The air in the room is thick, a humid haze of syrup, bacon grease, and the musk of recent sex. The moment the words leave Violet’s lips, a silent agreement passes among the men. The dynamic shifts instantly from playful banter to a unified, predatory focus. Namjoon moves first, his hand abandoning her hip to cup the heavy underside of her right breast, lifting it as if weighing the potential of what lies inside. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, pressing deep to find the ducts beneath the surface.

"Start now," Namjoon grunts, his voice rough with authority. "We don't wait."