sip and immediately regretted it. “Jesus. Did you put wheatgrass in this or just blend whatever you could find that was about to expire?”

“Trade secret.” He winked. 

“A disgusting secret,” you muttered, jokingly side-eyeing him. 

“Speaking of disgusting choices—you’re closing tonight, right? Don’t bother with the ride tonight. Jungwon finally got his hellcat back from the shop.” He paused dramatically. “Which means I can once again experience the luxury of…what do normal people call it? ‘Leaving on time’?” 

“Boo, you act like it was more than just one time.”

“Oh, we’re acknowledging that now? Because as I recall, I was ready on time until I had to comb through the entire store to find you while you and Heeseung were ‘zoning’ the fitting rooms.” He air quoted “Which, by the way, would not fly in a conversation with HR.”

You rolled your eyes. “Zoning is a real thing. We were working.”

Sunoo leaned across the counter, syrup bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. “Mhm.

You flipped him off over your shoulder just as you turned the corner—and walked straight into Heeseung’s chest.

His hands came up to steady you, fingers burning through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

“Late again,” he observed, voice low. His thumb brushed the exposed skin between your jeans and work shirt. “You’re lucky I don’t write you up.” 

Heeseung’s gaze never left yours, following behind you in your trail. “Jake’s gone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Fired him.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Funny how his eyes always lingered on something when he worked near you.” His teeth grazed your earlobe—not quite a bite, but the suggestion of one. “Funnier how you always seemed to lean into it.”

Your stomach dropped. Memories flashed— Jake’s fingers accidentally catching your waist when he squeezed past, the way you let his touch linger that one time by these same lockers when you knew Heeseung was watching.

“Tell me,” Heeseung murmured, dragging his nose along your jaw, ”did you like seeing me lose control every time he looked at you like you were his?”

“Uh. I still didn’t clock in yet.” 

A beat of silence. Then.

Heeseung stepped aside so suddenly you almost stumbled. “Go ahead.” his voice was light, casual, as if his breath hadn’t been sending shockwaves down your spine a moment ago.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keypad. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. 

“Problem?” He tilted his head, all innocent, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. The shift was so jarring it made your skin prickle. 

“No,” you muttered, punching your number in. 

“Great.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “See you at closing.” 

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there, the ghost of his breath still warm on your ear. 

The rest of your shift passed in eerie quiet.

You stocked shirts with exaggerated care, stretching just a little farther than necessary when you knew Heeseung was watching. The neckline of your top gaped slightly as you leaned forward to adjust a price tag. 

At the fitting rooms, you made a show of testing a lock on one of the doors, hips swaying as you stepped back to admire your work. 

Sunoo appeared suddenly, draping a returned sweater over your folding table with a soft thud. “You know,” he mused, voice dripping with false innocence, “for someone who claims they’re not trying to seduce their ETL, you do a lot of taunting him on the cameras.” 

You folded the sweater with painstaking precision. “I’m just doing my job.” 

You heard Sunghoons voice come through your walkie, - Did anyone else hear a bang from the surveillance center? His voice slightly distorted by the device. 

Satisfied, you smirked, but were cut off by Sunoo before you could make any smart-ass remark, “You’re hoping that’s Heeseung, huh?”

“Not true!”

“I literally have never seen that man go into the security office this frequently. Heeseung literally isn’t even asset protection—”

And by the grace of Bullseye, your Zebra pinged, shutting Sunoo up and notifying you that you have an audit due by the end of the night. 

“Even my Zebra thinks you talk too much,” you quipped. 

“Does your Zebra think the audit is gonna complete itself? Or do you only make ETL’s finish?”

“I haaaaate you.”

“You hate productivity more.”

“You’re cross trained in style too,” you started, neatly finishing the last stack of sweaters on the display, “get your ass in the fitting room with me and help me with the audit.” You placed a hand on your hip and shifted your weight onto one leg.

“Ugh fine,” he complied, walking over to the fitting room. Upon going to the back, the two of you discovered only one RFID scanner. 

“Wow, perfect.”

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Sunoo said, grabbing the RFID scanner from in front of you. “I’m doing you a favor, so you’re gonna have to get more from stock. Have fun!” You scoffed, watching Sunoo leave the fitting room to start his portion of the audit. 

You walked towards the stockroom where they kept extra charge stations, Zebras, scanners, and things of the sort. Luckily, it was located by the office, so you could at least grab your lipgloss and touch up your makeup a bit. After touching up, you took out a bundle of numbered keys and fumbled around, searching for the right one as you headed to the stockroom.

Like every other lock at Target, the stockroom door was a puzzle game for any key, no matter how new or old. You sighed and inserted the key, already remembering the crazy amount of pressure you need to apply downwards so the lock wouldn’t jingle-jangle loosely. You wiggled the lock with your other hand, applying the force of your entire body against the door. 

After what seemed like an eternity, with a final shove, the door flew open. You grabbed your bundle of keys and slipped into the abyss before you.

I hate this place, you thought, internally cursing yourself for not forcing Sunoo back here instead of you. The search for the light switch was a pain in the ass, with only the light from outside illuminated the stockroom through a crack, which was getting smaller, and smaller…

The stockroom door clicked shut behind you with finality.

You’d only meant to grab more RFID scanners—until the lights flickered and Heeseung was there. His palm slapped against the shelf beside your head, rattling the poorly installed metal shelving.

“Done playing?” His voice was dangerously quiet. 

You opened your mouth—

“Don’t.” His free hand gripped your chin, voicing your gaze up. The usual mockery in his eyes had burned away, leaving something ravenous. 

If jealousy weren’t the main driving force for Heeseung’s actions, then it would have to be danger. You were in a stockroom that was usually dark, so management invested extra in  surveillance. Every single move between the two of you could be recorded, watched, or investigated. 

“There’s cameras here,” you breathed, keeping your voice low in case someone were outside, “someone could be—”

“Watching?” Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hip as he backed you against the steel shelving, his breath hot against your lips, “Let them.”

…And like that, you might like the same danger too. 

"You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day," he murmured, voice rough. "Every time you bend over to stock those goddamn shelves—"

You arched into him, nails scraping down his chest. "Then do something about it."

His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Letting me fuck you right here in the stockroom like some desperate—"

"No one has to know," you breathed, tilting your head to give him better access.

He let out a dark laugh, lips trailing down your neck. "Thanks for the job security."

Then his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your moan as his hands slid under your shirt. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, punishing in its intensity, like he’d been starving for it all day. One of his hands fisted in your hair, angling your head back to deepen the kiss, while the other roamed lower, squeezing the curve of your ass hard enough to leave bruises. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were panting. His hair tousled, lips swollen. 

“So,” you murmured, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip, “is this going to be a daily thing now?”

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”

“My little surveillance cam show worked on you, hmm?” 

“God, you know it,” he groaned, lids softly fluttering as he reminisced on what he saw. Heeseung pulled you a smidge closer, putting your hips in greater contact than before. “Would you believe me if I told you,” he breathed, “I was enjoying every second of it?”

“How so?”

Heeseung smirked, slowly backing away from you to find a seat on an old fold-up chair. “Kneel,” he commanded, to which you complied, placing your folded hands in your lap and softly biting your lip, intrigued. Your face sat between his spread legs, looking up at him in anticipation. 

“Like this,” he whispered, keeping eye contact as his hand found his way to his lap, not reaching for his waistband but instead for his hardened cock. You watched, entranced, as he palmed himself, barely rutting his hips into his palm for more friction. “I was in there alone, wishing you were there instead,” he whined, “don’t you feel the same?”

Though it seemed like Heeseung was the one begging, you found yourself under his spell, propping yourself up on your heels to place your hands on his thighs. 

“I do,” you whisper, running your hand up his thigh, making him remove his own and letting you provide the friction instead. Heeseung slightly leaned back, putting his arms behind his head to rest his palms on the crown of his head. He looked down at you, lips parted in a near-silent gasp. The room was eerily quiet, with only the sound of you working the fabric of his slacks and your breaths, both desperate, syncing up with one another. 

You removed your hand, sitting up and finding your seat on his lap, still clothed. His hands go to your back, supporting your weight with one hand so he could guide you closer, kissing you gently this time. His lips were soft, moving against you with enough balance to both make your heart flutter and your core ache. 

The two of you pulled away, cheeks flushed. 

“Let me fuck you like this,” Heeseung whispered, looking you in your eyes with glazed eyes. You leaned in to peck his lips, humming affirmatively as you got off of him to undress. You turned around, taking off your sneakers and jeans, hearing the metal of his belt buckle jangle behind you. 

You turned back around, nearly bare on your bottom half, to approach Heeseung. He pumped himself with one hand, slacks undone just enough to free himself. You straddled him, feeling the heat of his cock against your core, “Let’s take it slow.” Your hands then met his shoulders, giving yourself leverage to move your hips. Firm hands gripped your hips as you slid your clothed cunt on his length, eliciting a whimper. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he gasped, eyes focused on the visual of you straddling him, the fabric of your panties wet and sticking to your core. Heeseung’s tip glistened, precome leaking from his slit. You leaned in again to kiss him again, a little more fervor this time. He moaned in satisfaction against your lips, pressing your hips harder into his. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you stopped for a moment, taking one hand off his shoulder and putting the other on the back of the chair. Heeseung’s eyes followed your every move, letting you work your magic on him, following your other hand as it reached down to touch where you met. You hooked a finger under the hem of your panties, lifting it just enough to slip his cock between the fabric and your cunt. A new sensation, he shivered upon making contact, involuntarily thrusting.

His cock slipped against your clit, making you use your hand to press him harder into you. You grinded against each other, going through the motions of sex without actually crossing that line. Somehow, that made it hotter, the “almost” nearly being more alluring than sex itself. 

Almost.

Reaching down, you untucked his length, lifting your hips just enough to pull your panties to the side, sliding his tip along your slit, teasing him with the warmth of your entrance. His eyes were glossed over, desperate to feel the now familiar heat of you.

Before he could beg for it, you heard the trill of a phone—Heeseung’s phone. 

“Is that for—”

“—My fifth,” he groaned, pulling you in to bury his face in your neck. “Terrible timing.”

He stayed with his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, before pulling back with a sigh. Heeseung patted your hips, “I gotta go.” 

You sighed, getting up to adjust your panties and collect your discarded clothes. “You got blue balled by the time clock.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, “Guess so. Sorry,” standing up to finish putting on his belt. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you to rest his chin on your head. “But if we both clock out right now…”

“You’re sick.” 

“But you like it,” Heeseung smirked, “because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You sighed, letting him win this one. 

“Nametags,” you reminded him, handing him the two magnetic parts of his nametag, scrambling to put yours on soon after. 

He thanked you, quickly snapping the tag onto his shirt. Heeseung picked up the rest of his things and left, opening the door of the stockroom for you on your way out. 

“That was risky, y’know?”

“What, clocking out this close to hitting compliance?” Heeseung joked, tilting his head as he walked beside you.

You scoffed. “Yeah sure, that’s what I mean. It’s like you get enjoyment out of riling me up.”

“Mmm, no comment. If it's any reassurance though,” he leaned in, slowing his pace, “I forgot to tell you the cameras are defunct right now.” Heeseung pulled away with a shit-eating grin, causing both relief and annoyance to wash over you. “We can go back after we clock out … if you want.” 

“Say less,” you responded, putting a little skip in your step as you opened the office door for the both of you. You two were a little too eager to throw your work belongings—sans your keys—into your lockers. Even more eager to punch out for lunch, no announcement on the walkies or anything. 

In your rush to get back to the stockroom, you both failed to heed with caution when exiting, nearly hitting Jungwon with the door. 

“Oh god, sorry—”

He gave you both a tight lipped smile, “On your lunches?” 

“Yep, just clocked out,” Heeseung responded, normal as usual. 

“Enjoy your lunch,” Jungwon said, eyes drifting downwards, “and your nametags…” His voice trailed off and he lingered for a second longer before brushing past, continuing into the office. He seemed unamused, tired, or something of the sort. You and Heeseung stopped outside of the door, hidden away from customers or anyone’s line of sight. 

“Wait, on break, shouldn’t have our nametags on—”

Heeseung just stared at your chest, not saying a word, but not how he usually does.

“What? Is it upside do—oh.”

Oh.

To your horror, you looked down, reading Heeseung on your tag instead of yours.  You looked up at him, confirming your fears when you read your name on his. You didn’t put on your nametag. You put on Heeseung’s. Even worse, you were unfortunate enough to have someone else notice first, not to mention that someone else being an ETL that wasn’t Heeseung.

You cringed, quickly taking off the tag and exchanging it with your rightful tag before putting it in your pocket. “I…feel like it would be in our best interest to not go to the stockroom now,” you remarked. 

Heeseung nodded, demeanor blunted from the encounter with Jungwon, “Probably.” 

You shuffled your feet a bit, silence lingering in the air for longer than you would’ve liked. You spoke, “But when—”

“I’ll call for you later. Take it easy, enjoy your lunch—I’ll see you,” Heeseung said, proceeding to walk away to the employee lot. You were hoping that he would be able to shake the encounter off a little easier than you were attempting to, but you weren’t sure of that. 

Returning from your lunch break, you returned to the stockroom—not to continue affairs with Heeseung, but rather, to actually grab those RFID scanners you promised—

Sunoo.

Oh god.

Sunoo.

You scrambled out of the small room, speed walking back to the style departments searching for your blond-haired associate. You had totally forgotten about grabbing the RFID scanner, about Sunoo, the moment Heeseung caught you in the stockroom. From afar, you spotted him in the little fitting room window, sorting the rack of customer go-backs. You beelined to him as if the speed in the next 30 steps would make up for the—

“Two hours,” he said flatly, sliding a denim jacket onto its correct hanger with practiced precision.

You winced. “I forgot.”

“It took two hours to come back with RFID scanners,” he continued, finally turning to face you, his expression impressively stoic. “Which, by the way—” He pointed at the device in your hand, “—that one doesn’t have a battery in it.” A beat., “Anyways, I already finished.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach as you watched him resume sorting, his movements efficient and just sharp enough to let you know that he was annoyed.“I’m sorry—” 

Sunoo sighed, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “What was it this time?” 

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering scent of Heeseung’s cologne on your collar. “I think I gotta tell you about it another time, honestly—do you work tomorrow?” 

“No,” Sunoo said, pausing mid-fold to squint at you. ”But you sure girl? You can talk about it if you want…” His tone softened, just a fraction, and you felt yourself relax a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you responded, turning to the rack he was working on to help sort and clear it, “I just—I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

Sunoo’s hands stilled. “Was it Heeseung?”

You nearly dropped the hangers. “What—Heeseung? Well, yes, but I wasn’t planning on it! It just happened and you just slipped my mind I wasn’t thinking I—”

“Chill.” Sunoo held up a hand, his lips quirking. “I just wanted to know. You need to relax.” He passed you a stack of tops, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. “Tell me another time. Honestly, more than anything, I was just worried why you were gone for so long.”

You took the hangers, exhaling. “Okay, okay, I’ll call or text you or something, when are you off?”

Sunoo looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist before taking a peek at his phone. “In about 5 minutes. So basically, now.”

“I forgot you’ve been here all morning,” you admitted, guilt creeping back in.

“Yup,” he said, popping the P. “And all afternoon doing your job.”

“Hey! Not my fault, I got caught up—”

“No I figured…” Sunoo trailed off, playing with the fitting room key on one finger. You squinted at him, jutting your head towards him, prompting him to indulge more. “I mean, Jungwon was calling for Heeseung ETL on the walkie with no response,” he said, shrugging, “so I figured y’all were together… or something.”

Your stomach dropped. “Am I about to get a talk from HR Sunoo,” you joked, partially serious and wholly worried. 

Sunoo rolled his eyes, resting a hand on his hip. “They haven’t scheduled me in HR for over a week, girl.”

You sighed, smiling out of relief. You put the hangers of clothes  you’ve been gripping on their correct racks, turning to Sunoo when finished. “Wanna know every detail tomorrow, then?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

Sunoo’s nose scrunched in mock disgust. “Actually, on second thought, I am HR Sunoo right now, and yooouuu,” he jabbed a finger into your arm, “are spared from my wrath. It’s 7. I'll see you tomorrow!” With a foxy smile, he turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

“Byeee!” you called after him, shaking your head.

You thanked Bullseye Sunoo was joking. If no one else got you, at least Sunoo got you. 

Even though Sunoo had your back on the HR front, karma didn’t. The second you finished zoning in Sleepwear and Intimates—every goddamn bra properly hung, every panty drawer properly aligned—you got called to tech to cover a break. Of course. Because the universe had a twisted sense of timing.

On your way out, you managed to pass only customers with questions that had the most painfully obvious answers. “Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?” Right next to the massive sign that said RESTROOMS in three-foot-tall letters. “Do you work here?” No, you just wore this red shirt for fun. “Is this store Target?” You wished you were making that last one up.

After twenty minutes of directing people to things literally in front of their faces, you finally escaped back toward the fitting room. But the retail gods weren’t done with you yet. The walkie crackled to life just as you reached the backroom. 

“Team, I need backup at the front. All available team members to check lanes.”

Fucking fantastic.

You trudged up to the registers, getting stuck behind checklane seven, then eventually rotating through three different stations as the evening rush hit. Half an hour stretched into a full hour, which somehow stretched into the rest of your shift. The same robotic script fell from your lips on endless repeat:

Hi. How are you? Find everything alright today? Need a bag? Put in your phone number for Target Circle, sign up, or press ‘not now’. Here’s your receipt. Have a good day.

It was painfully boring to repeat the same customer service script over, and over, and over again, but you kept reminding yourself that you’d take that over a bitchy, entitled customer. You’d take a boring closing shift over one that results in reports, calls, or the dreaded ‘Can I speak to your manager?’

…Though, you should’ve remembered that retail is its own hell, and any sense of normal or boring was bound to be shattered.

Like the sliding glass door that came crashing down at 9:50pm, taking Sunghoon—and someone’s entire barbecue setup—down with it.

The Drive-Up order scattered across the floor in a chaotic explosion: bags of charcoal split open, pre-marinated ribs sliding everywhere, baking soda coating the floor like snow, and bottles of vinegar and bleach rolling in opposite directions. Only at Target would you find your coworker sprawled in what was essentially a chlorine gas starter kit ten minutes before close.

Shit like this only happens to Sunghoon. You could see it in his face as he just laid there on the floor, not even attempting to get up—the resigned acceptance of someone whose retail existence was completely cursed.

He blinked up at the ceiling, completely unbothered by the disaster zone surrounding him.  “Huh. That’s gonna be a hazard spill.”

No fucking shit.

From the walkie clipped to your hip, the closing TL’s voice crackled with hardly disguised annoyance, probably wondering why the hell all this noise was coming from the front.

“Anyone got eyes on Sunghoon?”

You watched in horrified fascination as Sunghoon finally peeled himself off the floor, his yellow vest now stained from whatever mixture was all over the floor. The real horror show started when he began casually gathering the scattered ribs with his bare hands, completely oblivious to the fact that the vinegar and bleach were now mixing into something that definitely violated several OSHA regulations. 

That’s when you noticed the smell.

“Oh god,” you gagged, yanking your shirt up over your nose. The acrid, lung-searing aroma of mixing chemicals filled the air—sharp and dangerous and absolutely not something you wanted to be breathing. The fumes were getting stronger by the second, creating that telltale haze that meant you were approximately three minutes away from passing out.

Sunghoon paused mid-rib-gathering, finally noticing your panic. “It’s fine, I was gonna clean it—”

“No.” You grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the toxic puddle. “You’re at 39.75 hours. You hit overtime and the district manager is gonna have Jungwon’s ass.”

Jungwon appeared out of nowhere like some sort of management wizard, already herding Sunghoon towards the time clock with the efficiency of a shepherd in a red polo. “Clock out, now. I can’t argue with our DM about why you went overtime for the sixth week in a row again.”

The walkie erupted with static and stress: “I need hazmat cleanup to the front entrance, ASAP. And someone find out if we need to evacuate.”

Sunghoon gave you a weak, apologetic thumbs up as Jungwon practically shoved him toward the lockers, leaving behind a trail of what had to be the world’s worst barbecue marinade mixed with industrial cleaning supplies.

And then there was one.

The front entrance looked like a tornado had hit a hardware store. Broken glass littered under the harsh lighting, chemical fumes in the air, and somewhere in that mess were the remnants of someone’s weekend cookout plans. You were officially the only team member left to deal with this clusterfuck, which meant running back and forth between the front and receiving to grab every piece of hazmat cleaning supplies the store had.

After ripping open a new pack of paper towels, your focus broke upon hearing your name once, then twice on the walkie. 

“Go ahead?” you responded.

“Switch to 3,” a voice—Heeseung— demanded. 

“Switching.”

“Come to Jungwon’s office, and leave your stuff in a locker.”

“Copy.” 

Quickly, you threw away the soiled paper towels in your hand and put down a caution sign and some random traffic cones, hoping that’ll suffice. You mentally apologized to the opening team for your lame attempt at cleaning up Sunghoon’s mess.

You turned your walkie off and mute your Zebra on your way to the office, in case anyone on the night shift for inbound had particularly nosy, observant ears. You made a pit stop at the bathroom, still propped open, to wash your hands clean as fast as you can to not keep Heeseung waiting long.

You turned the knob of Jungwon’s office, quietly shutting it behind you so as to not stir any commotion. Heeseung was leaning back on the desk—Jungwon’s desk—scrolling his phone, which he quickly placed down in your presence.

Jungwon’s office was small, cramped even—hardly more than a glorified closet. It was dark, a dented filing cabinet stood in one corner, stacked with unorganized paperwork. The desk was cluttered with schedules, a cracked monitor, and a coffee cup long gone cold.

“Is that a walkie in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Funny,” Heeseung chuckled, dropping his head a bit to hide the flush on his face. He leaned off the edge of that desk, watching you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Which do you think it is?”

His gaze rose then fell, reigniting the fire in your core that was forcibly extinguished just hours ago. It was like you two never stopped. 

You smirked, loving the way he always starts these games with you. A game you love playing.

Heeseung approached you, stopping to look down at you before relaxing himself. He tilted his head, running the knuckle of his curled pointer finger down your sternum, just to hear the switch in your breathing. 

With his touch, you were hyper aware of your breathing at this point, focusing on retaining your composure. Somehow, you weren’t sure if your heart had slowed to a near stop or if it was beating so hard that it was now numb. Heeseung looked—and felt—so much more powerful like this, even though the store was now closed and there was nothing managerial to do. 

He backed you into the door, his silhouette taking up most of your vision, the small reading light acting as the only form of backlight. 

“Isn’t Jungwon going to notice,” you choked out, voice just surpassing a whisper. 

“Mmm,” Heeseung responds, running a hand down your side. “Deserves it since he ruined our plans,” he leaned in, cheek passing yours to whisper into your ear, “right?”

“Suppose so,” you breathed, pressing your body against his to wrap your arms around his neck. Heeseung’s arms snaked around your waist. The warmth and scent of his body was familiar, but the thrill was just as addicting as the first time. 

“Let me ask you,” voice low, “how much would you let me do to you right now?” 

“However much you think you’d think you’d be able to get away with.”

“Yeah?” he reaffirms, pulling you in closer by your waist. “I can get away with a lot, you know?”

“Funny,”  you breathed against his mouth, not closing the distance. “I don’t see you getting away with anything yet.”

His grip tightened, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist like he’s mapping the shape of you. The air between you thrums with the unspoken dare—try me.

“That right?” His voice dropped to something rough at the edges, the kind of tone that shouldn’t be used between coworkers. His thumb hooked into your belt loop, tugging just enough to make you stumble forward, until your chest brushes his with every shallow breath. “Tell me, baby—” His lips ghosted over yours, almost there, almost touching. “—you wanna be the one to catch me?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the flicker of the security cameras, the distant chatter of coworkers—but all you could focus on is the way his pulse jumped under your fingers when you ran them over his neck.

“Maybe,” you murmured, tilting your chin up. “Or maybe I just wanna watch you try.”

He laughed, dark and delighted, and finally closed the distance.

His kiss was the same, evident with the way he reciprocated the touch of your fingers with his own, tracing your jaw before making their way down your neck. He whimpered into the kiss, desperate from the hours of waiting. 

You pulled away to look at his half lidded eyes and parted lips, ready to taste you for however long you willed it. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you guide him backwards into the office chair, standing between his legs so he can look up at you. 

“Still gonna let me get away with it?” Heeseung asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“And what did you want to get away with?” You felt the corners of your lips turn up, watching the way he bit his lip as you backed away from him, leaning against his desk. For a moment, he had no intention of answering, and you could tell with the way his eyes raked over your body, as if to recommit every curve, every dimple of yours to memory. 

“You know what I want,” he teased, standing up from the old office chair to meet you.

“Then do it,” you teased, sitting on the edge of his desk so that he can slither his way between your legs. 

“You always welcome me so eagerly,” Heeseung groaned, “drives me crazy, y’know?” With a chuckle, he reached for his belt to undo it. 

“You’re sick,” you breathed, verbally protesting but physically giving in to his touch. Heeseung had you on the desk, pushing away some papers and random office supplies before trapping you beneath him. 

“This isn’t even yours, it’s Jungwon’s—” 

“When has that stopped us before? It’s after hours anyways, no one’s here. There’s no cameras in Jungwon’s office.”

His thumbs reached for the belt loops of your jeans, inching you closer to the edge of the desk before undoing your button and zipper. 

“Plus, I know you like that I’m just as sick as you are,” he smirked, tugging your jeans off of your legs and discarding them behind him. 

“Need you right now,” he practically whimpered, sliding the tip of his cock against your folds before entering inside of you. 

The searing sensation of Heeseung pushing inside you to a hilt made you wince, but seeing and hearing the desperation laced in his every move made the pain worth it. You wrapped your legs around him, forcing him closer. 

“So fucking good,” he growled, briefly pausing to soak in your wetness. His hips met yours, skin damp with a thin layer of sweat. Heeseung reached with one hand, keeping the other on your hip, to put the bottom hem of his red shirt between his teeth. 

You couldn’t even be mad at him, the sound of his soft moans stifled by the fabric in his mouth made the lack of sweet nothings. The sight of it all made your chest tight with desire—The furrow of his brows, the sheen of sweat on his torso, the way his muscles contracted with every breath… 

The way he fucked you spoke the words he couldn’t himself; The fabric in his mouth was soon no barrier to his moans, desperate and carrying with your sex. His whimpers accompanied faster, sloppier thrusts into you. You watched as the sheen of sweat became drops, trailing and tempting you to where the two of you met.

Heeseung let the fabric fall free from his mouth, pausing for just a moment to pull his red shirt over his head and quickly throw it behind him. He wasted no time diving back into you, this time sheathing himself inside you to hover over your face, thin chain dangling, as if to taunt you.

He pulled your hips back over the edge of the desk, holding your hips at just the perfect angle to fuck you, rough and precise. His thumbs pressed into your flesh,  making you arch into his touch. Only near-incoherent expletives and pleads left your lips, drawing out reciprocal pillowtalk from him. 

Heeseung’s brows furrowed, lips parting, “Fuck, you feel so good—”

“Yeah?” you breathed, digging your nails into his shoulders, “gonna let me catch you?” 

A cocky grin gradually spread across his face as he slowed his thrusts, teasing, “You really think you can?”

You matched his smirk, shifting just enough to tighten around him, drawing a sharp groan from his throat. “I know I can.”

His eyebrows lifted—challenge accepted. In one smooth motion, he pulled out, flipping your positions before you could react. He dropped into the chair, legs spread, gaze locked on yours like a dare. “Prove it.” 

You slid off his desk, quickly discarding your shirt and bra in the process, leaving it on the desk. Matching the smug grin on his face, you straddled Heeseung just as you did earlier in the day, core bare this time. You had no patience to wait and tease him like you did in the stockroom. The two of you were equally as desperate, the chaos of the forbidden environment around you fueling the fire of your lust. 

Heeseung’s tip prodded at your entrance, soaking wet, smearing and mixing his precome into your essence. He wasted no time to line himself up with you, guiding and pushing your hips down on him to remind him how good, how fucking delicious it feels to fuck you. Your brows knitted together, jaw falling slack as he pushed himself fully into you. The curve of his hard cock ran along one side of your cunt, making him feel so much bigger than before. 

The wheels of the old office chair squeaked with the movement, becoming particularly loud when you fully sank down on Heeseung’s cock. He then wrapped his arms around you in a hug, putting his face in the crook of your neck as he continued to fuck you. Heeseung took in the scent of your body, covered in sweat. 

He forced your hips into a rhythm, forcing them to roll in a manner that pushed the tip of his cock into your g-spot with every thrust back into you. It was hard to focus on continuing to kiss him when he was fucking you so good; Grabbing your ass with just the right amount of squeeze, working his hips into you, softly moaning when you descended on him.

It was all so, so filthy, but you loved filthy.

Heeseung moaned into your mouth as he fucked up into you rapidly, holding your hips hard enough to force you down on his cock, bottoming out with every thrust. The clench of your cunt made him chase the high of you milking him dry, remembering how much he loves fucking you. With one final push, he held your hips down, shooting his warm come inside of you. You pulsed around him, squeezing his length to fill you with it. His kisses stayed fervent, tongue tasting you desperately. 

Heeseung supported your weight on the chair as you laid on him, both sweaty and fucked-out, breathing synced in heavy pants. Your skin, flushed and sweaty, kept the two of you stuck together. The desyncing of your breaths as you both returned to your normal was comforting somehow. Heeseung stayed inside you, not uttering a single word, and you let him. 

You broke the silence, “Clean-up?”

“Of course,” he helped you up, holding your hips and lifting you off of him. Heeseung gasped, brows coming together as his gaze was set on your freshly fucked cunt, his seed spilling out of you back onto his still-hard cock. You hover for a moment, also speechless at the sight of you continuously dripping small beads of white back onto Heeseung.

You look at each other, still without any coherent thoughts.

“You… got any tissues in here?” you asked, to which Heeseung meekly nodded.

Dazed, you eased off Heeseung, making way to wipe you both clean of each other. Though you exchanged little to no words, Heeseung helped you back into your clothing. His touch was now soft, making you shiver when his fingertips ghosted your skin. He didn’t have to help you, but you let him anyway. You found yourself reciprocating the same sentiments, fixing his now-messy hair with your fingers as he helped with your jeans.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you asked, twirling a small strand of his with your finger.

“Yeah, but you don’t work tomorrow, I didn’t schedule you,” he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb. 

“You should’veee,” you whined.

“What a diligent employee,” he joked, “you must really love Target.” 

The diner booth squeaked under Sunoo’s weight as he slid in across from you, already stirring his iced coffee with the kind of dramatic flair that meant he was absolutely itching to gossip. Outside, the afternoon sun baked the pavement, turning the parking lot into a shimmering mirage. A far cry from the artificial lighting of the Target you two spend most of your time in.

“Okay,” Sunoo said, interlocking his fingers like some kind of evil detective. “Start from the top.”

You took a long sip of your drink, stalling. “Which top? The stockroom? The refrigerator? Jungwon’s office? Oh, and let’s not forget the fucking family restroom.”

Sunoo’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “All of it?”

So you talked. About the way Heeseung’s schedule changes had gotten suspiciously convenient. How Jake had started lurking around the registers like a scorned ex whenever the two of you were on shifts together. The way Jungwon started giving you looks—like he knew something you didn’t. 

Sunoo snorted into his fries. “Oh, Jungwon definitely knows. Jake’s been whining to him nonstop.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Between us? I think Jake might’ve said something before he left… against his will.”

You paused, straw halfway to your mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sunoo shrugged, suddenly very interested in the distribution of ketchup on his plate. “Just saying. Jake’s got—had—a big mouth. And Jungwon’s got opinions about favoritism.” A beat. “And also about people hooking up in the backroom.”

You groaned, thunking your head against the table. “We didn’t—okay, once— but it was mostly just—”

“Anyway,” Sunoo interrupted, grinning, “point is, Jake’s probably still salty. Definitely was when I saw him whispering to Jungwon by the lockers like some kinda bitter loser right before he lef—got terminated. Real subtle stuff.” He rolled his eyes. “Like, buddy, if you’re gonna snitch, at least commit to the bit.”

You frowned. “Wait, what exactly did he—”

Sunoo waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing concrete. Just a lot of ‘Hey, isn’t it weird how Heeseung’s always in Style?’ and ‘Did you know they took their breaks at the same time?” He shrugged. “Pathetic, really.”

You exhaled, stirring the melting ice in your cup.

Sunoo flagged down the waiter for the check, swirling the straw between his fingers. “So,” he said, faux-casual, “you gonna survive your next shift with him, or should I start drafting your eulogy now?”

You lobbed a crumpled napkin at him. “Depends. You bringing me a Tarbucks or not?”

“Pfft. Please.” He slid out of the booth, tossing a tip on the table. “I’d make it a venti caramel macchiato with extra espresso shots—so you can haunt Heeseung properly.”

The laugh caught in your throat. Outside, the sun glared off windshields, turning the parking lot into a minefield of blinding light.

Sunoo nudged you toward the door, sunglasses sliding down his nose. “Relax. Worst-case scenario, you get fired and I lose my favorite carpool.” He stopped. “Which can’t happen. I can’t take another ride in Jungwon’s hellcat, he drives that car like he has four warrants for his arrest.”

You flipped him off, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift. Somewhere between the sticky diner booth and the too-bright asphalt, the unspoken truth hummed: Maybe this wasn’t over.

The morning sun glared obnoxiously through your windshield as you pulled into the target parking lot, ten minutes late. You were already annoyed that you were scheduled today, not to mention, scheduled early today. You killed the engine, took a deep breath, and braced yourself for another shift with Heeseung. You wondered where he’d have you today—scheduled or otherwise. 

As you walked in, you thought back to the last time you saw him the other night in his office. You wondered what he would’ve done to you yesterday had you been there instead of out and about. He broke the monotony of working retail for you; Heeseung was the thrill that broke your routine. 

Though you were excited to break your routines again, you still went through procedure. Wave to Riki at the entrance, greet whoever was working at the tech counter, the daily stuff. Rushing to the timeclock, you clocked in. Like always, you were rewarded with the green checkmark, assuring that your punch was accepted.

You grabbed a Zebra, a walkie, and put on your nametag, making sure that your entrance today was going to be just how you wanted it, how you expected it. It felt a little silly to get ready for another day at your retail job, but at least it had some payoff now. 

Exiting the office, you scanned the aisles, wondering if he had his temptation for today set up for you yet. Instead, you came to realize that the store was… barren. Chatter over the walkies were minimal, and foot traffic was also low. The store was quiet today.

A little too quiet.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed angrily, and the scent of burnt coffee from the Tarbucks and industrial cleaner attacked your nose. 

“So,” he started, resting his chin on his hand, “you heard about Heeseung, right?”

You kept your eyes glued to your phone, thumb scrolling through absolutely nothing as you tried to play it cool. “Heard what?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were sharing classified information. “Got fired. Terminated. As in, escorted-out-by-guys-in-suits levels of fired.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to seem nonchalant. “Huh. Weird.”

He smirked. “Weird? Let’s review,” Sunoo said, tapping the counter like a judge sentencing you to death. “First strike: fucking at work. Second strike: fucking a team member at work—specifically in the stockroom during the day—”

“Allegedly.” You cut in, swirling your drink.

“—with footage, by the way,” he continued, ignoring you. “And third strike—”

“But he said the camera was defunct!” you blurted, then immediately wanted to die.

“Not the hallway cameras, babe,” he purred. “Also, you guys were apparently not subtle at all when you ran into Jungwon. Talk about stupid. Neither of you guys could read the nametags?”

Your stomach dropped. 

You thought about all the times you’d pass by Jungwon after you and Heeseung had an encounter, thinking that you were going to be able to get away with it forever. Your mind ran through the images of everyone else coming across you and Heeseung, wondering if you put too much trust in your coworkers to not rat you out.

Above all, it stung that for all those months of flirting, you only got little time with him. The thrill was short-lived, and the regret of it began to wear away at you. 

What’s worse is you don’t know what happened with Heeseung exactly, and you couldn’t ask him about it either. There were no warnings, only immediate termination. 

There was only so much that Sunoo could’ve heard or known about the case, how much evidence they had collected, and what type. Your ears rang, drowning out any and all words Sunoo had to say.

It was over.

It had barely started, and it was already over. 

The walkie on your belt suddenly crackled to life, Jungwon’s voice coming through to tell you to switch to channel 3.

“Meet me in the TL office now.”

[manifestobackshot]

im soo in love with all your fics, they’re genuinely sooo good 😭 Can’t wait to read the next ones!! i’d love to see your wip list btw😜

thank you so much!!! we love writing them!! here's part of our little wip listtt :)))

(titles redacted for a little surprise ... also because some of the titles might be changed lolol)

((not pictured: 1x heeseung 1x sunghoon 1x jay))

[manifestobackshot]

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 19.1k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, implied breeding kink, some girl on top action, jealous heeseung, work bestie sunoo, etl jungwon

AUTHORS NOTE: some possible useful terms... ETL: Executive Team Lead (manager) Team Member/TM: employee Zoning: organizing and making an area accessible to customers Tarbucks: Starbucks in target  Bullseye: the Target dog “What’s your 20?” : What’s your location/Where are you?

“Girl, fuck it. Put your pleasure first, it’s not that serious.”

“Didn’t you literally tell me, at orientation, to not mix business and pleasure?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, “Well, that was HR Sunoo speaking. When my apron’s on, I get real.” 

“Whatever, just give me my damn latte,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from Sunoo. 

“Grande caramel macchiato for… HR disaster?” 

“Oh my god, stop,” you rolled your eyes. “I haven’t even done anything worth a write-up—”

“Yet,” Sunoo interrupted, earning him a middle-finger as you walked away from Tarbucks.

You couldn’t help but find humor in the irony of Sunoo walking you through the ins-and-outs of Target from the corporate level all the way down to the unwritten rules during your orientation, just to now tell you to indulge in your desires. For the first week or so of your employment, there was a new horror story from “HR Sunoo” about Target drama prior to your time there. 

Retail’s number one rule, don’t fuck your coworkers. 

At some point, “HR Sunoo” stopped telling you old tales of hook-ups and dating. Maybe it was him spending more time in his cross-trained department as a Tarbucks barista, or maybe it was the way someone looked at you that made him annoy the shit out of you with questions, all along the lines of ‘got a work crush yet?’

You’d never guess that Sunoo worked in HR the way his eyes lit up the first time you said, “Well, there’s this guy,” a couple months into your specialty sales role. You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he interrupted, “which team member is it?” 

“Well about that…it’s Heeseung.”

“Girl. You know you can’t do that, he’s a team lead.”

…Retail’s second rule, don’t fuck your manager. In your defense, he wasn’t your manager, he was just a manager. 

You were rarely around Heeseung at work, though. You spent most of your time running around in the clothing departments and in the backrooms. He spent his time in the front by the check lanes and guest services, usually having no reason to interact with you. 

It started with glances, continued with greetings, and escalated with conversation. It was hard to forget him when you passed by the front. At first, it was simply because he was attractive to you, just being the hot dude by checkout for some time. Then, you learned his name. You greeted him. He greeted you. You would find reasons to come to the front. He would stop by your section to make conversation. 

Before you knew it, Heeseung became the highlight of your shifts, and you’re sure other people noticed too. Sunoo certainly did. 

In the beginning, Sunoo would remind you of the rulebook—of what’s wrong and what’s right. But, as with most things, he gave in to the drama of it all. During your 15 minute breaks, during your lunches, during work, outside of work…he always wanted updates, and best believe, he was getting them.

To Heeseung, every gesture or interaction of yours was all for him. Thinking as much was what motivated him to actually give a shit after clocking in. 

At first, he tried to fight it—work is work, keep everything else in life separate from it. But, it bubbled and grew to a point where it was undeniable. Perhaps he was seeking a little more than cordiality, and why not play into it? It’s not like he was actually crossing any boundaries with you.

Unfortunately for him, other men were hoping for the same with you. The sleazeballs at the front would talk about you, ogling at the same things Heeseung did, only difference being they vocalized their thoughts.

Heeseung would internally roll his eyes every time a male team member would bring up your different hairstyles, the way you carried yourself on certain days, the way the denim of your jeans would hug your curves… they just didn’t get you the way he did. 

Yes, he had the same thoughts. Yes, he hated when they talked about you like that. 

Maybe it was delusion, maybe it was reality, but Heeseung would scoff whenever his front-end team members would swear up and down that you ‘looked at them a certain way,’ or that you ‘wanted them.’ In his head, you don’t do that with anyone except him. 

In particular, Jake was guilty of indulging a little too much in this coworker fantasy, and it pissed Heeseung off. 

“Nah she wants me,” Jake told Sunghoon, “she came into my checkout lane today before she clocked in. In that outfit? She does it on purpose—”

“Does what?” Heeseung chimed, cocking a brow at Jake. 

“Dress like that,” Jake breathed, “it’s fucking crazy. Not to be brash but, I’d hit.” 

Like what? he questioned, pondering for only a moment before you passed by, as if on cue.

Jake nudged Heeseung, “Like fuck, you get me right?” 

Heeseung outwardly rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was ogling at you, possibly even worse than Jake was. He knew that he was down bad because the mere implication of you dressing for Jake or anyone that wasn’t Heeseung raised his heart rate more than he’d like to admit. 

He completely drowned out Jake’s horny rambling as he replayed the vision of you walking by in his head. You like your tight tops, you like your cropped tops too, but never have you worn this shirt or anything like it. Heeseung knew he should write you up for a dress code violation, but that would mean you’d never wear that around him again. 

All day, he lingered around your section longer than usual, finding any excuse to make conversation, personal or professional. Every time you bent down to fix something or reached up to adjust items, Heeseung watched you like a hawk. Every sliver of skin he got to see made the pit in his core burn hotter. 

God, you had to have been doing it for him, right? 

You had to have known what that was doing for a man like him—the way you looked at him through your lashes, knowing he can see straight down your shirt at your cleavage, or the way you turned away to pick something up, or simply the way you looked at him. 

He hoped that all the effort you put into your looks was for him. The thought of such made him ache, desire bubbling beyond the point of simple fantasy and crossing over into the territory of taking action. Heeseung was not a stupid man, and he could see right through you.

Just like how you could see right through him. 

“Honestly,” Sunoo said during your last break, fiddling haphazardly with the milk steamer, “I think you could seduce him without even trying.”

You sipped your drink and stared at him. “Why is that the most dangerous thing you’ve ever said to me?”

“Because it’s true,” he said, swirling a straw in his pink drink. “You’re giving workplace eye candy realness, and he? He literally leaned on the service desk just to show off his arms.“

“He was probably just tired. I think that apron is tied so tight it’s cutting off blood flow to your brain.”

“He was definitely trying to look hot while staring at you near swimwear. It’s his thing.”

You groaned. “I’m not flirting back.”

You tried not to think about it too much—how close Heeseung stood when he asked how your shift was going, or how he said your name in a tone that made “What's your 20?” sound like an invitation.

It didn’t help that every time you walked past Guest Services, he looked up. Even when he was with a guest. Even when he was deep in conversation with a cashier or another TL. Like his eyes were always looking for you.

You chalked it up to coincidence.

Until he started showing up in your section.

The first time it happened, it was easy to rationalize.

“Just making rounds,” Heeseung said, casually glancing at the endcap you were resetting in Women’s Performance like he knew what any of it meant. “You need anything back here?”

You blinked. “You’re doing rounds... in Softlines?”

Heeseung smiled. “You’d be surprised what gets stolen back here.”

Sunoo walked by five minutes later, barely disguised glee on his face. “Oh wow,” he said loudly, “Front End is in Style? Should I call AP?”

Heeseung in the fitting room hallway. Heeseung casually grabbing a damaged tag off a floor fixture that wasn’t even in his department. Heeseung asking you about your  weekend availability like he hadn’t seen your schedule a hundred times.

You started noticing the way other people noticed, too.

Jake, mostly.

There was the time that Jake helped you stock the graphic tees, deliberately knocking piles of tees into your arms just so he could brush against you while “catching” them. His timing was too perfect, his movements too calculated to be accidental.

“Whoops.” he’d say, not even pretending to be sorry, fingers lingering on your waist a beat too long as he steadied the falling merchandise. The heat of his palm burned through your red shirt, and you found yourself leaning into the touch before catching yourself. You retaliated by “accidentally” sending a band tee sailing at his head. He caught it one-handed, winking. “Nice throw. But if you wanted me on my knees, you could’ve just asked. No need to knock me out.”

The flirting had become a dangerous game. Jake would find excuses to squeeze past you in the narrow stockroom aisles, his chest brushing your back as he reached for boxes on high shelves. “Excuse me,” he’d murmur, voice low and warm against your ear, staying pressed against you for just a second longer than necessary. You’d started timing your breaks to coincide with his, stealing moments by the loading dock where you could trade jokes and loaded glances without management breathing down your necks.

Then, there was that shift two weeks ago when you were both assigned to work the fitting rooms. Jake had cornered you by the return rack, close enough that you could smell his cologne mixed with that generic retail store scent of fabric softener and industrial carpet cleaner. 

“You know,” he’d said, fingertips trailing along the sleeve of your polo, “we could make these boring shifts a lot more interesting.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, and for one reckless moment, you’d almost said yes. Almost let him kiss you right there between the clearance racks and the abandoned shopping carts. But then you heard Heeseung’s voice echoing from the main floor, calling for a price check, and reality crashed back down.

Speaking of Jake—you groaned internally as he sidled up next to you, his nametag crooked.”Hey, did you see the new schedule? Heeseung cut me down to eight hours this week,” the grumbled, arms crossed. “Think he’s got it out for me?”

You remembered other moments, too. The way Jake’s laugh would get a little too loud when you were within earshot. How he’d started wearing that cologne that made your head spin during your shared shifts. The time he’d “helped” you reorganize the jewelry display, standing so close behind you that every movement made his chest brush against your shoulders.

Once, you caught him muttering to Sunoo by the lockers, voice pitched low but still audible: “She’s not even being subtle anymore.”

To which Sunoo, your ever-loyal work bestie, had replied with characteristic bluntness: “Heeseung’s the one who scheduled her closing shifts three nights in a row. She’s just clocking in.”

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him? 

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit. 

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

“HEESEUNG COME IN?”

He groaned as he stepped back from you and unclipped his walkie from his waistband.

“Go ahead.” 

“Can you please come to the parking lot? Blue Prius just tapped me at 5 to 10 miles per hour,” Sunghoon pleaded. 

“Copy,” Heeseung unenthusiastically responded, as he turned on his heels to head towards Sunghoon’s location. “I’ll be back.”

Dumbfounded, you just stood there, questioning what the hell just happened with Heeseung, your ETL. And fuck, you still have to close with him later.

“Are you the only one closing style?” Heeseung asked, speech muffled from the walkie.

“Think so,” you responded, “Jungwon’s here but he’s doing TL stuff in the office. He’s not gonna be in the sections it seems.” 

“You doing okay with that then? Need help with something?”

“Sure...”

“Copy, I’ll be right there.”

Truthfully, you were doing fine. You had more than enough time in the past few hours to close all the sections and do a good zone. For once, you wished that some group of rowdy teenagers or a pissed off Karen would come in and wreak havoc in a section. Just so you could potentially see Heeseung fixing it, getting all sweaty and frustrated while organizing.

…And as if Bullseye heard your nasty, internal wishes, Heeseung approached and spotted the world’s smallest, most insignificant section that anyone could attempt to fix. 

Instead of doing your job, you looked at Heeseung, his red polo looking too good under the dimmed lights. His top button was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint veins along his forearms. 

“Alright, all done,” he remarked, quickly continuing to walk the rest of Style. He stopped just inside the fitting room entrance, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Have you cleared these out?”

“Don’t think so,” you replied as you went to grab the fitting room keys from one of the hooks to unlock and inspect all the rooms. 

Heeseung started on the closer end of the fitting rooms, working way faster than you were. You worked from the last room to the standard ones. The difference in size made you realize how cramped the spaces were, hardly enough space for you to reach from end to end with your wingspan. You wished you hadn’t taken notes of the double mirrors, allowing you to see both your front and back, or the small bench in the corner, large enough to fit one—maybe two— people.

Your mind supplied images—him pressing you against one of those mirrors, his hands rough under your shirt, his mouth hot on your neck. The way he’d look at you, all dark eyes and bitten lips, as he—

“All clear,” Heeseung said, pulling you from your thoughts. He entered the fitting room you just opened and stepped into, the standard size fitting rooms, small… and now clear.

You blinked. The fitting rooms were clear.

But Heeseung hadn’t moved.

He stood there, watching you, the air between you thick enough to choke on.

In the enclosed space, you took in all of him, from his height down to the way he looked at you. It was like he was waiting on a question from you, his gaze unwavering. His lips slightly parted, as if to say something. 

Instead, he closed the gap between you two.

“God, can we just stop ignoring it?��

Heeseung shut the door of the fitting room behind him, admiring your form right in front of him and in all the reflections of the mirrors adjacent to the two of you. 

No words were exchanged, yet you felt the tension and ache in your body grow with him so close to you. Right in front of you. Just the two of you, distance closing in. 

The moment stretched, thick with tension, as Heeseung’s fingers trailed from your hand to your wrist, his thumb pressing lightly on your pulse point. You felt how fast your heart was racing and you knew he could too.

“Heeseung—” you started, but his name came out breathless, barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” his voice was rough, teasing, as he stepped even closer, backing you against the fitting room mirror. The glass is cold but his body in front of you is warm and solid. “You were saying?”

You swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t—”

“Probably not,” he agreed, but he didn’t move. Instead, his free hand came up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “But I’ve been thinking about this all shift.”

Somewhere beyond the fitting room door, the distant beep of a walkie interrupted— Jungwon’s voice, sharp with annoyance. “Has anyone seen Heeseung? I need him to open the safe—”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your waist as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, voice barely audible. 

You didn’t.

The moment your lips met, the world outside the fitting room ceased to exist. Heeseung’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him as his mouth moved against yours with an aching hunger that only you could satisfy. Your Zebra clattered to the floor, forgotten, its screen illuminating the otherwise dark room.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a gasp from you that he swallowed greedily. “Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked in this morning”

The walkie on his hip sounded again— Jungwon’s irritated voice slicing through the haze. “HELLOOOO”

Heeseung wordlessly muted the walkie, his eyes never leaving you. 

Jungwon was definitely pissed, but you barely noticed, not when his hands were sliding under your red shirt, fingers skimming the bare skin at your waist. 

“You’ve never worn that before.” he said, lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point. “I’d remember if you did.”

Breath hot on your neck, he whispered, “Or, the other guys would’ve told me. They want to eat you up so bad, you know that?”

His hips pressed forward, pinning you in place as his mouth found yours again, hotter this time, deeper. “And I listen to them talk about how fine you are, knowing I’m the only one that could,” looking at you straight in your eyes as he did so.

Heeseung didn’t even pause. Just shoved his hand down your pants, fingers slipping under your waistband with zero hesitation. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, dragging his thumb in a slow circle that made your knees buckle. “All this for me?”

His fingers pressed deeper, teasing, testing, and you bit your lip hard enough to taste copper. 

“I like watching you with guests,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear. “So fucking polite. So eager to please.” His thumb dragged slow over your clit, and you choked back a whimper. “You listen so well when they tell you what to do.” 

You gripped the wall behind you, knuckles white. “Heeseung—”

“Would you do that for me?” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, fingers working you with cruel precision. “Follow my orders like you do theirs?”

The risk of being caught should’ve stopped you.

It didn’t.

You arched into his touch, breath ragged. “Try me.”

He laughed, dark and satisfied, and finally sank two fingers into you. “Good girl.”

The air was thick with desire and something far more dangerous as Heeseung slowly withdrew his fingers from your pants. His eyes never left yours—dark, hungry, smug- as he brought them to his lips. 

The swipe of his tongue was deliberate. Obscene. A performance just for you.

“Sweet,” he murmured, licking the last trace of you from his skin. “Just like I knew you’d be.”

Your face burned, your body still reeling from his touch. You opened your mouth—to protest, to beg, you weren’t sure—when you heard something in the distance.

He didn’t move, just smirked, wiping his damp fingers on the edge of your new red shirt as if to mark his territory. 

Your phone buzzed violently in your pocket for the fifth time, the screen lighting up against your thigh as Heeseung’s teeth grazed your neck.

Sunoo  don’t make me come find you girl im hungry i gotta go home

You groaned, tipping your head back against the mirror. “Fuck. Sunoo’s gonna kill me-” 

Heeseung’s hand slid higher up your thigh as he nipped at your jaw. “Ignore him.”

Your phone buzzed again. 

Sunoo GIRL. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

The moment Sunoo’s voice cut through the fitting room—”Girl, I know you hear me. My phone’s about to die and I am not sleeping in this jank parking lot.” You jerked back, caught off guard.

Heeseung’s grip tightened on your hip for one delicious, dangerous second—not letting go—before he reluctantly released you with a low exhale through his nose. “Go,” he muttered, voice rough, “before he kills you… or both of us.”

You scrambled to straighten your shirt. Heeseung leaned back against the fitting room door, watching you with an amused expression as you desperately tried to look less destroyed.

Your car's engine wheezed as Sunoo slammed the passenger door. He shoved his third Tarbucks monstrosity—some unholy caramel-vanilla-cinnamon abomination—into the cupholder with enough force to shake your hanging air freshener.

“What took you so damn long?” Sunoo demanded, buckling his seatbelt with an aggressive yank.” I swear you better have a good reason ‘cause I gotta go home and watch White Lotus—”

“Heeseung.” You cut him off, gripping the wheel like it might save you from this conversation. 

“What.” Sunoo’s head swiveled toward you so fast that you could feel the migraine from your seat.

“So you interrupted something very important, actually,” you said, half-joking, half-serious.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Okay,” Sunoo’s voice dripped with faux solemnity as he leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “So you were fucking a team lead. As a team member cross-trained in HR, I’m obligated to—”

“You’re lucky I haven’t crashed this fuckass Toyota Camry yet,” you snapped, swerving around a pothole hard enough to make the loose change in the console rattle. 

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Did I make him rip it out of you or something? Not my fault. You should’ve fucked earlier in the day.”

“We were NOT fucking,”

“Okay good.” Sunoo held his hands up in mock surrender. “ I was gonna be HR Sunoo for a sec and consider writing you up.”

You groaned, thumping your head against the steering wheel. “I literally hate you. I’ll just stop taking you home the—”

“NO.” Sunoo’s composure shattered instantly. “ You know the last time I took the bus with Sunghoon, he dropped all his change coming in and the bus driver was so mad he didn’t use his brakes the entire ride.”

“Exactly,” you said, turning onto his street with deliberate slowness.” So keep this between us, copy?” 

Sunoo slumped back in his seat, stirring his drink. A long pause. Then, grudgingly:

“...Copy.”

The car rolled to a stop outside his apartment complex. Sunoo unbuckled his seatbelt with a dramatic sigh, then paused, one foot already out the door.

“...Was it at least good, though?”

You flipped him off as he exited.

The fluorescent lights of the employee entrance buzzed overhead as you pushed through the doors, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner and stale coffee hitting you all at once. It was unsettling how normal everything looked—how completely unchanged the world was after last night. The scuffed tile floor, the faint hum of the breakroom microwave, the way Riki, the security guy, nodded at you with the same bored expression he always had.

“Morning,” you said, flashing a quick smile.

Riki barely glanced up from his phone. “Hey.”

That was it. No knowing smirk, no raised eyebrows, no “So, heard you and Heeseung got real cozy in the fitting rooms last night.” Just another day.

You entered your number at the time clock, 

Your locker door stuck like always—you had to hip-check it twice before it finally groaned open. Inside: your work shoes, a half-empty water bottle, and a crumpled receipt from last week’s lunch. Nothing out of place. Nothing to suggest that less than 12 hours ago you’d been tangled up with Heeseung in the fitting rooms, Heeseung’s hands leaving marks you could still feel if you thought about it too hard.

You shoved your bag inside, trading it for a walkie. The static crackle of Jake’s voice came through—”Need backup in Guest Services, someone��s trying to do a no receipt return.” and you clipped it waist like you’d done a thousand times before. A quick glance in the mirror: hair messy, lips slightly swollen, the ghost of a bruise peeking out from under your collar. You tugged your shirt higher, ran a hand through your hair, and slapped your nametag on like armor.

Click. The locker shut.

And just like that, you were back. 

No one looked at you twice. No one knew.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the sales floor.

The world kept turning. 

On the way to check your assignments for the day, you pass by Starbucks, where you see Sunoo. 

So that’s where he was today. 

“Rough morning?” you asked, taking the lid off of your iced coffee to stir in more splenda than appropriate. 

Sunoo wiped his hands on his apron. “Jake tried to reorganize the pastry case by vibes. I made him fix it, but not before we lost two cake pops to the cause.”

You snorted. “At least it wasn’t—"

The door opened. Sunghoon stood framed in the doorway, his neon vest askew. 

“Parking lot incident,” he announced, dropping into the chair beside you.

Sunoo didn’t look up from the caramel macchiato he was arguably ruining. “Do I want details?”

“No.”

“But I will say there’s a very dented BMW out there and the guest is currently arguing with Jungwon about liability.” 

The walkie on your hip crackled before you could respond, Heeseung’s voice coming over the gravelly channel requesting you come to receiving. 

“Bruh,” you quipped, groaning before spinning on your heels to head towards receiving. 

Sunoo yelled, “Ou girl your coffee—” 

“Just give it to Sunghoon!”

Sunoo looked at the disheveled man in front of him, “you can grab it if you want…”

Sunghoon grinned,  reaching out for the drink and taking a sip. “Finally, one good thing today…I think this is what the BMW driver threw at me actually…”

“Oh, okay. Enjoy?”

The path to Receiving wasn’t long, but somehow it felt like a walk of shame. Every step echoed with yesterday’s incident,  the way Heeseung’s hands felt on your skin, the way he looked at you with such desire… And now he was summoning you to the back like it was nothing. 

It wasn’t.

You turned the corner by travel and there he was: clipboard in one hand, expression unreadable, pen tapping against his palm like he was trying not to tap it against his own forehead.

“You called?” you said, trying to sound neutral. Professional. Not like your heart was attempting to beat out of your chest.

Heeseung didn’t look up at first, shrouded in an air of arrogant nonchalance. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Inventory’s off. Again. Thought you might have seen something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism?”

Heeseung finally glanced at you. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Do you want it to be?”

God, he was annoying. God, he was hot.

“Maybe don’t flirt in Receiving,” you replied, folding your arms. “You know. Cameras.”

“You think I’d flirt?” He set the clipboard down on the steel table between them and leaned forward just enough to make it unsafe. “I’m just coaching. You’re the one who keeps coming to my department.”

“I work style,” you said, deadpan. “It’s adjacent.”

“Mmm. So is HR.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Relax,” Heeseung said after a beat, quieter this time. “I just wanted to talk. You good?”

You hated how that got to you—the concern behind the smirk, the real question hidden underneath the teasing. you looked away, fiddling with a broken zipper on a boxcutter pouch.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

A beat.

Your breath caught.

“You should stop,” you said, a little too softly.

Heeseung leaned one hand on the table, voice lower now. “Do you want me to?”

You hesitated. Big mistake. He caught it immediately.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t say no—”

“But you didn’t say yes, either.”

Before you could come up with something clever, or at least coherent—the heavy roll-up door to Receiving groaned, and in walked Jay, wheeling a loaded U-boat stacked with overstock diapers and absolutely no patience.

He looked between the two of you. Once. Twice. Then raised a brow.

“Oh,” Jay said dryly, pulling out his box cutter. “Am I interrupting a highly professional inventory meeting, or…”

You immediately stepped back. “Nope. All business. We were just—”

“Discussing shrink,” Heeseung said, somehow already composed. “You know. Big shrink. Huge.”

Jay snorted and dropped the first box onto a pallet. “Right. That explains everything. Want me to log this as a ‘Team Connection Moment’ or head to HR now?”

“Jay,” Heeseung warned.

“I’m joking,” Jay said, slicing open the box with a smirk. “As long as you don’t make me write a witness statement. I have four pallets and zero help because Riki’s out there chasing someone with a shampoo bottle in their pants.”

“Again?” You asked.

“Again,” Jay confirmed, deadpan. “It’s like a weekly episode of America’s Next Top Shoplifter out there.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go check in with him in a second.”

Jay gave you both a long, meaningful look, then turned back to his pallet. “Try not to commit an HR violation on the way.”

As Jay left, Heeseung turned his attention back to you, not that it wavered much through this encounter. He lowered his voice, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. "Seriously, though. I need help in the cooler. Inventory’s off."

You scoffed. "Since when do you care about inventory counts?"

"Since the district manager’s coming tomorrow, and apparently, we’re missing three cases of almond milk." He shrugged, but his eyes were alight with mischief. "Thought you might wanna help me look."

“Fine,” rolling your eyes, “I better get a raise for this.”

Heeseung scoffed, turning to head towards the refrigerated stockroom, “For what? Doing your job?”

“Technically, this isn’t in my job description. No where on my contract did it say ‘check inventory for another department with your team lead’ or—”

“Executive team lead.”

You groaned, opening the refrigerated backroom door with more force than necessary. Upon entering, you turned to look at Heeseung, whose back was against the door, clipboard now sitting atop a random empty rack. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” 

He smirked. “You like it though.” 

You hesitated.

HR Sunoo’s voice echoed in your head: "...Don’t mix business with pleasure."

You bit your lip. “I do not.”

Heeseung’s smile widened. "Prove it."

The backroom was silent except for the hum of the industrial fridge and the sound of Heeseung’s breath hitching as your fingers traced the hard line of him through his khakis. 

“Fuck,” he gritted out, hips jerking into your touch.

You smirked, dragging your palm over him slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched. “Problem, boss?”

Heeseung’s hand snapped out, gripping your wrist tightly as he jerked you closer. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned, voice rough. 

“Yeah?” You undid his belt with your free hand, popping the button on his pants. “Then why are you letting me win?” 

Heeseung didn't answer, instead spinning you around to shove you face first against the steel shelving, kicking his pants down just enough to free himself. Your breath caught at the feel of him, hot and heavy against the fabric of the back of your jeans.

“Tell me to stop,” he demanded, breath ghosting over the back of your neck. 

You arched back into him. “Make me.”

Heeseung cursed, one hand in your hair as the other lingered on your lower back. He brought his lips right next to your ear, his hot breath contrasting the cool air, before taking it between his teeth, applying enough pressure just to make you lose any remaining composure. 

You gasped as he pulled back, temporarily stripping your skin of any warmth before pressing you back into the cold shelving, this time with his body. His hand released from your hair and made its way down to your side. 

Both of his hands found their way to your sides, thumbs tucking into your belt loops before gently pulling your hips back. You shivered as his cold hands moved from your sides to your stomach, fingertips tucking into your waistband with one hand and playing with the button closure of your jeans with the other. Heeseung undid your pants, tugging them down with your panties just enough for you to feel him press against you, skin to skin.

“You want it?” Heeseung breathed, hot against your back as his hands wrapped around to gently trace your waist, then your hips, as to entice you into begging for it. Your soft moan as his cool hands made their way closer to your core was all the affirmation he needed to retuck his thumbs into the waistband of your now-unzipped jeans, pulling them down to your knees.

Heeseung’s laugh was dark, rough even, as the edges of his hands again slid around your waist, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered against your neck, his breath hot as he stroked himself against you, the thick drag of his cock already slick from how wet you were.

One hand shoved your shirt up, palming your breast roughly over your bra before tugging the cup down. His thumb flicked over your nipple, pinching just enough to make you gasp, making your back arch into his touch. “Always so fucking responsive,” he growled, “Knew you’d be like this.”

You whimpered as his other hand slid between your legs, fingers dragging through your folds before pushing two inside without warning. “Christ,” he hissed, curling them just to hear you moan. “Already dripping for me? That’s all it takes? Just a little pressure?

You rocked back against his hand, desperate, but he pulled away with a wet sound, smearing your arousal over the head of his cock before lining himself up.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice ragged.

“Tell me you want it.”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze, lips parted. “More than anything.” 

He didn’t hesitate. 

Your jaw dropped as he fully sheathed himself inside you with a groan, pressing you harder into the cool metal shelving. You felt the stretch for only a moment before he pulled back, holding himself there without pushing back in. 

“Want more?” he asked, breathy and rough, self-restraint slowly dissipating. 

You whimpered, parting your lips to answer before being interrupted by the rough slip of him back into you.

“Sounds like you do,” Heeseung groaned, setting an increasingly fast rhythm, hands set on your hips. The shelves rattled with every thrust, the sound echoing through the empty backroom. You could feel him everywhere—the bite of his fingers, the drag of his cock, the way his breath hitched when you clenched around him.  

“That’s it.” he panted, fucking you harder, deeper. “Take it—you take it so good”

You didn’t have to use words to beg for more from him. Heeseung knew what you—your body—needed just from the way you pushed your hips back into him, craving more of him. He wished he could keep this image as a screensaver in his mind, watching the way your body pushed and pulled him at just the perfect pace.

You moaned whenever Heeseung hit just the spot—the way he hit your cervix just lightly enough for you to feel it. The slight discomfort made you wince and shiver, overstimulated from the sensation of him relentlessly punching into you. His brows stayed furrowed, savoring the way he’d bottom out inside of you, just to feel the clench of your cunt as he pulled back from you. He could only pull out so far, though, as the speed in which he was fucking you was fast and rough; The passion from last night’s encounter was evident through the movement of his hips.

His hand slid back to your clit, rubbing tight circles just to hear you sob. “Gonna come just like this,” he murmured, lips against your ear. 

Heeseung’s thrusts became shallower, making you take more of his length at once as he exchanged speed for proximity, holding your body against the steel frames as he played with your clit, relishing in the way you’d tighten around all of him when he’d pick up the pace. His thrusts synced with the staccato of your moans, with the sound of your skin-to-skin contact following. 

On one hand, he wished he could have taken it slow enough for you to hear your breaths sync as he fucked you so, so deep. On the other hand, he didn’t think that he had experienced anything this hot before—the way he could see his and your breath in the chilled air, how he could see when it stopped when his hips left you breathless—making him a crazed man that only you could tame. 

“Gonna let me come inside?” he asked, breathy and desperate.

“God yes, please—”

Heeseung’s hips returned to the same punishing speed, taking your breath away. He wasted no time to make you come undone, shattering the ceiling that held your composure intact. You released around him, coaxing him to follow suit as you came down from your orgasm. With a final thrust, Heeseung fully sheathed himself in your walls, twitching as he came inside you.

The backroom was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the slow, slick slide of Heeseung pulling out of you. His hands steadied you as your legs wobbled. 

You took time to catch your breath and regain stability in your limbs before saying a word. Heeseung quickly picked up his discarded clothing, redressing himself and straightening up as best he could’ve. 

“Let me help you,” he said, bending down to pull up your jeans and panties from your knees. He paused for a second, smirking upon seeing his essence dripping out of you. He continued, pulling your panties up over your ass, jeans following. “Turn around,” he commanded, guiding you by your hips to allow him to zip and button your pants.

You found yourself back at eye level with him, still trying to catch your breath.  

“Ready to go?” Heeseung asked, turning to grab his stuff then head towards the door. You nodded, following him as he made his way back out to the larger backroom. 

You shuffled quickly behind him, wanting to make your way out of the back as soon as possible so as to not draw attention to you and Heeseung. Just as the door is in arms reach, you heard the industrial elevator screech open. For a second your heart stops, but luckily it was just Jay. 

“How’s it going… again,” he said, this time pushing an overstocked U-boat of diet Cokes and water cases. 

“Oh y’know… Inventory’s just crazyyy,” Heeseung said, causing you to roll your eyes in response. 

Jay sighed, “Okay bruh,” pushing his U-boat towards the door, forcing you and Heeseung to move out of his way. You looked at Heeseung, mentally thanking Bullseye that it was just Jay to catch you two leaving the backroom together.

Going back to work after fucking your boss made you paranoid as hell. Every time you passed by another team member, or by the front, hell, even Sunoo, it felt like they knew what you were doing back there.

You had to quickly catch up on your tasks—not that you really started on them anyways. You sighed every time you caught yourself sweating while breaking out a z-rack, mentally cursing yourself for putting dick first and Target second. Your style coworkers absolutely noticed how disheveled and discombobulated you were. 

The fitting room saw you at your worst. Putting go-backs back on their respective hangers was more difficult than you would’ve liked to admit, mind fully clouded with images of Heeseung, his hands, the sensation of his—

“Yo, you good?” Riki asked, breaking your intense focus. You looked up at his neon green ‘asset protection’ jacket, cheeks red from the reminiscing, only able to meekly nod at him and mutter out, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You know what I saw earlier,” Riki said, making your heart stop for the second time today. 

Shit. Maybe he did see.

“Some young couple doing it in the family bathroom. I kicked them out because Sunghoon wanted to use it, and lo and behold…”

You exhaled, tuning out the rest of what Riki had to say out of pure relief. You practically confirmed that he didn’t catch you and Heeseung… You were forced back to reality, “Family bathroom, huh? I assure you it could’ve been worse,” Heeseung interjected, waltzing into the fitting room with a smirk on his lips. 

“Bro no,” Riki objected, “you’ve never had to unstick two horny twenty-somethings in the front of a Target.” 

Heeseung laughed, “And never will, hopefully,” patting Riki on the back before continuing on his way to god knows where, giving you an all-knowing look over Riki’s shoulder on the way out. 

God, that asshole. 

Riki groaned, pressing two fingers to his temple and rubbing, squeezing his eyes shut. “He doesn’t get it though for real—whatever. Let me know if there are shoplifters over here.” He leaned off the fitting room counter and gave you a small wave on his way back to the front, which you reciprocated. 

You sighed, finding yourself alone once again with your thoughts, which were either of paranoia or of desire, neither of which being helpful to your productivity. You mentally cursed yourself for being so observant, particularly of Heeseung. 

You mentally cursed him for looking disheveled in the good way, like he’s begging to be ravaged by you. Waltzing into the fitting room, smirking in reference to your private encounter just that day, knowing that you were the only person who would be on the same page. You hated that his hair was the perfect amount of messy; You were the only person who knew how it got so messy in the first place. You hated that his red tee was thin enough to stick to his skin, teasing and tempting you with the contours of his body. It didn’t help that he had just the slightest sheen of sweat, showing on his forehead and further accentuating the cling that his shirt had on him. 

It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on you. 

You especially hated that you were assigned to men’s today. Making sure that every pair of pants were hung up just right, assuring the fabric was taut on the front-facing side; Buttoning up fancy dress shirts in different colors, all imagining that you were taking these articles off of Heeseung instead. The only good thing to come out of such was that the time was flying by, making an otherwise eye-twitching shift just a smidge less painful. 

But it was like he knew that you were struggling with the thought of him in your mind, greeting you with a sly smile plastered across his lips as he passed by you in the men’s section, hanging up a belt you just imagined taking off of him. 

He didn’t leave though, stopping you in your tracks as he continued towards you.

“Take your break,” he murmured. “Now.”

You swallowed. “I still have an hour—”

“I’m your boss. I say when you take your break.” His fingers brushed your wrist, sending a shiver up your spine. “Meet me in the family restroom. Five minutes.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already walking away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder.

The family restroom was empty, thank god. You slipped inside, locking the door behind you just as Heeseung crowded you against the sink.

“Knew you’d come,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

You melted into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the counter. His tongue slid against yours, hungry and demanding, and you whimpered into his mouth.

“Missed you,” he growled, nipping at your bottom lip. “Think about you all fucking day.”

You reached for the waistband of his khakis, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

“You,” he responded, voice low. You withheld any verbal response, opting to hold eye contact with Heeseung instead. You kept your hand on his khakis, noticing how the fabric below stretched taut under your touch. Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat with the sustained eye contact, wanting more from you. 

You removed your hands from his waistband, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, looking up at him. His hands fell to your ass, giving you a soft squeeze. You felt Heeseung harden against your stomach, fabric being no barrier to such. 

“I missed you too,” you purred, lifting yourself off of the sink and backing Heeseung against the tile. 

“This much?”

“Of course,” detaching yourself from him briefly. Heeseung’s breath hitched as your hands met his waistband again, this time actually undoing his belt. You swore you could hear him whimper when you stopped there, moving your hand to palm him through his pants instead. “I thought about you all day too,” you whispered, bringing your face closer to his and forcing him to bring his eyes from your hand to your eyes once more.

“‘Bout what, baby?”he asked, eyes low. 

“Well,” you started, “I was looking at pants just like these.” You reached for the button of his khakis, jangling his undone belt in the process. “And I was thinking how good you’d look in some of them.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement, hovering your fingertips above his now exposed waistband to watch his abs twitch under your touch. You take Heeseung’s face in your palm with one hand, pulling him in for a kiss, observing how his eyes flutter closed upon contact. Your other hands wander south, feeling his hardened cock straining against the fabric of his khakis.

Heeseung moaned against your mouth as you palmed him through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him nearly beg for more. You pulled away, keeping your gaze fixed on his face as you dropped your hand from his cheek to drag your fingers down his torso, eliciting a hiss, before dropping to your knees.

“I thought about this too,” as you reached up to unzip his khakis. You pulled his boxer briefs and pants down with a single tug, freeing his hard cock from the fabric.  You cursed under your breath, taking in the sight of the v-shaped contour of his hips, a bristly trail tending southwards. His face twitched upon meeting the cold air, this time feeling so different from your encounter in the fridge just earlier.

Heeseung found it difficult to keep his composure, keeping his bottom lip slightly tucked between his teeth, biting down as to not make a noise out of sheer anticipation. “All shift,” you took his length into your hand, gentle with your touch, and brought him to your cheek, “I wanted this.” You  fluttered your eyelashes at him, doe-eyed and tantalizing, seeing the heat build within him with every millisecond that passed. 

The eye contact you held paused, your focus shifting to bringing Heeseung’s tip to your lips instead. You propped yourself up on your heels, posture proper, as you kitten-licked at his weeping tip, swollen with need. He cursed upon feeling the sensation of your warm, wet tongue on him, a feeling he didn’t know he needed—craved—so badly until he felt it. 

He tasted a bit salty, mostly like the sweat from the long workday and your shared morning rendezvous. Without warning, you sank down on his length, softly humming in satisfaction upon hearing him gasp, shocked that you took all of him down your throat in one motion. He remained speechless as you slightly gagged around him, throat constricting around the tip of his cock as he hit the back of your throat. 

You pulled back with a pop and looked up at him with glossy eyes, pumping him with one hand. He ran his hand through his hair, amazed at the sight before him—you, on your knees for him, with swollen and wet lips. It felt like his wildest fantasies were materializing, and god, did it make him an utterly weak man.

With a smirk, you kept your glossy eyes on him as you tilted your head to the side, holding his length with one hand as you slowly, torturously even, licked stripes from base to tip. You wished you could have this image in your head for eternity—your boss now turned into a docile, meek man, at the mercy of you and your mouth.

Pulling yourself to his tip again, you took his length into your mouth and sank down to meet his groin with your nose. Heeseung reached down, entangling his fingers in your hair and giving a slight tug. Your hands found their way to his hips, using them as leverage to retract from his base. He whimpered as your cheeks hollowed, bobbing back and forth on his length. 

Heeseung didn’t know what to do with himself—the only sounds that could leave his lips were near incoherent expletives and the lewdest of soft moans. His hands followed the rhythm that you set, pushing your head towards his groin and shallowly thrusting to meet your lips. Tears pricked your eyes every time he met the back of your throat, his thrusts showing how needy he was. 

You pulled away, gasping and taking breaths through the web of saliva and precome spanning between you and Heeseung’s cock. Languidly, you pumped him with one hand, sitting up. You leaned forward, looking up at his flushed face before parting your lips to spit back onto his cock, using your hand to spread it from base to tip. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered closed as he tipped his head back, lips parted to unabashedly moan at the sensation. 

He gasped at your sudden absence—you stood up to again back yourself onto the sink and counter, prompting him to follow, stroking himself as his gaze stayed on you. Open arms welcomed him as you wrapped yours around him once again. You pulled Heeseung closer in to kiss him, freeing his hand from his length to wrap his arms around your waist, smearing himself on the bottom hem of your shirt. Fingertips found their way under, moving the fabric upwards to reach under the bottom edge of your bra, cupping and kneading your breast as Heeseung deepened the kiss. 

Your lips parted with a gasp, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. He softly, lewdly sucked on your tongue, tasting himself on you. Heeseung whimpered against your lips, eyes shut and brows knit with pleasure. You removed your arms, giving him a soft push to cease the kiss. He slightly backed away, leaving a string of mostly saliva between your lips. With your thumb, you swiped your thumb on his lips, breaking the thin connection between you. 

Reaching for the button of your jeans, “Want you to fuck me,” you gasped.

“Fuck, thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, helping you onto the counter as you undid the button and zipper closure on your jeans. You leaned back, kicking off your shoes and letting Heeseung pull your jeans off of you, placing them on the adjacent vacant changing table. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and mentally thanking the architect for the height of the counter. You sat with your aching core at the edge of it all, letting Heeseung rub his length against the dampened fabric of your panties. 

“Got you all worked up?” Heeseung breathed, observing you beneath him. He leaned over you, pressing his length against the skin of your stomach as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up. He moved the wire and cups of your bra towards your face, exposing your breasts to him. 

“You could say so,” you whispered in response. 

Heeseung lost no time, hooking his fingers on one side of your panties and pulling them aside. He rubbed his tip against your folds vertically, hissing at the sensation of you. The ache in your core overwhelmed you, pulsing and pleading in need of Heeseung. “So warm,” he huffed, “so wet.” 

His hands met your hips to again pull you towards the edge of the countertop. He took his length in his hand, resting it on top of your mound towards your belly button, “You gonna take all of me again, baby?” voice dripping with seduction. 

“Yes, please,” you mewled, throbbing at the sight of his thick, hot length resting atop your womb. 

Without hesitation, Heeseung drew his hips back and lined up his tip, hot and dripping, at your entrance. Heeseung groaned, slipping himself in in one smooth movement, filling you up entirely. You moaned, slightly wincing at the sore stretch in your core. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Heeseung breathed, withdrawing halfway to push back into you again, brows knitting at the sight of the slight bounce of your tits. He grabbed your hips, digging his thumbs into your flesh. He wasted no time taking it slow; He wanted you and he wanted you now. 

He fucked into you with enough force to draw yelps from your lips, mercilessly pounding into you like he’s been craving this entire time. The ache in your core was gone, instead replaced with the stretch you had become addicted to. He kept his pleasure no secret, moaning as you gripped around him, drawing him back to your womb with every retraction of his hips. He grew hot with lechery, indulging in what your body had to offer him. 

Hooking a finger under, he pulled the fabric at the seat of your panties further to the side, leaning over you to press deeper into you. He fucked you harder, deeper, enamored with your sex. 

“Make me yours,” you moaned, begging for more of him, if that was even possible. 

“Say it again.”

“Fuck—make me yours.”

Heeseung threw his head back in pleasure, gripping your hips to fuck into you—faster, nastier now. The slap of your skin meeting was obscene, reverberating through the tiled walls. Your insides molded to the shape of him, pounding you into his—fully and wholly his. He hissed at every clench of your cunt, eager to milk him empty. 

“Gonna come,” rhythm of his hips rattling his cadence. 

“Inside—please,” you pleaded.

You didn’t have to beg again—Heeseung plunged his hips into you hungrily, chasing climax. His. You were his. Primal desire consumed him; His thumbs dug into the flesh of your stomach and hips as he thought about your womb taking all of his seed, desperate to be his and only his.

With a final snap of his hips, he fully sheathed himself inside you, coming against your cervix. You followed, climaxing with a sob and full-body shiver that wrung Heeseung dry, evident from his soft whimpers. He continued to shallowly fuck into you, pressing his come deeper into you. 

He pulled out of you, breathless. Heeseung smirked, watching your chest rise and fall as you laid there, completely fucked out. He wished he had the time to fuck you again upon seeing his come smeared in your folds from him pulling out. His fingers tucked your dampened panties back in place, soaking up the remnants of his come with the already ruined fabric. Shaking, you let him hold your hands to help you to your feet to get redressed.

“Let’s tidy ourselves up, yeah?”

The flickering light above the family bathroom mirror hummed like a dying insect as you braced your hands against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Tiptoeing to examine as much as you could, you groaned. Your reflection was a disaster—hair wild, lips kiss-swollen, the collar of your uniform shirt tugged sideways where Heeseung’s fingers had gripped a little too hard. 

Behind you, Heeseung smirked as he adjusted his belt buckle with a click, his own shirt half-untucked. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his mussed hair. “We gotta stop doing this at work.”

You shot him a glare in the mirror, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on your face. “Says the guy who started it by getting inspiration from two ‘horny twenty-somethings.’”

Heeseung just grinned, unrepentant, leaning over your shoulder to steal a paper towel . The scent of him—warm skin, cologne, and something unmistakably sex—clung to you both, and you prayed to every god you could name that the bathroom’s industrial-strength air freshener would do its job.

You wiped the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, then froze—shit. There was a bruise forming just below your ear. You yanked your collar higher. “You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, but Heeseung just pressed a kiss to your temple, laughing when you shoved him off.

“Go,” he said, nodding toward the door. “I’ll wait two minutes, then head out. See you later?”

You took a deep breath, smoothed your shirt one last time, and cracked the door open. The store was chaos—a line snaking past guest services, carts clattering, and a guest screaming at Sunghoon over their drive up order being late. Perfect cover.

You slipped out, keeping your head down as you beelined for the nearest display to pretend to straighten it. A few feet away, Sunoo was obliviously scanning a price check, and Riki was too busy patrolling to notice you.

Home free.

Until—

“Hey.” A hand touched your arm.

You nearly jumped out of your skin before realizing it was just Jungwon, his brow furrowed. “You good? You look… flustered.” 

You cleared your throat, willing your pulse to slow. “Fine. Just—uh—spilled coffee on myself earlier. Had to clean up.”

Jungwon’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom, then back to you. A beat. Then

“Okayyyyy” he drawled, “Well FYI, your name tag’s upside down.”

You glanced down—fuck. You flipped it hastily as Jungwon walked off, shaking his head.

Behind you, the bathroom door creaked open.

Heeseung strolled out like he hadn’t a care in the world, whistling as he passed you without a glance. 

You exhaled.

Back to work.

Pretending to clear the fitting rooms, you gently shut the door behind you to check your appearance, front and back. Apparently, you had a lot of oversights that were essentially circled in red in a full-length mirror. You attempted to pat your hair back into place. You checked your nametag again, making sure it was perfect this time. You straightened out your shirt—

That asshole. 

You stared at the spot where he decided to smear himself into your shirt and groaned. You unbuttoned your jeans and tucked your stained bottom hem in to hide the evidence. Sighing, you accepted that you were going to look a hot mess for the tail end of your shift, but it was the best you could do after taking it twice in a day. You grabbed the stray articles of clothing from the fitting room, exiting to go to work, for real this time.

Sore, you were careful to do the rest of your men’s go-backs for the night. Every step, every stretch, made you ache. You moved slowly, eager for your shift to end so you could get some rest and relief from the discomfort.

Then, you were actually at the time to take your lunch, freeing you from the physical work temporarily.

“Taking my 45,” you muttered, hearing your voice echo on surrounding walkies, You turned your walkie off and headed to clock out. Opening the door to the break room, you begin to take off your nametag and head to your locker. You let out a sigh of relief remembering Sunoo worked a morning shift today, leaving no one to question and prod at why your hair was so fucked up, why your shirt was now tucked, or why you generally looked a mess. 

Except him.

“Yoooooo, look who it is!” Jake smiled, sitting in an office chair tucked in a cubicle on his break.

Great.

You gave him a “Hi Jakey," and a meek smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice any—

“Going for the messy look today, I see,” he remarked, eyes raking over your body. You attempted to laugh it off, unsure of how receptive he was to the whole thing. “Kinda hot.”

You brushed him off as you usually do, and proceeded to play with your hair, entertaining it a little. Before Jake could respond, the door opened again, this time being Heeseung and Jungwon. Heeseung gave you a smile and nod, this time surprisingly timid. Jungwon greeted you and Jake before heading to his office with Heeseung, stack of paper in hand.

As Jungwon’s office door clicked close, Jake scoffed, “That fool always tries to act so nonchalant.” He leaned in, lowering his voice, “You know, he actually really likes you. But I tell him all the time, ‘she’s only someone you can dream of having,’ just to piss him off.” He leaned back again, putting his arms behind his head. “Plus, I think you like me more.”

You rolled your eyes, “You play too much,” before turning to clock out and exit to your car in the employee lot. You spent lunch napping, in an attempt to both physically and mentally recover from having your brains fucked out by Heeseung.

Freshly awake, you come back into the office to clock in. You spotted Heeseung and Jungwon at the HR desk, starting intently at the screen in front of them, brows furrowed. Their attention didn’t waver a bit, both laser focused on whatever admin shit was askew and whatever management schemes were supposed to take place the next morning.

Coming back from lunch, you only had 45 minutes until close. Time soared by with you idly doing the same repetitive zoning tasks over and over again. By the grace of Bullseye, your zone looked good. 

You questioned why Heeseung didn’t come ‘do his rounds’ with you tonight, but you brushed it aside. You exited through the side door alone, looking forward to the comfort of your bed, especially needing it after this shift.

“Did you see who got fired?” 

Your pulse spiked—shit, did they find out about—

“Relax, paranoid.” Sunoo singsonged from behind the espresso machine, not even looking up as he steamed milk into a cup that definitely wasn’t on any menu. “It was just Jake.” He slid the drink toward you, a viscous green that looked suspiciously like the color of his apron. “Here. You look like you’re about to smash your head into the pastry case.” 

You scowled but took it. “Why is it green?”

“We’re all trying to be more healthy” He wiped his hands on his apron, smirking. “Besides, Jake’s exit was hilarious. You should have been there. Heeseung said his ‘registers were short’, and that idiot thought it was a height joke.”

You swirled the murky liquid, watching it cling to the sides like swamp water. “This looks like a product of the last time Jake made a matcha.” You muttered, already mourning the loss of taste buds you were about to experience.

“Tastes like it too.” Sunoo chirped, already restocking the syrup bottles. 

Sunoo let out a dreamy sigh, restocking syrup bottles with unnecessary vigor. “Man, we’ll never see that particular shade of radioactive algae again.”

You snorted. “Damn. Miss him already.”

“Well, better drink up, champ. Your shift starts in…” He made a show of checking his (empty) wrist. “...three minutes.”

You took a reluctant sip and immediately regretted it. “Jesus. Did you put wheatgrass in this or just blend whatever you could find that was about to expire?”

“Trade secret.” He winked. 

“A disgusting secret,” you muttered, jokingly side-eyeing him. 

“Speaking of disgusting choices—you’re closing tonight, right? Don’t bother with the ride tonight. Jungwon finally got his hellcat back from the shop.” He paused dramatically. “Which means I can once again experience the luxury of…what do normal people call it? ‘Leaving on time’?” 

“Boo, you act like it was more than just one time.”

“Oh, we’re acknowledging that now? Because as I recall, I was ready on time until I had to comb through the entire store to find you while you and Heeseung were ‘zoning’ the fitting rooms.” He air quoted “Which, by the way, would not fly in a conversation with HR.”

You rolled your eyes. “Zoning is a real thing. We were working.”

Sunoo leaned across the counter, syrup bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. “Mhm.

You flipped him off over your shoulder just as you turned the corner—and walked straight into Heeseung’s chest.

His hands came up to steady you, fingers burning through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

“Late again,” he observed, voice low. His thumb brushed the exposed skin between your jeans and work shirt. “You’re lucky I don’t write you up.” 

Heeseung’s gaze never left yours, following behind you in your trail. “Jake’s gone.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Fired him.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Funny how his eyes always lingered on something when he worked near you.” His teeth grazed your earlobe—not quite a bite, but the suggestion of one. “Funnier how you always seemed to lean into it.”

Your stomach dropped. Memories flashed— Jake’s fingers accidentally catching your waist when he squeezed past, the way you let his touch linger that one time by these same lockers when you knew Heeseung was watching.

“Tell me,” Heeseung murmured, dragging his nose along your jaw, ”did you like seeing me lose control every time he looked at you like you were his?”

“Uh. I still didn’t clock in yet.” 

A beat of silence. Then.

Heeseung stepped aside so suddenly you almost stumbled. “Go ahead.” his voice was light, casual, as if his breath hadn’t been sending shockwaves down your spine a moment ago.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keypad. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. 

“Problem?” He tilted his head, all innocent, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. The shift was so jarring it made your skin prickle. 

“No,” you muttered, punching your number in. 

“Great.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “See you at closing.” 

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there, the ghost of his breath still warm on your ear. 

The rest of your shift passed in eerie quiet.

You stocked shirts with exaggerated care, stretching just a little farther than necessary when you knew Heeseung was watching. The neckline of your top gaped slightly as you leaned forward to adjust a price tag. 

At the fitting rooms, you made a show of testing a lock on one of the doors, hips swaying as you stepped back to admire your work. 

Sunoo appeared suddenly, draping a returned sweater over your folding table with a soft thud. “You know,” he mused, voice dripping with false innocence, “for someone who claims they’re not trying to seduce their ETL, you do a lot of taunting him on the cameras.” 

You folded the sweater with painstaking precision. “I’m just doing my job.” 

You heard Sunghoons voice come through your walkie, - Did anyone else hear a bang from the surveillance center? His voice slightly distorted by the device. 

Satisfied, you smirked, but were cut off by Sunoo before you could make any smart-ass remark, “You’re hoping that’s Heeseung, huh?”

“Not true!”

“I literally have never seen that man go into the security office this frequently. Heeseung literally isn’t even asset protection—”

And by the grace of Bullseye, your Zebra pinged, shutting Sunoo up and notifying you that you have an audit due by the end of the night. 

“Even my Zebra thinks you talk too much,” you quipped. 

“Does your Zebra think the audit is gonna complete itself? Or do you only make ETL’s finish?”

“I haaaaate you.”

“You hate productivity more.”

“You’re cross trained in style too,” you started, neatly finishing the last stack of sweaters on the display, “get your ass in the fitting room with me and help me with the audit.” You placed a hand on your hip and shifted your weight onto one leg.

“Ugh fine,” he complied, walking over to the fitting room. Upon going to the back, the two of you discovered only one RFID scanner. 

“Wow, perfect.”

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Sunoo said, grabbing the RFID scanner from in front of you. “I’m doing you a favor, so you’re gonna have to get more from stock. Have fun!” You scoffed, watching Sunoo leave the fitting room to start his portion of the audit. 

You walked towards the stockroom where they kept extra charge stations, Zebras, scanners, and things of the sort. Luckily, it was located by the office, so you could at least grab your lipgloss and touch up your makeup a bit. After touching up, you took out a bundle of numbered keys and fumbled around, searching for the right one as you headed to the stockroom.

Like every other lock at Target, the stockroom door was a puzzle game for any key, no matter how new or old. You sighed and inserted the key, already remembering the crazy amount of pressure you need to apply downwards so the lock wouldn’t jingle-jangle loosely. You wiggled the lock with your other hand, applying the force of your entire body against the door. 

After what seemed like an eternity, with a final shove, the door flew open. You grabbed your bundle of keys and slipped into the abyss before you.

I hate this place, you thought, internally cursing yourself for not forcing Sunoo back here instead of you. The search for the light switch was a pain in the ass, with only the light from outside illuminated the stockroom through a crack, which was getting smaller, and smaller…

The stockroom door clicked shut behind you with finality.

You’d only meant to grab more RFID scanners—until the lights flickered and Heeseung was there. His palm slapped against the shelf beside your head, rattling the poorly installed metal shelving.

“Done playing?” His voice was dangerously quiet. 

You opened your mouth—

“Don’t.” His free hand gripped your chin, voicing your gaze up. The usual mockery in his eyes had burned away, leaving something ravenous. 

If jealousy weren’t the main driving force for Heeseung’s actions, then it would have to be danger. You were in a stockroom that was usually dark, so management invested extra in  surveillance. Every single move between the two of you could be recorded, watched, or investigated. 

“There’s cameras here,” you breathed, keeping your voice low in case someone were outside, “someone could be—”

“Watching?” Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hip as he backed you against the steel shelving, his breath hot against your lips, “Let them.”

…And like that, you might like the same danger too. 

"You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day," he murmured, voice rough. "Every time you bend over to stock those goddamn shelves—"

You arched into him, nails scraping down his chest. "Then do something about it."

His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Letting me fuck you right here in the stockroom like some desperate—"

"No one has to know," you breathed, tilting your head to give him better access.

He let out a dark laugh, lips trailing down your neck. "Thanks for the job security."

Then his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your moan as his hands slid under your shirt. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, punishing in its intensity, like he’d been starving for it all day. One of his hands fisted in your hair, angling your head back to deepen the kiss, while the other roamed lower, squeezing the curve of your ass hard enough to leave bruises. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were panting. His hair tousled, lips swollen. 

“So,” you murmured, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip, “is this going to be a daily thing now?”

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”

“My little surveillance cam show worked on you, hmm?” 

“God, you know it,” he groaned, lids softly fluttering as he reminisced on what he saw. Heeseung pulled you a smidge closer, putting your hips in greater contact than before. “Would you believe me if I told you,” he breathed, “I was enjoying every second of it?”

“How so?”

Heeseung smirked, slowly backing away from you to find a seat on an old fold-up chair. “Kneel,” he commanded, to which you complied, placing your folded hands in your lap and softly biting your lip, intrigued. Your face sat between his spread legs, looking up at him in anticipation. 

“Like this,” he whispered, keeping eye contact as his hand found his way to his lap, not reaching for his waistband but instead for his hardened cock. You watched, entranced, as he palmed himself, barely rutting his hips into his palm for more friction. “I was in there alone, wishing you were there instead,” he whined, “don’t you feel the same?”

Though it seemed like Heeseung was the one begging, you found yourself under his spell, propping yourself up on your heels to place your hands on his thighs. 

“I do,” you whisper, running your hand up his thigh, making him remove his own and letting you provide the friction instead. Heeseung slightly leaned back, putting his arms behind his head to rest his palms on the crown of his head. He looked down at you, lips parted in a near-silent gasp. The room was eerily quiet, with only the sound of you working the fabric of his slacks and your breaths, both desperate, syncing up with one another. 

You removed your hand, sitting up and finding your seat on his lap, still clothed. His hands go to your back, supporting your weight with one hand so he could guide you closer, kissing you gently this time. His lips were soft, moving against you with enough balance to both make your heart flutter and your core ache. 

The two of you pulled away, cheeks flushed. 

“Let me fuck you like this,” Heeseung whispered, looking you in your eyes with glazed eyes. You leaned in to peck his lips, humming affirmatively as you got off of him to undress. You turned around, taking off your sneakers and jeans, hearing the metal of his belt buckle jangle behind you. 

You turned back around, nearly bare on your bottom half, to approach Heeseung. He pumped himself with one hand, slacks undone just enough to free himself. You straddled him, feeling the heat of his cock against your core, “Let’s take it slow.” Your hands then met his shoulders, giving yourself leverage to move your hips. Firm hands gripped your hips as you slid your clothed cunt on his length, eliciting a whimper. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he gasped, eyes focused on the visual of you straddling him, the fabric of your panties wet and sticking to your core. Heeseung’s tip glistened, precome leaking from his slit. You leaned in again to kiss him again, a little more fervor this time. He moaned in satisfaction against your lips, pressing your hips harder into his. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you stopped for a moment, taking one hand off his shoulder and putting the other on the back of the chair. Heeseung’s eyes followed your every move, letting you work your magic on him, following your other hand as it reached down to touch where you met. You hooked a finger under the hem of your panties, lifting it just enough to slip his cock between the fabric and your cunt. A new sensation, he shivered upon making contact, involuntarily thrusting.

His cock slipped against your clit, making you use your hand to press him harder into you. You grinded against each other, going through the motions of sex without actually crossing that line. Somehow, that made it hotter, the “almost” nearly being more alluring than sex itself. 

Almost.

Reaching down, you untucked his length, lifting your hips just enough to pull your panties to the side, sliding his tip along your slit, teasing him with the warmth of your entrance. His eyes were glossed over, desperate to feel the now familiar heat of you.

Before he could beg for it, you heard the trill of a phone—Heeseung’s phone. 

“Is that for—”

“—My fifth,” he groaned, pulling you in to bury his face in your neck. “Terrible timing.”

He stayed with his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, before pulling back with a sigh. Heeseung patted your hips, “I gotta go.” 

You sighed, getting up to adjust your panties and collect your discarded clothes. “You got blue balled by the time clock.”

Heeseung let out a small laugh, “Guess so. Sorry,” standing up to finish putting on his belt. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you to rest his chin on your head. “But if we both clock out right now…”

“You’re sick.” 

“But you like it,” Heeseung smirked, “because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You sighed, letting him win this one. 

“Nametags,” you reminded him, handing him the two magnetic parts of his nametag, scrambling to put yours on soon after. 

He thanked you, quickly snapping the tag onto his shirt. Heeseung picked up the rest of his things and left, opening the door of the stockroom for you on your way out. 

“That was risky, y’know?”

“What, clocking out this close to hitting compliance?” Heeseung joked, tilting his head as he walked beside you.

You scoffed. “Yeah sure, that’s what I mean. It’s like you get enjoyment out of riling me up.”

“Mmm, no comment. If it's any reassurance though,” he leaned in, slowing his pace, “I forgot to tell you the cameras are defunct right now.” Heeseung pulled away with a shit-eating grin, causing both relief and annoyance to wash over you. “We can go back after we clock out … if you want.” 

“Say less,” you responded, putting a little skip in your step as you opened the office door for the both of you. You two were a little too eager to throw your work belongings—sans your keys—into your lockers. Even more eager to punch out for lunch, no announcement on the walkies or anything. 

In your rush to get back to the stockroom, you both failed to heed with caution when exiting, nearly hitting Jungwon with the door. 

“Oh god, sorry—”

He gave you both a tight lipped smile, “On your lunches?” 

“Yep, just clocked out,” Heeseung responded, normal as usual. 

“Enjoy your lunch,” Jungwon said, eyes drifting downwards, “and your nametags…” His voice trailed off and he lingered for a second longer before brushing past, continuing into the office. He seemed unamused, tired, or something of the sort. You and Heeseung stopped outside of the door, hidden away from customers or anyone’s line of sight. 

“Wait, on break, shouldn’t have our nametags on—”

Heeseung just stared at your chest, not saying a word, but not how he usually does.

“What? Is it upside do—oh.”

Oh.

To your horror, you looked down, reading Heeseung on your tag instead of yours.  You looked up at him, confirming your fears when you read your name on his. You didn’t put on your nametag. You put on Heeseung’s. Even worse, you were unfortunate enough to have someone else notice first, not to mention that someone else being an ETL that wasn’t Heeseung.

You cringed, quickly taking off the tag and exchanging it with your rightful tag before putting it in your pocket. “I…feel like it would be in our best interest to not go to the stockroom now,” you remarked. 

Heeseung nodded, demeanor blunted from the encounter with Jungwon, “Probably.” 

You shuffled your feet a bit, silence lingering in the air for longer than you would’ve liked. You spoke, “But when—”

“I’ll call for you later. Take it easy, enjoy your lunch—I’ll see you,” Heeseung said, proceeding to walk away to the employee lot. You were hoping that he would be able to shake the encounter off a little easier than you were attempting to, but you weren’t sure of that. 

Returning from your lunch break, you returned to the stockroom—not to continue affairs with Heeseung, but rather, to actually grab those RFID scanners you promised—

Sunoo.

Oh god.

Sunoo.

You scrambled out of the small room, speed walking back to the style departments searching for your blond-haired associate. You had totally forgotten about grabbing the RFID scanner, about Sunoo, the moment Heeseung caught you in the stockroom. From afar, you spotted him in the little fitting room window, sorting the rack of customer go-backs. You beelined to him as if the speed in the next 30 steps would make up for the—

“Two hours,” he said flatly, sliding a denim jacket onto its correct hanger with practiced precision.

You winced. “I forgot.”

“It took two hours to come back with RFID scanners,” he continued, finally turning to face you, his expression impressively stoic. “Which, by the way—” He pointed at the device in your hand, “—that one doesn’t have a battery in it.” A beat., “Anyways, I already finished.”

Guilt twisted in your stomach as you watched him resume sorting, his movements efficient and just sharp enough to let you know that he was annoyed.“I’m sorry—” 

Sunoo sighed, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “What was it this time?” 

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering scent of Heeseung’s cologne on your collar. “I think I gotta tell you about it another time, honestly—do you work tomorrow?” 

“No,” Sunoo said, pausing mid-fold to squint at you. ”But you sure girl? You can talk about it if you want…” His tone softened, just a fraction, and you felt yourself relax a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you responded, turning to the rack he was working on to help sort and clear it, “I just—I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

Sunoo’s hands stilled. “Was it Heeseung?”

You nearly dropped the hangers. “What—Heeseung? Well, yes, but I wasn’t planning on it! It just happened and you just slipped my mind I wasn’t thinking I—”

“Chill.” Sunoo held up a hand, his lips quirking. “I just wanted to know. You need to relax.” He passed you a stack of tops, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. “Tell me another time. Honestly, more than anything, I was just worried why you were gone for so long.”

You took the hangers, exhaling. “Okay, okay, I’ll call or text you or something, when are you off?”

Sunoo looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist before taking a peek at his phone. “In about 5 minutes. So basically, now.”

“I forgot you’ve been here all morning,” you admitted, guilt creeping back in.

“Yup,” he said, popping the P. “And all afternoon doing your job.”

“Hey! Not my fault, I got caught up—”

“No I figured…” Sunoo trailed off, playing with the fitting room key on one finger. You squinted at him, jutting your head towards him, prompting him to indulge more. “I mean, Jungwon was calling for Heeseung ETL on the walkie with no response,” he said, shrugging, “so I figured y’all were together… or something.”

Your stomach dropped. “Am I about to get a talk from HR Sunoo,” you joked, partially serious and wholly worried. 

Sunoo rolled his eyes, resting a hand on his hip. “They haven’t scheduled me in HR for over a week, girl.”

You sighed, smiling out of relief. You put the hangers of clothes  you’ve been gripping on their correct racks, turning to Sunoo when finished. “Wanna know every detail tomorrow, then?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

Sunoo’s nose scrunched in mock disgust. “Actually, on second thought, I am HR Sunoo right now, and yooouuu,” he jabbed a finger into your arm, “are spared from my wrath. It’s 7. I'll see you tomorrow!” With a foxy smile, he turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

“Byeee!” you called after him, shaking your head.

You thanked Bullseye Sunoo was joking. If no one else got you, at least Sunoo got you. 

Even though Sunoo had your back on the HR front, karma didn’t. The second you finished zoning in Sleepwear and Intimates—every goddamn bra properly hung, every panty drawer properly aligned—you got called to tech to cover a break. Of course. Because the universe had a twisted sense of timing.

On your way out, you managed to pass only customers with questions that had the most painfully obvious answers. “Excuse me, where are the bathrooms?” Right next to the massive sign that said RESTROOMS in three-foot-tall letters. “Do you work here?” No, you just wore this red shirt for fun. “Is this store Target?” You wished you were making that last one up.

After twenty minutes of directing people to things literally in front of their faces, you finally escaped back toward the fitting room. But the retail gods weren’t done with you yet. The walkie crackled to life just as you reached the backroom. 

“Team, I need backup at the front. All available team members to check lanes.”

Fucking fantastic.

You trudged up to the registers, getting stuck behind checklane seven, then eventually rotating through three different stations as the evening rush hit. Half an hour stretched into a full hour, which somehow stretched into the rest of your shift. The same robotic script fell from your lips on endless repeat:

Hi. How are you? Find everything alright today? Need a bag? Put in your phone number for Target Circle, sign up, or press ‘not now’. Here’s your receipt. Have a good day.

It was painfully boring to repeat the same customer service script over, and over, and over again, but you kept reminding yourself that you’d take that over a bitchy, entitled customer. You’d take a boring closing shift over one that results in reports, calls, or the dreaded ‘Can I speak to your manager?’

…Though, you should’ve remembered that retail is its own hell, and any sense of normal or boring was bound to be shattered.

Like the sliding glass door that came crashing down at 9:50pm, taking Sunghoon—and someone’s entire barbecue setup—down with it.

The Drive-Up order scattered across the floor in a chaotic explosion: bags of charcoal split open, pre-marinated ribs sliding everywhere, baking soda coating the floor like snow, and bottles of vinegar and bleach rolling in opposite directions. Only at Target would you find your coworker sprawled in what was essentially a chlorine gas starter kit ten minutes before close.

Shit like this only happens to Sunghoon. You could see it in his face as he just laid there on the floor, not even attempting to get up—the resigned acceptance of someone whose retail existence was completely cursed.

He blinked up at the ceiling, completely unbothered by the disaster zone surrounding him.  “Huh. That’s gonna be a hazard spill.”

No fucking shit.

From the walkie clipped to your hip, the closing TL’s voice crackled with hardly disguised annoyance, probably wondering why the hell all this noise was coming from the front.

“Anyone got eyes on Sunghoon?”

You watched in horrified fascination as Sunghoon finally peeled himself off the floor, his yellow vest now stained from whatever mixture was all over the floor. The real horror show started when he began casually gathering the scattered ribs with his bare hands, completely oblivious to the fact that the vinegar and bleach were now mixing into something that definitely violated several OSHA regulations. 

That’s when you noticed the smell.

“Oh god,” you gagged, yanking your shirt up over your nose. The acrid, lung-searing aroma of mixing chemicals filled the air—sharp and dangerous and absolutely not something you wanted to be breathing. The fumes were getting stronger by the second, creating that telltale haze that meant you were approximately three minutes away from passing out.

Sunghoon paused mid-rib-gathering, finally noticing your panic. “It’s fine, I was gonna clean it—”

“No.” You grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the toxic puddle. “You’re at 39.75 hours. You hit overtime and the district manager is gonna have Jungwon’s ass.”

Jungwon appeared out of nowhere like some sort of management wizard, already herding Sunghoon towards the time clock with the efficiency of a shepherd in a red polo. “Clock out, now. I can’t argue with our DM about why you went overtime for the sixth week in a row again.”

The walkie erupted with static and stress: “I need hazmat cleanup to the front entrance, ASAP. And someone find out if we need to evacuate.”

Sunghoon gave you a weak, apologetic thumbs up as Jungwon practically shoved him toward the lockers, leaving behind a trail of what had to be the world’s worst barbecue marinade mixed with industrial cleaning supplies.

And then there was one.

The front entrance looked like a tornado had hit a hardware store. Broken glass littered under the harsh lighting, chemical fumes in the air, and somewhere in that mess were the remnants of someone’s weekend cookout plans. You were officially the only team member left to deal with this clusterfuck, which meant running back and forth between the front and receiving to grab every piece of hazmat cleaning supplies the store had.

After ripping open a new pack of paper towels, your focus broke upon hearing your name once, then twice on the walkie. 

“Go ahead?” you responded.

“Switch to 3,” a voice—Heeseung— demanded. 

“Switching.”

“Come to Jungwon’s office, and leave your stuff in a locker.”

“Copy.” 

Quickly, you threw away the soiled paper towels in your hand and put down a caution sign and some random traffic cones, hoping that’ll suffice. You mentally apologized to the opening team for your lame attempt at cleaning up Sunghoon’s mess.

You turned your walkie off and mute your Zebra on your way to the office, in case anyone on the night shift for inbound had particularly nosy, observant ears. You made a pit stop at the bathroom, still propped open, to wash your hands clean as fast as you can to not keep Heeseung waiting long.

You turned the knob of Jungwon’s office, quietly shutting it behind you so as to not stir any commotion. Heeseung was leaning back on the desk—Jungwon’s desk—scrolling his phone, which he quickly placed down in your presence.

Jungwon’s office was small, cramped even—hardly more than a glorified closet. It was dark, a dented filing cabinet stood in one corner, stacked with unorganized paperwork. The desk was cluttered with schedules, a cracked monitor, and a coffee cup long gone cold.

“Is that a walkie in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Funny,” Heeseung chuckled, dropping his head a bit to hide the flush on his face. He leaned off the edge of that desk, watching you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Which do you think it is?”

His gaze rose then fell, reigniting the fire in your core that was forcibly extinguished just hours ago. It was like you two never stopped. 

You smirked, loving the way he always starts these games with you. A game you love playing.

Heeseung approached you, stopping to look down at you before relaxing himself. He tilted his head, running the knuckle of his curled pointer finger down your sternum, just to hear the switch in your breathing. 

With his touch, you were hyper aware of your breathing at this point, focusing on retaining your composure. Somehow, you weren’t sure if your heart had slowed to a near stop or if it was beating so hard that it was now numb. Heeseung looked—and felt—so much more powerful like this, even though the store was now closed and there was nothing managerial to do. 

He backed you into the door, his silhouette taking up most of your vision, the small reading light acting as the only form of backlight. 

“Isn’t Jungwon going to notice,” you choked out, voice just surpassing a whisper. 

“Mmm,” Heeseung responds, running a hand down your side. “Deserves it since he ruined our plans,” he leaned in, cheek passing yours to whisper into your ear, “right?”

“Suppose so,” you breathed, pressing your body against his to wrap your arms around his neck. Heeseung’s arms snaked around your waist. The warmth and scent of his body was familiar, but the thrill was just as addicting as the first time. 

“Let me ask you,” voice low, “how much would you let me do to you right now?” 

“However much you think you’d think you’d be able to get away with.”

“Yeah?” he reaffirms, pulling you in closer by your waist. “I can get away with a lot, you know?”

“Funny,”  you breathed against his mouth, not closing the distance. “I don’t see you getting away with anything yet.”

His grip tightened, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist like he’s mapping the shape of you. The air between you thrums with the unspoken dare—try me.

“That right?” His voice dropped to something rough at the edges, the kind of tone that shouldn’t be used between coworkers. His thumb hooked into your belt loop, tugging just enough to make you stumble forward, until your chest brushes his with every shallow breath. “Tell me, baby—” His lips ghosted over yours, almost there, almost touching. “—you wanna be the one to catch me?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the flicker of the security cameras, the distant chatter of coworkers—but all you could focus on is the way his pulse jumped under your fingers when you ran them over his neck.

“Maybe,” you murmured, tilting your chin up. “Or maybe I just wanna watch you try.”

He laughed, dark and delighted, and finally closed the distance.

His kiss was the same, evident with the way he reciprocated the touch of your fingers with his own, tracing your jaw before making their way down your neck. He whimpered into the kiss, desperate from the hours of waiting. 

You pulled away to look at his half lidded eyes and parted lips, ready to taste you for however long you willed it. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you guide him backwards into the office chair, standing between his legs so he can look up at you. 

“Still gonna let me get away with it?” Heeseung asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“And what did you want to get away with?” You felt the corners of your lips turn up, watching the way he bit his lip as you backed away from him, leaning against his desk. For a moment, he had no intention of answering, and you could tell with the way his eyes raked over your body, as if to recommit every curve, every dimple of yours to memory. 

“You know what I want,” he teased, standing up from the old office chair to meet you.

“Then do it,” you teased, sitting on the edge of his desk so that he can slither his way between your legs. 

“You always welcome me so eagerly,” Heeseung groaned, “drives me crazy, y’know?” With a chuckle, he reached for his belt to undo it. 

“You’re sick,” you breathed, verbally protesting but physically giving in to his touch. Heeseung had you on the desk, pushing away some papers and random office supplies before trapping you beneath him. 

“This isn’t even yours, it’s Jungwon’s—” 

“When has that stopped us before? It’s after hours anyways, no one’s here. There’s no cameras in Jungwon’s office.”

His thumbs reached for the belt loops of your jeans, inching you closer to the edge of the desk before undoing your button and zipper. 

“Plus, I know you like that I’m just as sick as you are,” he smirked, tugging your jeans off of your legs and discarding them behind him. 

“Need you right now,” he practically whimpered, sliding the tip of his cock against your folds before entering inside of you. 

The searing sensation of Heeseung pushing inside you to a hilt made you wince, but seeing and hearing the desperation laced in his every move made the pain worth it. You wrapped your legs around him, forcing him closer. 

“So fucking good,” he growled, briefly pausing to soak in your wetness. His hips met yours, skin damp with a thin layer of sweat. Heeseung reached with one hand, keeping the other on your hip, to put the bottom hem of his red shirt between his teeth. 

You couldn’t even be mad at him, the sound of his soft moans stifled by the fabric in his mouth made the lack of sweet nothings. The sight of it all made your chest tight with desire—The furrow of his brows, the sheen of sweat on his torso, the way his muscles contracted with every breath… 

The way he fucked you spoke the words he couldn’t himself; The fabric in his mouth was soon no barrier to his moans, desperate and carrying with your sex. His whimpers accompanied faster, sloppier thrusts into you. You watched as the sheen of sweat became drops, trailing and tempting you to where the two of you met.

Heeseung let the fabric fall free from his mouth, pausing for just a moment to pull his red shirt over his head and quickly throw it behind him. He wasted no time diving back into you, this time sheathing himself inside you to hover over your face, thin chain dangling, as if to taunt you.

He pulled your hips back over the edge of the desk, holding your hips at just the perfect angle to fuck you, rough and precise. His thumbs pressed into your flesh,  making you arch into his touch. Only near-incoherent expletives and pleads left your lips, drawing out reciprocal pillowtalk from him. 

Heeseung’s brows furrowed, lips parting, “Fuck, you feel so good—”

“Yeah?” you breathed, digging your nails into his shoulders, “gonna let me catch you?” 

A cocky grin gradually spread across his face as he slowed his thrusts, teasing, “You really think you can?”

You matched his smirk, shifting just enough to tighten around him, drawing a sharp groan from his throat. “I know I can.”

His eyebrows lifted—challenge accepted. In one smooth motion, he pulled out, flipping your positions before you could react. He dropped into the chair, legs spread, gaze locked on yours like a dare. “Prove it.” 

You slid off his desk, quickly discarding your shirt and bra in the process, leaving it on the desk. Matching the smug grin on his face, you straddled Heeseung just as you did earlier in the day, core bare this time. You had no patience to wait and tease him like you did in the stockroom. The two of you were equally as desperate, the chaos of the forbidden environment around you fueling the fire of your lust. 

Heeseung’s tip prodded at your entrance, soaking wet, smearing and mixing his precome into your essence. He wasted no time to line himself up with you, guiding and pushing your hips down on him to remind him how good, how fucking delicious it feels to fuck you. Your brows knitted together, jaw falling slack as he pushed himself fully into you. The curve of his hard cock ran along one side of your cunt, making him feel so much bigger than before. 

The wheels of the old office chair squeaked with the movement, becoming particularly loud when you fully sank down on Heeseung’s cock. He then wrapped his arms around you in a hug, putting his face in the crook of your neck as he continued to fuck you. Heeseung took in the scent of your body, covered in sweat. 

He forced your hips into a rhythm, forcing them to roll in a manner that pushed the tip of his cock into your g-spot with every thrust back into you. It was hard to focus on continuing to kiss him when he was fucking you so good; Grabbing your ass with just the right amount of squeeze, working his hips into you, softly moaning when you descended on him.

It was all so, so filthy, but you loved filthy.

Heeseung moaned into your mouth as he fucked up into you rapidly, holding your hips hard enough to force you down on his cock, bottoming out with every thrust. The clench of your cunt made him chase the high of you milking him dry, remembering how much he loves fucking you. With one final push, he held your hips down, shooting his warm come inside of you. You pulsed around him, squeezing his length to fill you with it. His kisses stayed fervent, tongue tasting you desperately. 

Heeseung supported your weight on the chair as you laid on him, both sweaty and fucked-out, breathing synced in heavy pants. Your skin, flushed and sweaty, kept the two of you stuck together. The desyncing of your breaths as you both returned to your normal was comforting somehow. Heeseung stayed inside you, not uttering a single word, and you let him. 

You broke the silence, “Clean-up?”

“Of course,” he helped you up, holding your hips and lifting you off of him. Heeseung gasped, brows coming together as his gaze was set on your freshly fucked cunt, his seed spilling out of you back onto his still-hard cock. You hover for a moment, also speechless at the sight of you continuously dripping small beads of white back onto Heeseung.

You look at each other, still without any coherent thoughts.

“You… got any tissues in here?” you asked, to which Heeseung meekly nodded.

Dazed, you eased off Heeseung, making way to wipe you both clean of each other. Though you exchanged little to no words, Heeseung helped you back into your clothing. His touch was now soft, making you shiver when his fingertips ghosted your skin. He didn’t have to help you, but you let him anyway. You found yourself reciprocating the same sentiments, fixing his now-messy hair with your fingers as he helped with your jeans.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you asked, twirling a small strand of his with your finger.

“Yeah, but you don’t work tomorrow, I didn’t schedule you,” he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb. 

“You should’veee,” you whined.

“What a diligent employee,” he joked, “you must really love Target.” 

The diner booth squeaked under Sunoo’s weight as he slid in across from you, already stirring his iced coffee with the kind of dramatic flair that meant he was absolutely itching to gossip. Outside, the afternoon sun baked the pavement, turning the parking lot into a shimmering mirage. A far cry from the artificial lighting of the Target you two spend most of your time in.

“Okay,” Sunoo said, interlocking his fingers like some kind of evil detective. “Start from the top.”

You took a long sip of your drink, stalling. “Which top? The stockroom? The refrigerator? Jungwon’s office? Oh, and let’s not forget the fucking family restroom.”

Sunoo’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “All of it?”

So you talked. About the way Heeseung’s schedule changes had gotten suspiciously convenient. How Jake had started lurking around the registers like a scorned ex whenever the two of you were on shifts together. The way Jungwon started giving you looks—like he knew something you didn’t. 

Sunoo snorted into his fries. “Oh, Jungwon definitely knows. Jake’s been whining to him nonstop.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Between us? I think Jake might’ve said something before he left… against his will.”

You paused, straw halfway to your mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sunoo shrugged, suddenly very interested in the distribution of ketchup on his plate. “Just saying. Jake’s got—had—a big mouth. And Jungwon’s got opinions about favoritism.” A beat. “And also about people hooking up in the backroom.”

You groaned, thunking your head against the table. “We didn’t—okay, once— but it was mostly just—”

“Anyway,” Sunoo interrupted, grinning, “point is, Jake’s probably still salty. Definitely was when I saw him whispering to Jungwon by the lockers like some kinda bitter loser right before he lef—got terminated. Real subtle stuff.” He rolled his eyes. “Like, buddy, if you’re gonna snitch, at least commit to the bit.”

You frowned. “Wait, what exactly did he—”

Sunoo waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing concrete. Just a lot of ‘Hey, isn’t it weird how Heeseung’s always in Style?’ and ‘Did you know they took their breaks at the same time?” He shrugged. “Pathetic, really.”

You exhaled, stirring the melting ice in your cup.

Sunoo flagged down the waiter for the check, swirling the straw between his fingers. “So,” he said, faux-casual, “you gonna survive your next shift with him, or should I start drafting your eulogy now?”

You lobbed a crumpled napkin at him. “Depends. You bringing me a Tarbucks or not?”

“Pfft. Please.” He slid out of the booth, tossing a tip on the table. “I’d make it a venti caramel macchiato with extra espresso shots—so you can haunt Heeseung properly.”

The laugh caught in your throat. Outside, the sun glared off windshields, turning the parking lot into a minefield of blinding light.

Sunoo nudged you toward the door, sunglasses sliding down his nose. “Relax. Worst-case scenario, you get fired and I lose my favorite carpool.” He stopped. “Which can’t happen. I can’t take another ride in Jungwon’s hellcat, he drives that car like he has four warrants for his arrest.”

You flipped him off, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift. Somewhere between the sticky diner booth and the too-bright asphalt, the unspoken truth hummed: Maybe this wasn’t over.

The morning sun glared obnoxiously through your windshield as you pulled into the target parking lot, ten minutes late. You were already annoyed that you were scheduled today, not to mention, scheduled early today. You killed the engine, took a deep breath, and braced yourself for another shift with Heeseung. You wondered where he’d have you today—scheduled or otherwise. 

As you walked in, you thought back to the last time you saw him the other night in his office. You wondered what he would’ve done to you yesterday had you been there instead of out and about. He broke the monotony of working retail for you; Heeseung was the thrill that broke your routine. 

Though you were excited to break your routines again, you still went through procedure. Wave to Riki at the entrance, greet whoever was working at the tech counter, the daily stuff. Rushing to the timeclock, you clocked in. Like always, you were rewarded with the green checkmark, assuring that your punch was accepted.

You grabbed a Zebra, a walkie, and put on your nametag, making sure that your entrance today was going to be just how you wanted it, how you expected it. It felt a little silly to get ready for another day at your retail job, but at least it had some payoff now. 

Exiting the office, you scanned the aisles, wondering if he had his temptation for today set up for you yet. Instead, you came to realize that the store was… barren. Chatter over the walkies were minimal, and foot traffic was also low. The store was quiet today.

A little too quiet.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed angrily, and the scent of burnt coffee from the Tarbucks and industrial cleaner attacked your nose. 

“So,” he started, resting his chin on his hand, “you heard about Heeseung, right?”

You kept your eyes glued to your phone, thumb scrolling through absolutely nothing as you tried to play it cool. “Heard what?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were sharing classified information. “Got fired. Terminated. As in, escorted-out-by-guys-in-suits levels of fired.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to seem nonchalant. “Huh. Weird.”

He smirked. “Weird? Let’s review,” Sunoo said, tapping the counter like a judge sentencing you to death. “First strike: fucking at work. Second strike: fucking a team member at work—specifically in the stockroom during the day—”

“Allegedly.” You cut in, swirling your drink.

“—with footage, by the way,” he continued, ignoring you. “And third strike—”

“But he said the camera was defunct!” you blurted, then immediately wanted to die.

“Not the hallway cameras, babe,” he purred. “Also, you guys were apparently not subtle at all when you ran into Jungwon. Talk about stupid. Neither of you guys could read the nametags?”

Your stomach dropped. 

You thought about all the times you’d pass by Jungwon after you and Heeseung had an encounter, thinking that you were going to be able to get away with it forever. Your mind ran through the images of everyone else coming across you and Heeseung, wondering if you put too much trust in your coworkers to not rat you out.

Above all, it stung that for all those months of flirting, you only got little time with him. The thrill was short-lived, and the regret of it began to wear away at you. 

What’s worse is you don’t know what happened with Heeseung exactly, and you couldn’t ask him about it either. There were no warnings, only immediate termination. 

There was only so much that Sunoo could’ve heard or known about the case, how much evidence they had collected, and what type. Your ears rang, drowning out any and all words Sunoo had to say.

It was over.

It had barely started, and it was already over. 

The walkie on your belt suddenly crackled to life, Jungwon’s voice coming through to tell you to switch to channel 3.

“Meet me in the TL office now.”

[manifestobackshot]

WE ON IT!!!!

[manifestobackshot]

that Heeseung fic has stayed with me all day I'm so serious I need to ride that man in the backseat of a car that's all I ask

me af i be gripping my steering wheel hard af looking in the rear view mirror ... thank u for reading!!

[manifestobackshot]

send us some asks!!!! :))

[manifestobackshot]

CURBSIDE DICKUP ⸻ LEE HEESEUNG

You had no reason to always accompany Heeseung at work… as a Doordash driver. You didn’t need the money, not at all, but every time he’d ask for your company, who are you to deny him of that? Plus, sometimes, he’d give you something to… eat.

PAIRING: doordash delivery driver!lee heeseung x afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 2.5k 

TAGS: smut, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, car sex, semi-public sex, road head, panties in mouth, i don’t know just generally ridiculous

AUTHORS NOTE: we write anything

Heeseung’s Corolla was a relic—a stubborn, wheezing monument to the miracles of duct tape and sheer willpower. It had 300,000 miles on it, maybe more; the odometer had given up counting years ago, frozen in defeat like a retired soldier. The rear bumper was long gone, sacrificed to a hit-and-run in a Walmart parking lot. The trunk didn’t latch properly, the passenger window stuck halfway down in the summer, and the AC blew air that was somehow warmer than the outside heat. 

But it ran.

Somehow, against all laws of physics and common sense, it ran.

And that was all that mattered, because Heeseung needed the money.

Between rent, student loans, and the fact that ramen prices had gone up, DoorDashing was the only thing keeping him from having to sell his beloved (if decrepit) gaming PC. So he drove. And drove. And drove.

And then there was you.

You didn’t have to come with him. You had your own place, your own life, your own perfectly functional car. But Heeseung had started asking—"Come keep me company?"—in that voice of his, the one that was half teasing, half pleading, all charm. And you always said yes.

Because it wasn’t about the money. Or the car. Or even the McDonald’s orders that were always, always leaking milkshake onto the floor mats.

It was about the way he’d grin when you climbed in, like you were the best part of his night. The way he’d let you pick the music, even though he hated your taste in playlists. The way his fingers would brush yours when he handed you a fry, like he was looking for any excuse to touch you.

The Corolla was a disaster. But with you in the passenger seat, Heeseung didn’t seem to care.

And neither did you.

His car rattled at the stoplight, its engine a tired, uneven hum beneath the dashboard. The check engine light had been on for months—neither of you cared enough to fix it. The missing rear bumper left a jagged edge of the exposed frame, and the trunk, permanently slightly ajar, flapped softly whenever they hit a pothole. Which was often.  

Heeseung’s fingers tapped the steering wheel in time with the radio’s static-laced pop song, the speakers crackling whenever the bass hit. The air smelled like old french fries, spilled Coke Zero, and the faint, ever-present musk of the car’s ancient upholstery. An air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror, swaying gently every time he braked too hard.  

You shifted in the passenger seat, the vinyl sticking to the back of your thighs. The McDonald’s bag sat between your feet, warm against your ankle, the scent of salt and grease curling up into the space between you. The red light ahead stretched on forever, the intersection empty except for the flickering glow of a broken streetlamp.  

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, drumming his fingers faster. His knee bounced.  

"You ever think about how weird it is," he started, voice low, "that we’re the only people dumb enough to be out here right now?"  

You smirked, rolling your head against the seat to look at him. The neon sign from the 24-hour laundromat across the street painted his profile in pink and blue. His jaw was sharp, his lips chapped from biting them. The collar of his threadbare hoodie was stretched out, slipping just enough to show the edge of his collarbone.  

"Says the guy who took this order because he ‘didn’t feel like going home yet,’" you shot back.  

He huffed a laugh, but his fingers stilled on the wheel. His eyes flicked down—to your mouth, to where your fingers curled against your own thigh.  

The silence stretched. The light stayed red.  

Then his hand was on yours, rough and warm, calluses catching against your skin. Your breath hitched. His thumb pressed into your palm, slow, deliberate.  

The radio fuzzed out into white noise.  

His other hand left the wheel, fingers trailing up the inside of your knee, then higher, under the hem of your shorts. His touch burned. Your stomach tightened.  

"No one’s here," he murmured, voice rough.  

You turned fully toward him, the seatbelt cutting into your shoulder. His eyes were dark, pupils swallowing the streetlight glow. The air freshener swayed between you like a pendulum.  

His grip tightened.  

Then—  

A horn blared behind you. The light was green.  

Heeseung jerked back, hands returning to the wheel like nothing had happened. But his knuckles were white where he gripped it now, his breathing just a little too fast. The Corolla lurched forward with a groan, the trunk flapping as he hit the gas.  

You swallowed, thighs pressed together, pulse hammering in your throat.  

The Corolla’s engine groaned as Heeseung took a sharp left, the headlights flickering against the cracked pavement of the empty side street. The car bounced over potholes, its worn-out suspension creaking in protest. The McDonald’s bag slid across the floor, forgotten, the scent of fries and salt lingering in the air between you.

His fingers flexed around the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The memory of his touch—rough fingertips skating up your thigh—still burned on your skin. The air was thick, electric, like the moment before a storm breaks.

You unbuckled your seatbelt with a quiet click.

Heeseung’s breath hitched, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw clenched tight. You leaned across the center console, lips brushing the shell of his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"Eyes on the road," you murmured.

A low, strained noise escaped him. His grip on the wheel tightened.

The car rolled to another red light—this one even more deserted, just the flickering neon of a closed-down diner casting the interior in a deep, hazy red.

You didn’t wait.

Your fingers found the buckle of his jeans, the rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet of the car. He exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t stop you, his thighs tensing under your touch. You could already feel the heat of him through the fabric, the way his breath stuttered when your palm pressed down.

The light turned green.

He hit the gas harder than necessary, the Corolla lurching forward with a whine. His free hand tangled in your hair—not guiding, just holding on, fingers tightening as you lowered yourself between his legs.

The first touch of your lips against him dragged a ragged "Fuck—" from his throat. His hips jerked slightly, his breath coming faster. The car swerved, tires skimming the shoulder before he forced himself to straighten it out.

You took him deeper, slow, savoring the way his thighs trembled under your hands. His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make you hum around him, the vibration wringing another curse from his lips.

"Jesus—" His voice was wrecked already.

The speedometer climbed as his foot grew heavier on the gas, the engine protesting the strain. His hips lifted slightly off the seat, chasing the heat of your mouth. The car veered again, but neither of you cared.

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue over the head, dragging another broken sound from him. His grip on the wheel was punishing now, his other hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as you took him deeper, faster.

"You’re gonna kill us," he gritted out, his voice rough.

You pulled off just enough to smirk up at him, lips slick. "Then pull over."

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The Corolla screeched into an abandoned parking lot, gravel spraying under the tires. Before the engine had even fully died, he was unbuckling himself, hauling you up by your hair and crashing his mouth against yours. The taste of him was still on your tongue, and he groaned into the kiss, fingers digging into your hips as he dragged you fully into his lap.

He reached around to grab your ass, being rudely interrupted by the accidental honk of his horn. 

“Put your seat back,” pulling away from the kiss for a second.

“Can’t, it doesn’t recline.”

Your eyes quickly darted, already aching from the absence of his lips.

Bingo.

“Backseat.”

And just as quickly as you suggested, you climbed into the back window seat, Heeseung following.

"That was quite the move you pulled back there," he growled, one hand fisting in the fabric of your shirt as you got on top of him, facing the rear window. The backseat was too small—your knee jammed against the door, your elbow knocking into the window—but neither of you cared. “You could have gotten us both killed.”

“Can’t multitask?” you teased, hovering above his lap, bracing yourself with the surroundings of the cramped backseat. 

Heeseung’s hands reached to grab your ass, uninterrupted this time. His hands wandered up to the waistband of your shorts, tracing his fingers along the waistband, holding back his desires just to rile you up more. You moaned as the tips of his fingers lightly grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

He laughed, breathy, “Can’t wait, huh?” Grinding down on him roughly, you sought friction for your sake, to which the rough denim of his jeans more than delivered. Though he teased you, he couldn’t wait long himself. You lifted your hips, as if it were a choreography you’ve practiced so many times before, so he could swiftly free you of your shorts and free yourself to his touch.

Heeseung threw your shorts and panties to one of the other seats, taking in the sight of your bare cunt, eliciting a groan from him, filthy and low. His hoodie hit the floor, then your shirt, the fabric catching on the rearview mirror before tumbling into the abyss of fast-food wrappers and lost receipts beneath the seats. His jeans stayed nearly undone, belt more than loosened with the button and zipper undone. Through the part of his zipper closure you could see how bad he wanted you-- his cock was hard and straining against the fabric, missing your tantalizing warmth.

You stayed at his side, hand reaching down to feel how worked up he got you, as you watched him tug off his jeans, denim and belt hitting the floor mats of his car with no care in the world. He tugged his boxer briefs down and slouched into his seat, looking at you with wide glossy eyes. Glossy eyes that only meant one thing--

“Fuck me,” he begged, not touching himself so you could see how bad he wanted you. His hand gripped at his thigh, dimpling the flesh beneath them waiting for you to touch him, already. His length was thick, pointing up at his belly button, flushed with desire, leaking at the tip. 

You wasted no time climbing on top of him again, bare cunt brushing against his cock this time. “Beg again,” you demanded, keeping your knees bracketed on either side of him. The most contact he had with you at this point was the slight graze of your wet pussy on his tip, sliding it up and down as you kept your hips hoisted up. 

“Fuck me,” he whined, “please.”

The need in his eyes did more than enough for you, and you sank down on his length, feeling the stretch his thickness gives you. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips part, jaw slacking in response to the pleasure. His hands made it to your hips and around your back to keep pace as you both rolled your hips into his lap. You stabilized yourself with your arms, putting them behind his head, on the headrest, on the windows, wherever you could. 

His hands followed suit, looking for ways to grab and knead your flesh to fuck into you harder. The car fogged up fast, windows steaming with every ragged breath. His palm slid up your bare stomach, calloused fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Fuck," he muttered against your throat, "knew you’d feel this good."

The seatbelt warning chimed faintly from the front—some stupid, half-broken reminder that the driver’s door was still ajar. The sound was almost drowned out by the slick slide of his tongue against yours, the sharp gasp you couldn’t stifle when his teeth found your collarbone.

Outside, the world kept moving. A distant siren wailed. A dog barked two streets over. The Corolla stayed parked, rocking gently on its worn-out shocks, its missing bumper the last thing on either of your minds.

Heeseung’s grip tightened.

And then

The headlights of a passing car cut through the fogged glass, flooding the backseat with sudden, blinding light.

You froze.

He didn’t.

His laugh was dark, breathless, as his lips found your ear. "Don’t stop now," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip, "We’ve got all night."

You rolled your hips experimentally, and the choked noise he made was filthy. His head thunked back against the window, the glass already fogged beyond recognition. "Again," he demanded, voice wrecked.

So you did.

The Corolla’s shocks groaned in protest, the whole car rocking with the movement. Heeseung’s hands slid under your thighs, hauling you higher, his mouth latching onto the curve of your neck like he was trying to brand you.

"Knew you’d ride me like this," he panted against your skin, fingers digging bruises into your waist. "Knew it."

You braced one hand against the roof—your palm slipped on the condensation—and used the other to tilt his chin up, your thumb pressing into the hinge of his jaw. "Shut up," you breathed, and then you were kissing him, all teeth and tongue and the sharp, metallic taste of the energy drink he’d been chugging all night.

“I’m right though,” he smirked into your kiss, breathy. “You always ride me so good,” he whined, stifled by the sloppy kisses against his lips. He was desperate for the roll of your hips, for every square inch of contact your sweaty, sticky skin had to offer. “Got nothing to say? I’m fuckin’ you that good?” 

“God, you talk too much,” you rolled your eyes, hips following. 

You pulled away from the kiss, sloppily attempting to keep the pace of your hips as you reached over for your discarded panties. Heeseung parted his lips to make a remark, but you didn’t let him. You watched as his eyes went wide as you put your panties, still wet from the slick of your cunt, into his mouth, gagging him. “Better.” 

He couldn’t even complain, though, as he only whined as you rode him even harder, rolling your hips into his at the most delicious angle. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips, watching you work your magic on him with the most evil smile on your lips. You knew how to get him. 

You reached for his face, cupping his cheek before finally taking your panties out of his mouth, throwing them back to the side. He gasped at the absence and your lips met his before he had a chance to say anything. Still, his kisses were sloppy, desperate. 

“Like you more when you’re quiet,” you moaned against his lips. 

“Liar,” he laughed, lips meeting yours again, tongue meeting your lower lip before pulling you in deeper.

The engine was still running.

The delivery bag sat forgotten in the front seat.

And the Corolla?

It had seen worse.