Warnings!: SMUT(mdni!), knotting, slapping, dubcon (if you squint), blood, scratching, choking/gagging, car sex, unprotected sex (no), ABO, Unexpected heat cycle, Alpha/Omega, degradationâŚ
(Reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated!!)
A/N: Oh Em Gee!!! This is my first completed fic EVER!! Iâve picked up writing not too long ago so Iâm not a professional or anything⌠And I donât know much about abo so pls Iâd love to hear your thoughts and opinions, donât hold back! Enjoy:3 PS: Header divider and other images are from pinterest!
The first thing that he notices is your attitude.
"Don't fucking stare, you prick." You huff.
Your leg is bouncing against the plush flooring of his sedan, your arms crossed over your chest in a defensive posture he knows all too well. Okay, this is normal.
"Wasn't staring." He mutters with a weak snarl, fidgeting with the rubber cover on his steering wheel.
The second thing he notices is your scent.
Peachy sweet with an undercurrent of something sharp and defiant. Almost earthy like the rain or wet grass, but clean and sharp like eucalyptus.
Normal, again. But something feels off today. Your scent⌠it's stronger than usual. Heightened. He could tell the second you stepped into his raggedy sedan that⌠your scent is off. It slapped him in the fucking face, for Christ sakes. Usually the first note that hits him is your earthy, sharp scent. Defiant and unwilling, your Omega teeth bared(cute.) Its something he can almost always count on. But you're unusually⌠sweet this evening.
"Just drop me off at the pub, asshole." The least you could do is look at your driver when you request a drop off.
Your head is stubbornly turned toward the passenger window, staring out at God knows whatâ just anything that isn't him, really. Your leg is still bouncing up and down restlessly. Tap, tap, tap.
"The pub? Whyâ"
"None of your fucking business, why." You spit, teeth clenched so tight he can see the muscles in your neck working, twitching and pulsing like they're trapped, fighting to escape.
You're awfully restless this evening.
Not only is your leg bouncing still, but your nails are digging into your skin where they're crossed over your chest, leaving crescents into the soft flesh of your arm. Your other hand plays idly with the hem of your shirt, and your gaze is still averted like looking at himâ no, even letting him see your face would be grave.
But he can still see you, and your body is telling him more than anything your words ever could.
"Just shut up, take me to the pub, drop me off, and drive away." You smile something cruel and mocking, your nails pressing deeper into your skin. "That's all you're good for anyway."
He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Driving is all I'm good for?" That doesn't earn a response from you who's clearly more focused on trying to stay calm.
You have⌠tells.
Your breathing is uneven, poorly controlled. Shaky and almost ragged. Your leg is bouncing even faster now and you look so strung like you could snap at any given second. He's surprised you haven't managed to break skin on your arm already.
Then he hears it. Something so soft, almost lost in the sound of his car's engine. But no, he heard it. Clear as day. A whimper.
And it hits him. Again. A thick, cloying wave. Something so sweet and suffocating he almost recoils. Your scent.
His nostrils flare and fucking burn from the sheer potency of your sex. His chest rises up and down with quickening breaths, his own body traitorously responding to yours. A low, unmistakable rumbling sound stirs in his chest, nearly clawing its way up and out of his skin like it would wrap its claws around you if it could.
The sound goes unheard by you, swallowed by the hum of the engine.
He swallows. Hard. His knuckles are white where they're now gripping his steering wheel, and his own leg starts to bounce with restless energy.
Everything is heightened. Your scent, his own sharpening in response to your call. Your proximity feels even slimmer, more suffocating. He feels so fucking claustrophobic that his throat is tight, mouth fucking dry until it wets and nearly drools at the sight of you.
The thought of you. The thought that you're probably so fucking slick in your panties right now that you're dripping onto his seat. The thought that he could taste you if he really wanted to. Lick the slick right off of your swollen fucking folds, suck your clit and fuck you open on his fingers until you clenched and pulsed around him, begging him to just stuff and knot you instead.
You're sweating. He can fucking smell you. Your skin is flushed from your cheeks to your neck, a rosy, feverish blotch disappearing under the neckline of your shirt that's gone wet and sticky, clinging to your collarbone and chest as you fucking heave.
He watches you reach over with a trembling hand to turn on the AC, blasting it on its highest setting.
"It's fucking h.. hot in here." You sigh in relief that's short lived, fanning out the neckline of your shirt as you lean your head back against the headrest, the cool air doing nothing at all to satiate the heat that feels like it's welling up under your very skin.
When he makes no move to actually drive, you snap. "Are you going to fucking drive? Take. Me. To. The. Pub."
"You're going to the pub⌠like this?" He questions, his voice tight and controlled. You finally look at him. Your pupils are fucking dilated, your cheeks rosy, forehead sweaty. Like fucking hell he's letting you near any pubâ no, any public place in general. Taking you anywhere while you're like this, all needing and vulnerable, is a recipe for disaster. Any hungry, disgusting Alpha that caught sight of you wouldn't waste a fucking second taking advantage of youâ His teeth clench so fucking hard he swears he hears a crack.
Fuck. No.
"Like what?!" You whine at an octave that clearly signals your growing impatience. You're sweating properly now, and you're trying (and failing) at hiding how you grimace and recoil every time a surge of heat clamps down on your tummy with every torturous second that you're not being fucked and filled.
You must be fucking crazy. Why the hell would you ever want to go out in this state anyway? To a fucking pub on a Friday night where any waiting, predatory Alpha could find you and fuckingâ
Oh. Right. He gets it now. You need a little⌠help, don't you?
He smirks cruelly.
"Ohhhh, that's it, is it?" He turns more toward you, his posture deliberately relaxed though his chest is coiled tight with something hot and possessive. "You don't have an⌠Alpha of your own, do you? You haven't been knotted, haven't been claimed, hm?" He tilts his head, his tone of voice so soft almost like a purr that contradicts with his aggravating, challenging sneer.
You feel fucking sick, your cheeks burning with indignance. "Excuse mâ" "Ah-ah. Did I say you could speak?" He presses a calloused finger right against your lips.
"WHA-" "Checks out, really. Explains why you're so⌠pent up. Tense, and bitchy." His palm is properly pressed against your mouth now, effectively muffling any indignant sound or biting remark, and you don't even⌠fight it.
Just kidding. You? Of course you fucking fight it.
Your nails claw and drag down the expanse of his arm taking the same path as a bulging vein, causing him to hiss. But he doesn't relent. He just presses harder, and he leans in closer, your heat throbbing traitorously as your proximity lessens.
"Don'tâ" He huffs, frustrated air that slaps right against your cheeks. "Keep your hands to yourself, you fucking brat." He emphasizes the insult with a push to your head, finally releasing your mouth and you immediately gasp and retort.
"ME?! Keep MY hands to MYself?!" Your voice raises, arms flailing incredulously like you cannot fucking believe his audacity, and he just leans back against his drivers side door, completely amused and completely unbothered.
Feigned nonchalance. Sunghoon is practically thrumming with the same furious sexual energy you naturally radiate. Christ sakes, he can fucking smell you.
He can see you. Your body's turned more toward him now despite the derisive way you scoff and snarl, the dismissive way you brush off your clothes like his touch was repelling enough for you to do so. Then his eyes flit down. Not to your chest, no. He's already seen the lacy material of your bra through the thin whiteness of your "shirt" that's now stuck to you like a second skin. No, further down.
To your leggings. To your thighs, and he watches them tremble with anger and something else. Then higher.
Christ. He knew you were needy but fuck. He didn't know you were this needy. Your leggings are already black but you've managed to make them deeper, darker in the dip right between your fucking thighs.
You're fucking drenched. A whole wet patch is stained right against your fucking cunt and he swears he can see it throb under his gaze.
He swallows hard, biting back drool and nausea and fucking want. No, a primal need to tie you down and fuck his knot into you so deep youâ
"Get out." Your hand scrambles for the door handle. Waitâ fuck. That's not what he fucking meant. Get out? Is he crazy?
"Stopâ Don't fucking move." You freeze, not willingly. But your body⌠your Omega halts under the demanding tone of his Alpha. Under his command.
"Good." He takes a deep, controlled breath, his jaw tight. It looks painful. "Get in the back."
You whip your head around so fast, your mouth open and ready to deny, to hold onto any semblance of control as your body already betrays you and unbuckles your seat.
"Wha- why?!" "Jesus Christ, stop fucking yelling." He closes his eyes, breathing slow like he's trying to hold back. His entireâ entire body is so tense you can almost see the tremor in his legs he's trying so hard to suppress. "Stop yelling and get in the back."
Your seatbelt is undone. "I am not getting in the back!" He opens his eyes and says⌠nothing. He stares at you. And stares. Stares some more.
Then a cruel twist of lips. He's smirking.
"Did I not just tell you to stop yelling?" He shifts slightly in his seat, his knee coming up to rest on the console between you. "Brat. You're such a fucking brat." Then he's suddenly shifting, lunging across the console to your side and reclining your chair, straddling your hips and pinning your hands at your sides.
He leans down into your face, his lips so close to your ear that they skim across your skin as he speaks next and you can't help but fucking shiver. "Do I need to fucking pin you down to get you to listen to me?"
"Ack- What the hell?! Get off of me, you asshole!" You wriggle uselessly under his grip, but he remains unyielding. He's too big, too strong to gain any sort of footing. You're effectively trapped. And you're really, really fucking horny.
You've got 6 foot of fucking Alpha pinning you down, his thighs bracketing your hips, his lips pressing against your neck with teasing kisses and nips to your scent glands, and his own scent wrapping around you so strongly you cannot fucking think straight. Holy shit you don't think you've ever thrummed with such fucking pleasure in your whole life, your entire body is singing in response to his Alpha's mere proximity to your Omega. You're fucked.
"Get off of you?" His tone is soft, deceptive. "Mmm⌠No." Your body⌠it's too far gone to fight back. Not like you could anyway, he's got you pinned. But that doesn't mean you won't use your words. "What the literal fuck are you doing?! Are you insane?! Anyone could see!" You turn your head anxiously toward the window where the view inside is 100% unrestricted (fishbowl ass car), but he doesn't let your gaze stray far. He grips your chin and turns your face back toward him, and when he speaks again his face is so close to yours that you can feel his lips brush against your own.
"Y/n." He whispers. "Stop denying this. You need me, don't you? Need my knot." He presses on closer, your lips flush, and you whine into his mouth. "Need me to fuck you full, is that right?" You whimper with a frantic nod, your lips moving in hasty kisses against his own that won't reciprocate. He's just⌠still.
"Needy fucking whore." He pulls back abruptly, leaving you shocked and flushed, and your cheeks burn brighter at his insult. "Needy whore?! You're the one who fucking pounced on me!" Your body writhes and squirms under him, your legs attempting to kick him off. "Get off of me then!"
"Tsk, tsk." He tuts, never once lessening his hold on you, never budging a single inch. "But you," He shifts his leg, shoving it right between yours and pressing it up against your aching core. You arch almost immediately, a needy, pathetic sound escaping your lips before you could even stifle it. "You're so wet and so fucking needy." He rubs his kneecap right against your clit, watching you writhe and break beneath him. "Mm, that's it⌠feel it."
"You get into my car asking me to drive you to a pub in the middle of your heat and for what? To get laid by some whore Alpha who probably couldn't even make you comeâ no, who probably wouldn't even think of making you come?" He laughs breathy and disbelieving, shaking his head. "Why do that, hm?" He leans in, and you bite your lip and stifle the moan that threatens to surface when he nips your sensitive scent gland and rubs his knee harder against your clit simultaneously. Fuck, is he trying to kill you?
"Why go through all that trouble when you could've just asked me?" You make a disapproving noise that's really just a moan. "Ask you? Fuâ hah⌠Why the hell would I do that?" He only smirks against your skin, and bites down harder. "Shit! Ow, stop that!"
"Y/n." He pulls back to look at you, his hands still clamped down on your wrists at either side of your hips. "I'm going to fuck you." He shakes his head. "No. I'm going to claim you. Do you understand?"
You don't respond. Well, not with words at least. But he doesn't need verbal confirmation when your body tells him everything he needs to know.
Claimed? He may as well had wiggled a red fucking cloth in front of a bull. Your Omega is thrumming with pure ecstasy, and your body responds with another gush of slick as you arch and rub down onto his knee.
"Holyâ yessss, fuck. Look at you." He rubs you harder against his jeans, clearly feeling the weight of his words. "Did you just fucking⌠Fuck, you're so wet for me I can feel itâ I can see it. Fucking whore."
"I'm not a fucking whore!" You whine in need as you continue to grind faster now, but it's not enough. You need more, more, more. You needâ
"Fuckingâ UGH! FUCK ME ALREADY!"
There's a pause.
Then, "Oh?" He raises his eyebrow, an amused smile playing on his lips. "I'm not a fucking whore!~" He mocks, throwing your words back at you.
"God you are such a fucking diâ ngh!" Your words are cut off as he suddenly removes his knee and replaces it with his hand, cupping you through your soaked leggings, smearing your slick all over his fucking palm before removing it and bringing it up to his face, watching it glisten in the light.
He sniffs his hand greedily. "God, fuck." Then, like the fucking freak he is, he licks his palm from the base to the tip of his middle finger, smearing your slick all over his tongue, shoving his finger into his mouth and sucking off with a pop that makes you shiver and gush more.
"Mmm." He closes his eyes as if savoring the taste. "So fucking good. So good." And when he opens his eyes, they're more dilated and intense than you've ever seen them. His scent is even stronger now, something woodsy and coaxing and fucking primal.
"Take them off." He doesn't wait for you to comply, already shoving his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down in one harsh, firm pull that makes you gasp. "W-waitâ" He immediately freezes and looks at you.
"NO!" You slap a hand over your mouth. "I- I mean keep going⌠don't stop⌠please." He blinks for a moment, then a slow, infuriating smirk splits his features. "Sorry?" He questions, feigning genuine confusion. "What was that?" He has your pants yanked halfway down to your calves, the only thing covering you being your underwear that may as well be a second fucking skin with how drenched you are, yet he thinks now is the time to tease and push your limits?!
"I didn't mean wait, you dumbass! Just⌠just do it!"
"Do what?"
"Are youâ"
You let out a frustrated sound almost like a growl that just has him grin even wider. "Do⌠what?" At this point you're considering just walking yourself to the damn pub to find someone better. If they won't make you come at least they'll skip the small talk and fucking touch you.
"Touch me, you fuckinâ"
"Say please."
"HUH?! I JUSTâ ngh- ahhhâŚ"
He presses the pad of his thumb directly onto your swollen, throbbing clit, right over your drenched underwear, rubbing tight, furious circles that make your head spin and pussy clench around nothing but air. God, it aches. You need to be filled. Like now. "Touch? Like this?"
"AHâ yes! Just like that!" You arch and moan, bucking into his hand like a fucking slut begging for more friction as if you can't get enough. And truthfully⌠you can't. You need more, much more.
"M-moreâŚ" You whine as his thumb continues it's relentless rubbing. "More?" He stops and your eyes widen with a gasp. "NOâ" "Ah-ah." He cuts you off, pushing you back down by the shoulder when you try and sit up. "Say please."
One word. You need to say only one word, one, and you get everything you've been asking and aching for.
"Eat shit and die."
Well I can't help you there.
"Right."
You don't know how it happens. The world spins and suddenly you're on your stomach, ass up, back arched and completely fucking exposed. WaitâŚ
"Such a dirty fucking mouth on you." Slap. "How should I tame you, hm?" Slap. "OW!â" He yanks your underwear down in one swift motion, the cool air hitting your heated skin causing you to clench around nothing and hiss through your teeth.
Okay, now you're completely exposed.
"Get!â AHHhhhnnngâŚâŚ" You have no time to process when he abruptly shoves two fingers into your sopping cunt, splitting you fucking open on his thick fingers over and over and over again even as you writhe in pain just cause he likes to hear how wet you are for him. "Ah, hear that?" The satisfaction in his voice and scent is thick as he continues to fuck you open on his hand, searching for that sweet spot that has you crying out in both pleasure and pain at the stretch.
"Right there! Right there! Don't stop!" The amount of fucking relief you feel is indescribable. You think even drugs can't feel this fucking good as your forehead lolls against the headrest, bouncing up and down from the sheer force he's fucking you with.
Then he pulls out. The world stops.
"NOâ mmph!" He's cruel, really.
"What's that? Can't talk now, can you?" He taunts, two slick fingers shoved into your mouth deep enough to make you gag, his other hand a fist in your hair. Well, he's right, at least. You can't talk.
"Ngh.. I⌠aghâ"
"Hm? Speak up, I can't hear you~" Oh, what a fucking dick. You bite down, hard.
"Shit." Well it worked at least, because he abruptly pulls his fingers out. "You're worse than I thought." You turn your head enough to throw a triumphant look in his direction untilâ
"AH!"
He fucking digs his five nails into the globe of your ass. Just digs them in, a fistful of fucking flesh under his sharp, merciless nails, deeper, deeper, and deeper still.
"AH, NOâ OW!" You shake, buck, squirm, you even swat at his arm. He doesn't let up, just bites his lip as he looks down at you as you fucking writhe in pain like a sick fucking sadist.
"You can take it." He murmurs, quiet, almost like he didn't even mean to say it out loud. "Iâ I can't! It hurts, you asshole! Stop!" He sinks the sharp daggers into the soft flesh deeper until the skin breaks and you feel the warmth of your own blood dripping down the side of your fucking ass.
Eventually, he stops, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the wound making you jolt. "Good girl." He praises, and you can hear the smugness in his voice as he scoops up your blood, sucking it off his thumb with a sick, wet noise.
"Did you justâ you're so gross!"
"And?"
"And?! And?! You're sick! Absolutely sick! You literally just dug your nasty nails into my fucking ass cheek and licked the blood!"
Silence. A beat. Then,
"They're not nasty."
You really, truly cannot believe it. "Oh my god. Oh my GOD! Just get me out of here! I can't do this anymore!" You begin you push yourself up on unsteady arms. "If you're not going to FUCK ME, then I'm fucking leaving! Ackâ"
He fucking shoves your head back down with a force that nearly knocks you out. He keeps his hand there, a rough, uncompromising pressure as he leans down and whispers in your ear, his voice tense.
"I told you to keep your fucking voice down, did I not?" When you don't respond he applies more pressure, shoving your head further against the seat. "I said, did I not?"
"Mhmmph." You nod as much as his grip will allow, feeling and wallowing in his dominance.
"Good. Now, leave? And go where? To the fucking Pub to be fucked by some scum? Really?" You hear him scoff. His grip tightens on your head to an almost painful degree, his voice a possessive drawl. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay here in my car, take my cock, my knot, my cum until your pussy is full and satisfied. Understood?" You shudder, just fucking shudder when he drags his hard cock along your ass.
"Mhmmph." His grip loosens and he pushes himself back up to look at you, really look. "Good fucking girl." He drawls, the satisfaction in his voice evident as he gropes your ass, taking each cheek into his hands and pushing them together, watching them jiggle as he lets go. You're still sore from his nails, and you have to bite down on your tongue when he slaps over the wound just to watch you recoil.
What a sick fucking sadist.
"That. Hurts." You grit out.
"Don't give a shit. Arch."
You comply, your muscles already sore from the awkward way you have to lay on this damn seat. He hums in approval, his scent sharp and eager, and he soothes his palm over the mark. Well he must think it's soothing but it's really not since his palms are so fucking calloused. You whimper but you take it, being in no position to argue and just wanting to be fucked all fucking ready.
Then you hear it. His belt unbuckling. Then his buttons and finally, his zipper. God, you could just moan in sheer delight at the fucking sound.
"FinallyâŚ" You didn't even mean to say it, truly.
"What was that?" You hear him pause, his zipper only halfway down. Fuck. Okay, don't panic.
"I.. I said.." You arch back against him, shaking your ass (hopefully) coaxingly. "Please. Fuck me?" You hear him unzip his jeans the rest of the way, the fabric giving as he finally slides them down his hips and you just squeeze your eyes shut and thank the lord above for this blessing.
"Mm. Since you asked so nicely." He hums, taking himself in his hands and stroking once, twice, slowly, just watching the way you arch and clench around air, still so fucking slick that you're glistening in the light. Then he positions himself between your legs, rubbing his fat, swollen tip through your folds and catching it purposefully, cruelly, onto your clit.
"Don't teaseâŚ" You pleade, your cheek squished against the headrest as you crane your neck to the side as much as you can just to catch a glimpse of him. And when he prods his tip at your entrance, a cold, doom-like feeling washes over you, and suddenly you take everything back. It's comical, really, how a huge cock could make you never want to have sex again instead of the highly implied oppositeâŚ
"Ready for me?" He doesn't wait, pushing just the tip past your tight, yielding entrance, your walls already clamping down on him hard enough to make you gasp and him grit his teeth in attempt not to shove all of himself inside with one brutal thrust. "Shit, open up for meâŚ" He grits out, his body trembling like he's forcing himself to hold back. He grunts as he sheaths inch by torturous fucking inch inside your poor cunt, and all you can do is just lay there and take it because after all, this is what you asked for.
No amount of fucking slick could everâ ever be enough to make this process any smoother. It's slow and fucking painful, and it only angers you more knowing that you're the only one feeling the pain. So what do you do? You reach back and dig your nails into his forearm as hard as you fucking can just to make him feel even half as much fucking pain as you, but not before looking back at him and batting your lashes with a look that says: "Oh, me? It just hurts, that's allâŚ" and not like you just want to draw blood out of spite.
"S-slow⌠slowerâŚ" He rubs your back, surprisingly gentle. "Relax, just take it." He coaxes, "Come on, you can take it, can't you? You can take your Alpha's cockâ that's it, fuckkk. Open up for me, baby. Just like thatâŚ"
When he finally sheaths his entire ?inches into you, all you can do is moan and sag your entire body in relief of finally, finally being filled.
His hand snakes around your tummy, pulling you up with one unforgiving tug as he starts to move, and he's just fucking cruel with it. Slamming his cock into you so rough and deep, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. "Get the fuckâ up." He grunts, his biceps working and bulging as he fights to keep your limp weight arched at his disposal, but you just⌠you can't hold yourself up. You can't move, really. Your entire body feels like jelly, it's just humming in pure ecstasy as you feel his thick cock plunging in and out of your soaking, swollen walls relentlessly, his veins dragging against you with every ministration⌠you're just a whining, moaning fucking mess.
"GâgoâŚ. God, yes⌠yessâŚ. God, YESâ"
"That's it." He smugly comments, his lip bitten and red, a flush evident and blotched on his cheeks down to his neck. He watches as your head bobs against the seat in an obviously uncomfortable way with every brutal thrust and he doesn't even give the slightest shit, all he cares about is watching and feeling your tight pussy take his cock as you cry out, his Alpha satisfied knowing it's finally taking care of your needs.
This is for you, afterall.
He thrusts once, twice more, then a third thrust that has you feeling him so deep you swear you can feel him in your tummy, and he just holds it there. He leans over your back, bracing one nail bruised forearm beside your head, applying all his weight against your hair that's a mess on the headrest and he doesn't care, he just breathes into your ear. "You feel that?" He shifts his hips ever so slightly just so you can feel his tip brush against your cervix. "That's how deep I'm gonna be when I fucking knot you."
Fuck. Just⌠just fuck. Are you in heaven?
"Are you all talk?" You must be crazy.
"Just fucking knot me alreadyâ hahâ then! Or all you all fucking talk?" You crane your neck backwards to shoot him a challenging look that makes him snarl in response. Bingo!
"Oh, is that it?" He chuckles lowly, cold and mean. Then he fists your already knotted hair and shoves your head back down into the fucking seat harsh and unforgiving. His other arm has already given up on holding you up because at this point it's obvious your limbs won't be able to take it, and he just applies a sick pressure to your lower back with his hand and starts fucking you again, harsher this time(if that was even possible.)
You can't say much. You don't think you've ever heard yourself make such raw noises, they're truly coming from the depths of your soul as you feel him reach that very spot, dragging those sounds out with every thrust out and in.
"You've got a talent for running your fucking mouth." It's crazy how you can hear the smile on this man. He doesn't even sound mad, he sounds⌠pleased.
If you thought it was overwhelming before then you thought wrong because apparently there's always a more. "What's it gonna take toâ shit⌠To shut you up, huh?" He accentuates each word with a jarring thrust, his nails biting into your skin on your lower back and you just arch into it, relishing in the pain. "I pin you down, I bend you over and fuck you on my fingers, then with my actual dick and somehow you've still got the energy? You can't even hold yourself upright and you're still talking shit."
"Are you that fucking desperate for it?" He tugs your hair back in a rough motion that has you staring dazedly at the roof of his sedan. "Huh? You're so desperate for my cock that you feel the need to rile me up? Hm?" Tug, thrust, scratch, another tug. "Is this what you wanted? For me to fuck you so hard you can't even speak?"
Bingo!
He seems so caught up in his anger that he just fucks you more, harder still, and you didn't even think it was possible. Is this all it took? Pissing him off?
You feel the heat coiling in your belly by the second, your legs trembling and back arching so hard and unwilling that you just have to squeeze your eyes shut and ride it out, focusing on the pleasure building in your gut.
"Is thatâ ngh! Is that all you can d-do? Harder..!" His control (you didn't think he had any left) finally snaps. He growls, fucking growls, and fucks you harder, so deep that it nearly knocks the air out of your fucking lungs, his fist tugging your hair back so rough and he doesn't even realize how far he's got your neck craned back (it's bad), he just sees red.
"This it? This hard enough for you? Fucking whore!" You nod frantically, your entire body in so much pleasure and pain it's hard to decipher between the two, and you don't think he realizes you're even close until you go tense, your legs trembling so badly you hear your thighs which are sticky with sweat stick and unstick to the leather skin of the seat rhythmically.
You shake, shake and fucking shake until your body goes completely rigid and the most intense pleasure you've ever felt in your entire life courses through what feels like your veins. It's so intense that it nearly whites out your vision. You don't think you've ever arched so hard, fucking moaned so loud and genuine. You clench around him so tight that his hips stutter and he has to put in more effort to thrust around your pulsing.
"Fuckkk, yes. Squeezing me so fucking tighttt, fuck⌠You feel good, baby? That what you needed? Did I give it to you?" He fucks you through every wave until your body goes slack again and you tremble from oversensitivity and he still goes, still fucks into you with that same relentless speed, and you can't even complain because you feel him finally start to swell at his base. Finally.
"Ah, yes⌠Gonna knot you, okay? Gonna knot you, baby. I'm gonna give it to youâ shit⌠Gonnaâ Gonnaâ" And he finally, with a deep, ragged groan, finally stills deep inside you, pumping you full of his milky come and finally locks you together.
His body finally goes slack, slumping his entire weight against your back, squishing your poor bones and face into the seat for the last time. He's all lean muscle and you can hardly breathe but fuck, it might just be worth it. He shifts slightly with a contented hum, his scent thick and satisfied, and he nuzzles his face into the back of your neck. "Good?"
IN WHICH: You work at a gas station with Jungwon, and you are severely perverted.
Warnings!: SMUT(mdni!), perverted thoughts and actions, jerking off, blowjob, handjob, y/n is a bad person, jw is just as bad, they are creeps, mentions of pictures taken w/o consent(no), mentions of masturbation, lowk dom y/n, sub jw, blackmail?, humiliation, begging, face fucking, blah blah idk lmk if i missed anyâŚ
(Reblogs + comments are always appreciated!!)
A/N: My second ever fic>< god, this one is honestly embarrassing idek why i wrote it but i had an image of gas station jw in my head for some reason so i haddd to write it out. As always pls comment and lmk your thoughts and opinions⌠im daiing to know. Enjoy:3 PS: i donât support any of this behavior! Donât be a perv! >:(
You wonder how there's any way in the year of 2026 that there hasn't been anyone intelligent enough to invent a teleportation machine.
Okay, like, you get it. A time machine sounds a bit ridiculous and too unrealistic. But a teleportation machine? Guys, come on. How haven't we?! Just think of all the places you could go⌠Literally anywhere in the world! Italy, Franceâ Or, oh! To that one mall with the built in amusement park⌠To the UK, to an Egyptian pyramid. Or, most importantly, to a luxury hotel where you can be there for the sole purpose of fucking the shit out of your coworker.
Okay, you might have a problem. A very sweet, innocent, sexy, totally off-limits, Jungwon-shaped problem. You might, just maybe, want to fuck the living shit out of your poor coworker who's been assigned to night shifts only recently with you for the last week, and he hasn't even the slightest clue of what goes on in your brain when he's around. Or not around, helping a customer as you watch from afar at how his Adam's apple bobs with every word and polite laugh, just thinking about how badly you want to suck and lick marks all over it. Or, your favorite, in front of you where you can see his ass and exactly which muscle in his back that he strains when he lifts something particularly heavy. Or behind you, beside youâŚ. Or when he's stocking shelves on his knees or when he's standing tall and has to grab something that you can't, fix something that you're unable to reach.
You twirl the same piece of gum you've been chewing for the last 2 hours around your pointer finger over and over as you wait behind the register for a customer like the good worker you are, while simultaneously harboring the very thoughts that could get you fired. Something your friend warned you about how coworkers are 'highly inappropriate fuck buddies' especially if it's only the two of you together at all times and something annoying about how "Y/n, you need this job! You haven't had a steady job in yearsâ" and yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. You don't give a shit.
So you think of the ways you absolutely are going to fuck your off-limits coworker. Let's see⌠on a bed, obviously, but what if you can't get there quick enough? Like, what if he's just so fucking horny for you that he needs you now? I mean, come on, you have to consider all possibilities. You'll take him in the bathroom, then. Hell, you'll take him right fucking here, right on the cash wrap if you need to.
Ah, you sigh almost dreamily, not really seeing the products you're scanning or the amount of change you owe. Just throwing nickles and quarters into your palm with a generous 20 dollar bill and handing it off to the 40th wrinkled trucker you've seen in the last 2 hours with a "Thank you! Please come again~" that's just as fake and saccharine as the artificial gum you've been chewing. Something absolutely has to give because at this point, you think you're horny enough to follow him into the bathroom like a creep.
Push him inside and follow right behind him, closing and locking the door behind you as you watch him whip his head around, pulse surely ticking fast. "Y/n! U-um⌠Did you need to go tooâŚ?" He'd say, all flustered and almost apologetic like he was the one in the wrong. "You could've just told me, I would've let you go first. Now no one's up at the frontâ" And you'd cut him off with your palm while backing him up until his lower back hits the edge of the rusted sinkâ
"Y/n?" You jolt. "Woah, hey. Didn't mean to scare you." Speak of the (very angelic) devil. You turn your head, your face an innocent mask of 'Just working and totally not thinking of gripping your hips while sucking your dick, hehe~'
"No problem," You throw in a sweet giggle. "What's up?" Somehow Jungwon always makes the ugly, shit-green colored workers shirt look good. And honestly, you think if he wore even a trash bag he'd still look flawless. It's those beautiful eyes, his pouty lips and his charming, boyish smile that makes you want to bite him so hard he bleeds and cries. It's infuriating, really.
"Oh, it's just thatâŚ" He rubs the back of his neck, clearly hesitating. "The bathroom⌠it's clogged again." Well, fuck.
"Oh⌠the bathroom?" You clarify quietly, twirling a strand of hair with your finger. Any second nowâŚ
"Uh, actually⌠Don't worry about it. I'll do it. I'll be right back." He throws a shy smile, turning on his heel.
Easy as pie. He's too sweet for his own good, really. Truthfully, it is technically your job to clean the bathrooms (as stated by your boss) but also truthfully, you don't give a shit. So you watch him as he walks awayâ Oh, how you love to watch him go. He always wears jeans that are baggy enough to be fashionably acceptable yet fit enough to show off the roundness of ass⌠God, what a fucking slut. Holy shit you've never wanted to have sex with someone so bad in your entire life.
People might say it's just the forced proximity talking and maybe the fact that it's just the two of you together for eight hours straight at night. And yeah, it might be that (it definitely is just that) but also, Jungwon is just very⌠attractive. Like, if you saw him on the street or at a cafe, you might not think of how you want to bend him over but you'd still appreciate his beauty from afar. You just so happen to be blessed with his constant, guaranteed proximity to you at all times during the late hours of the night. It's a recipe for disaster, truly. But how can anyone blame you because by this time now at least on a weekend, you'd be 7 inches deep on your dildo fucking yourself to the thought of him (and very perverted, very bad pictures you'd taken of him when he wasn't looking (you're honestly so, so fucking gross and so, so unashamed.))
You shrug. Everyone knows that late hours are horny hours, anyway. Wait⌠Jungwon during horny hours, Jungwon during horny hoursâŚ
You can picture it now as you stare dazedly at the direction he disappeared off to. Jungwon, lonely on his bed, gripping the base of his cock as he painfully tries not to cum so quick to the thought of you. His tip, all swollen and weeping, aching to be touched and pulsing in rhythm with the quickening beats of his poor, perverted heart.
God, you just wanna know what it looks like. How big it is. You want to count how many veins are littered on it, how fat his tip is, how thick he is, how full he could make you feel⌠Ugh, what does his precum taste like? What does his actual cum taste like? Is he a shooter, or does it just ooze out deliciously enough for you to lick it right off his shaft?
You have to squeeze your thighs together for temporary, public-appropriate relief, and for the 100th fucking time as you ring up another customer. This is torture. Absolute fucking torture.
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The only good thing about these torturous, eight hour-long shifts are the hour long breaks.
It's only been 3 hours into your shift and you already want to take your break. It's nothing but the same things over and over again. Smile and greet every time you hear the bell on the door chime, ring product after product, laugh and smile when appropriate, give them change if needed then give thanks and make sure to tell them to come back.
Oh, and periodically check yourself in the bathroom just to make sure you haven't soaked yourself through your fucking jeans.
Jungwon has long since finished with the whole toilet clogging issue and he's now perched at your side like a clinging puppy as he always does on shifts like these (bless the Lord.)
"And then, and then!" He giggles, his eyes crinkling. "He said 'Tell her to take it out back.'" He laughs properly now, his head falling back like he'd just recalled the funniest memory and to be honest, you haven't properly obtained a single piece of silly information he's thrown at you for the past 30 minutes because you've been too busy staring at the way his neck muscles work with every word.
The top of his workers shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of his chest and collarbone that your eyes just cannot for the life of you stray away from, his hair is falling so perfectly over his eyes that it makes you want to curl in on yourself, and fuck⌠the way he blows air toward it with his mouth when a strand gets too close to his eye like a SLUT, makes you want to rip him to shreds.
"I swear, it was the funniest thing I've ever seen!"
"Right⌠RightâŚ"
His giggles falter slightly. "Y/n? You good? You've kinda been staring off into space for a while." He looks behind himself as if checking for the distraction that you're so focused on. Little does he know he's the distraction.
"No. I'm⌠I'm good." You murmur, purposefully quiet, purposefully monotone just to see his brows furrow with worry. "Are you⌠Are you sure? You look a bit pale⌠Are you feeling alright?"
"No."
"What? Um⌠Do you want me to get you some medicine? I can buy you some, I think we still have some over hereâŚ" He turns, already in search of the medicine and you can't even believe it⌠He's so kind that he'd buy you some cheap medicine just because you'd been staring at his chest for 30 minutes straight?
"Where are you going? Stay."
"But.." He hesitates, his body still turned toward the Travel Essentials aisle. "You're not feeling well, right? Let me buy yâ"
"Stay. I like looking at you."
He freezes, his eyes widening slightly but still composed, like maybe he's just hoping he'd heard you wrong. "What?" He whispers.
"Stay. I like looking at you, Jungwon. You lookâŚ" You advance slightly, watching how he tenses up, his eyes widening even further. He looks almost like he's been stricken in place, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "Y/nâŚ"
Ding!
Great. A customer. You turn almost automatically toward the door with a smile, "Hi, welcome!" And when you turn your attention back toward Jungwon, he's already backing up slightly.
"U-um⌠I'm gonna go take my break now." "Alreadâ" "You got this? Okay, goodâŚ" And he's already scurrying off, nearly tripping over his own shoes as he makes his way to the back room.
Yikes. Scaring the poor guy off already? Well, whatever. You've said worse before, to be honest.
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This is so fucking boring.
You've been standing in the same spot for hours on end, occasionally pacing beside the length of the cash wrap and honestly your head actually is starting to hurt from the clinical lights overhead that feel like they're boring into your very soul.
You've helped at least 11 different customers since Jungwon had practically fled from your immediate vicinity and honestly that says a lot since he's been gone for nearly over an hour. What you mean is, your throat's sore from every meaningless conversation you've had, and your wrist aches with every swipe of product against the barcode scanner. You're fucking ready to go home.
Minutes tick until it's been 20, 30, then 60, and finally you start thinking something else other than the very detailed, very descriptive ways you want to bang Jungwon, which is: Where the hell is he?
His break ended, or at least should've ended about 10 minutes ago, and it's especially concerning considering Jungwon is always so punctual.
You've been staring at the front of the store not really seeing anything at all and replaying the same interaction on loop for the past hour wondering if you really did it this time.
I mean, you didn't even do anything, really. All you did was imply that he looked nice! It was just a compliment! Honestly though if Jungwon had told you to stay and that he liked looking at you, you would've combusted and squirted everywhere on the spot, not scurry away in fear! What the hell was that?!
Sigh, maybe you should just apologize. Maybe that's exactly why he's taking forever to come back and face you. Maybe he's hiding back there with your manager on speed dial, considering calling her and reporting your perverted ass to HR. Okay, fuck. Maybe this is worse than you thought.
Wait, but⌠No way, right? All you did was say you liked looking at him! That doesn't compare even a little bit to that one time you "accidentally" brushed against his ass with your hand when reaching for a plastic bag. Or that other time you really "didn't mean" to walk in on him in the bathroom! (It was the men's restroom. The women's is on the complete opposite side of the store.)
Whatever. You should just go apologize and get it over with. I mean⌠Jungwon's sweet. Chances are, he's probably sitting there thinking of ways to apologize to you for running off like that.
You push off the counter with a heavy sigh and make your way toward the back. You haven't had a customer in the past 30 minutes so you pray none show up now. It'll only be a second anyway, then Jungwon can replace you so that you can finally take your break.
Why're you kind of dreading this right now? It's almost like you feel a little⌠guilâ Just never mind. You? Guilty? Please. You've already gone as far as taking sneaky photos of the man. A little compliment definitely is not going to make you feel guilty at allâ
"S-s-shitttâŚ" You stop dead in your tracks. A groan, a slick, wet noise. Then a whine.
"Y/n⌠Y/n, IâŚ" No⌠No way. You're hearing things wrong because there's no way. There's just no. Fucking. Way.
You step closer to the break room door, pushing it open ever so slightly and⌠Oh My God.
There he is. He's slouching in a chair (right by the door, mind you) head bowed, eyebrows furrowed and concentrated as his hand works quickly on his cock. Up, down, up, down, slick noises filling the room as the muscles in his arm bulge and strain to keep up with his quick pace. His other hand is hovered over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his moans but he can't help it⌠He can't help but whine into the void.
"I.. I'm closeâŚ! I'm gonnaâŚ"
You barge in.
"Well, well, well⌠What do we haveâ" "Y/Nâ OH MY GODâ" He scrambles to his feet, the chair skidding back on the floor with a loud noise in his haste, nearly tipping over. "Oh my God⌠This isn'tâ I wasn'tâ You have to believe me, I would neverâŚ!" He's stammering, blabbing on and on and you can't help but relish in the way he looks so absolutely distraught and humiliated.
His chest is heaving, he's so fucking red from exertion and embarrassment, his hair is a mess, eyes wide and blown⌠He looks an absolute wreck. The angels are singing.
"Oh myâ Oh my God⌠I'm such a pervert⌠I'm such a pervertâŚ" He mutters into his hands, looking so ashamed and so guilty. You're honestly⌠impressed. You never would've expected sweet, innocent Jungwon to do such a perverted, filthy thing during store hours. If anything, you're shocked and almost ashamed it wasn't you who did it first. He beat you to it.
"Oh, it's not what it looks like, is it?" You tease. "Because to me, it kind-of-sort-of looked like you were just jerking offâŚ" He looks sick, his face pale, and he can't even bring himself to look at you. "To the thought of meâ"
"NO!" He shouts, horrified. Then, almost frantically, he makes his way over to you. "Y/nâ Y/n. Please. You have to believe me, I would neverâ"
"I heard you say my name, Won." He makes a strangled, devastated noise. Thenâ you fight a laugh, he kneels.
His head is bowed. "I am soâ So sorryâŚ"
"You do realize there's cameras in here, right?" You hum, trailing your pointer finger along his jaw. "That was dirty, Won. And to the thought of me, tooâŚ" You wince with faux sympathy and he shakes beneath your finger with heavy, silent sobs.
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
He chokes. "And to think I was just going to apologize for earlier. Tsk. You were getting off to it all along." He shakes his head slowly, his eyes squeezed shut, his voice thick with shame and tears. "I'm not⌠Please, I need this job⌠I'm so sorry, I won't ever do it againâ"
"So you admit it? You were jerking off to me?" There's silence, the only thing audible being his ragged, wet breaths. Then slowly, he nods. "Say it, Jungwon. Out loud." He chokes on a sob.
"I was jerking off to you." He whispers.
"Look at me." When he doesn't immediately comply, you grip his chin to force his gaze upward. "Look at me and say it."
He meets your gaze. "I was jerking off to you."
It's a miracle how you haven't busted out laughing at the audacity of this entire situation. You used to think that it would be you on the floor crying and begging for forgiveness after he finally caught you in a perverted act after all of this time. But this⌠Him kneeling before you, his eyes puffy and red rimmed with tears streaking down his face, his lip quivering, and he's looking at you like you could tell him to do anythingâ anything at all and he'd comply in a heart beat. This is so much better than anything you've ever imagined before.
"Stand up." He scrambles to his feet, looking down at you with tear-filled eyes. "O-okayâŚ" You nod toward the chair, your expression carefully neutral. "Go ahead. Sit down."
"U-um.." He blinks, clearly a bit thrown off, but he starts to back up anyway. "B-but⌠But Y/n⌠Do you⌠Are you going to tell management?" Oh, baby⌠Management is definitely going to see. There's a camera pointed quite literally directly toward the table he was jerking off at. Shaking my head, Jungwon. You almost have to laugh at his stupidity. A real pervert would never make such a silly mistake.
"That wouldn't look good on your record, would it?" You trail after him, backing him toward the chair. He shakes his head quickly, his hair falling into his eyes. He doesn't seem to care about blowing it away this time. "I won't tell. Under one condition."
When the backs of his knees hit the chair, he scrambles to sit down. He looks up at you with a mix of caution and desperate hope, his hands gripping his knees. "Under one⌠W-what condition?" You plant your foot between his, and nudging his legs open with your knee, you stand between them. When you lean down to whisper in his ear, he has to fight the urge to dart his tongue out and lick your pulse. "I suck you off."
"Wh-what?! Suck⌠Suck me off?! Me?" You straighten slowly. He looks shocked, his eyes wide and his hands tremble where they grip his knees. You can tell he's trying to look disgusted but is greatly failing, the flush on his cheeks and neck giving him away. He shifts his hips, scooting more toward you. "Who else? Is there another Jungwon that I'm not seeing?"
"W-well⌠Well, no⌠Butâ"
"But? But what?" You sigh, losing patience. "Listen, either we do this or we don't, Jungwon. Your choice. I can go tell management, orâŚ" He panics, his hand shooting out to grab yours when you start to back away, his grip tight and shaky. "NO! No⌠No, don't leave. Please⌠Just, please, Y/n. Suck me off." He squeezes his eyes shut like he can't bare to see your reaction, the flush on his cheeks have now spread to his ears and high on his forehead, completely giving away that he doesn't give a shit about management anymore. He just wants you.
You kneel. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" A shudder wracks his frame as you begin to make quick work of his jeans. You unbutton them (he hadn't even bothered with the zipper,) sliding them down just enough to free his still painfully hard, leaking cock.
It's everything you've ever imagined. It's long, standing proud against his tummy and it's so fucking thick that you can hardly wrap your entire hand around it. It's hot to the touch, almost feverish, and he jolts when you make contact, a full bodily reaction.
"G-god⌠Please, yes⌠Please, yessss." You start to move your palm slowly, almost teasingly. From his sticky tip to his base, you smear the wetness and coat his cock to make it slick enough for your ministrations. But to be honest, it was already slick from his previous denied orgasm (you almost feel bad.)
He's whining now, was even before you'd started touching him, and his hips keep making involuntary thrusts into your palm with every stroke. You begin to move faster just to hear the noises you can pull from him⌠You feel on top of the world right now.
"The amount ofâ ngh⌠Times I've t-thought about thisâŚ"
What? You pause and he protests with another whine, his hand coming up to cover yours on his shaft. "Hey, wait⌠Keep going, please.." He lifts his hips, fucking into your palm in search of friction you won't give. You're frozen. He's⌠He's thought of this, too? I mean, you should've assumed as much considering you just walked in on him quite literally jerking off to you.
"You've thought about this?" You question, the disbelief in your voice thick as you idly squeeze his cock, just feeling the skin give and veins pulse. He jolts at the feeling, "Ah, y-yeah? I⌠Is that bad?"
"No." You start to move again and he nearly sobs in relief. "T-thank God⌠Thank G-godâŚ"
You speed up, watching how his head falls back, his throat opening up to spill all sinful noises without shame, his hips twitching every time your fist slaps against his base. "What have you thought about?" Jungwon doesn't respond. Or he does, and it's just another broken moan as your soft hand slides over his weeping tip once more. His neck is completely open and vulnerable, his Adam's apple bobbing with every moan and whine and you can't help yourself. You need a taste to satiate the vile, insatiable hunger you've inhabited for the past week on end. You keep your hand graciously moving on his cock but your other hand snakes around the back of his neck as you lean in close, and you close your lips (less graciously) over his Adam's apple, just tasting at first.
Fuck, he tastes salty from sweat and something else that's uniquely Jungwon. You can't help but bite down, just a little, just enough to leave your claim.
"Ah! AhâŚ" His hand comes up to the back of your head, keeping you there as he arches his neck into the pain and pushes your head into him even more. "Yes, keep going⌠Harder, harderâŚ" You pull back, the taste of his sweat a ghost on your tongue. "Jungwon, I asked you a question."
"Y-you did?" He lifts his head slightly to look down at you with glazed-over eyes that aren't really seeing anything at all. "What did youâ" "What have you thought about, exactly?"
"You. Just⌠Just you." He plants his hands on either side of his hips to give him leverage as he starts to properly fuck up into your hand now. "E-everything⌠The way you s-smell⌠Fuck, your tits⌠Yourâ YourâŚ" He squeezes his eyes shut whether in pleasure or shame, you're unsure. "I've thought about spreading you openâ ngh⌠Fucking you h-here, on the c-clockâŚ"
"Me too." His eyes shoot open, his hips stuttering slightly at your admission. He looks almost shocked like he can't believe you would think such inappropriate things about him. It's clear he feels very ashamed of his own filthy thoughts and hearing that you feel the same⌠Honestly though, is he dumb? Has he really not caught on�
"I've thought about worse. Much, much more." Your hand has long since stopped its aggressive pace, only now idly stroking his skin as you lean back to look him in the eyes, your own wide and almost⌠scary.
"Jungwon. You don't even want to know what I've thought about you." You admit, your body shaking from adrenaline as you finally get this off of your chest. It's like a dam has finally broken, your words spilling one after the other.
"I've thought about you fucking me here, in the bathroom. Bending me over the sink, or just sinking to my knees and sucking you off. Hell, I've thought about you fucking me on the cash wrap right in front of the store, right where anyone could walk in and see. I've thought about taking you to my home, letting you fuck me on every surface, in every hole. My mouth, my pussy, my hands⌠everything. And I've thought about tying you down to my bed so you can never leave⌠I would let you do nasty things to me, Jungwon. I don't think you even want me to say them." You take a deep, shaky breath.
"Jungwon⌠I've thought about your cock so many times. My curiosity was a physical ache. Just dying at night, fucking myself until I cry and sob into my hands knowing it would never feel like you. I've⌠Oh my God, I've taken so many pictures of you I can't even count. They're all in a folder in my phone that I open only when I masturbate. Iâ"
"W-wait⌠Just wait." His eyes are wide and unblinking, flitting all over your face as he tries to process this information. "You⌠You took pictures, too?"
"Too?" Your eyes widen with shock. "What?" You don't even seem to realize the fucking grip you have on his cock as you process this ground-breaking information until you see him grimace, and you still don't let up. "You've taken pictures of me?" He squeezes his eyes shut, his teeth gritted as he rides out the pain. "I⌠I'm so disgustingâŚ" He chokes, his head bowing, shoulders shaking as tears threaten to fall yet again. "I've taken over 50⌠I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorryâŚ"
"Yeah, that's bad." You offer no reassurance. I mean, why deny it anymore? That is bad. You're bad and you've known that, you've lived with it. "You should feel lucky, to be honest. That you were perverted about me and not someone else, someone who'd be disgusted and scared or less turned on than I am right now."
He blinks at you.
"I'm gonna suck your dick now." You waste no time, releasing your merciless grip to lick him from his balls to the tip slowly, savoring the taste and the pulse throbbing under your tongue. You shudder and moan at the taste, scooping up his precum with the wet muscle as you inhale his musk greedily. You're not even the one being pleasured but fuck, does it feel like it. After all of this time, you finally get a taste and it's better than anything you could've ever pictured. You could shed a tear.
You slowly lower your head onto him, taking him into your mouth inch by inch until you feel him hit the back of your throat and you threaten to gag but you don't, you force him down, your eyes rolling back as you take all that you can. You wrap your hand around the length that you can't fit, and you start to move.
Jungwon's hands immediately scramble to grab at your hair tight and shaky, his breathing already ragged. "Oh myâ Ugh⌠Don't stop⌠So warmâŚ" He's so hot on your tongue, his veins pulsing and sliding against your gums as you bob more and more until the room is filled with slick noises and his loud, unrestrained moans. You gag a couple times but you persevere, determined to finish him, to finally, finally feel him come down your throat.
You hollow out your cheeks, swallowing around him as he bucks helplessly into your warmth. "Ah, yes! Yes, yes! Just like that, harder!" He grips the top of your head and pushes you down as he starts to violently shake and fuck himself into your mouth. His ass isn't even touching the chair anymore, he's holding himself up with one hand planted on the seat and the other in your hair, half standing/half sitting as his hips buck into you over and over again.
You can't fucking breathe. Your scalp hurts, your throats sore and he just won't stop fucking bucking into your mouth. He doesn't even seem to realize how red your face is from near suffocation but you don't want him to and instead you grip his hips to urge him on, to fuck into you harder, faster. His thighs start to tremble, threatening to lose balance and you can feel itâ he's right there, right at the edge. His cock starts to twitch and throb, his thrusts become shorter and harder, less rhythmical untilâ
"Yes, shit⌠I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fucking cumâ I'm gonnaâ I'm cumming!" He stills and shudders, his whole frame wracking as he comes and pulses down your throat. It's warm and salty and it just keeps going. Even when you think he's done, his hips twitch more and he spills uncontrollably down your throat until he collapses back onto the seat, breathing heavy.
His chest is heaving and he's so sweaty that you can see it seep through his workers shirt (you wanna huff that so bad (you'll be stealing that from him later)) and he just stares at you, a slow, dazed smile touching his lips.
pairing: husband!sim jake x fem! reader x perv ghost!park sunghoon
wc: 18.5k
read part two here.
summary: you and jake just got married and moved into your dream house, a cozy little place thatâs supposed to be a fresh start. but from the moment you settle in, things feel off. the shower curtain moves on its own. you feel hands on you when no oneâs there. jake thinks youâre stressed, but you know something is wrong with this house. whatever it is, itâs only getting closer.ââââââââââââââââ
tags/content: smut, 18+, brief oral (f! receiving), daddy kink (for jake as per usual, used in both casual moments and a bit of the smut in the beginning), voyeurism (on sunghoonâs end), jake thinks youâre a little crazy but he still loves you, mentions of reader being on medication/pills for her hallucinations, drugging via said medications (sunghoon replaces them with aphrodisiacs without readers knowledge), noncon (since reader is drugged), mean dom sunghoon who insists on making you beg, p in v, unprotected sex, jake lowkey gets cucked a little but then he joins in, cheating kinda (on jake w sunghoon, sunghoon loves to emphasize that you're jake's wife), sunghoon also has one sided beef w jake, fingering, threesome, double penetration, jake can NOT see or hear sunghoon for a majority of the story, fear play kinda bc jake is scared out of his mind but gets hard anyway, multiple orgasms for reader, slut shaming + humiliation from sunghoon,
âââ ę° á§ŕˇá§ ęą âââ
The box marked KITCHEN â MISC sat half-open on the counter. Three minutes had passed while you stood there hoping the spatulas and measuring cups might somehow organize themselves into something useful.
âJake.â
From the living room, he glanced up from where he was kneeling beside a tower of boxes labeled BOOKS in his cramped handwriting. His hair jutted out at odd angles from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it. âYeah?â
âDid you see where the coffee mugs went?â
âUh.â He sat back on his heels and squinted at the kitchen like the answer might be written on the cabinets. âWerenât they in the box with the plates?â
âNo. I already unpacked that one.â Your foot connected with the flattened cardboard, sending it sliding across the tile until it thumped against the wall. "I've checked every kitchen box we brought in."
Jake pushed himself up and made his way over. The scent of cardboard dust clung to him, mixed with the cologne he saved for occasions he deemed important. Apparently moving qualified. He bent over the counter, peering into the box you'd been rifling through. "Could they still be out in the car?"
âI brought everything in already.â
â What about the bedroom?â
âWhy would I put mugs in the bedroom?â
Both his hands came up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just throwing out ideas. You're the one who did the packing."
That was true. The memory came back sharp and clear. You'd wrapped every single mug in newspaper, arranged them with care in a box you'd marked FRAGILE â MUGS with a red Sharpie. You'd insisted on carrying it in yourself since Jake and the neighbor had been wrestling the couch through the doorway, and you didnât trust anyone else with your favorite mug from the cafĂŠ in Seoul.
âThis is so weird.â You turned in a slow circle like the mugs might materialize if you looked hard enough. The kitchen was small and bright. Sunlight poured through the window above the sink, bathing the compact kitchen in warm light that made everything seem pristine and hopeful. This was meant to be your new beginning. "Things keep disappearing. My phone charger went missing yesterday. The day before that, my toothbrush."
âYou found your toothbrush.â
âIn the bathroom closet. I never put it there.â
Jake opened the cabinet above the stove, examining the interior despite knowing it held nothing but the shelf liner you'd spent time measuring and cutting the previous day. "Could be you're just exhausted. Three solid days of unpacking will do that."
âIâm not tired.â
âYouâre definitely tired.â
Part of you wanted to push back, but your spine throbbed from hunching over countless boxes and your fingertips stung with tiny cuts from wrestling with packing tape. The realtor had sold you on this house by emphasizing how much easier it would be compared to the cramped apartment. Look at all this room, Jake had said during the tour, we could actually entertain guests. The bay window had charmed you, along with the east-facing bedroom that would flood with morning light. Right now though, you just wanted those damn mugs.
âWhoâs moving my stuff?â you said. It came out lighter than you meant.
Jake's mouth quirked up as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Must be the house ghost."
"That's not funny."
"They'll show up eventually." He returned to the living room, dropping back down beside his book collection. His voice drifted through the open floor plan. "Try the bathroom. Maybe you stuck them in there without thinking
You were certain you hadn't, but you went to look anyway since you'd exhausted other options. The small bathroom still reeked of the bleach you'd used to scrub every surface two days prior. A crack spider-webbed across one corner of the mirror, something the landlord had sworn he'd repair. You crouched down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
There they sat. All six mugs, stacked with precision, with your Seoul cafĂŠ mug rested on top.
You stared at them for a long time. There was absolutely no way you had placed them here.
âAny luck?â Jake called from the living room.
You closed the cabinet door and straightened up. Your knees cracked. âYeah. They were under the sink.â
âSee? Told you theyâd turn up.â
You didnât mention that youâd never looked under the sink. You wouldnât have put mugs there even if you were unpacking at three in the morning with your eyes closed. Jake was already back to organizing his books by author, and you didnât want to stand in the bathroom doorway and argue about something that didnât matter.
The hours that followed melted into one another. You tackled the bedroom while power tool sounds and muttered curses floated up from where Jake wrestled with bookshelf assembly instructions. Eventually you both converged on the closet, bickering over the distribution of space between his sneaker collection and your dresses. He secured victory by highlighting how you'd already claimed the entire dresser. You had to admit he had a point.
By the time sunset arrived, the house had transformed into something almost livable. Boxes still created obstacles along the hallway and packing paper buried the kitchen table, but at least you could navigate most rooms without tripping. Progress, you supposed.
Jake called in an order from the Thai restaurant a few blocks away. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor since unfolded laundry had claimed the couch. He kept cracking jokes about breaking in the new place properly, and you managed to laugh despite feeling like you were wading through deep, deep water.
The wedding had been five weeks ago. You'd opted for a simple courthouse ceremony to avoid the chaos of event planning. Afterward came two weeks wandering through Japan, walking until blisters formed on your feet, staying awake far past any reasonable hour, and making hollow promises about catching up on sleep during the flight home.
You hadnât. Jake had fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder and youâd spent seven hours staring at the seatback screen without watching anything.
Upon returning, you'd immediately begun shoving your lives into cardboard boxes since this house's lease kicked in on the first and paying double rent wasn't an option. Two solid weeks of packing and hauling everything into a borrowed truck from some coworker of Jake's whose name you couldn't remember.
The drive here yesterday had eaten up six hours. Jake had offered to take turns behind the wheel but you'd insisted you could handle it. That had been a lie. Your fingers had locked around the steering wheel in a death grip and your eyes had stung from the endless stretch of highway.
Now you sat on unfamiliar floorboards in a house that didn't feel like yours yet, every muscle in your body demanding rest. Jake's voice washed over you as he talked about work or maybe friends or something else entirely. You managed to nod at appropriate intervals, tried to anchor yourself to what he was saying, but his words kept dissolving before you could grasp them.
"You okay?" His question cut through the fog. When you looked up, concern had softened his features.
âJust tired.â
âYou should take a break tomorrow. I can finish unpacking.â
âWeâre almost done.â
âBaby. You look like youâre about to pass out.â
Collapse seemed dramatic. You were simply running on empty. Perfectly normal after a move. Things would improve once you actually settled in, once you weren't surrounded by half-empty boxes and packing tape.
Jake gathered the dishes and headed to the kitchen. Water started running in the sink. You remained on the floor, gaze fixed on the wall. The realtor had described this soft cream shade as warm and inviting. Right now it just seemed blank and expressionless.
You should get up and be useful, help with the dishes or finish unpacking the bathroom.
Instead you pulled yourself up and told Jake you were going to take a shower. He said something about joining you later and you made a noncommittal sound that couldâve meant anything.
The water pressure here beat the apartment's pathetic dribble. Small victory. You tipped your head back, letting heat seep into your knotted shoulders. Steam had already saturated the bathroom, condensing on every surface and shrinking the space.
You worked your fingers through your hair and felt the tension start to drain out. Three days of hauling boxes and arguing about where the couch should go. Jake had won again. It faced the window now instead of the TV.
The shower curtain moved.
Not much, just a quick pull to the side like someone was peeking in.
âJake.â You kept your eyes closed. Shampoo suds slid down your neck. âYouâre such a pervert.â
No answer.
âIâm literally covered in soap. Can you wait like five minutes?â
Only the steady percussion of water against porcelain answered you. You scrubbed at your stinging eyes with the back of one hand, blinking away the burn. The curtain now hung partially open. Beyond it, the bathroom stood empty.
No Jake leaning against the sink with that stupid grin he got when he was trying to be smooth. No shadow moving past the frosted window. There was only steam and the towel hanging on the rack and the crack in the mirror you kept forgetting about until you saw it.
âJake?â
The sound of your own voice startled you with its volume. Water drummed against your shoulders and ran down the drain in a steady rush. You reached out and pushed the curtain open further. It scraped along the rod with a metallic sound that made your teeth hurt.
The door was still closed. You wouldâve heard it open. The hinges squeaked every time. Youâd mentioned it to Jake yesterday and heâd said heâd oil them this weekend.
You twisted the faucet off. Silence rushed in to fill the void. The house exhaled around you with creaks and groans. Ancient wood adjusting. Pipes losing their heat. Somewhere beneath the floor, the heater kicked on with a mechanical click.
Water dripped from your hair onto the bathmat as you stood frozen, staring at that closed door. Each heartbeat thundered in your ears.
âJake?â you said again.
Nothing.
You secured the towel around yourself and eased the bathroom door open. Darkness swallowed the hallway except for a strip of light bleeding from the bedroom down at the far end. Your feet left damp impressions on the hardwood as you walked.
Jake was in bed with his phone. He looked up when you came in. âHey. Feel better?â
âWere you just in the bathroom?â
âWhat?â He set his phone on the nightstand. âNo. Why?â
âThe shower curtain moved.â
âItâs an old house. Probably just a draft.â
âThe door was closed.â
Jake patted the bed beside him. âCome here. Youâre shivering.â
You werenât shivering. Were you? The room felt colder than it should. You climbed into bed and pulled the towel tighter around you. Jake wrapped an arm around you and you pressed your face against his shoulder. He smelled like the laundry detergent his mom always used. It was supposed to be comforting.
âI think someone opened the curtain,â you said into his shirt.
âLike a person?â
âI donât know. Maybe.â
His hand moved in slow circles on your back. âBaby. Thereâs no one here but us.â
You fell silent. Somewhere below, the house groaned like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Jake's expression didn't change. Perhaps the sound never reached him. You let your eyes drift shut, trying to match the rhythm of his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Steady and constant.
His hand moved lower on your back, slipping under the edge of the towel. âYouâre so tense.â
âIâm fine.â
"You're really not." Something shifted in his voice, dropping into that particular tone he used when he had intentions. "Let me help you relax."
Your eyes opened to find him watching you with that half-smile that typically got him what he wanted. His hand traveled up your spine before tracing back down with deliberate slowness.
âJake.â
âWhat? Iâm being a good husband.â His mouth found your shoulder, then migrated to your collarbone. His fingers found the knot holding your towel closed. âYouâve been stressed all week. Let Daddy take care of you.â
You didn't protest when he worked the towel free. The fabric slipped away and gathered on the sheets beneath you. Cold air met your exposed skin. Jake's hands offered warmth. His kisses traveled down your sternum, across your stomach, and despite everything gnawing at your mind, you felt yourself beginning to surrender.
He pushed your legs apart and settled between them. Heat from his breath ghosted across your inner thigh. âJust relax.â
You let your head fall back against the pillow, and tried to focus on the feeling of his mouth instead of the sound the house had made and the shower curtain moving on its own. For a moment, it worked. His tongue traced a slow path along your folds and you gasped, your fingers threading into his hair.Â
The bedroom door creaked open.
Every muscle in your body locked. Jake's grip on your hips intensified but his mouth didn't stop its work.
âJake.â
âMm?â
âThe door.â
He lifted his head. Moisture glistened on his lips. âWhat about it?â
âIt just opened.â
Jake threw a glance over his shoulder. The door now stood halfway open, hallway darkness spilling through the gap. When he looked back at you, his features had rearranged themselves into something gentler, laden with concern. "Baby. The door wasn't latched properly. It does that."
âI closed it.â
âYou didnât close it all the way.â He shifted to sit beside you, drawing the blanket over your legs like you required modesty now. "This is exactly what I mean. You're too stressed. You're seeing things that aren't there."
âIâm not seeing things.â
âThe curtain moved because of a draft. The door opened because old houses do that. Thereâs nothing weird happening.â His palm cradled your face while his thumb swept across your cheekbone. âIâm worried about you.â
Your throat felt tight. âIâm fine.â
"You're not sleeping properly. You picked at dinner. And now every little sound makes you jump." He pressed his lips to your forehead in a gesture that felt more appropriate for a child than a wife. "Maybe we should find you a doctor here. Someone you can talk to."
âI donât need a doctor.â
âThereâs nothing wrong with needing help. Especially after everything weâve been through lately. The wedding and the move and all of it piling up. Itâs a lot to process.â
You wanted to argue, to tell him that you werenât imagining things. Something was wrong with this house and he needed to believe you.
But he was looking at you like you were fragile and might break if he pushed too hard.
You pulled the blanket up higher and turned onto your side away from him. âIâm just tired.â
âI know.â His arm came around your bare waist, pulling you flush against his clothed body. Normally, you might have ground back against time, tried to reignite what heâd started. Tonight you just want to sleep. âGet some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.â
They wouldnât. You already knew that with absolute certainty. You closed your eyes anyway and listened to Jakeâs breathing gradually evened out behind you.
The door remained open. Darkness from the hallway seemed to press into the room like something physical. You could feel eyes on you from that space beyond, watching and waiting. Jake's arm lay heavy across your ribs. Moving would wake him. So you remained motionless, gaze fixed on the wall, counting down the hours until dawn
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
The whole reason you moved here was to escape the old one, full of unfriendly neighbors and people who filed noise complaints over the smallest things. Someone had once left a passive aggressive note on your door about your footsteps being too loud at seven in the morning. Jake had wanted to frame it.
Youâd heard this neighborhood was friendlier, more community-oriented. The realtor had gone on about block parties and how everyone knew each otherâs names.
Instead, the people on your street kept staring and whispering.
This morning, the woman two houses down had been collecting her mail when you reversed out of the driveway. Her gaze had followed your car all the way to the stop sign. You'd lifted your hand in a friendly wave. She'd pivoted and disappeared inside without so much as a nod.
Yesterday, the older couple across the street had been deep in conversation on their driveway when you'd emerged to water the housewarming plants from Jake's mother. Their voices had died the moment they spotted you. You'd felt their eyes boring into your spine the entire time.
According to Jake, you were making it up. New neighbors always attracted attention. It was normal curiosity and you were reading too much into it.
Perhaps he had a point. Jake had always been oblivious to social undercurrents. He could enter a room crackling with tension and remain completely unaware until someone spelled it out for him.
You pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The new curtains sat in the passenger seat in their plastic bag from the home goods store. Youâd spent an hour debating between ivory and cream before settling on something called vanilla linen that looked identical to both.
The old curtains had been too dark. Thatâs what youâd told Jake this morning when he asked why you needed new ones. They made the living room feel smaller. Heâd shrugged and said whatever made you happy.
Bag in hand, you stepped out of the car. Daylight softened the house's edges, made it seem less threatening. The blue-gray paint looked almost charming, and the porch had decent structure despite the wobbly railing Jake kept promising to secure this weekend.
The front door was unlocked. It swung open easily under pressure from your hip, and you sealed it shut with your heel.
âJake?â
Silence answered. Still at work, probably. You'd gotten lost browsing the store and hadn't tracked the time.
Sunlight poured through the bare living room windows, carving geometric patterns across the hardwood. The boxes had finally disappeared. You'd spent yesterday afternoon breaking them down and hauling them to the garage. The space was starting to resemble an actual home now.
You set the curtain bag on the couch and went to the kitchen for scissors. The drawer stuck like it always did. You had to yank it twice before it opened.
Movement flickered at the corner of your eye.
You spun around. The kitchen was empty. There were dishes drying in the rack by the sink and a coffee maker on the counter. Nothing was out of place.
Scissors acquired, you returned to the living room. Plastic crackled as you ripped the bag open. Vanilla linen fabric tumbled onto the couch in soft folds that were absolutely just overpriced ivory.
The curtain rod remained mounted from the previous set. You'd stripped those down last night, shoving them into a trash bag because the sight of them had started constricting your chest. Jake had checked if you were alright. You'd claimed you simply wanted something lighter and brighter.
What you didn't mention was the persistent image of the shower curtain moving by itself.Heavy fabric didnât just shift without someone touching it.
You hoisted yourself onto the couch's arm and stretched toward the rod. Your fingers had barely made contact with the cool metal when sound filtered down from above.
Footsteps upstairs, slow and deliberate, moving from the bedroom toward the hallway.
You froze with your arms above your head and the curtain rod pressing into your palms. The footsteps stopped before they started again, closer to the stairs now.
âJake?â The question emerged barely above a whisper.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. You could hear the floorboards creaking under invisible weight. One step. Then another.
You scrambled down from the couch, hands trembling. The scissors still lay on the coffee table. You snatched them up reflexively, brandishing them like some kind of weapon even though you knew how useless they'd be.
The footsteps stopped halfway down the stairs. Your eyes locked on the staircase, on the space where a body should be visible. The house had gone so silent that your own pulse thundered in your ears.
âHello?â
Nothing.
The scissors had gone slick in your sweating palm, the metal handles warming against your skin. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you strained to hear any other sounds from above, but the house had fallen into an oppressive silence that felt almost deliberate, like it was holding its breath and waiting to see what you'd do next.
The front door swung open behind you with enough force to make you jump.
You whirled around, nearly dropping the scissors in the process. Jake filled the doorway, work bag draped over one shoulder and his tie loosened from a long day at the office. His attention landed on you first, taking in your defensive stance and wide eyes, then traveled down to the scissors clutched in your white-knuckled fist. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in a mixture of confusion and concern.
âUh. What are you doing?âââââââââââââââââ
"There was someone upstairs." The words tumbled out in a rush, breathless and shaky.
Jake nudged the door shut with his heel, the lock clicking into place with a soft sound that seemed too loud in the quiet house. "What?"
"I heard footsteps. They were coming down the stairs." You stared at the scissors like they'd materialized in your hand through no action of your own, like you couldn't quite remember picking them up or why you'd thought they might protect you from whatever had been walking through your house. You set them carefully on the coffee table, your hands still trembling. "Someone was in the house. I heard them moving around up there."
Jake abandoned his bag by the entrance and crossed the room in quick strides. His hand came up to press against your forehead, palm flat and assessing like he was checking a child for illness. The touch was gentle but clinical, and something about that detached concern made your stomach twist. "You're burning up."
"I'm not sick." You tried to step back but his hand followed, persistent.
"Did you eat lunch? When was the last time you had water?" The questions came rapid-fire, each one dismissing what you'd just told him in favor of finding some mundane explanation.
âYes. Jake. Iâm fine. I know what I heard.â
His hand shifted to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone in what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture. That expression had returned, the one from last night where he looked at you like you were made of porcelain that might crack under too firm a grip, like you were a problem he needed to solve rather than a person he needed to believe. "Baby."
âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
"Look at me like I'm losing my mind." The words came out sharper than you intended, edged with frustration and fear and exhaustion all tangled together.
His hand fell away as he dragged it through his hair instead, disheveling the strands that had already been mussed from the wind outside. The breath he released sounded carefully measured, like he was actively working to maintain patience in the face of what he clearly thought was irrational behavior. "I'm not saying you're losing your mind. I'm saying you're running on empty and stressed to your limit and maybe that's affecting your perception. You haven't been sleeping well. You've barely been eating. Your body is exhausted."
"I heard footsteps." You repeated it like if you said it enough times he might actually hear you, might actually consider that you were telling the truth.
"Old houses are noisy. The wood expands and contracts with temperature changes throughout the day. Pipes settle as they cool down. Floorboards creak under their own weight." He was using his reasonable voice now, the one he used when explaining things to clients at work. "It can sound exactly like footsteps when it's not. I've heard it too since we moved in."
Heat crept up your throat and into your face. "You weren't here. You didn't experience what I just experienced. You didn't hear them stop halfway down the stairs like someone was standing there watching me."
"Okay." The word came out gentle and placating in a way that made you want to scream. "Okay. If it makes you feel better I'll go check upstairs. I'll look in every room and make sure no one's here."
âThank you.â
He pressed his lips to your forehead in a kiss that felt more like reassurance for himself than comfort for you before heading for the staircase. You tracked the sound of him taking the steps two at a time, his footsteps heavy and grounded and completely different from the measured, deliberate tread you'd heard earlier. His presence moved through the house above you, traversing the bedroom first, then migrating to the spare room where you'd been storing boxes, then finally the bathroom. Doors swung open with their familiar squeaks and thumped shut in succession, and each sound felt like another nail in the coffin of your credibility.
You retrieved his abandoned work bag from its spot by the door, the strap still warm from his shoulder, and carried it to the kitchen to give your hands something to do besides shake. Setting it on the counter with more care than necessary, you began extracting its contents one item at a time. An empty tupperware container that had held his lunch, the lid slightly ajar and a few grains of rice stuck to the rim. A water bottle with dried residue crusting around the threading that desperately needed a thorough scrubbing. Some crumpled papers he'd probably need for tomorrow that were already getting bent at the bottom of the bag.
You pulled open the cabinet to store the water bottle, and that pervasive mildew smell hit you immediately, musty and organic and wrong. Mental note: pick up baking soda or whatever product actually eliminated that kind of persistent odor, maybe some of those moisture absorber packets you'd seen at the hardware store.
Someone materialized behind you without warning. Arms encircled your waist in an embrace that felt startlingly intimate, sliding around you with a familiarity that should have been comforting. A head came to rest against your shoulder blade, the weight of it solid and grounding. The full presence of another person pressing into your back, their body heat seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
You melted into the contact without thinking, your muscles loosening as you allowed yourself to be supported by what you assumed was your husband. Jake must have finished his inspection upstairs and come down quietly to surprise you, to offer comfort after dismissing your fears. "Long day at work?"
No verbal response came. Just the steady rhythm of breathing against your spine, warm exhales that you could feel through your clothes. The arms surrounding you felt undeniably solid and present, more real than anything else in this moment. You registered the rise and fall of a chest expanding and contracting against your back with each breath, the subtle shift of fabric, the particular pressure of hands resting just below your ribcage.
You glanced down expecting to see Jake's familiar hands, maybe still wearing his watch, maybe with the small scar on his left thumb from that cooking accident last year.
There was nothing there.
No arms around your waist. No hands resting against your stomach. Only empty space and the counter stretching before you and your own solitary body standing alone in the kitchen with nothing touching you at all.
The presence evaporated. Not gradually but instantaneously, like someone had released their hold and retreated in a single motion, leaving behind only the fading impression of where they'd been. The warmth against your back disappeared so quickly you wondered if you'd imagined it, except you could still feel the ghost of those arms, the memory of that weight.
You lurched forward involuntarily, your body trying to catch itself from falling into an embrace that was no longer there. Your hip collided with the counter edge with enough force to send a sharp spike of pain radiating through your pelvis, the kind that would definitely leave a bruise by tomorrow. The water bottle escaped your grip and went clattering into the sink basin with a hollow plastic sound that seemed far too loud.
âEverythingâs clear up there.â Jakeâs voice came from the stairs, slightly winded from his search. âNo oneâs home but us.â
You remained frozen where you stood, unable to pivot and face him, unable to explain what had just happened. Your fingers had locked onto the counter edge hard enough to drain all color from your knuckles, the pressure the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps that you couldn't quite control, and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that you were probably having a panic attack but that knowledge did nothing to stop it.
Jake walked into the kitchen, his presence announced by the familiar sound of his work shoes against the hardwood. Real footsteps, heavy and grounded and unmistakably human, each one landing with the full weight of a living person moving through space.
"See? Nothing to worry about." His hand touched your shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture and you flinched so violently you nearly sent the dish rack crashing to the floor. The dishes rattled precariously in their slots before settling. "Whoa. Hey. It's just me."
You managed to turn around despite your body's resistance to the movement. Jake stood there with both hands raised in a gesture of surrender, palms out like he was approaching a frightened animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. His expression had shifted from patient understanding to something rawer, genuine worry creasing his forehead and pulling at the corners of his mouth.
âWhat happened?â
"I felt someone." Your voice emerged trembling and unsteady, each word requiring conscious effort to form. "Right now. Just seconds ago. Someone was standing behind me exactly where you are. They had their arms around me. I felt their weight against my back, felt them breathing."
âI was upstairs. No one else is here.â
âI know. I thought it was you. I felt them, Jake. It wasn't my imagination. Their arms were solid and real and they were holding me.â
Jake closed the distance between you and pulled you firmly against his chest, eliminating any space that might exist between your bodies. His heart beat steady and strong under your ear, that reliable rhythm you'd memorized over the years together. His arms came around you and they felt fundamentally different from whatever had been holding you mere moments ago. Warmer, more substantial, anchored in reality in a way that the other presence hadn't been despite feeling so convincing.
âYouâre okay,â he said into your hair. âYouâre okay. Nothingâs going to hurt you.â
Your breathing wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't fall into any normal pattern. It kept catching in your throat like you'd forgotten the basic mechanics of drawing air into your lungs, each attempt stuttering and incomplete.
"Hey." His voice underwent a transformation, dropping into that lower register he reserved for specific moments, the tone he used when you needed grounding, when your mind was spiraling and your body needed an anchor. "Look at me."
You tilted your head back with effort, forcing your gaze upward. His eyes had gone serious and focused, all his attention concentrated entirely on you with an intensity that left no room for anything else in his awareness.
"Breathe with me. In." He demonstrated with a slow, deliberate inhale and you attempted to mirror the movement, your lungs expanding with air that felt inadequate. "Out."
Your exhale emerged shaky and uneven but you managed it, the air leaving your body in fits and starts.
"Good girl. Again." In. Out. His hand traveled up and down the length of your spine in time with the breathing, the repetitive motion creating a rhythm your body could follow. The simple physical pattern gave you something concrete to focus on beyond the panic.
"That's it. Just like that." His thumb traced along your jawline with deliberate gentleness. "Let Daddy take care of you. You don't have to think right now. You don't have to figure anything out or make sense of what happened. Just breathe."
Something in your chest began to loosen its grip. Not completely, not enough to make you feel normal again, but enough that air could flow in without the sharp pain that had been accompanying each breath.
"There you go." He kissed your forehead before moving on to pepper gentle kisses across your face, each one a small point of warmth and reassurance. Your temples, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your closed eyelids. "Shhh. I've got you. You're safe here with me."
You allowed yourself to go completely boneless against him, surrendering your weight and trusting him to hold you upright. His hand cupped the back of your head with protective care and kept you pressed securely against his shoulder, creating a small pocket of safety in the space between your bodies.
âWeâre okay,â he murmured. âEverythingâs okay. Youâre safe with me.â
You wanted desperately to tell him that safety wasn't actually the problem, that something was fundamentally wrong with this house and he needed to listen to you instead of trying to rationalize everything away. But your body was finally beginning to release the tension it had been holding, your muscles gradually unclenching one by one, and your thoughts were developing fuzzy edges that made forming coherent arguments feel impossible. You were so profoundly tired of being scared, exhausted from the constant vigilance and the way fear had taken up permanent residence in your chest.
Jake rocked you slightly. âWhat do you need right now, hm? You want to sit down? Get some water?â
You shook your head against his chest, the fabric of his work shirt soft against your cheek.
"Okay. Then we're just going to stand here for as long as you need." His hand maintained its gentle movement through your hair, the repetitive strokes soothing in their predictability. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stand here all night if that's what you need."
You couldn't detect the presence anymore, couldn't sense anything beyond the immediate reality of Jake's arms creating a solid barrier between you and whatever else might exist in this space. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear. The warmth radiating from his body and seeping into yours. These tangible, provable things.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you genuinely needed to see a doctor and get something to help you sleep, to quiet your mind enough that it stopped creating experiences that felt real but couldn't possibly be. Maybe the exhaustion and stress had damaged something in your perception of reality.
Or maybe something was very, genuinely wrong with this house and you were the only one whose senses were attuned enough to detect it, the only one it had chosen to reveal itself to for reasons you couldn't begin to understand.
Jake had convinced you to lie down after the episode in the kitchen. He'd guided you upstairs with a hand on your lower back and tucked you into bed with the kind of careful attention usually reserved for someone running a fever, pulling the blankets up to your chin and smoothing them down with excessive care. He'd promised to finish unpacking his work things and dealing with the curtains, assured you that everything would be handled and you just needed to rest. You'd closed your eyes obediently and listened to him moving around downstairs, the familiar sounds of cabinets opening and closing, of objects being set down and picked up, all while trying desperately not to think about the weight of those phantom arms that had felt so impossibly real.
Sleep refused to come despite your body's exhaustion. You'd lain there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, watching the way shadows moved across the plaster as clouds passed outside, counting the small imperfections in the paint job, anything to occupy your mind. Finally you'd given up on the pretense of rest.
You needed air. Real air, outside air, something that didn't taste like this house.
Now you were walking down the street with your hands buried deep in your jacket pockets and your breath forming small clouds that dissolved in the evening air. The temperature had dropped noticeably since you'd left the house, enough that you wished you'd grabbed a heavier coat. Everything looked softer in the fading light, edges blurred and colors muted as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon. The whole neighborhood seemed wrapped in that particular quiet that came with approaching dusk, when people retreated indoors and the day began its transition into night.
You passed three houses before encountering another person, your footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness. A woman roughly your age was approaching from the opposite direction with a little girl who couldn't have been more than six years old trailing slightly behind her. The child wore light-up sneakers that flashed brilliant pink with every bouncing step she took, the only spot of brightness in the growing dimness.
The woman's eyes landed on you when you were still about twenty feet apart. Something shifted in her expression, transforming from neutral to something you couldn't quite identify but that sent an uncomfortable prickle down your spine. Without breaking stride, she reached out and took her daughter's hand with sudden firmness, then began angling toward the opposite side of the street, her trajectory deliberately taking them away from you.
The little girl immediately pulled against her mother's grip, her small face scrunching with confusion and resistance. "Mommy, I want to say hi."
"Not now." The woman's response was clipped and final.
"But they're new. We're supposed to be nice to new people." The girl's voice carried that particular brand of childish logic that hadn't yet learned about unspoken social rules. She managed to free one hand long enough to offer you an enthusiastic wave. "Hi!"
You lifted your own hand automatically to return the greeting, a reflexive response to the innocent friendliness.
The woman immediately yanked her daughter's arm down with enough force to make the girl stumble slightly. "Stop it. Don't talk to them."
"Why not?" The question emerged with genuine bewilderment, the kind only a child could muster when confronted with arbitrary adult rules.
"Because." The woman's voice dropped lower, probably attempting discretion, but the evening quiet carried her words across the distance with perfect clarity. She wasn't really trying very hard to keep you from hearing. "They're from the bad house."
"What's a bad house?" The girl's confusion deepened, her small voice rising with the question.
"Shh." The woman accelerated her pace, practically dragging her daughter along now. The child had to break into an awkward half-jog to keep up, her light-up shoes flashing pink in rapid succession as they hurried away from you like you were carrying some contagious disease.
You remained frozen on the sidewalk, rooted to the concrete as you watched them disappear around the corner at the end of the block. Your heart had begun hammering against your ribs with unnecessary force, adrenaline flooding your system even though nothing overtly threatening had occurred. The street felt dramatically emptier than it had just moments ago, the absence of their presence somehow more pronounced than the quiet had been before they'd appeared.
The bad house.
Those two words kept circling in your mind, each repetition adding new weight to them. You turned slowly and looked back toward your house, studying it from this new perspective. It sat there among its neighbors looking fundamentally identical to every other structure on the block. Nothing about it screamed warnings or danger. Nothing about it appeared visibly different from the houses on either side or across the street.
But that woman had physically pulled her daughter across the street to avoid you, had forbidden the child from even speaking to you, all because you lived there. Like whatever was wrong with the house was something that could contaminate you just by proximity.
You started walking back, your feet moving faster than the situation warranted, propelled by some instinct you couldn't name. The sun had almost completely disappeared now, leaving behind only that purple-gray twilight that made familiar things look strange. Shadows stretched impossibly long across front lawns and driveways, distorting the shapes of trees and cars into something vaguely menacing. You kept your eyes fixed on your house as you approached, tried not to let your mind spiral into speculation about what "the bad house" might actually mean, what might have happened there before you and Jake had signed the lease.
Jake's car still occupied its spot in the driveway, exactly where he'd left it when he'd come home from work. Warm light glowed through the living room windows, golden and inviting in the gathering darkness. You could make out his silhouette moving around inside, probably still dealing with those curtains or maybe starting to think about dinner.
You climbed the porch steps carefully, muscle memory guiding you even as your mind remained elsewhere. The third step released its familiar creak under your weight, the sound seeming far too loud in the evening quiet, like an announcement of your arrival that anyone within a hundred feet could hear. You pushed open the front door and stepped gratefully into the warmth, the temperature difference immediately making your cold-stung cheeks tingle.
Jake had indeed returned to hanging the new curtains. He'd repositioned the couch so he could use it as a makeshift ladder and was currently balanced on the cushions, arms extended overhead as he worked to slide the vanilla linen fabric onto the rod. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door, offering you a quick smile. "Hey. Feel better?"
âA neighbor just called this the bad house.â
His hands went still on the curtain, the fabric bunching slightly where his fingers had stopped moving. "What?"
"I was walking and this woman with her kid deliberately crossed the street to avoid me. The kid asked why they couldn't say hello, and the mother said because we're from the bad house." You closed the door behind you and engaged the lock with more force than necessary, the metallic click somehow reassuring. Your hands were trembling visibly now. "What does that mean? Why would she say that?"
Jake stepped down from the couch with careful deliberation, his work shoes landing softly on the hardwood. "Maybe she's just weird. Some people are like that. You know how neighborhoods can be."
âShe pulled her daughter away from me like I was dangerous.â
"Okay. So she's rude and weird and probably watches too many true crime documentaries." He crossed the space between you and took both your hands in his, his warmth immediately noticeable against your chilled skin. He began rubbing your hands between his palms, trying to restore circulation. "You're freezing. How long were you outside?"
âJake. This is serious.â You tried to pull your hands back but he held on.
"I know it feels serious. But people say weird stuff all the time, especially in small neighborhoods where everyone thinks they know everyone's business. It doesn't necessarily mean anything." He tugged gently, trying to guide you toward the couch. "Come on. Let's finish these curtains and then we can figure out dinner. You'll feel better once you eat something substantial."
You let him lead you closer to the couch but resisted actually sitting down, your body remaining tense and resistant. "What if something's genuinely wrong with this house? What if there's a reason she called it that?"
âNothingâs wrong with the house.â
"Then why would she say that? Why would an entire neighborhood apparently know it as 'the bad house'?" Your voice was climbing despite your efforts to keep it level.
âI donât know. Maybe the last people who lived here were assholes. Maybe they played loud music at three in the morning and everyone hated them.â He released your hands to pick up the curtain again, clearly ready to move past this conversation. âIt has nothing to do with us.â
You watched him climb back onto the couch with practiced ease, threading the fabric onto the rod like everything was perfectly normal and you hadn't just been deliberately avoided by a stranger who thought your house was dangerous enough to warn her child about. The living room seemed to shrink as the curtains went up, the fabric blocking out what little remained of the evening light. You couldn't see outside anymore, couldn't monitor the street or know if anyone else was out there looking at your house and whispering about the people foolish enough to move in.
Jake stepped down from the couch and moved back to assess his handiwork, his head tilting as he examined the way the fabric hung. "There. What do you think? Much better than those heavy dark ones, right?"
You thought the room felt like it was actively closing in around you, the walls pressing closer with each breath. You thought about how badly you wanted to pack everything back into boxes and leave this place immediately, drive until you found somewhere that didn't make your skin crawl, somewhere that neighbors didn't warn their children away from.
âIt looks good,â you said.ââââââââââââââââ
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
You were still trying to catch your breath when you saw it.
Jake had collapsed beside you moments ago, one arm flung dramatically over his face in that particular way he always did after sex, like the effort had completely drained him. His chest continued rising and falling in heavy, labored pulls of oxygen. The sheets had become hopelessly twisted around both your bodies during the preceding activity, the fabric now clinging uncomfortably to your sweat-dampened skin.
Your body was still humming with residual pleasure, nerve endings firing in that pleasant way that usually left you feeling boneless and satisfied. You should have felt good right now, relaxed and content in that post-orgasm haze. Instead your heart was racing for an entirely different reason, adrenaline flooding your system and wiping away any trace of the satisfaction you'd felt seconds ago.
There had been someone in the closet.
You'd seen them. The memory was crystalline and undeniable, seared into your brain with the kind of clarity that only came from genuine fear. It had happened right at the end, at that precise moment when your eyes had rolled back and Jake's name had torn from your throat in a cry you couldn't have suppressed if you'd tried. The closet door had been cracked open just enough, and in that sliver of darkness there had been a face. Watching. Present. Real.
You'd made direct eye contact. You were absolutely certain of it. Brown eyes that had locked onto yours with unmistakable awareness, staring directly at you while Jake moved inside you and you came apart underneath him, while you were at your most vulnerable and exposed.
"Jake." Your voice came out rougher than intended, still affected by how you'd been using it moments before.
"Mm." The sound was drowsy and satisfied, already halfway to sleep. His hand found yours somewhere in the tangle of sheets and gave it a gentle squeeze.
âThereâs someone in the closet.â
His hand went still. âWhat?â
âI saw someone in the closet. They were watching us.â
Jake lifted his arm from his face with visible reluctance and turned his head on the pillow to look at you directly. His hair stuck up in complete disarray, standing at odd angles from where you'd run your fingers through it. "Babe."
âIâm serious. There was someone there. I looked right at them. We made eye contact.â
He sat up with a heavy sigh, the sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his bare chest still marked with faint scratches from your nails. "You saw someone. While we were having sex."
"Yes. Please. You need to check right now." You pulled the sheet higher, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity.
Jake dragged both hands down his face, pulling at his features before releasing a long, controlled breath through his nose that spoke volumes about his patience wearing thin. Then he extracted himself from the bed completely and crossed the room without bothering to cover himself, his naked body moving through the lamplight. He grabbed the closet door handle and yanked it open with more force than strictly necessary, the door swinging wide to reveal the interior.
Your clothes hung in their neat, organized row exactly where you'd left them. His shoes were lined up along the bottom in the careful arrangement he always insisted on. Boxes that you'd been procrastinating about unpacking sat stacked in the corner, still sealed with packing tape.
"There's no one here." He gestured at the empty closet like it was evidence in a trial.
âCheck behind the boxes.â
He released another one of those long-suffering sighs before bending to grab the boxes. He moved them aside one by one, shifting them away from the corner they'd been occupying. Nothing lurked behind them except bare wall, the paint slightly darker where it had been protected from light exposure. He straightened and turned back to face you with both hands spread in an "I told you so" gesture. "See? Empty. No one here but us."
Something fluttered down from the top shelf like a falling leaf, a photograph. It descended in a lazy spiral before landing face-up on the floor directly between Jake's bare feet, the timing so perfect it felt orchestrated.
He looked down at it for a moment before bending to retrieve it from the hardwood. You instinctively pulled the sheet up higher over your chest, suddenly feeling the need for more coverage, and leaned forward with anxious curiosity to see what he'd found.
It was a photograph of a man. Young, probably late twenties at most. Dark hair that looked carefully styled, and a smile that revealed too many teeth in a way that should have been charming but somehow wasn't. He stood positioned in front of a house that you recognized immediately with a sinking sensation in your stomach. Your house. Except in this photo, the blue-gray paint looked pristine and freshly applied, and the porch railing stood straight and sturdy instead of loose and requiring Jake's promised repairs.
Jake held it out to you. âMustâve been left by whoever lived here before.â
You accepted it with hands that had begun shaking again, your fingers trembling as they made contact with the aged paper. The photograph was clearly old, its edges yellowed and gone soft from excessive handling over the years. You found yourself staring at the man's face with growing horror, at those brown eyes that looked directly at the camera lens with unnerving focus.
âThatâs him.â
âWhat?â
"That's who was in the closet. That's the exact face I saw watching us." Your voice began climbing higher with each word, panic making it difficult to control your volume. You could hear yourself getting louder, more frantic, but stopping seemed impossible. "Jake. That's him. I saw him. Those eyes. That face. He was watching us have sex."
"You saw a picture fall out of the closet." Jake's tone had gone flat and carefully neutral, the voice he used when he was trying very hard to remain patient.
"No. I saw him before the picture fell. He was looking at me." The words came out in a rush, desperate and pleading. "His eyes were at a different angle than in this photo but it's the same face. The exact same face. Jake. I'm so scared."
Jake lowered himself onto the edge of the bed with deliberate slowness, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached over and carefully extracted the photograph from your trembling fingers, then set it face down on the nightstand like even having it visible in his peripheral vision was too much. Like he could make the problem disappear by simply not looking at it. Then he pulled you firmly against his bare chest, his arms wrapping around you with protective intensity. Your entire body was shaking with an internal tremor you had no control over, muscles quivering like you'd been left out in freezing temperatures.
âOkay,â he said quietly. âOkay. Thatâs it. Weâre getting you help.â
âWhat?â
âIâm calling a doctor tomorrow. Weâre getting you on something.â
You pulled back to look at him. âI donât need medication.â
"Yes you do." He wasn't angry, which somehow made it worse. Anger you could have fought against, could have met with your own defensive rage. But he just sounded exhausted, worn down to nothing, like this conversation was draining the last reserves of energy he possessed. "Baby. You're having hallucinations. You're seeing things that aren't there. You're terrified constantly, jumping at every sound, unable to sleep. That's not normal. That's not healthy."
"I'm not hallucinating." You tried to inject conviction into the words but they came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.
"You just told me you saw a dead guy watching us have sex." He stated it plainly, without embellishment, and hearing it repeated back like that made it sound insane.
âI didnât say he was dead.â
"Well he's clearly not alive and physically standing in our closet, so what else would he be?" Jake's hands came up to frame your face with careful gentleness, his palms warm against your cheeks. His thumbs pressed against your cheekbones with just enough pressure to ground you. "I love you. So much. More than anything. But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep checking every single room and closet and telling you nothing's there while I watch you fall apart piece by piece. You need help. Real, professional help. Not just me reassuring you that everything's fine when clearly it's not."
Your eyes began burning with the familiar pressure of approaching tears. You felt them spill over and track down your cheeks, the moisture collecting against his hands where they still held your face. "You don't believe me."
"I believe that you're genuinely seeing things. I believe that you're absolutely terrified and that your fear is real." He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt like an apology, like he was asking forgiveness for what he was about to say. "I don't believe there's actually a ghost in our house. I believe your mind is creating these experiences because you're exhausted and stressed beyond your breaking point."
You wanted desperately to argue, to defend yourself against the implicit accusation that you were losing touch with reality. You wanted to grab that photo and shove it in his face and make him understand that you werenât crazy. It was real and he needed to listen instead of looking at you like you were broken. You wanted him to look at you like his wife instead of like a patient who needed managing.
But he was holding you like you were made of something fragile that might shatter, and the combination of fear and exhaustion had left you with nothing left to fight with.
"Okay," you whispered, the surrender tasting bitter on your tongue.
Relief washed across his features so visibly it was almost painful to witness. "Yeah? You mean it?"
âYeah. Iâll see a doctor.â
He pulled you back against his chest immediately and held you with enough force that your ribs protested, his arms creating a cage around you that was probably meant to feel protective but somehow felt more like containment. "Thank you. God, thank you so much. Everything's going to be okay. I promise. We're going to figure this out and get you feeling better."
You closed your eyes and pressed your face hard into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the lingering smell of sex. You could still feel those brown eyes on you, watching from somewhere you couldn't see, their presence as real and tangible as Jake's heartbeat against your cheek.
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
Three weeks on the pills and things had been better.
Not perfect. The house still released its nightly symphony of creaks and groans, wood settling and pipes contracting in ways that sometimes sounded almost deliberate. You still experienced that persistent phenomenon of misplaced objects, things migrating from where you'd carefully set them down to locations that made no logical sense. But the hallucinations had stopped. You weren't seeing faces materialize in closet shadows anymore, weren't feeling the sensation of phantom hands pressing against your body when you were alone. Most importantly, Jake had stopped treating you like delicate glass that might shatter at any moment, stopped monitoring your every word and expression for signs of deteriorating mental health.
You stood at the kitchen sink in the quiet morning light and tipped two pills from the prescription bottle into your palm. They were small and white and deceptively ordinary looking for something that had apparently rewired your brain chemistry. You placed them on your tongue and chased them down with water, felt them slide down your throat in that particular way pills did, slightly catching before completing their descent.
Jake had departed for work several hours ago, his goodbye kiss still a fading warmth on your forehead along with his cheerful instruction to have a good day. You had a whole list of mundane tasks planned: errands to run, groceries to buy, dry cleaning to pick up. All the tediously normal things that normal people with stable mental health did on ordinary weekdays.
You climbed the stairs to get dressed, your hand trailing along the banister out of habit. In the bedroom you pulled on your favorite jeans and a comfortable sweater, the fabric soft from repeated washing. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror showed someone who looked tired around the eyes but fundamentally stable, grounded in reality. Progress, even if it was hard-won. You collected your keys from their designated spot on the bedroom dresser and made your way back downstairs, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet house. Your purse waited by the front door exactly where you'd left it the night before. You performed your usual pre-departure check, fingers locating your wallet and phone in their expected pockets. Everything accounted for and in order.
Your skin felt warm.
You froze with your hand already extended toward the doorknob, fingers hovering just inches from the cool metal. The warmth was spreading with unsettling speed, an internal heat that had nothing to do with the house's temperature. It originated somewhere deep in your chest and was now radiating outward like you'd swallowed something molten, creeping up your neck in a slow crawl, traveling down your arms in tingling waves, settling into your stomach with uncomfortable intensity.
The heat intensified with alarming rapidity. Within seconds your skin was burning, the sensation so overwhelming it felt like you'd stepped directly into a sauna set to maximum temperature or positioned yourself too close to an open flame. You grabbed at the neck of your sweater with clumsy fingers, pulling at the fabric that suddenly felt suffocatingly thick and restrictive, like it was actively trying to strangle you.
Something else was happening simultaneously, a secondary sensation that made your stomach drop with confused alarm. A different kind of heat had begun throbbing low in your belly, an unmistakable arousal pooling between your legs with an intensity that was both shocking and unwelcome. Your thighs pressed together in an automatic, unconscious response and the resulting friction against sensitive flesh made you gasp out loud, the sound startlingly loud in the empty house.
What the hell.
You abandoned your plan to leave and instead leaned heavily against the door, using it to support your suddenly unsteady body. Your heart was hammering violently against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest. Your breathing had deteriorated into shallow, rapid gasps that weren't pulling in nearly enough oxygen. The dual sensations of burning heat and building arousal kept intensifying with each passing second, feeding off each other in some terrible feedback loop. Your body felt hypersensitive to the point of pain, every nerve ending firing at maximum capacity. The brush of your jeans against your legs, the pressure of your bra against your chest, every sensation registered as too much, overwhelming your ability to process sensory input.
You were simultaneously burning up and desperately turned on and you had absolutely no understanding of why this was happening or how to make it stop.
The pills. Your thoughts felt sluggish and fuzzy, like your brain was operating through layers of cotton, but that single word managed to surface through the haze. Had you somehow taken the wrong medication? Grabbed the wrong bottle in your morning routine? You stumbled back toward the kitchen with uncoordinated steps, your legs feeling weak and unreliable beneath you like they might give out entirely at any moment. The prescription bottle still sat on the counter exactly where you'd left it. You snatched it up with trembling hands that could barely maintain their grip and forced your eyes to focus on the tiny print of the label.
It was the same prescription. Same exact dosage. They were the same pills youâd been taking every morning for three weeks.
This wasn't a documented side effect. The doctor had been thorough when prescribing the medication, walking you through the complete list of potential reactions. Nothing like this had been mentioned. Jake had done his own research and would have definitely said something if this kind of response was even remotely possible.
You set the bottle back down with a clatter and gripped the counter's edge hard enough that your knuckles immediately drained of all color, the skin stretching white and tight over the bones. The heat had become genuinely unbearable now, so intense you genuinely felt like your skin might actually split open from internal pressure, like something was attempting to force its way out from inside your body.
Your sweater had to come off immediately. You grabbed the hem with both hands and yanked it over your head in one desperate motion, not caring when it caught briefly on your hair. The garment hit the floor in a heap of discarded fabric. The removal provided approximately ten seconds of relief, blessed coolness against your overheated skin, before the burning sensation returned with even greater intensity than before.
You lurched toward the refrigerator and wrenched open the freezer door with enough force to make the entire appliance rock slightly. Cold air billowed out in a visible cloud and you immediately pressed your face directly into the frigid stream, desperate for any kind of relief. It felt incredible, almost transcendently good in a way that felt vaguely scandalous, pleasure and relief tangling together in your overloaded nervous system. A sound escaped your throat before you could suppress it, a moan that was entirely too loud and breathy and suggestive for someone standing alone in their kitchen.
This was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Your physical responses had begun mimicking exactly what you'd feel if Jake was actively touching you, as if invisible hands were currently sliding across your bare skin with deliberate intent and phantom lips were pressed against your neck leaving invisible marks. But you were completely alone in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and jeans and there was absolutely nothing and no one physically touching you.
You could feel it anyway, could feel all of it with perfect clarity. Phantom sensations that felt as real as anything you'd ever experienced made your spine arch involuntarily and your breath catch in your throat. Waves of pleasure were building inside you with relentless momentum, completely beyond your control or ability to stop.
"Stop," you said out loud to the empty kitchen, your voice emerging wrecked and desperate and barely recognizable. "Stop it."
It didn't stop. The invisible touch moved lower with deliberate intent, phantom hands sliding down your stomach toward the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rolled forward in an involuntary response against absolutely nothing, your body betraying you with its automatic reaction. Your hand shot out wildly and connected with the pill bottle still sitting on the counter edge. It went flying, hitting the floor with a sharp crack of plastic against tile. Pills exploded everywhere, scattering across the kitchen floor in a spray of white tablets that pinged and rolled in every direction.
You sank down to your knees, your legs finally giving out completely under the dual assault of sensation and fear. The tile was shockingly cold against your overheated skin, the temperature contrast almost painful. You pressed your forehead directly against that cold surface and tried desperately to breathe through what was happening to your body, tried to find some kind of mental anchor that might let you regain even a fraction of control.
The phantom sensations kept building with relentless momentum, pushing you inexorably toward something you absolutely did not want. Not like this. Not alone on the kitchen floor half-dressed while something invisible touched you everywhere at once, while pleasure you hadn't asked for built inside you beyond your ability to stop it.
You squeezed your eyes shut with enough force to see stars behind your eyelids and bit down hard on your lip, the sharp pain grounding you slightly. You tasted copper as skin broke under your teeth.
And then you felt breath against your ear, warm and real and so close you could feel the shape of words even though no sound came out.
Someone was here with you.
You forced your eyes open, terror overriding every other sensation flooding your system.
The man from the photograph was crouched directly in front of you, close enough to touch. His dark hair fell across his forehead in soft waves, partially obscuring brown eyes that watched you with unmistakable amusement. He was near enough that you could catalog every detail of his face with perfect clarity.
He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were something fascinating he'd discovered. "Hey."
You screamed.
He laughed in response, the sound casual and completely at odds with the situation. One hand pressed over his heart in an exaggerated gesture while a mockingly touched expression crossed his features. "Yeah, I know. I get that a lot. The ladies love me."
"What?" Your voice emerged as barely more than a rasp, your throat already raw from screaming. You scrambled backward desperately, your nearly naked back scraping against the cabinet hardware as you tried to put any amount of distance between yourself and this impossible presence. "What are you? A pervert? What the hell are you doing to me, you freak?"
"Ouch." He settled back on his heels, looking genuinely wounded by your words. The amused smile faded into something closer to an actual pout, his bottom lip pushing out slightly. "That's rude. I have a name, you know. It's Sunghoon. Can you call me that instead of these mean names?"
You sputtered incoherently for a moment, your brain completely unable to process the sheer audacity of this ghost or hallucination or whatever he was acting offended while you were literally sprawled half-naked on your kitchen floor.
"You know," he continued conversationally, like you were having a normal chat over coffee instead of this nightmare scenario, "I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take to kick in. The bottle said thirty minutes for full effect but I figured with your body weight, maybe closer to twenty?" He glanced down at his wrist like he was checking a watch that wasn't actually there, miming the gesture with his empty arm. "Pretty close to my estimate. I'm getting really good at this."
You stared at him, your oxygen-deprived brain struggling to process the words coming out of his mouth or reconcile what you were seeing with any version of reality that made sense. "What?"
"The pills." He reached down and plucked one of the scattered tablets from the floor, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger for your inspection like it was evidence in a trial. "I switched them out. Well, not all of them obviously. That would've been way too obvious and you would've noticed immediately. Just enough that you'd take them at your normal time and," He gestured broadly at you sprawled on the kitchen floor in just your bra and jeans, skin flushed and breathing labored. "Here we are."
"What did you give me?" Your voice cracked.
"Aphrodisiacs. Really strong ones too." He shifted to crouch at your level, bringing his face even closer to yours, that infuriating smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Took them from the previous owner's bedroom stash. They left in such a hurry they forgot all sorts of interesting things up there." He paused, his head tilting again in that particular way that made him look predatory despite the casual tone. "I could touch you whenever I want, you know. Make you feel anything. But where's the fun in that? This is so much better. You have no idea what's happening to your own body. You can't fight it or control it or make it stop." His eyes dragged over your half-clothed form with deliberate slowness, taking in every detail of your current state. "You should see your face right now. It's perfect."
Horror crashed through you in a wave so intense it momentarily overrode even the chemical heat flooding your system. "You're insane. You're harassing me!" The burning arousal was still coursing through your body with undiminished intensity but fear was cutting through it now, slicing everything into sharp focus and making your panic spike even higher. "Get away from me right now."
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in exaggerated surprise. "I'm harassing you? That's rich. You're the one who moved into my house without permission."
âYour house? This is my house. Jake and I bought it.â
"Bought it." Sunghoon's laugh filled the kitchen, bright and cheerful and completely wrong given the circumstances. "Yeah, okay. Sure. Pretty sure I was here first though. Like, years before you showed up. And I tried so hard to get you to leave, I really did put in the effort. The mugs appearing in weird places. The shower curtain moving. The footsteps on the stairs." He gestured broadly like he was presenting a resume of accomplishments he was particularly proud of. "I even watched you guys having sex. Stood right there in your closet and watched the whole thing. Thought that would definitely do it for sure, thought you'd be out of here within a week."
Your stomach turned violently at the confirmation that all of it had been real, that you hadn't been losing your mind. "You're disgusting."
"Hey, I didn't enjoy it." He paused, a wink accompanying his next words. "I mean, I didn't not enjoy it either. You're cute. Your husband is incredibly boring but you? You're cute."
"Change them back," you gasped out desperately, your hands gripping the cabinet behind you hard enough to hurt. The pharmaceutical heat was still overwhelming every other sensation, still building despite your terror. Your body was still responding to whatever he'd given you, and knowing the cause wasn't doing anything to make it stop. "Give me the real pills. Please."
"Can't. Already flushed them down the toilet." He sat back on his heels, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who'd just admitted to drugging another person. "These should wear off in a few hours though. Maybe six? The bottle wasn't super clear on dosage recommendations. But hey, look on the bright side! At least now you know you're not crazy. Well, not about the house stuff anyway."
âGet away from me.â You tried to press further back but there was nowhere to go. The cabinet was solid against your spine.
"Can't do that either. This is my house, remember? I literally can't leave." Sunghoon reached out slowly like he was going to touch your face, his hand moving through the space between you with deliberate intent. His fingers stopped just short of making contact with your skin, hovering there in a way that felt more threatening than an actual touch would have been. "Besides, you can take all the real pills you want now, see all the therapists your insurance will cover. I'm still going to be here. I tried to scare you off, I really did put in genuine effort. But you're still here after all of it."
He leaned forward, eliminating what little distance remained between your bodies. His face was now mere inches from yours, close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to, close enough to see the unnatural stillness of his chest that never rose or fell with breath. You shouldn't be able to see this much detail on something that was supposed to be dead. "And honestly? I don't mind anymore. You're entertaining. Way better than the last people who lived here. They were so boring, so predictable. Didn't even scream when I moved their stuff around."
The chemically-induced heat pulsed stronger through your system, your traitorous body responding with renewed intensity even though your mind was screaming at it to stop. You let out a choked sound that was half desperate sob and half something else entirely, something you didn't want to acknowledge.
"Yeah. See? You like it." His voice dropped several registers lower, becoming softer and more intimate in a way that made your skin crawl. "I can make you feel so good. Better than your husband does, and I've been watching so I know exactly how he touches you. I know exactly what you need, what makes you fall apart."
âYouâre sick.â
"I'm dead actually. Pretty different thing when you think about it." He sat back slightly, creating a few more inches of space between you. The increased distance felt like it should provide some relief but it didn't help at all. You could still feel phantom touches crawling all over your body with increasing boldness. "But sure, yeah. Call me sick if it makes you feel better about the situation. Doesn't change the fact that you're stuck with me now."
You tried to stand, tried to force your legs to cooperate and get you upright and away from this nightmare. Your muscles refused to obey the commands your brain was desperately sending. The drug-induced pleasure was building again with terrifying momentum, cresting toward something you absolutely did not want to reach, not with him watching with those amused eyes.
You squeezed your eyes shut with brutal force, trying to block him out of your awareness, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. The phantom pressure against your overheated body intensified in immediate response to your attempt at escape. The sensation of a mouth traced a deliberate path along your jawline. It wasn't human, lacked all the normal qualities of an actual kiss. There was no wetness or natural warmth, just an impossible suction of penetrating cold that somehow burned against your flushed skin. Your head thrashed violently to the side in denial, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips as the ghost of a tongue dragged down the vulnerable tendon of your neck with agonizing slowness.
The searing phantom heat raging inside your body was fighting a war with the invasive cold attacking from outside, and the conflict between the two extremes was systematically shredding your nerves into ribbons. You were going to scream, or dissolve into hysterical tears, or worse, give in completely to the relentless chemical need he'd deliberately poisoned you with.
"There you go," his voice purred directly in your ear despite the fact that his physical form still sat visible in front of you, just observing your breakdown with clinical interest. "Fighting it makes it so much sweeter to watch."
âStop,â you begged, the word a broken thing. âPlease.â
"That's the wrong word to use." His voice carried the texture of velvet wrapped around a threat. "Try 'more' instead."
He simply shifted forward on his knees, closing the distance you'd been trying to maintain. His mouth, suddenly solid and undeniably real, pressed against the exposed base of your throat. You felt the distinct pressure of teeth against your vulnerable skin before he bit down with deliberate force.
A gasp ripped from your chest involuntarily. It was a deep, marrow-chilling shock that seemed to leech the very warmth from your blood, a branding cold that arced through your entire system. It provided a strange and terrible counterpoint to the drug's artificial fever burning through you. The cold stole your breath completely. For one blessed second, the overwhelming internal heat was eclipsed entirely by this violent, invasive cold.
He released you and leaned back casually, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a gesture that was deliberately provocative. A smirk played across his face while his eyes gleamed with dark, perverse satisfaction. The spot on your neck where his teeth had been throbbed with a lingering, icy ache that pulsed in time with your racing heartbeat.
"You taste like panic," he said, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. "And lavender laundry detergent. Interesting combination."
You couldn't speak, couldn't force any words past the constriction in your throat. You brought a trembling hand up to your neck, fingers searching for damage. The skin was unbroken, no mark visible or tactile, but you could still feel the exact imprint of his teeth branded into your flesh.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned, came roaring back with a vengeance, intensified by the adrenaline crash. A violent shudder wracked your body, and your vision swam. The kitchen tiles tilted. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned into submission by the shock of his bite, came roaring back with absolute vengeance, intensified exponentially by the adrenaline crash flooding your system. A violent shudder wracked your entire body and your vision swam alarmingly. The kitchen tiles seemed to tilt at impossible angles. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl of color and sensation.
Your muscles clenched, a tight coil of absolute need. You tried to think of anything else, grocery lists, the bland color of the living room walls, Jakeâs face smiling at you this morning. The thoughts melted like wax before the flame. A low, wounded sound was trapped in your throat. Your body wasnât listening to you anymore. It was listening exclusively to the poison coursing through your bloodstream.
The sensation built with terrifying inevitability, a cresting wave that had nothing to do with genuine pleasure and everything to do with biological hijacking. Your back arched violently off the floor, your fingers scraped desperately against the unforgiving tile hard enough to break skin, and a silent, shuddering release tore through you with brutal force. For approximately three seconds, it flooded you with relief.
Then the heat roared back twice as fierce as before. This time it manifested as a raw and scraping hunger that made the previous burning seem like gentle warmth by comparison. A choked cry of despair escaped you. The release hadn't helped at all. It had only made the empty, aching need more desperate and consuming.
"Oh, wow." Sunghoon's voice dripped like liquid honey from somewhere above you. He hadn't moved from his position. He was just sitting there comfortably, legs crossed, chin resting in his hand, watching you completely unravel on his kitchen floor like it was entertainment. "That looked incredibly unsatisfying. All that work and you're still right back where you started. Maybe even worse now, yeah?"
You couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see whatever expression was on his face. Humiliation coated your mouth like thick paste, mixing with the panting breaths you couldn't control. Your whole body was trembling uncontrollably, oversensitive and raw, screaming for a relief that the orgasm had cruelly teased and then stolen away.
âThe body wants what it wants,â he sighed, as if discussing a mildly inconvenient fact. âAnd yours wants a lot right now. It must be so confusing for it. All dressed up with nowhere to go.â
The phantom touches started again. Not the broad, overwhelming waves from before, but precise, expert taps and strokes along the most overheated, frantic parts of you. It was deliberate. It was torture. You jerked against the cabinet, a fresh sob breaking loose.
âDo you want me to make you feel better?â
The question hung in the air, so simple and so monstrous. It was a taunt.
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bury your face in your arms. The movement sent another vicious pulse of need through your core.
âI can,â he pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The cold spot of his presence materialized right beside your ear. You felt the shape of words against your skin. âI know exactly how. Iâve been practicing. I can make it stop hurting. I can make it feel so good youâll forget your own name. Just say the word.â
Every cell in your body was a lit fuse. The rational part of you, the part that was still you, screamed in negation. But that part was small, and drowning, and so very tired of the burning. The animal part, the part the pills had put in charge, only understood the agony of need and the promise of pleasure.
The silence stretched, broken only by your ragged breathing.
He let out a soft, disappointed hum. âOkay. Suit yourself. Iâve got all day. All week, really. Foreverâs a long time to be this uncomfortable.â
Another expert, invisible stroke. A pained whimper was torn from your throat. âFine! Yes!â
Sunghoon shifted, his form solidifying more as he settled cross-legged on the floor in front of you, blocking your view of the scattered pills. He looked like a boy about to listen to a good story, his head tilted, that pretty mouth pressed into a line of mock-sympathy.
âSee, thatâs a start,â he said, his voice a silken thread. âBut âyesâ is⌠vague. You always beg so nicely for your husband.â He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. âCanât you be more specific?â
The phantom touch, which had paused, returned with a sharp flick right where you were most sensitized. You jolted, a cry strangling in your throat. He was provoking you.
âYou want me to make you feel better?â he prompted, his eyes dark and hungry for more than just your body. He wanted the words. âThen ask for it. Properly.â
Tears of frustration and shame burned hotter than the drug. Your body was a traitor, arching slightly toward the source of the touch even as your mind recoiled. âPlease,â you whispered, the word torn from you.
âPlease what?â he singsonged, relentlessly cheerful. âPlease stop? Or please donât stop? Context is everything.â
Another slow, swirling stroke, this one drawn-out and deliberate. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary rock against nothing. The breath hitched in your chest, coming in shallow pants.
âI canât,â you sobbed.
âYou can. Youâre a big girl.â His smile was chilling in its patience. âUse your words. What do you want me to do? Be explicit. Iâm not your husband. I donât do guesswork.â
The pressure built again, a tantalizing promise of release held just out of reach. The need was a physical pain now, a raw, scraping hollow that demanded to be filled. Your sanity was a distant shore. There was only the fire and the ice-cold boy who controlled the faucet.
You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears tracking through the dust on your cheeks. The words felt like swallowing ground glass.
âPlease⌠touch me.â
A beat of silence. Then a sigh, disappointed. âAgain with the vagueness. Where?â The last word was a sharp whisper, accompanied by a sudden, pinpoint burst of sensation so intense it blurred your vision. âHere?â
You gasped, nodding frantically, your forehead nearly touching the tile.
âSay it.â
Your voice was a broken thing, ragged and small. âThere. Please. Touch me there.â
âBetter.â The approval in his voice was the worst part. It felt like a stain. âBut weâre still being so clinical. So detached.â The phantom touch withdrew completely, leaving you shaking, the emptiness somehow more violent than the teasing. âI want to hear you want it. Really want it. Beg for it.â
The withdrawal was a new kind of torture. The chemical tide, denied its outlet, turned inward, scraping at your nerves. A low moan escaped you. The last fragile thread of resistance snapped.
âPlease,â you babbled, the words tumbling out in a desperate, humiliated stream. âPlease, I need it. Please, just⌠do it. Make me come. I canât-I need to come. Please, Sunghoon, please.â
There it was. His name, followed by the specific, degrading request.Â
âSee? Was that so hard?â The smile didnât leave his face. It was a real smile now, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners. He looked like a boy whoâd just been given the best present. He unfolded himself from his cross-legged position and crawled toward you.Â
You tried to shrink back, but the cabinet was still there, unyielding. Your body, thrumming with the poison, betrayed you further, tilting toward him as he closed the last of the distance.
âShhh,â he whispered, though you hadnât made a sound. His hand came to rest on your bare knee. âJust relax. Iâll take care of it.â
His other hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. The touch was intimate, possessive. His eyes scanned your face, reading every flicker of terror and unwilling need. âThis is better, right?â he murmured. âAsking for what you need?â
You couldnât answer. Your throat was sealed shut with shame.
He leaned in. You braced for a cold kiss, but he just rested his forehead against yours. His skin was like marble. You could see the faint, impossible pores in his nose, the individual black lashes. He was so there.
âNow,â he breathed, the word floating into your mouth. He slid your panties off quickly, wasting no time before sinking into you.
The sensation of him thrusting inside you carved a white-hot line of pure pleasure through the drugâs fever. It was fullness where there had been an agonizing need. It was so profoundly wrong that your mind short-circuited. A shattered sound was trapped in your frozen lungs.
Sunghoonâs forehead still pressed to yours, his brown eyes wide open, watching you dissolve. A soft, appreciative sigh escaped his lips. âOh,â he whispered, as if genuinely moved. âThatâs it. See?â
He began to move.
There was no rhythm to it. Each movement was calculated, a cruel parody of intimacy you usually get when itâs Jake inside you. Sunghoonâs targeting places that made your back bow and your fingers claw against the tile. The chemical need, met with this chilling mockery of relief, created a feedback loop of sensation that was intolerable. Pleasure and revulsion twisted together, inseparable.
Tears streamed down your face silently. You were pinned between the solid wood of the cabinet and the solid cold of him.
âYou feel that?â he murmured, his voice thick with a dark kind of wonder. âThatâs all me. Iâm everywhere you are.â
His form began to blur slightly at the edges, not vanishing but spreading. The cold wasnât just inside you anymore. It was seeping into your muscles, your bones, a frost spreading through your bloodstream. The heat of the drug fought it, creating a war under your skin. You were shaking violently, a puppet with its strings cut and frayed.
The pressure inside you coiled tighter, drawn by his will. The climax, when it was ripped from you, was a devastating earthquake. It was a seizure of icy voltage, a shattering that left you hollowed out and raw. Your vision whited out at the edges, and for a few seconds, there was nothing. No sound, no sight, just the echo of the violation.
Then, when you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Jake.
Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, his work bag dangling from one limp hand. His face was a blank slate of incomprehension. He blinked, his brain visibly scrambling to process the scene: you, on the floor as your body shakes with an invisible weight, surrounded by a chaos of pills.Â
âWhatâŚ?â His voice was soft, almost polite with confusion. He took a step inside, his keys jangling. âDid you fall? Are you hurt?â
He was looking at the pills, at your state of undress, trying to fit it into a logical box. Maybe youâd fainted, had a seizure or something medical.
Sunghoonâs laugh was a humid whisper against your neck, his rhythm relentless and claiming. âHe looks so stupid,â he murmured, the words slithering into your ear as your body jerked with his movement. âJust a confused little husband.â
âTalk to me,â Jake pleaded, his confusion sharpening into alarm as he watched your back arch against the cabinet. âWhy are you⌠whatâs happening?â
Your mouth moved. No sound came out. How could you form words around what had just happened? A ghost drugged me and then fucked me on the kitchen floor while I begged for it? The sentence was insanity itself.
âHe looks pissed,â Sunghoon murmured, his voice a secret just for you. âBet heâs never seen you like this. All used up. Bet he doesnât know what to do with it.â
Jake took another step, his shoes crunching on a pill. âTalk to me. Right now.â The command in his voice was new. It was fear, sharpened into anger.
âShe canât,â Sunghoon answered for you, his tone sing-song with mock sympathy as he drove himself harder into your yielding body. âSheâs a little busy being full. Arenât you, sweetheart?â
Jakeâs gaze dropped, following the helpless, rhythmic clench of your body in thin air, and the color drained from his face. The logical world he built his life on splintered right there on the kitchen tiles.
âStop it,â he growled, though he didnât know who or what he was commanding, his voice thick with a rising terror. He took another step, hand outstretched not to you, but to the empty, charged space between your thighs.
Sunghoonâs pace became punishing, a brutal celebration of his own invisibility. âSee how he watches?â he cooed, his breath chilling your skin. âHeâs starting to get it. That his wife is coming apart on nothing.â
A sob tore from your throat as the sensations crested, a terrifying wave you couldnât fight. Your eyes locked with Jakeâs, screaming an apology he couldnât possibly understand.
âTell him,â Sunghoon insisted, each word a thrust. âTell your husband why youâre gaping open like a cheap whore while he watches.â
âItâs him,â you choked out, the words raw and scraped from your throat as your body betrayed you with another uncontrollable shudder. You forced your gaze away from Jakeâs shattered expression, turning your head as if to address the cold air at your cheek. âSunghoon. Show yourself.â
Jake moved then, a jerky, mechanical step to the side, his eyes fixed lower. From behind you, he saw everything. The impossible, intimate flutter of your walls around something that was stretching you out despite the empty space. His breath hitched, a sharp, pained sound.
âWhat?â he whispered, the question hollow.
A rich, amused laugh answered, swirling through the chilled kitchen air, the sound closer to your ear than Jakeâs voice had ever been. âWhy would I do that?â Sunghoon purred, his movement inside you shifting to a slow, possessive grind that made your knees buckle. âI only like pretty girls seeing me.â
Jakeâs confusion finally broke into a frantic, disbelieving motion. His face was a mask of revulsion and desperate denial, his mind scrambling for any explanation other than the one his eyes reported.
âThis isnât happening,â he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice thin. He took one last, jerky step forward, his hand outstretched with a trembling hesitation.
His thumb brushed your inner thigh, a touch so familiar it made you weep, before his index finger pressed tentatively against the slick heat of you, right at the point of that impossible, rhythmic clenching.
He felt it immediately.
The undeniable, solid presence of something moving inside you, something cold and foreign thrusting hard and deep. His finger was pressed right alongside it, trapped against the invading shape by your own tortured flesh.
He froze.
His eyes, wide and unblinking, locked onto yours. His breath stopped in his chest. All the color and warmth left his face. The sensation against his finger was a concrete, physical truth his logic could not absorb or explain away.
Sunghoon thrust again. A full, brutal slide that made your entire body jolt and a sick, wet sound escape you. Jakeâs finger moved with it, forced aside by the motion. You moan at the fullness, stretched beyond what you could handle. He snatched his hand back as if burned, staring at his own fingers as if they belonged to a stranger.
Sunghoon chuckled, a sound of pure delight that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. He slowed to a torturous, rolling grind, savoring the audience. âBelieve it now, Jake?â he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.
âYou felt that,â you managed to say, the words tearing out of you on a ragged exhale. âYou felt him.â
âI felt something,â Jake corrected, his voice a hollow rasp. He looked down at his own body, then back at you. His expression crumbled into something worse than fear, shame. His sweatpants tented unmistakably.
Sunghoonâs grinding inside you paused, replaced by a low, delighted hum. âOh, this is good,â he breathed into your ear, his fingers tracing a cold line up your ribs. âLook at him. Terrified out of his skull and still pitching a tent. You must just give off a vibe, huh?â
âJake, please,â you begged, fresh tears hot on your cheeks.
âDonât âpleaseâ me,â he snapped, but the anger was thin, covering a bottomless well of panic. He didnât move from the refrigerator, as if pinned. âWhat is this? Some kind of⌠sleepwalking thing? A seizure?â
âItâs not me!â you cried, your body jerking again as Sunghoon began a slow, teasing slide.
âHe thinks itâs you,â Sunghoon murmured conversationally, his lips ghosting your temple. âHe thinks his sweet wife is having some hysterical episode, rubbing herself on the cabinet like a cat in heat while he watches. And he likes the show.â
âStop saying that,â you whimpered, closing your eyes.
âWhat am I saying?â Jake yelled, pushing off the fridge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He still wouldnât come closer. âIâm not saying anything! Youâre the one talking to the goddamn air!â
Sunghoon laughed, and the vibration traveled through you. âTell him the truth. That Iâm here, inside you. That your husband is so turned on by watching his wife get haunted that heâs about to bust a seam.â
The crude words, spoken in that intimate, boyish voice, finally broke something in you. You focused on Jakeâs terrified, aroused, utterly lost face.
âYou canât see or hear him, but you felt him. Heâs-â your words break off into a moan when Sunghoon presses down on your clit with his thumb. âHeâs inside me.âÂ
Jakeâs mouth fell open. A violent shudder ran through him.
âThatâs it,â Sunghoon cooed, his pace increasing, becoming purposeful and deep. âNow weâre all on the same page. Youâre both so fucked up. A matched set.â
âWho? Who are you talking to?â Jake demanded, his voice cracking. He took one step forward, then another, driven by a frantic need to fix this.
âSunghoon,â you sobbed, the name now a permanent stain in your kitchen. âHis name is Sunghoon.â
Jake reached for you, not the air this time, his hands aiming for your shoulders to pull you away from the cabinet, to shake you awake. But as his fingers brushed your skin, Sunghoon thrust hard, pinning you in place. You cried out, your back arching.
Jake flinched back, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. In that horrible moment, his hips unconsciously jerked forward an inch, a tiny, reflexive stutter against the roaring adrenaline and paralyzing fear.
Sunghoon saw it. You felt his delight like a static charge.
âYou slut,â he whispered, warm and approving against your ear. âYouâre so slutty you broke your husbandâs brain. He wants to fuck you right now while he watches you get railed by a ghost. Thatâs a new one, even for me.â
Jakeâs hands dropped from your shoulders as if your skin had electrified him. He took two stumbling steps back, his breath coming in short, ragged pulls. The visible evidence of his arousal was now a source of palpable shame, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his posture folding in on itself.
âThis isnât real,â he whispered, but the words held no conviction, only a hollow hope. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, took in your body. He scanned your trembling legs, the sheen of sweat on your collarbone, the frantic rise and fall of your chest. Logic had nothing left to give him.
âFeels pretty real from here,â you gasped, as Sunghoon resumed a slow, excruciating rhythm, each deep stroke a cold mockery of intimacy.
A different kind of tension was coiling tight in your belly, separate from the violation. It was a low, chemical burn, a remembered heat flickering back to life in your veins. Your mouth felt cottony. The edges of the room pulsed softly.
Jakeâs eyes narrowed slightly, doctorâs instinct cutting through the panic. He saw the unnatural flush on your neck, the dilated black of your pupils swallowing the iris in the dim light. His gaze darted to the empty water glass on the counter, then back to your face.
âThe pills,â he said, his voice shifting from terror to a strained clinical concern. âYour prescription. Did it do something to you?â
Sunghoonâs movement inside you hitched, then stilled, a predator listening. A cold finger traced the shell of your ear.
âOh, this is juicy,â he murmured, his voice a secret just for you. âThe little medicine. Itâs still buzzing in there, isnât it? Must be getting pretty uncomfortable.â
You nodded at Jake, a stiff, jerky motion. âJust two.â The admission was thick on your tongue.
âJust two,â Sunghoon parroted, laughing softly. âBut it still aches doesnât it? Your systemâs all lit up with nowhere to put the juice.â
Jake ran a hand over his face, the friction loud in the quiet kitchen. âOkay. Okay, thatâs a side effect. A rare one, but itâs in the literature. The heightened⌠sensitivity. It can cause agitation, a feeling ofâŚâ
âOf needing to come so bad it feels like your skinâs on fire?â Sunghoon finished for him, cheerfully crude. âTell him, sweetheart. Tell your smart husband what his wifeâs little medicine is making her feel right now, with me inside her.â
You shook your head, biting your lip until you tasted copper.
âTell him,â Sunghoon insisted, and he pushed deeper, a sharp, startling penetration that made you cry out. âOr I stop moving entirely. Iâll just sit here, inside you, and you can ride out that chemical burn all by yourself. See how long it takes before youâre screaming.â
The threat was worse than the motion. The burning intensified, a wave of raw, frustrating need that overrode dignity. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk against the empty air, seeking friction, release, anything.
Jake saw it. His clinical analysis collided with the grotesque reality before him.
âIt⌠it hurts,â you choked out, the confession shattering you. âJake, itâs burning. It wonât stop. The pill and he⌠and I canâtâŚâ
Sunghoon hummed in approval. âGood girl. Now ask him. Ask your husband to help you feel better.â
âNo,â Jake said, the word immediate and final. He backed up until the counterâs edge dug into his spine. âI am not⌠I am not doing anything with you while that⌠while heâsâŚâ
âHe doesnât care,â Sunghoon sang, his voice light. âIâm not going anywhere. This is the situation. Your wife is in physical distress, and youâre just going to stand there and watch her cook from the inside out? What kind of a husband are you?â
The burning was a live wire now, sizzling through your nerves, concentrating in a desperate, aching pulse between your legs made a thousand times worse by the occupying cold. Rational thought dissolved.Â
âJake, please,â you begged, your voice breaking into a sob. âPlease, just help me. Make it stop. I donât care, I canât think, it just hurts.â
âI canât,â he whispered, agony in his own voice. âNot with him there. Donât ask me to do that.â
âYou donât have to do anything to me,â Sunghoon keeps talking as if Jake can hear him. âJust her. Sheâs the one suffering. Think of it as medical aid for the burning.â
You slid down the cabinet another inch, your legs giving way. The tile was icy against your thighs. âPlease, Jake. I need you. I just need it to stop. Help me.â
The words hung in the chilled air. Jake stood paralyzed, a man torn between the impossible and the unbearable. He stared at his wife, broken and begging on their kitchen floor, and the last wall of his denial crumbled into dust.
A ragged breath tore from his lungs. He crossed the cold tiles in three stiff strides, his own body still tensed with a revolting mixture of fear and that traitorous, persistent heat.
âOkay,â he said, the word barely audible. âOkay, just⌠tell me what to do.â
Sunghoonâs laughter was a silent tremor you felt deep inside your marrow. The oppressive, moving cold within you stilled, becoming a static fullness. âFinally,â the voice sighed near your ear. âJust get her ready for us. Sheâs tight as a fist.â
Jake knelt, the linoleum cracking under his knees. His hands, usually so sure, hovered over your splayed thighs. He looked into your eyes, seeking permission.
You gave a tiny, desperate nod.
His touch was clinical at first, fingers slick with your own moisture, probing tentatively. He touched where the emptiness should have been, and his knuckles brushed against solid, cold resistance.
He flinched, a full-body shudder. âChrist.â
âHeâs right there,â you whispered, watching his face. âCan you feel him?â
Jakeâs jaw worked. He pressed two fingers in alongside that chilling presence, a slow, careful stretch. The sensation was wrong, all wrong. Your warmth hugged his fingers, but they slid against something unyielding and frigid, a sleek barrier sharing the same space.
âItâs like a wall,â he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. âA cold, living wall.â
âIâm not a wall,â Sunghoon chided, amusement rippling through the connection. âIâm just comfortable. Hurry up, man. The anticipation is cute and all, but weâre burning daylight.â
Jake added a third finger, his movements becoming more urgent, a mechanic trying to fix a broken machine with the engine still running. He was breathing hard through his nose, eyes glazed, focused on the paradox under his hand.
You gasped, the stretch a raw contrast to the chemical fire. âPlease, Jake. Now.â
He fumbled with the waistband of his sweatpants, his movements clumsy. When he positioned himself, the reality of it hit him like a physical blow. He could see nothing. But the space was occupied. He pressed forward, and the head of his cock met not just you, but the shocking, solid coolness of another.
âOh, God,â he choked.
He pushed, and the impossible happened. He slid in, a tight fit alongside that other presence. They were packed together moving in a perverse unison. He could feel the otherâs shape, its motion, a synchronous pressure alongside his own.
âSee?â Sunghoonâs voice was a breath of pure delight. âCozy.â
Jakeâs first thrust was a stutter, a spasm of horror and base mechanics. His eyes were wide, unseeing, locked on a point past your shoulder. He was inside his wife, and he was not alone. The trippy, brain-breaking reality of it short-circuited expression.
He just moved.
The rhythm was jangling and off, two separate entities trying to share a single groove. You were utterly full, stretched beyond any sense, the burning panic now fused with an overwhelming, choking pressure. You could feel every inch of Jake, warm and familiar and trembling. And you could feel Sunghoon, cold and exacting and still, just⌠there.
âThere you go,â Sunghoon coaxed, as if coaching a teammate. âGet a rhythm. Itâs like a tandem bike. Or a threesome where one guyâs a ghost. Cheaper, I guess.â
Jake made a sound, a guttural mix of a sob and a moan. He found a pace, a deep, driving tempo born of desperation to finish this. Each forward push met that chilling presence, a constant, rubbing reminder.
Your sounds were cries strangled by sheer overwhelm. Your fingers scrambled against the cold tile, finding no purchase. Sunghoon began to move again, subtly at first, then with more definition, carving his own path within the shared space. Jake gasped, faltering.
âDonât stop,â Sunghoon commanded, his voice losing its playful edge for a slit-second. âYouâre doing so good. Just keep going. Sheâs almost there.â
It was a lie. You were nowhere near anything but insanity. But Jake obeyed despite not being able to hear the command. Jakeâs rhythm became frantic, purposeful, a man trying to hammer a nail through his own nightmare.
Sunghoon matched him, thrust for thrust, a cold echo to Jakeâs heat.
The pressure crested in a splitting fullness. You screamed, a raw, torn sound that seemed to startle the very air in the room. Your body locked, convulsing around the dual invasion. It ripped through you, locking your muscles and arching your spine off the cold tile.
Jake felt the violent, rhythmic clench around him and cried out, a sound of utter surrender. His own release was torn from him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he spilled warmth inside you.
Inside you, the cold presence jerked, then pulsed. Another flood of wetness joined the heat, this time a cold wave that whipped a broken gasp from your throat. And as Sunghoon finished, a low, satisfied groan escaping him, something flickered.
A crackle of static, a warp in the air behind Jakeâs shoulder. For a second, it was just a distortion. Then it solidified.
Sunghoonâs groan cut off into a sharp, startled hiss. âShit.â
Jake, still buried in you, his body trembling with spent horror, felt the new presence like a change in pressure. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his bleary, tear-filled eyes following your frozen gaze over your shoulder.
And he saw.
A man, crouched on the floor of their kitchen, one hand braced against the cabinet as if steadying himself, his other hand still hovering near the back of Jakeâs thigh. Mid-twenties, dark hair falling into eyes that were wide with momentary surprise before they shuttered into cold amusement. A pretty, boyish face that didnât match the crude reality of where heâd just been.
Jake froze. All breath, all thought, all sound left him.Â
Sunghoon recovered his grin, though it was tighter now. âOops,â he said, his voice no longer a whisper in your ear but a clear, resonant sound in the room. He didnât move his hand from beside Jakeâs leg. âGot a little carried away. Hi, Jake.â
Jake did not speak. He was a statue etched in pure, paralytic shock. His eyes dragged from Sunghoonâs face, down his arm, to where his own body was still joined to yours. The geometry of it, the three of them connected in this vile chain, finally had a visible link.
The logical mind, so diligently clung to, gave its final, silent scream and went dark.
With a raw, animal noise that started in his gut, Jake wrenched himself back, separating from you with a wet sound. He scrambled away on all fours, like a crab, until his back hit the oven door, his sweatpants tangled around his knees.
He stared, unblinking.
âYouâreâŚ,â Jake breathed, the word rusted.
âIâm,â Sunghoon agreed, pushing himself upright with an eerie, weightless grace. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, looking between you, still splayed and trembling on the floor, and your husband huddled by the stove. âYeah. This is awkward.â
Jakeâs hand rose, pointing a trembling finger. âYou were⌠insideâŚâ
âYeah, we covered that part,â Sunghoon said, sighing as if bored. He examined his own nails, which looked perfectly solid. âThe seeing part is new. For you, anyway. She,â he nodded toward you, âhas been getting the full VIP specter experience for a while now.â
Jakeâs head swiveled to you. His eyes were shattered windows. âYou see him? Like this?â
You could only nod, pulling your knees to your chest, a futile attempt to shield yourself from both of their gazes. The burning was gone, replaced by a hollow, frozen ache and a shame so profound it felt like your own ghost was leaving your body.
âAll this time,â Jake whispered. The words were flat, dead things. âYou werenât stressed.â
âTold you,â you managed to whisper, but it held no victory.
Sunghoon pushed off the counter and took a spectral step toward Jake, who flinched, pressing harder against the oven. âDonât look so betrayed,â Sunghoon said, his head tilting. âYou just had a conjoined orgasm with me. Thatâs a pretty intimate icebreaker. Weâre practically besties.â
âDonât touch me,â Jake spat, the command automatic and weak.
âIâm not,â Sunghoon said, holding up his translucent hands. He took another step, crouching down to bring himself eye-level with Jake, who recoiled. âBut see? Now you believe. Now we can all play together properly. No more misunderstandings.â
Jakeâs breathing was a series of sharp, panicked inhalations. He was looking at a ghost, a real ghost, in his kitchen, discussing shared orgasms.Â
Sunghoonâs smile turned intimate, conspiratorial. âWe should do this again sometime. Maybe without the pills. Now that weâve broken the ice, you know?â He paused. âOr, you know. Now that Iâve broken you in.â
He straightened up, winked at you, and then his form simply unraveled, dissipating like smoke in a draft until the space by the counter was empty.
Youâre fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of Jakeâs borrowed your calculator, your attention completely lost on the cherry-pink shine instead of the math worksheet sitting untouched in front of you.
âBaby,â he murmurs, leaning back in his chair with that lazy grin that gets him out of trouble far too often, âyou look fine.â
You blink at him, doe-eyed.
âReally?â
Jake almost laughs at how serious you sound. "Yeah, really. Wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." His hand snakes out, fingers catching your chin before you can react. "But pretty faces donât pass tests."
You giggle because compliments make your brain go fizzy, and he leans over and kisses you once, soft and lingering, like heâs rewarding you for being cute. When he pulls back, his thumb smears your lip gloss across your bottom lip.
"Now," he says, tapping his pencil against your notebook, "are we gonna pretend to study, or am I wasting my time here?"
You pout at the notebook, like a child denied ice cream.
âI donât get why there are letters in math,â you complain, twirling the pink pen between your fingers. âNumbers were already enough.â
Jake snorts softly from across the library table, dragging the worksheet closer before you can accidentally doodle hearts in the margins again. He leans over to rewrite the equation for the third time, and your eyes drift from the page to the exposed skin of his forearms, before landing on the swell of his biceps that flexed whenever he rested his elbows against the table.
Jake was too nice to look at, and it made studying with him impossible.
âHere,â he says, moving your notebook closer. âYou solve this one.â
You immediately push it back.
Jake exhales sharply through his nose, like he's already exhausted by you. "You're gonna make me beg?" His knee nudges yours apart beneath the table. "Or should I just give up and bend you over this desk instead?"
"I don't know how!"
"You know exactly how," he counters, "You've been teasing me for twenty minutes."
You twirl your pink pen. "Maybe I like it when you get frustrated."
Jake's laugh is low and dangerous. "You're the worst student I've ever had."
"But I'm your favourite. Arenât I?"
He pauses just long enough to make your stomach flip. "Yeah," he admits.
Before you can think too hard about it, Jake reaches over and takes the pencil from your hand.
âWatch,â he says. âYou move this here first, then divide both sides.â
You try to focus. You really do!
But Jakeâs sitting close enough that his shoulder keeps brushing yours every time he writes, and he smells faintly like cologne, and suddenly algebra feels like the least important thing in the room.
âYouâre not listening,â he says without looking up.
âHow do you know?â
The thing was, you werenât listening. You probably hadnât been for the last 3 minutes he spent explaining equations that didnât make sense.Â
It wasnât like you werenât trying to pay attention; you seriously did try your best. Youâd listen attentively as he explained content you had no understanding of, attempting to let the words click in your head.Â
âOkay,â he says slowly, tapping the worksheet with the end of the pencil. His brows pull together in fake seriousness as he turns toward you. âTell me what comes first.â
You stare at the equation for a long moment, glossed lips pursed thoughtfully.
Then you glance at him.
Then back at the worksheet.
ââŚcrying?â you answer quietly.
Jake immediately drops his head into his hand, shoulders shaking with laughter heâs trying to hold in. âJesus Christ,â he mutters into his palm.
âIâm serious,â you insist with a small pout, sitting up straighter in your chair. Your bracelets clink against the table as you gesture dramatically toward the page. âThis looks evil.â
âItâs literally basic algebra.â
âThen why,â you ask, squinting suspiciously at the numbers, âare there so many steps?â
âBecause math would be too easy otherwise.â
You slump in your chair, defeated by the question. Jake could lie and say he wasnât watching the way your chest bulged over your top as you did, but that would be the furthest thing from the truth.Â
"Y'know," he says, spinning the pencil between his fingers with infuriating ease, "most girls at least pretend to care when I tutor them."
âI do care!â you insist, fluttering your fake lashes.
âReally?â Jake raises a brow, unconvinced.
âYeah.â You nod earnestly. âI care about making you proud of me.â
That catches him off guard. His smirk falters for half a secondâjust long enough for you to noticeâbefore he schools his expression back into one of lazy amusement.
âThatâsâŚâ He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat. âNot what I meant.â
Jake exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. "Christ. You're manipulative."
You grin. "And yet you're still here."
"Because if I'm not," he leans in, voice dropping low, "some idiot's gonna have to explain why you failed."
"And because you like me."
Jake stares at you for a beat too long before exhaling slowly. "You make it really fuckin' hard to remember why I agreed to this."
Your eyes widen innocently. "Studying with me?"
âYeah.â
You lean closer, lowering your voice like itâs a secret. "Is it because I distract you?"
Jake doesn't answer right away. His gaze flicks to your lips, then back up, before he huffs out a quiet laugh.
"You distract everyone," he mutters, shaking his head like he can't believe he's admitting it.
You beam as if you've just won something.
Jake watches you for another second before shoving the worksheet back in front of you with a sigh. "Alright, pretty girl. Focus." He taps the paper. "Solve it."
You chew on the end of your pen thoughtfully. "...Can I have a hint?"
Jake groans. "Jesus. I've given you, like, six."
"One more?" you wheedle, nudging his arm with your elbow.
He exhales sharply, but there's no real bite to it when he finally relents. "Move the x-values first."
You scribble something down with intense concentration, tongue poking slightly against the inside of your cheek. Jake watches quietly this time, chin resting against his fist.
A whole minute passes before you slide the notebook toward him with a triumphant grin.
âI got an answer,â you announce proudly.
He leans over. âOkay, letâs seeââ
Then Jake stops.
"...How the fuck," he says slowly, tracing the pink "42" smudged across the page, "did you get forty-two?"
Your proud smile falters. âThatâs bad, isnât it?â
Jake looks from the paperâwhere the numbers only go up to twelveâback to your pouting face. His mouth twitches.
âBaby,â he says carefully, trying not to laugh again, âthe equation only goes up to twelve. Did you just... guess?â
You puff out your glossed lips in an exaggerated pout, twirling a curled strand of hair around your manicured finger. "But numbers are, like, soooo confusing!" you whine, deliberately pushing your chest forward until your bedazzled, low-cut crop top looks like it could split at the seams at any second.
Jake's gaze drops to your cleavage for a second too long before he exhales sharply.
"Christ." He snatches the pen from your hand, scrawling the actual answer onto the page. "This is what happens when you flirt instead of focusing."
You bat your lashes. "But flirting's way more fun!"
Jake sets the pencil down, rubbing his mouth with one hand to hide his smile. "Alright. Let's try this differently."
"Oooh, are we playing a game?"
His fingers trail up your bare arm, making you shiver. "Something like that." He taps the pencil against your bottom lip. "First rule? No skipping steps."
You pout prettily. "But rules are boring!"
"Trust me," he murmurs, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your ear. "You'll love the rewards."
"First," he announces, tapping the paper. "Write the equation perfectly. Every symbol in the right place."
When you bite your lip and copy the equation (after three tries), his large hand slides up your thigh beneath your skirt. "Good girl," he purrs, thumb brushing dangerously close to where you're already damp.
"Reward one," he continues, guiding your hand as you subtract from both sides. When you get it right, his fingers tilt your chin up. You squeal when his lips crash against yours, his tongue teasing your lower lip before pulling away.
You're already breathless when he murmurs, "Reward two" He watches intently as you divide, his fingers tracing idle circles on your inner thigh. "Beautiful." His hand slides yours to his lap, where the hard length of him strains against his sweats.
"Reward three," he groans as you free him, his hips jerking when your fingers wrap around his cock. He guides your strokes, slow and firm.
"Now solve," he rasps, teeth grazing your neck. Your fingers tighten instinctively when you gasp out the answer.
"F-five," you whimper, and his grip tightens around your wrist.
Jake groans, his hips jerking into your grip. "Perfect." His free hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher until his fingers brush the damp fabric of your panties. "Reward four." He presses his palm against you, letting you grind shamelessly against him while you keep stroking his cock.
Your breath comes in uneven gasps, the dual sensation making it impossible to think. "J-Jakeâ"
"One more step," he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. "Prove it." He nudges your panties aside, dragging two fingers through your slick folds. "Show me how you got five."
You whimper, thighs trembling as his fingers circle your clit. "IâI subtracted first, thenâoh godâdividedâ"
"Good girl." His fingers plunge inside you without warning, curling just right. Your back arches, your grip tightening around his cock as pleasure coils tight in your belly.
The textbook slides off the table when he lifts you onto it, spreading your legs wider. "Now," he growls, lining himself up, "let's check your work."
The first thrust punches the air from your lungs. His hands grip your hips, pulling you onto him with each rough snap of his hips. The sound of skin slapping fills the tiny dorm room, your moans muffled against his shoulder.
You come with a sob as Jakeâs free hand claps over your mouth, concealing your desperate whines. Jake exhales sharply as he pulls out, watching you shiver at the sudden emptiness. His fingers trail lazily through the mess between your thighs, smearing it across your flushed skin before bringing them to your lips.
"Lick," he commands, voice rough.
You part your lips obediently, swirling your tongue around his fingers until theyâre clean, tasting the mix of salt and sweetness on his fingers.Â
By the third "lesson", your ponytail is lopsided, lipstick smudged from Jakeâs mouth on yours. His sweats are shoved halfway down his thighs, your sticky-sweet moans filling the room every time his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips.
"Still stuck?" he taunts, thrusting deeper as you squeal, hands scrabbling at the desk.
"Nuh-uh!" you lie, toes curling when he pinches your nipple through your lace bra. "Iâoh!âI totally remember now!"
Jakeâs grin is feral as he pulls out, positioning you onto your knees on the floor. "Prove it."
You whimper but obey, sinking your manicured fingers into his thighs before taking him into your mouth with an exaggerated, wet pop. His groan is ragged above you, hands fisting in your hair as you look up through your lashes, drool dripping down your chin.
"Such a good girl," he praises, and you preen, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes.
The dorm room is a wreck by the time heâs done with youâyour skirt ripped off, hair a tangled mess, and makeup ruined in the best way. Jakeâs lazily tracing equations on your bare stomach with his cum when you stretch like a cat, giggling.
"See?" you chirp, wiggling your hips. "I told you Iâm a fast learner!"
His hand smacks your ass hard enough to make you yelp. "Weâll see tomorrow," he growls, biting your shoulder. "After I quiz you."
Your breathy giggle dissolves into a moan as his fingers slide between your thighs again.
"Uh-oh," you whisper, already arching into his touch. "Better study extra hardâŚ"
pairing: husband!sim jake x fem! reader x perv ghost!park sunghoon
wc: 18.5k
read part two here.
summary: you and jake just got married and moved into your dream house, a cozy little place thatâs supposed to be a fresh start. but from the moment you settle in, things feel off. the shower curtain moves on its own. you feel hands on you when no oneâs there. jake thinks youâre stressed, but you know something is wrong with this house. whatever it is, itâs only getting closer.ââââââââââââââââ
tags/content: smut, 18+, brief oral (f! receiving), daddy kink (for jake as per usual, used in both casual moments and a bit of the smut in the beginning), voyeurism (on sunghoonâs end), jake thinks youâre a little crazy but he still loves you, mentions of reader being on medication/pills for her hallucinations, drugging via said medications (sunghoon replaces them with aphrodisiacs without readers knowledge), noncon (since reader is drugged), mean dom sunghoon who insists on making you beg, p in v, unprotected sex, jake lowkey gets cucked a little but then he joins in, cheating kinda (on jake w sunghoon, sunghoon loves to emphasize that you're jake's wife), sunghoon also has one sided beef w jake, fingering, threesome, double penetration, jake can NOT see or hear sunghoon for a majority of the story, fear play kinda bc jake is scared out of his mind but gets hard anyway, multiple orgasms for reader, slut shaming + humiliation from sunghoon,
âââ ę° á§ŕˇá§ ęą âââ
The box marked KITCHEN â MISC sat half-open on the counter. Three minutes had passed while you stood there hoping the spatulas and measuring cups might somehow organize themselves into something useful.
âJake.â
From the living room, he glanced up from where he was kneeling beside a tower of boxes labeled BOOKS in his cramped handwriting. His hair jutted out at odd angles from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it. âYeah?â
âDid you see where the coffee mugs went?â
âUh.â He sat back on his heels and squinted at the kitchen like the answer might be written on the cabinets. âWerenât they in the box with the plates?â
âNo. I already unpacked that one.â Your foot connected with the flattened cardboard, sending it sliding across the tile until it thumped against the wall. "I've checked every kitchen box we brought in."
Jake pushed himself up and made his way over. The scent of cardboard dust clung to him, mixed with the cologne he saved for occasions he deemed important. Apparently moving qualified. He bent over the counter, peering into the box you'd been rifling through. "Could they still be out in the car?"
âI brought everything in already.â
â What about the bedroom?â
âWhy would I put mugs in the bedroom?â
Both his hands came up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just throwing out ideas. You're the one who did the packing."
That was true. The memory came back sharp and clear. You'd wrapped every single mug in newspaper, arranged them with care in a box you'd marked FRAGILE â MUGS with a red Sharpie. You'd insisted on carrying it in yourself since Jake and the neighbor had been wrestling the couch through the doorway, and you didnât trust anyone else with your favorite mug from the cafĂŠ in Seoul.
âThis is so weird.â You turned in a slow circle like the mugs might materialize if you looked hard enough. The kitchen was small and bright. Sunlight poured through the window above the sink, bathing the compact kitchen in warm light that made everything seem pristine and hopeful. This was meant to be your new beginning. "Things keep disappearing. My phone charger went missing yesterday. The day before that, my toothbrush."
âYou found your toothbrush.â
âIn the bathroom closet. I never put it there.â
Jake opened the cabinet above the stove, examining the interior despite knowing it held nothing but the shelf liner you'd spent time measuring and cutting the previous day. "Could be you're just exhausted. Three solid days of unpacking will do that."
âIâm not tired.â
âYouâre definitely tired.â
Part of you wanted to push back, but your spine throbbed from hunching over countless boxes and your fingertips stung with tiny cuts from wrestling with packing tape. The realtor had sold you on this house by emphasizing how much easier it would be compared to the cramped apartment. Look at all this room, Jake had said during the tour, we could actually entertain guests. The bay window had charmed you, along with the east-facing bedroom that would flood with morning light. Right now though, you just wanted those damn mugs.
âWhoâs moving my stuff?â you said. It came out lighter than you meant.
Jake's mouth quirked up as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Must be the house ghost."
"That's not funny."
"They'll show up eventually." He returned to the living room, dropping back down beside his book collection. His voice drifted through the open floor plan. "Try the bathroom. Maybe you stuck them in there without thinking
You were certain you hadn't, but you went to look anyway since you'd exhausted other options. The small bathroom still reeked of the bleach you'd used to scrub every surface two days prior. A crack spider-webbed across one corner of the mirror, something the landlord had sworn he'd repair. You crouched down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
There they sat. All six mugs, stacked with precision, with your Seoul cafĂŠ mug rested on top.
You stared at them for a long time. There was absolutely no way you had placed them here.
âAny luck?â Jake called from the living room.
You closed the cabinet door and straightened up. Your knees cracked. âYeah. They were under the sink.â
âSee? Told you theyâd turn up.â
You didnât mention that youâd never looked under the sink. You wouldnât have put mugs there even if you were unpacking at three in the morning with your eyes closed. Jake was already back to organizing his books by author, and you didnât want to stand in the bathroom doorway and argue about something that didnât matter.
The hours that followed melted into one another. You tackled the bedroom while power tool sounds and muttered curses floated up from where Jake wrestled with bookshelf assembly instructions. Eventually you both converged on the closet, bickering over the distribution of space between his sneaker collection and your dresses. He secured victory by highlighting how you'd already claimed the entire dresser. You had to admit he had a point.
By the time sunset arrived, the house had transformed into something almost livable. Boxes still created obstacles along the hallway and packing paper buried the kitchen table, but at least you could navigate most rooms without tripping. Progress, you supposed.
Jake called in an order from the Thai restaurant a few blocks away. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor since unfolded laundry had claimed the couch. He kept cracking jokes about breaking in the new place properly, and you managed to laugh despite feeling like you were wading through deep, deep water.
The wedding had been five weeks ago. You'd opted for a simple courthouse ceremony to avoid the chaos of event planning. Afterward came two weeks wandering through Japan, walking until blisters formed on your feet, staying awake far past any reasonable hour, and making hollow promises about catching up on sleep during the flight home.
You hadnât. Jake had fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder and youâd spent seven hours staring at the seatback screen without watching anything.
Upon returning, you'd immediately begun shoving your lives into cardboard boxes since this house's lease kicked in on the first and paying double rent wasn't an option. Two solid weeks of packing and hauling everything into a borrowed truck from some coworker of Jake's whose name you couldn't remember.
The drive here yesterday had eaten up six hours. Jake had offered to take turns behind the wheel but you'd insisted you could handle it. That had been a lie. Your fingers had locked around the steering wheel in a death grip and your eyes had stung from the endless stretch of highway.
Now you sat on unfamiliar floorboards in a house that didn't feel like yours yet, every muscle in your body demanding rest. Jake's voice washed over you as he talked about work or maybe friends or something else entirely. You managed to nod at appropriate intervals, tried to anchor yourself to what he was saying, but his words kept dissolving before you could grasp them.
"You okay?" His question cut through the fog. When you looked up, concern had softened his features.
âJust tired.â
âYou should take a break tomorrow. I can finish unpacking.â
âWeâre almost done.â
âBaby. You look like youâre about to pass out.â
Collapse seemed dramatic. You were simply running on empty. Perfectly normal after a move. Things would improve once you actually settled in, once you weren't surrounded by half-empty boxes and packing tape.
Jake gathered the dishes and headed to the kitchen. Water started running in the sink. You remained on the floor, gaze fixed on the wall. The realtor had described this soft cream shade as warm and inviting. Right now it just seemed blank and expressionless.
You should get up and be useful, help with the dishes or finish unpacking the bathroom.
Instead you pulled yourself up and told Jake you were going to take a shower. He said something about joining you later and you made a noncommittal sound that couldâve meant anything.
The water pressure here beat the apartment's pathetic dribble. Small victory. You tipped your head back, letting heat seep into your knotted shoulders. Steam had already saturated the bathroom, condensing on every surface and shrinking the space.
You worked your fingers through your hair and felt the tension start to drain out. Three days of hauling boxes and arguing about where the couch should go. Jake had won again. It faced the window now instead of the TV.
The shower curtain moved.
Not much, just a quick pull to the side like someone was peeking in.
âJake.â You kept your eyes closed. Shampoo suds slid down your neck. âYouâre such a pervert.â
No answer.
âIâm literally covered in soap. Can you wait like five minutes?â
Only the steady percussion of water against porcelain answered you. You scrubbed at your stinging eyes with the back of one hand, blinking away the burn. The curtain now hung partially open. Beyond it, the bathroom stood empty.
No Jake leaning against the sink with that stupid grin he got when he was trying to be smooth. No shadow moving past the frosted window. There was only steam and the towel hanging on the rack and the crack in the mirror you kept forgetting about until you saw it.
âJake?â
The sound of your own voice startled you with its volume. Water drummed against your shoulders and ran down the drain in a steady rush. You reached out and pushed the curtain open further. It scraped along the rod with a metallic sound that made your teeth hurt.
The door was still closed. You wouldâve heard it open. The hinges squeaked every time. Youâd mentioned it to Jake yesterday and heâd said heâd oil them this weekend.
You twisted the faucet off. Silence rushed in to fill the void. The house exhaled around you with creaks and groans. Ancient wood adjusting. Pipes losing their heat. Somewhere beneath the floor, the heater kicked on with a mechanical click.
Water dripped from your hair onto the bathmat as you stood frozen, staring at that closed door. Each heartbeat thundered in your ears.
âJake?â you said again.
Nothing.
You secured the towel around yourself and eased the bathroom door open. Darkness swallowed the hallway except for a strip of light bleeding from the bedroom down at the far end. Your feet left damp impressions on the hardwood as you walked.
Jake was in bed with his phone. He looked up when you came in. âHey. Feel better?â
âWere you just in the bathroom?â
âWhat?â He set his phone on the nightstand. âNo. Why?â
âThe shower curtain moved.â
âItâs an old house. Probably just a draft.â
âThe door was closed.â
Jake patted the bed beside him. âCome here. Youâre shivering.â
You werenât shivering. Were you? The room felt colder than it should. You climbed into bed and pulled the towel tighter around you. Jake wrapped an arm around you and you pressed your face against his shoulder. He smelled like the laundry detergent his mom always used. It was supposed to be comforting.
âI think someone opened the curtain,â you said into his shirt.
âLike a person?â
âI donât know. Maybe.â
His hand moved in slow circles on your back. âBaby. Thereâs no one here but us.â
You fell silent. Somewhere below, the house groaned like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Jake's expression didn't change. Perhaps the sound never reached him. You let your eyes drift shut, trying to match the rhythm of his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Steady and constant.
His hand moved lower on your back, slipping under the edge of the towel. âYouâre so tense.â
âIâm fine.â
"You're really not." Something shifted in his voice, dropping into that particular tone he used when he had intentions. "Let me help you relax."
Your eyes opened to find him watching you with that half-smile that typically got him what he wanted. His hand traveled up your spine before tracing back down with deliberate slowness.
âJake.â
âWhat? Iâm being a good husband.â His mouth found your shoulder, then migrated to your collarbone. His fingers found the knot holding your towel closed. âYouâve been stressed all week. Let Daddy take care of you.â
You didn't protest when he worked the towel free. The fabric slipped away and gathered on the sheets beneath you. Cold air met your exposed skin. Jake's hands offered warmth. His kisses traveled down your sternum, across your stomach, and despite everything gnawing at your mind, you felt yourself beginning to surrender.
He pushed your legs apart and settled between them. Heat from his breath ghosted across your inner thigh. âJust relax.â
You let your head fall back against the pillow, and tried to focus on the feeling of his mouth instead of the sound the house had made and the shower curtain moving on its own. For a moment, it worked. His tongue traced a slow path along your folds and you gasped, your fingers threading into his hair.Â
The bedroom door creaked open.
Every muscle in your body locked. Jake's grip on your hips intensified but his mouth didn't stop its work.
âJake.â
âMm?â
âThe door.â
He lifted his head. Moisture glistened on his lips. âWhat about it?â
âIt just opened.â
Jake threw a glance over his shoulder. The door now stood halfway open, hallway darkness spilling through the gap. When he looked back at you, his features had rearranged themselves into something gentler, laden with concern. "Baby. The door wasn't latched properly. It does that."
âI closed it.â
âYou didnât close it all the way.â He shifted to sit beside you, drawing the blanket over your legs like you required modesty now. "This is exactly what I mean. You're too stressed. You're seeing things that aren't there."
âIâm not seeing things.â
âThe curtain moved because of a draft. The door opened because old houses do that. Thereâs nothing weird happening.â His palm cradled your face while his thumb swept across your cheekbone. âIâm worried about you.â
Your throat felt tight. âIâm fine.â
"You're not sleeping properly. You picked at dinner. And now every little sound makes you jump." He pressed his lips to your forehead in a gesture that felt more appropriate for a child than a wife. "Maybe we should find you a doctor here. Someone you can talk to."
âI donât need a doctor.â
âThereâs nothing wrong with needing help. Especially after everything weâve been through lately. The wedding and the move and all of it piling up. Itâs a lot to process.â
You wanted to argue, to tell him that you werenât imagining things. Something was wrong with this house and he needed to believe you.
But he was looking at you like you were fragile and might break if he pushed too hard.
You pulled the blanket up higher and turned onto your side away from him. âIâm just tired.â
âI know.â His arm came around your bare waist, pulling you flush against his clothed body. Normally, you might have ground back against time, tried to reignite what heâd started. Tonight you just want to sleep. âGet some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.â
They wouldnât. You already knew that with absolute certainty. You closed your eyes anyway and listened to Jakeâs breathing gradually evened out behind you.
The door remained open. Darkness from the hallway seemed to press into the room like something physical. You could feel eyes on you from that space beyond, watching and waiting. Jake's arm lay heavy across your ribs. Moving would wake him. So you remained motionless, gaze fixed on the wall, counting down the hours until dawn
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
The whole reason you moved here was to escape the old one, full of unfriendly neighbors and people who filed noise complaints over the smallest things. Someone had once left a passive aggressive note on your door about your footsteps being too loud at seven in the morning. Jake had wanted to frame it.
Youâd heard this neighborhood was friendlier, more community-oriented. The realtor had gone on about block parties and how everyone knew each otherâs names.
Instead, the people on your street kept staring and whispering.
This morning, the woman two houses down had been collecting her mail when you reversed out of the driveway. Her gaze had followed your car all the way to the stop sign. You'd lifted your hand in a friendly wave. She'd pivoted and disappeared inside without so much as a nod.
Yesterday, the older couple across the street had been deep in conversation on their driveway when you'd emerged to water the housewarming plants from Jake's mother. Their voices had died the moment they spotted you. You'd felt their eyes boring into your spine the entire time.
According to Jake, you were making it up. New neighbors always attracted attention. It was normal curiosity and you were reading too much into it.
Perhaps he had a point. Jake had always been oblivious to social undercurrents. He could enter a room crackling with tension and remain completely unaware until someone spelled it out for him.
You pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The new curtains sat in the passenger seat in their plastic bag from the home goods store. Youâd spent an hour debating between ivory and cream before settling on something called vanilla linen that looked identical to both.
The old curtains had been too dark. Thatâs what youâd told Jake this morning when he asked why you needed new ones. They made the living room feel smaller. Heâd shrugged and said whatever made you happy.
Bag in hand, you stepped out of the car. Daylight softened the house's edges, made it seem less threatening. The blue-gray paint looked almost charming, and the porch had decent structure despite the wobbly railing Jake kept promising to secure this weekend.
The front door was unlocked. It swung open easily under pressure from your hip, and you sealed it shut with your heel.
âJake?â
Silence answered. Still at work, probably. You'd gotten lost browsing the store and hadn't tracked the time.
Sunlight poured through the bare living room windows, carving geometric patterns across the hardwood. The boxes had finally disappeared. You'd spent yesterday afternoon breaking them down and hauling them to the garage. The space was starting to resemble an actual home now.
You set the curtain bag on the couch and went to the kitchen for scissors. The drawer stuck like it always did. You had to yank it twice before it opened.
Movement flickered at the corner of your eye.
You spun around. The kitchen was empty. There were dishes drying in the rack by the sink and a coffee maker on the counter. Nothing was out of place.
Scissors acquired, you returned to the living room. Plastic crackled as you ripped the bag open. Vanilla linen fabric tumbled onto the couch in soft folds that were absolutely just overpriced ivory.
The curtain rod remained mounted from the previous set. You'd stripped those down last night, shoving them into a trash bag because the sight of them had started constricting your chest. Jake had checked if you were alright. You'd claimed you simply wanted something lighter and brighter.
What you didn't mention was the persistent image of the shower curtain moving by itself.Heavy fabric didnât just shift without someone touching it.
You hoisted yourself onto the couch's arm and stretched toward the rod. Your fingers had barely made contact with the cool metal when sound filtered down from above.
Footsteps upstairs, slow and deliberate, moving from the bedroom toward the hallway.
You froze with your arms above your head and the curtain rod pressing into your palms. The footsteps stopped before they started again, closer to the stairs now.
âJake?â The question emerged barely above a whisper.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. You could hear the floorboards creaking under invisible weight. One step. Then another.
You scrambled down from the couch, hands trembling. The scissors still lay on the coffee table. You snatched them up reflexively, brandishing them like some kind of weapon even though you knew how useless they'd be.
The footsteps stopped halfway down the stairs. Your eyes locked on the staircase, on the space where a body should be visible. The house had gone so silent that your own pulse thundered in your ears.
âHello?â
Nothing.
The scissors had gone slick in your sweating palm, the metal handles warming against your skin. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you strained to hear any other sounds from above, but the house had fallen into an oppressive silence that felt almost deliberate, like it was holding its breath and waiting to see what you'd do next.
The front door swung open behind you with enough force to make you jump.
You whirled around, nearly dropping the scissors in the process. Jake filled the doorway, work bag draped over one shoulder and his tie loosened from a long day at the office. His attention landed on you first, taking in your defensive stance and wide eyes, then traveled down to the scissors clutched in your white-knuckled fist. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in a mixture of confusion and concern.
âUh. What are you doing?âââââââââââââââââ
"There was someone upstairs." The words tumbled out in a rush, breathless and shaky.
Jake nudged the door shut with his heel, the lock clicking into place with a soft sound that seemed too loud in the quiet house. "What?"
"I heard footsteps. They were coming down the stairs." You stared at the scissors like they'd materialized in your hand through no action of your own, like you couldn't quite remember picking them up or why you'd thought they might protect you from whatever had been walking through your house. You set them carefully on the coffee table, your hands still trembling. "Someone was in the house. I heard them moving around up there."
Jake abandoned his bag by the entrance and crossed the room in quick strides. His hand came up to press against your forehead, palm flat and assessing like he was checking a child for illness. The touch was gentle but clinical, and something about that detached concern made your stomach twist. "You're burning up."
"I'm not sick." You tried to step back but his hand followed, persistent.
"Did you eat lunch? When was the last time you had water?" The questions came rapid-fire, each one dismissing what you'd just told him in favor of finding some mundane explanation.
âYes. Jake. Iâm fine. I know what I heard.â
His hand shifted to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone in what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture. That expression had returned, the one from last night where he looked at you like you were made of porcelain that might crack under too firm a grip, like you were a problem he needed to solve rather than a person he needed to believe. "Baby."
âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
"Look at me like I'm losing my mind." The words came out sharper than you intended, edged with frustration and fear and exhaustion all tangled together.
His hand fell away as he dragged it through his hair instead, disheveling the strands that had already been mussed from the wind outside. The breath he released sounded carefully measured, like he was actively working to maintain patience in the face of what he clearly thought was irrational behavior. "I'm not saying you're losing your mind. I'm saying you're running on empty and stressed to your limit and maybe that's affecting your perception. You haven't been sleeping well. You've barely been eating. Your body is exhausted."
"I heard footsteps." You repeated it like if you said it enough times he might actually hear you, might actually consider that you were telling the truth.
"Old houses are noisy. The wood expands and contracts with temperature changes throughout the day. Pipes settle as they cool down. Floorboards creak under their own weight." He was using his reasonable voice now, the one he used when explaining things to clients at work. "It can sound exactly like footsteps when it's not. I've heard it too since we moved in."
Heat crept up your throat and into your face. "You weren't here. You didn't experience what I just experienced. You didn't hear them stop halfway down the stairs like someone was standing there watching me."
"Okay." The word came out gentle and placating in a way that made you want to scream. "Okay. If it makes you feel better I'll go check upstairs. I'll look in every room and make sure no one's here."
âThank you.â
He pressed his lips to your forehead in a kiss that felt more like reassurance for himself than comfort for you before heading for the staircase. You tracked the sound of him taking the steps two at a time, his footsteps heavy and grounded and completely different from the measured, deliberate tread you'd heard earlier. His presence moved through the house above you, traversing the bedroom first, then migrating to the spare room where you'd been storing boxes, then finally the bathroom. Doors swung open with their familiar squeaks and thumped shut in succession, and each sound felt like another nail in the coffin of your credibility.
You retrieved his abandoned work bag from its spot by the door, the strap still warm from his shoulder, and carried it to the kitchen to give your hands something to do besides shake. Setting it on the counter with more care than necessary, you began extracting its contents one item at a time. An empty tupperware container that had held his lunch, the lid slightly ajar and a few grains of rice stuck to the rim. A water bottle with dried residue crusting around the threading that desperately needed a thorough scrubbing. Some crumpled papers he'd probably need for tomorrow that were already getting bent at the bottom of the bag.
You pulled open the cabinet to store the water bottle, and that pervasive mildew smell hit you immediately, musty and organic and wrong. Mental note: pick up baking soda or whatever product actually eliminated that kind of persistent odor, maybe some of those moisture absorber packets you'd seen at the hardware store.
Someone materialized behind you without warning. Arms encircled your waist in an embrace that felt startlingly intimate, sliding around you with a familiarity that should have been comforting. A head came to rest against your shoulder blade, the weight of it solid and grounding. The full presence of another person pressing into your back, their body heat seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
You melted into the contact without thinking, your muscles loosening as you allowed yourself to be supported by what you assumed was your husband. Jake must have finished his inspection upstairs and come down quietly to surprise you, to offer comfort after dismissing your fears. "Long day at work?"
No verbal response came. Just the steady rhythm of breathing against your spine, warm exhales that you could feel through your clothes. The arms surrounding you felt undeniably solid and present, more real than anything else in this moment. You registered the rise and fall of a chest expanding and contracting against your back with each breath, the subtle shift of fabric, the particular pressure of hands resting just below your ribcage.
You glanced down expecting to see Jake's familiar hands, maybe still wearing his watch, maybe with the small scar on his left thumb from that cooking accident last year.
There was nothing there.
No arms around your waist. No hands resting against your stomach. Only empty space and the counter stretching before you and your own solitary body standing alone in the kitchen with nothing touching you at all.
The presence evaporated. Not gradually but instantaneously, like someone had released their hold and retreated in a single motion, leaving behind only the fading impression of where they'd been. The warmth against your back disappeared so quickly you wondered if you'd imagined it, except you could still feel the ghost of those arms, the memory of that weight.
You lurched forward involuntarily, your body trying to catch itself from falling into an embrace that was no longer there. Your hip collided with the counter edge with enough force to send a sharp spike of pain radiating through your pelvis, the kind that would definitely leave a bruise by tomorrow. The water bottle escaped your grip and went clattering into the sink basin with a hollow plastic sound that seemed far too loud.
âEverythingâs clear up there.â Jakeâs voice came from the stairs, slightly winded from his search. âNo oneâs home but us.â
You remained frozen where you stood, unable to pivot and face him, unable to explain what had just happened. Your fingers had locked onto the counter edge hard enough to drain all color from your knuckles, the pressure the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps that you couldn't quite control, and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that you were probably having a panic attack but that knowledge did nothing to stop it.
Jake walked into the kitchen, his presence announced by the familiar sound of his work shoes against the hardwood. Real footsteps, heavy and grounded and unmistakably human, each one landing with the full weight of a living person moving through space.
"See? Nothing to worry about." His hand touched your shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture and you flinched so violently you nearly sent the dish rack crashing to the floor. The dishes rattled precariously in their slots before settling. "Whoa. Hey. It's just me."
You managed to turn around despite your body's resistance to the movement. Jake stood there with both hands raised in a gesture of surrender, palms out like he was approaching a frightened animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. His expression had shifted from patient understanding to something rawer, genuine worry creasing his forehead and pulling at the corners of his mouth.
âWhat happened?â
"I felt someone." Your voice emerged trembling and unsteady, each word requiring conscious effort to form. "Right now. Just seconds ago. Someone was standing behind me exactly where you are. They had their arms around me. I felt their weight against my back, felt them breathing."
âI was upstairs. No one else is here.â
âI know. I thought it was you. I felt them, Jake. It wasn't my imagination. Their arms were solid and real and they were holding me.â
Jake closed the distance between you and pulled you firmly against his chest, eliminating any space that might exist between your bodies. His heart beat steady and strong under your ear, that reliable rhythm you'd memorized over the years together. His arms came around you and they felt fundamentally different from whatever had been holding you mere moments ago. Warmer, more substantial, anchored in reality in a way that the other presence hadn't been despite feeling so convincing.
âYouâre okay,â he said into your hair. âYouâre okay. Nothingâs going to hurt you.â
Your breathing wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't fall into any normal pattern. It kept catching in your throat like you'd forgotten the basic mechanics of drawing air into your lungs, each attempt stuttering and incomplete.
"Hey." His voice underwent a transformation, dropping into that lower register he reserved for specific moments, the tone he used when you needed grounding, when your mind was spiraling and your body needed an anchor. "Look at me."
You tilted your head back with effort, forcing your gaze upward. His eyes had gone serious and focused, all his attention concentrated entirely on you with an intensity that left no room for anything else in his awareness.
"Breathe with me. In." He demonstrated with a slow, deliberate inhale and you attempted to mirror the movement, your lungs expanding with air that felt inadequate. "Out."
Your exhale emerged shaky and uneven but you managed it, the air leaving your body in fits and starts.
"Good girl. Again." In. Out. His hand traveled up and down the length of your spine in time with the breathing, the repetitive motion creating a rhythm your body could follow. The simple physical pattern gave you something concrete to focus on beyond the panic.
"That's it. Just like that." His thumb traced along your jawline with deliberate gentleness. "Let Daddy take care of you. You don't have to think right now. You don't have to figure anything out or make sense of what happened. Just breathe."
Something in your chest began to loosen its grip. Not completely, not enough to make you feel normal again, but enough that air could flow in without the sharp pain that had been accompanying each breath.
"There you go." He kissed your forehead before moving on to pepper gentle kisses across your face, each one a small point of warmth and reassurance. Your temples, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your closed eyelids. "Shhh. I've got you. You're safe here with me."
You allowed yourself to go completely boneless against him, surrendering your weight and trusting him to hold you upright. His hand cupped the back of your head with protective care and kept you pressed securely against his shoulder, creating a small pocket of safety in the space between your bodies.
âWeâre okay,â he murmured. âEverythingâs okay. Youâre safe with me.â
You wanted desperately to tell him that safety wasn't actually the problem, that something was fundamentally wrong with this house and he needed to listen to you instead of trying to rationalize everything away. But your body was finally beginning to release the tension it had been holding, your muscles gradually unclenching one by one, and your thoughts were developing fuzzy edges that made forming coherent arguments feel impossible. You were so profoundly tired of being scared, exhausted from the constant vigilance and the way fear had taken up permanent residence in your chest.
Jake rocked you slightly. âWhat do you need right now, hm? You want to sit down? Get some water?â
You shook your head against his chest, the fabric of his work shirt soft against your cheek.
"Okay. Then we're just going to stand here for as long as you need." His hand maintained its gentle movement through your hair, the repetitive strokes soothing in their predictability. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stand here all night if that's what you need."
You couldn't detect the presence anymore, couldn't sense anything beyond the immediate reality of Jake's arms creating a solid barrier between you and whatever else might exist in this space. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear. The warmth radiating from his body and seeping into yours. These tangible, provable things.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you genuinely needed to see a doctor and get something to help you sleep, to quiet your mind enough that it stopped creating experiences that felt real but couldn't possibly be. Maybe the exhaustion and stress had damaged something in your perception of reality.
Or maybe something was very, genuinely wrong with this house and you were the only one whose senses were attuned enough to detect it, the only one it had chosen to reveal itself to for reasons you couldn't begin to understand.
Jake had convinced you to lie down after the episode in the kitchen. He'd guided you upstairs with a hand on your lower back and tucked you into bed with the kind of careful attention usually reserved for someone running a fever, pulling the blankets up to your chin and smoothing them down with excessive care. He'd promised to finish unpacking his work things and dealing with the curtains, assured you that everything would be handled and you just needed to rest. You'd closed your eyes obediently and listened to him moving around downstairs, the familiar sounds of cabinets opening and closing, of objects being set down and picked up, all while trying desperately not to think about the weight of those phantom arms that had felt so impossibly real.
Sleep refused to come despite your body's exhaustion. You'd lain there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, watching the way shadows moved across the plaster as clouds passed outside, counting the small imperfections in the paint job, anything to occupy your mind. Finally you'd given up on the pretense of rest.
You needed air. Real air, outside air, something that didn't taste like this house.
Now you were walking down the street with your hands buried deep in your jacket pockets and your breath forming small clouds that dissolved in the evening air. The temperature had dropped noticeably since you'd left the house, enough that you wished you'd grabbed a heavier coat. Everything looked softer in the fading light, edges blurred and colors muted as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon. The whole neighborhood seemed wrapped in that particular quiet that came with approaching dusk, when people retreated indoors and the day began its transition into night.
You passed three houses before encountering another person, your footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness. A woman roughly your age was approaching from the opposite direction with a little girl who couldn't have been more than six years old trailing slightly behind her. The child wore light-up sneakers that flashed brilliant pink with every bouncing step she took, the only spot of brightness in the growing dimness.
The woman's eyes landed on you when you were still about twenty feet apart. Something shifted in her expression, transforming from neutral to something you couldn't quite identify but that sent an uncomfortable prickle down your spine. Without breaking stride, she reached out and took her daughter's hand with sudden firmness, then began angling toward the opposite side of the street, her trajectory deliberately taking them away from you.
The little girl immediately pulled against her mother's grip, her small face scrunching with confusion and resistance. "Mommy, I want to say hi."
"Not now." The woman's response was clipped and final.
"But they're new. We're supposed to be nice to new people." The girl's voice carried that particular brand of childish logic that hadn't yet learned about unspoken social rules. She managed to free one hand long enough to offer you an enthusiastic wave. "Hi!"
You lifted your own hand automatically to return the greeting, a reflexive response to the innocent friendliness.
The woman immediately yanked her daughter's arm down with enough force to make the girl stumble slightly. "Stop it. Don't talk to them."
"Why not?" The question emerged with genuine bewilderment, the kind only a child could muster when confronted with arbitrary adult rules.
"Because." The woman's voice dropped lower, probably attempting discretion, but the evening quiet carried her words across the distance with perfect clarity. She wasn't really trying very hard to keep you from hearing. "They're from the bad house."
"What's a bad house?" The girl's confusion deepened, her small voice rising with the question.
"Shh." The woman accelerated her pace, practically dragging her daughter along now. The child had to break into an awkward half-jog to keep up, her light-up shoes flashing pink in rapid succession as they hurried away from you like you were carrying some contagious disease.
You remained frozen on the sidewalk, rooted to the concrete as you watched them disappear around the corner at the end of the block. Your heart had begun hammering against your ribs with unnecessary force, adrenaline flooding your system even though nothing overtly threatening had occurred. The street felt dramatically emptier than it had just moments ago, the absence of their presence somehow more pronounced than the quiet had been before they'd appeared.
The bad house.
Those two words kept circling in your mind, each repetition adding new weight to them. You turned slowly and looked back toward your house, studying it from this new perspective. It sat there among its neighbors looking fundamentally identical to every other structure on the block. Nothing about it screamed warnings or danger. Nothing about it appeared visibly different from the houses on either side or across the street.
But that woman had physically pulled her daughter across the street to avoid you, had forbidden the child from even speaking to you, all because you lived there. Like whatever was wrong with the house was something that could contaminate you just by proximity.
You started walking back, your feet moving faster than the situation warranted, propelled by some instinct you couldn't name. The sun had almost completely disappeared now, leaving behind only that purple-gray twilight that made familiar things look strange. Shadows stretched impossibly long across front lawns and driveways, distorting the shapes of trees and cars into something vaguely menacing. You kept your eyes fixed on your house as you approached, tried not to let your mind spiral into speculation about what "the bad house" might actually mean, what might have happened there before you and Jake had signed the lease.
Jake's car still occupied its spot in the driveway, exactly where he'd left it when he'd come home from work. Warm light glowed through the living room windows, golden and inviting in the gathering darkness. You could make out his silhouette moving around inside, probably still dealing with those curtains or maybe starting to think about dinner.
You climbed the porch steps carefully, muscle memory guiding you even as your mind remained elsewhere. The third step released its familiar creak under your weight, the sound seeming far too loud in the evening quiet, like an announcement of your arrival that anyone within a hundred feet could hear. You pushed open the front door and stepped gratefully into the warmth, the temperature difference immediately making your cold-stung cheeks tingle.
Jake had indeed returned to hanging the new curtains. He'd repositioned the couch so he could use it as a makeshift ladder and was currently balanced on the cushions, arms extended overhead as he worked to slide the vanilla linen fabric onto the rod. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door, offering you a quick smile. "Hey. Feel better?"
âA neighbor just called this the bad house.â
His hands went still on the curtain, the fabric bunching slightly where his fingers had stopped moving. "What?"
"I was walking and this woman with her kid deliberately crossed the street to avoid me. The kid asked why they couldn't say hello, and the mother said because we're from the bad house." You closed the door behind you and engaged the lock with more force than necessary, the metallic click somehow reassuring. Your hands were trembling visibly now. "What does that mean? Why would she say that?"
Jake stepped down from the couch with careful deliberation, his work shoes landing softly on the hardwood. "Maybe she's just weird. Some people are like that. You know how neighborhoods can be."
âShe pulled her daughter away from me like I was dangerous.â
"Okay. So she's rude and weird and probably watches too many true crime documentaries." He crossed the space between you and took both your hands in his, his warmth immediately noticeable against your chilled skin. He began rubbing your hands between his palms, trying to restore circulation. "You're freezing. How long were you outside?"
âJake. This is serious.â You tried to pull your hands back but he held on.
"I know it feels serious. But people say weird stuff all the time, especially in small neighborhoods where everyone thinks they know everyone's business. It doesn't necessarily mean anything." He tugged gently, trying to guide you toward the couch. "Come on. Let's finish these curtains and then we can figure out dinner. You'll feel better once you eat something substantial."
You let him lead you closer to the couch but resisted actually sitting down, your body remaining tense and resistant. "What if something's genuinely wrong with this house? What if there's a reason she called it that?"
âNothingâs wrong with the house.â
"Then why would she say that? Why would an entire neighborhood apparently know it as 'the bad house'?" Your voice was climbing despite your efforts to keep it level.
âI donât know. Maybe the last people who lived here were assholes. Maybe they played loud music at three in the morning and everyone hated them.â He released your hands to pick up the curtain again, clearly ready to move past this conversation. âIt has nothing to do with us.â
You watched him climb back onto the couch with practiced ease, threading the fabric onto the rod like everything was perfectly normal and you hadn't just been deliberately avoided by a stranger who thought your house was dangerous enough to warn her child about. The living room seemed to shrink as the curtains went up, the fabric blocking out what little remained of the evening light. You couldn't see outside anymore, couldn't monitor the street or know if anyone else was out there looking at your house and whispering about the people foolish enough to move in.
Jake stepped down from the couch and moved back to assess his handiwork, his head tilting as he examined the way the fabric hung. "There. What do you think? Much better than those heavy dark ones, right?"
You thought the room felt like it was actively closing in around you, the walls pressing closer with each breath. You thought about how badly you wanted to pack everything back into boxes and leave this place immediately, drive until you found somewhere that didn't make your skin crawl, somewhere that neighbors didn't warn their children away from.
âIt looks good,â you said.ââââââââââââââââ
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
You were still trying to catch your breath when you saw it.
Jake had collapsed beside you moments ago, one arm flung dramatically over his face in that particular way he always did after sex, like the effort had completely drained him. His chest continued rising and falling in heavy, labored pulls of oxygen. The sheets had become hopelessly twisted around both your bodies during the preceding activity, the fabric now clinging uncomfortably to your sweat-dampened skin.
Your body was still humming with residual pleasure, nerve endings firing in that pleasant way that usually left you feeling boneless and satisfied. You should have felt good right now, relaxed and content in that post-orgasm haze. Instead your heart was racing for an entirely different reason, adrenaline flooding your system and wiping away any trace of the satisfaction you'd felt seconds ago.
There had been someone in the closet.
You'd seen them. The memory was crystalline and undeniable, seared into your brain with the kind of clarity that only came from genuine fear. It had happened right at the end, at that precise moment when your eyes had rolled back and Jake's name had torn from your throat in a cry you couldn't have suppressed if you'd tried. The closet door had been cracked open just enough, and in that sliver of darkness there had been a face. Watching. Present. Real.
You'd made direct eye contact. You were absolutely certain of it. Brown eyes that had locked onto yours with unmistakable awareness, staring directly at you while Jake moved inside you and you came apart underneath him, while you were at your most vulnerable and exposed.
"Jake." Your voice came out rougher than intended, still affected by how you'd been using it moments before.
"Mm." The sound was drowsy and satisfied, already halfway to sleep. His hand found yours somewhere in the tangle of sheets and gave it a gentle squeeze.
âThereâs someone in the closet.â
His hand went still. âWhat?â
âI saw someone in the closet. They were watching us.â
Jake lifted his arm from his face with visible reluctance and turned his head on the pillow to look at you directly. His hair stuck up in complete disarray, standing at odd angles from where you'd run your fingers through it. "Babe."
âIâm serious. There was someone there. I looked right at them. We made eye contact.â
He sat up with a heavy sigh, the sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his bare chest still marked with faint scratches from your nails. "You saw someone. While we were having sex."
"Yes. Please. You need to check right now." You pulled the sheet higher, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity.
Jake dragged both hands down his face, pulling at his features before releasing a long, controlled breath through his nose that spoke volumes about his patience wearing thin. Then he extracted himself from the bed completely and crossed the room without bothering to cover himself, his naked body moving through the lamplight. He grabbed the closet door handle and yanked it open with more force than strictly necessary, the door swinging wide to reveal the interior.
Your clothes hung in their neat, organized row exactly where you'd left them. His shoes were lined up along the bottom in the careful arrangement he always insisted on. Boxes that you'd been procrastinating about unpacking sat stacked in the corner, still sealed with packing tape.
"There's no one here." He gestured at the empty closet like it was evidence in a trial.
âCheck behind the boxes.â
He released another one of those long-suffering sighs before bending to grab the boxes. He moved them aside one by one, shifting them away from the corner they'd been occupying. Nothing lurked behind them except bare wall, the paint slightly darker where it had been protected from light exposure. He straightened and turned back to face you with both hands spread in an "I told you so" gesture. "See? Empty. No one here but us."
Something fluttered down from the top shelf like a falling leaf, a photograph. It descended in a lazy spiral before landing face-up on the floor directly between Jake's bare feet, the timing so perfect it felt orchestrated.
He looked down at it for a moment before bending to retrieve it from the hardwood. You instinctively pulled the sheet up higher over your chest, suddenly feeling the need for more coverage, and leaned forward with anxious curiosity to see what he'd found.
It was a photograph of a man. Young, probably late twenties at most. Dark hair that looked carefully styled, and a smile that revealed too many teeth in a way that should have been charming but somehow wasn't. He stood positioned in front of a house that you recognized immediately with a sinking sensation in your stomach. Your house. Except in this photo, the blue-gray paint looked pristine and freshly applied, and the porch railing stood straight and sturdy instead of loose and requiring Jake's promised repairs.
Jake held it out to you. âMustâve been left by whoever lived here before.â
You accepted it with hands that had begun shaking again, your fingers trembling as they made contact with the aged paper. The photograph was clearly old, its edges yellowed and gone soft from excessive handling over the years. You found yourself staring at the man's face with growing horror, at those brown eyes that looked directly at the camera lens with unnerving focus.
âThatâs him.â
âWhat?â
"That's who was in the closet. That's the exact face I saw watching us." Your voice began climbing higher with each word, panic making it difficult to control your volume. You could hear yourself getting louder, more frantic, but stopping seemed impossible. "Jake. That's him. I saw him. Those eyes. That face. He was watching us have sex."
"You saw a picture fall out of the closet." Jake's tone had gone flat and carefully neutral, the voice he used when he was trying very hard to remain patient.
"No. I saw him before the picture fell. He was looking at me." The words came out in a rush, desperate and pleading. "His eyes were at a different angle than in this photo but it's the same face. The exact same face. Jake. I'm so scared."
Jake lowered himself onto the edge of the bed with deliberate slowness, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached over and carefully extracted the photograph from your trembling fingers, then set it face down on the nightstand like even having it visible in his peripheral vision was too much. Like he could make the problem disappear by simply not looking at it. Then he pulled you firmly against his bare chest, his arms wrapping around you with protective intensity. Your entire body was shaking with an internal tremor you had no control over, muscles quivering like you'd been left out in freezing temperatures.
âOkay,â he said quietly. âOkay. Thatâs it. Weâre getting you help.â
âWhat?â
âIâm calling a doctor tomorrow. Weâre getting you on something.â
You pulled back to look at him. âI donât need medication.â
"Yes you do." He wasn't angry, which somehow made it worse. Anger you could have fought against, could have met with your own defensive rage. But he just sounded exhausted, worn down to nothing, like this conversation was draining the last reserves of energy he possessed. "Baby. You're having hallucinations. You're seeing things that aren't there. You're terrified constantly, jumping at every sound, unable to sleep. That's not normal. That's not healthy."
"I'm not hallucinating." You tried to inject conviction into the words but they came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.
"You just told me you saw a dead guy watching us have sex." He stated it plainly, without embellishment, and hearing it repeated back like that made it sound insane.
âI didnât say he was dead.â
"Well he's clearly not alive and physically standing in our closet, so what else would he be?" Jake's hands came up to frame your face with careful gentleness, his palms warm against your cheeks. His thumbs pressed against your cheekbones with just enough pressure to ground you. "I love you. So much. More than anything. But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep checking every single room and closet and telling you nothing's there while I watch you fall apart piece by piece. You need help. Real, professional help. Not just me reassuring you that everything's fine when clearly it's not."
Your eyes began burning with the familiar pressure of approaching tears. You felt them spill over and track down your cheeks, the moisture collecting against his hands where they still held your face. "You don't believe me."
"I believe that you're genuinely seeing things. I believe that you're absolutely terrified and that your fear is real." He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt like an apology, like he was asking forgiveness for what he was about to say. "I don't believe there's actually a ghost in our house. I believe your mind is creating these experiences because you're exhausted and stressed beyond your breaking point."
You wanted desperately to argue, to defend yourself against the implicit accusation that you were losing touch with reality. You wanted to grab that photo and shove it in his face and make him understand that you werenât crazy. It was real and he needed to listen instead of looking at you like you were broken. You wanted him to look at you like his wife instead of like a patient who needed managing.
But he was holding you like you were made of something fragile that might shatter, and the combination of fear and exhaustion had left you with nothing left to fight with.
"Okay," you whispered, the surrender tasting bitter on your tongue.
Relief washed across his features so visibly it was almost painful to witness. "Yeah? You mean it?"
âYeah. Iâll see a doctor.â
He pulled you back against his chest immediately and held you with enough force that your ribs protested, his arms creating a cage around you that was probably meant to feel protective but somehow felt more like containment. "Thank you. God, thank you so much. Everything's going to be okay. I promise. We're going to figure this out and get you feeling better."
You closed your eyes and pressed your face hard into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the lingering smell of sex. You could still feel those brown eyes on you, watching from somewhere you couldn't see, their presence as real and tangible as Jake's heartbeat against your cheek.
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
Three weeks on the pills and things had been better.
Not perfect. The house still released its nightly symphony of creaks and groans, wood settling and pipes contracting in ways that sometimes sounded almost deliberate. You still experienced that persistent phenomenon of misplaced objects, things migrating from where you'd carefully set them down to locations that made no logical sense. But the hallucinations had stopped. You weren't seeing faces materialize in closet shadows anymore, weren't feeling the sensation of phantom hands pressing against your body when you were alone. Most importantly, Jake had stopped treating you like delicate glass that might shatter at any moment, stopped monitoring your every word and expression for signs of deteriorating mental health.
You stood at the kitchen sink in the quiet morning light and tipped two pills from the prescription bottle into your palm. They were small and white and deceptively ordinary looking for something that had apparently rewired your brain chemistry. You placed them on your tongue and chased them down with water, felt them slide down your throat in that particular way pills did, slightly catching before completing their descent.
Jake had departed for work several hours ago, his goodbye kiss still a fading warmth on your forehead along with his cheerful instruction to have a good day. You had a whole list of mundane tasks planned: errands to run, groceries to buy, dry cleaning to pick up. All the tediously normal things that normal people with stable mental health did on ordinary weekdays.
You climbed the stairs to get dressed, your hand trailing along the banister out of habit. In the bedroom you pulled on your favorite jeans and a comfortable sweater, the fabric soft from repeated washing. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror showed someone who looked tired around the eyes but fundamentally stable, grounded in reality. Progress, even if it was hard-won. You collected your keys from their designated spot on the bedroom dresser and made your way back downstairs, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet house. Your purse waited by the front door exactly where you'd left it the night before. You performed your usual pre-departure check, fingers locating your wallet and phone in their expected pockets. Everything accounted for and in order.
Your skin felt warm.
You froze with your hand already extended toward the doorknob, fingers hovering just inches from the cool metal. The warmth was spreading with unsettling speed, an internal heat that had nothing to do with the house's temperature. It originated somewhere deep in your chest and was now radiating outward like you'd swallowed something molten, creeping up your neck in a slow crawl, traveling down your arms in tingling waves, settling into your stomach with uncomfortable intensity.
The heat intensified with alarming rapidity. Within seconds your skin was burning, the sensation so overwhelming it felt like you'd stepped directly into a sauna set to maximum temperature or positioned yourself too close to an open flame. You grabbed at the neck of your sweater with clumsy fingers, pulling at the fabric that suddenly felt suffocatingly thick and restrictive, like it was actively trying to strangle you.
Something else was happening simultaneously, a secondary sensation that made your stomach drop with confused alarm. A different kind of heat had begun throbbing low in your belly, an unmistakable arousal pooling between your legs with an intensity that was both shocking and unwelcome. Your thighs pressed together in an automatic, unconscious response and the resulting friction against sensitive flesh made you gasp out loud, the sound startlingly loud in the empty house.
What the hell.
You abandoned your plan to leave and instead leaned heavily against the door, using it to support your suddenly unsteady body. Your heart was hammering violently against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest. Your breathing had deteriorated into shallow, rapid gasps that weren't pulling in nearly enough oxygen. The dual sensations of burning heat and building arousal kept intensifying with each passing second, feeding off each other in some terrible feedback loop. Your body felt hypersensitive to the point of pain, every nerve ending firing at maximum capacity. The brush of your jeans against your legs, the pressure of your bra against your chest, every sensation registered as too much, overwhelming your ability to process sensory input.
You were simultaneously burning up and desperately turned on and you had absolutely no understanding of why this was happening or how to make it stop.
The pills. Your thoughts felt sluggish and fuzzy, like your brain was operating through layers of cotton, but that single word managed to surface through the haze. Had you somehow taken the wrong medication? Grabbed the wrong bottle in your morning routine? You stumbled back toward the kitchen with uncoordinated steps, your legs feeling weak and unreliable beneath you like they might give out entirely at any moment. The prescription bottle still sat on the counter exactly where you'd left it. You snatched it up with trembling hands that could barely maintain their grip and forced your eyes to focus on the tiny print of the label.
It was the same prescription. Same exact dosage. They were the same pills youâd been taking every morning for three weeks.
This wasn't a documented side effect. The doctor had been thorough when prescribing the medication, walking you through the complete list of potential reactions. Nothing like this had been mentioned. Jake had done his own research and would have definitely said something if this kind of response was even remotely possible.
You set the bottle back down with a clatter and gripped the counter's edge hard enough that your knuckles immediately drained of all color, the skin stretching white and tight over the bones. The heat had become genuinely unbearable now, so intense you genuinely felt like your skin might actually split open from internal pressure, like something was attempting to force its way out from inside your body.
Your sweater had to come off immediately. You grabbed the hem with both hands and yanked it over your head in one desperate motion, not caring when it caught briefly on your hair. The garment hit the floor in a heap of discarded fabric. The removal provided approximately ten seconds of relief, blessed coolness against your overheated skin, before the burning sensation returned with even greater intensity than before.
You lurched toward the refrigerator and wrenched open the freezer door with enough force to make the entire appliance rock slightly. Cold air billowed out in a visible cloud and you immediately pressed your face directly into the frigid stream, desperate for any kind of relief. It felt incredible, almost transcendently good in a way that felt vaguely scandalous, pleasure and relief tangling together in your overloaded nervous system. A sound escaped your throat before you could suppress it, a moan that was entirely too loud and breathy and suggestive for someone standing alone in their kitchen.
This was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Your physical responses had begun mimicking exactly what you'd feel if Jake was actively touching you, as if invisible hands were currently sliding across your bare skin with deliberate intent and phantom lips were pressed against your neck leaving invisible marks. But you were completely alone in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and jeans and there was absolutely nothing and no one physically touching you.
You could feel it anyway, could feel all of it with perfect clarity. Phantom sensations that felt as real as anything you'd ever experienced made your spine arch involuntarily and your breath catch in your throat. Waves of pleasure were building inside you with relentless momentum, completely beyond your control or ability to stop.
"Stop," you said out loud to the empty kitchen, your voice emerging wrecked and desperate and barely recognizable. "Stop it."
It didn't stop. The invisible touch moved lower with deliberate intent, phantom hands sliding down your stomach toward the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rolled forward in an involuntary response against absolutely nothing, your body betraying you with its automatic reaction. Your hand shot out wildly and connected with the pill bottle still sitting on the counter edge. It went flying, hitting the floor with a sharp crack of plastic against tile. Pills exploded everywhere, scattering across the kitchen floor in a spray of white tablets that pinged and rolled in every direction.
You sank down to your knees, your legs finally giving out completely under the dual assault of sensation and fear. The tile was shockingly cold against your overheated skin, the temperature contrast almost painful. You pressed your forehead directly against that cold surface and tried desperately to breathe through what was happening to your body, tried to find some kind of mental anchor that might let you regain even a fraction of control.
The phantom sensations kept building with relentless momentum, pushing you inexorably toward something you absolutely did not want. Not like this. Not alone on the kitchen floor half-dressed while something invisible touched you everywhere at once, while pleasure you hadn't asked for built inside you beyond your ability to stop it.
You squeezed your eyes shut with enough force to see stars behind your eyelids and bit down hard on your lip, the sharp pain grounding you slightly. You tasted copper as skin broke under your teeth.
And then you felt breath against your ear, warm and real and so close you could feel the shape of words even though no sound came out.
Someone was here with you.
You forced your eyes open, terror overriding every other sensation flooding your system.
The man from the photograph was crouched directly in front of you, close enough to touch. His dark hair fell across his forehead in soft waves, partially obscuring brown eyes that watched you with unmistakable amusement. He was near enough that you could catalog every detail of his face with perfect clarity.
He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were something fascinating he'd discovered. "Hey."
You screamed.
He laughed in response, the sound casual and completely at odds with the situation. One hand pressed over his heart in an exaggerated gesture while a mockingly touched expression crossed his features. "Yeah, I know. I get that a lot. The ladies love me."
"What?" Your voice emerged as barely more than a rasp, your throat already raw from screaming. You scrambled backward desperately, your nearly naked back scraping against the cabinet hardware as you tried to put any amount of distance between yourself and this impossible presence. "What are you? A pervert? What the hell are you doing to me, you freak?"
"Ouch." He settled back on his heels, looking genuinely wounded by your words. The amused smile faded into something closer to an actual pout, his bottom lip pushing out slightly. "That's rude. I have a name, you know. It's Sunghoon. Can you call me that instead of these mean names?"
You sputtered incoherently for a moment, your brain completely unable to process the sheer audacity of this ghost or hallucination or whatever he was acting offended while you were literally sprawled half-naked on your kitchen floor.
"You know," he continued conversationally, like you were having a normal chat over coffee instead of this nightmare scenario, "I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take to kick in. The bottle said thirty minutes for full effect but I figured with your body weight, maybe closer to twenty?" He glanced down at his wrist like he was checking a watch that wasn't actually there, miming the gesture with his empty arm. "Pretty close to my estimate. I'm getting really good at this."
You stared at him, your oxygen-deprived brain struggling to process the words coming out of his mouth or reconcile what you were seeing with any version of reality that made sense. "What?"
"The pills." He reached down and plucked one of the scattered tablets from the floor, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger for your inspection like it was evidence in a trial. "I switched them out. Well, not all of them obviously. That would've been way too obvious and you would've noticed immediately. Just enough that you'd take them at your normal time and," He gestured broadly at you sprawled on the kitchen floor in just your bra and jeans, skin flushed and breathing labored. "Here we are."
"What did you give me?" Your voice cracked.
"Aphrodisiacs. Really strong ones too." He shifted to crouch at your level, bringing his face even closer to yours, that infuriating smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Took them from the previous owner's bedroom stash. They left in such a hurry they forgot all sorts of interesting things up there." He paused, his head tilting again in that particular way that made him look predatory despite the casual tone. "I could touch you whenever I want, you know. Make you feel anything. But where's the fun in that? This is so much better. You have no idea what's happening to your own body. You can't fight it or control it or make it stop." His eyes dragged over your half-clothed form with deliberate slowness, taking in every detail of your current state. "You should see your face right now. It's perfect."
Horror crashed through you in a wave so intense it momentarily overrode even the chemical heat flooding your system. "You're insane. You're harassing me!" The burning arousal was still coursing through your body with undiminished intensity but fear was cutting through it now, slicing everything into sharp focus and making your panic spike even higher. "Get away from me right now."
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in exaggerated surprise. "I'm harassing you? That's rich. You're the one who moved into my house without permission."
âYour house? This is my house. Jake and I bought it.â
"Bought it." Sunghoon's laugh filled the kitchen, bright and cheerful and completely wrong given the circumstances. "Yeah, okay. Sure. Pretty sure I was here first though. Like, years before you showed up. And I tried so hard to get you to leave, I really did put in the effort. The mugs appearing in weird places. The shower curtain moving. The footsteps on the stairs." He gestured broadly like he was presenting a resume of accomplishments he was particularly proud of. "I even watched you guys having sex. Stood right there in your closet and watched the whole thing. Thought that would definitely do it for sure, thought you'd be out of here within a week."
Your stomach turned violently at the confirmation that all of it had been real, that you hadn't been losing your mind. "You're disgusting."
"Hey, I didn't enjoy it." He paused, a wink accompanying his next words. "I mean, I didn't not enjoy it either. You're cute. Your husband is incredibly boring but you? You're cute."
"Change them back," you gasped out desperately, your hands gripping the cabinet behind you hard enough to hurt. The pharmaceutical heat was still overwhelming every other sensation, still building despite your terror. Your body was still responding to whatever he'd given you, and knowing the cause wasn't doing anything to make it stop. "Give me the real pills. Please."
"Can't. Already flushed them down the toilet." He sat back on his heels, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who'd just admitted to drugging another person. "These should wear off in a few hours though. Maybe six? The bottle wasn't super clear on dosage recommendations. But hey, look on the bright side! At least now you know you're not crazy. Well, not about the house stuff anyway."
âGet away from me.â You tried to press further back but there was nowhere to go. The cabinet was solid against your spine.
"Can't do that either. This is my house, remember? I literally can't leave." Sunghoon reached out slowly like he was going to touch your face, his hand moving through the space between you with deliberate intent. His fingers stopped just short of making contact with your skin, hovering there in a way that felt more threatening than an actual touch would have been. "Besides, you can take all the real pills you want now, see all the therapists your insurance will cover. I'm still going to be here. I tried to scare you off, I really did put in genuine effort. But you're still here after all of it."
He leaned forward, eliminating what little distance remained between your bodies. His face was now mere inches from yours, close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to, close enough to see the unnatural stillness of his chest that never rose or fell with breath. You shouldn't be able to see this much detail on something that was supposed to be dead. "And honestly? I don't mind anymore. You're entertaining. Way better than the last people who lived here. They were so boring, so predictable. Didn't even scream when I moved their stuff around."
The chemically-induced heat pulsed stronger through your system, your traitorous body responding with renewed intensity even though your mind was screaming at it to stop. You let out a choked sound that was half desperate sob and half something else entirely, something you didn't want to acknowledge.
"Yeah. See? You like it." His voice dropped several registers lower, becoming softer and more intimate in a way that made your skin crawl. "I can make you feel so good. Better than your husband does, and I've been watching so I know exactly how he touches you. I know exactly what you need, what makes you fall apart."
âYouâre sick.â
"I'm dead actually. Pretty different thing when you think about it." He sat back slightly, creating a few more inches of space between you. The increased distance felt like it should provide some relief but it didn't help at all. You could still feel phantom touches crawling all over your body with increasing boldness. "But sure, yeah. Call me sick if it makes you feel better about the situation. Doesn't change the fact that you're stuck with me now."
You tried to stand, tried to force your legs to cooperate and get you upright and away from this nightmare. Your muscles refused to obey the commands your brain was desperately sending. The drug-induced pleasure was building again with terrifying momentum, cresting toward something you absolutely did not want to reach, not with him watching with those amused eyes.
You squeezed your eyes shut with brutal force, trying to block him out of your awareness, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. The phantom pressure against your overheated body intensified in immediate response to your attempt at escape. The sensation of a mouth traced a deliberate path along your jawline. It wasn't human, lacked all the normal qualities of an actual kiss. There was no wetness or natural warmth, just an impossible suction of penetrating cold that somehow burned against your flushed skin. Your head thrashed violently to the side in denial, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips as the ghost of a tongue dragged down the vulnerable tendon of your neck with agonizing slowness.
The searing phantom heat raging inside your body was fighting a war with the invasive cold attacking from outside, and the conflict between the two extremes was systematically shredding your nerves into ribbons. You were going to scream, or dissolve into hysterical tears, or worse, give in completely to the relentless chemical need he'd deliberately poisoned you with.
"There you go," his voice purred directly in your ear despite the fact that his physical form still sat visible in front of you, just observing your breakdown with clinical interest. "Fighting it makes it so much sweeter to watch."
âStop,â you begged, the word a broken thing. âPlease.â
"That's the wrong word to use." His voice carried the texture of velvet wrapped around a threat. "Try 'more' instead."
He simply shifted forward on his knees, closing the distance you'd been trying to maintain. His mouth, suddenly solid and undeniably real, pressed against the exposed base of your throat. You felt the distinct pressure of teeth against your vulnerable skin before he bit down with deliberate force.
A gasp ripped from your chest involuntarily. It was a deep, marrow-chilling shock that seemed to leech the very warmth from your blood, a branding cold that arced through your entire system. It provided a strange and terrible counterpoint to the drug's artificial fever burning through you. The cold stole your breath completely. For one blessed second, the overwhelming internal heat was eclipsed entirely by this violent, invasive cold.
He released you and leaned back casually, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a gesture that was deliberately provocative. A smirk played across his face while his eyes gleamed with dark, perverse satisfaction. The spot on your neck where his teeth had been throbbed with a lingering, icy ache that pulsed in time with your racing heartbeat.
"You taste like panic," he said, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. "And lavender laundry detergent. Interesting combination."
You couldn't speak, couldn't force any words past the constriction in your throat. You brought a trembling hand up to your neck, fingers searching for damage. The skin was unbroken, no mark visible or tactile, but you could still feel the exact imprint of his teeth branded into your flesh.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned, came roaring back with a vengeance, intensified by the adrenaline crash. A violent shudder wracked your body, and your vision swam. The kitchen tiles tilted. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned into submission by the shock of his bite, came roaring back with absolute vengeance, intensified exponentially by the adrenaline crash flooding your system. A violent shudder wracked your entire body and your vision swam alarmingly. The kitchen tiles seemed to tilt at impossible angles. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl of color and sensation.
Your muscles clenched, a tight coil of absolute need. You tried to think of anything else, grocery lists, the bland color of the living room walls, Jakeâs face smiling at you this morning. The thoughts melted like wax before the flame. A low, wounded sound was trapped in your throat. Your body wasnât listening to you anymore. It was listening exclusively to the poison coursing through your bloodstream.
The sensation built with terrifying inevitability, a cresting wave that had nothing to do with genuine pleasure and everything to do with biological hijacking. Your back arched violently off the floor, your fingers scraped desperately against the unforgiving tile hard enough to break skin, and a silent, shuddering release tore through you with brutal force. For approximately three seconds, it flooded you with relief.
Then the heat roared back twice as fierce as before. This time it manifested as a raw and scraping hunger that made the previous burning seem like gentle warmth by comparison. A choked cry of despair escaped you. The release hadn't helped at all. It had only made the empty, aching need more desperate and consuming.
"Oh, wow." Sunghoon's voice dripped like liquid honey from somewhere above you. He hadn't moved from his position. He was just sitting there comfortably, legs crossed, chin resting in his hand, watching you completely unravel on his kitchen floor like it was entertainment. "That looked incredibly unsatisfying. All that work and you're still right back where you started. Maybe even worse now, yeah?"
You couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see whatever expression was on his face. Humiliation coated your mouth like thick paste, mixing with the panting breaths you couldn't control. Your whole body was trembling uncontrollably, oversensitive and raw, screaming for a relief that the orgasm had cruelly teased and then stolen away.
âThe body wants what it wants,â he sighed, as if discussing a mildly inconvenient fact. âAnd yours wants a lot right now. It must be so confusing for it. All dressed up with nowhere to go.â
The phantom touches started again. Not the broad, overwhelming waves from before, but precise, expert taps and strokes along the most overheated, frantic parts of you. It was deliberate. It was torture. You jerked against the cabinet, a fresh sob breaking loose.
âDo you want me to make you feel better?â
The question hung in the air, so simple and so monstrous. It was a taunt.
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bury your face in your arms. The movement sent another vicious pulse of need through your core.
âI can,â he pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The cold spot of his presence materialized right beside your ear. You felt the shape of words against your skin. âI know exactly how. Iâve been practicing. I can make it stop hurting. I can make it feel so good youâll forget your own name. Just say the word.â
Every cell in your body was a lit fuse. The rational part of you, the part that was still you, screamed in negation. But that part was small, and drowning, and so very tired of the burning. The animal part, the part the pills had put in charge, only understood the agony of need and the promise of pleasure.
The silence stretched, broken only by your ragged breathing.
He let out a soft, disappointed hum. âOkay. Suit yourself. Iâve got all day. All week, really. Foreverâs a long time to be this uncomfortable.â
Another expert, invisible stroke. A pained whimper was torn from your throat. âFine! Yes!â
Sunghoon shifted, his form solidifying more as he settled cross-legged on the floor in front of you, blocking your view of the scattered pills. He looked like a boy about to listen to a good story, his head tilted, that pretty mouth pressed into a line of mock-sympathy.
âSee, thatâs a start,â he said, his voice a silken thread. âBut âyesâ is⌠vague. You always beg so nicely for your husband.â He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. âCanât you be more specific?â
The phantom touch, which had paused, returned with a sharp flick right where you were most sensitized. You jolted, a cry strangling in your throat. He was provoking you.
âYou want me to make you feel better?â he prompted, his eyes dark and hungry for more than just your body. He wanted the words. âThen ask for it. Properly.â
Tears of frustration and shame burned hotter than the drug. Your body was a traitor, arching slightly toward the source of the touch even as your mind recoiled. âPlease,â you whispered, the word torn from you.
âPlease what?â he singsonged, relentlessly cheerful. âPlease stop? Or please donât stop? Context is everything.â
Another slow, swirling stroke, this one drawn-out and deliberate. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary rock against nothing. The breath hitched in your chest, coming in shallow pants.
âI canât,â you sobbed.
âYou can. Youâre a big girl.â His smile was chilling in its patience. âUse your words. What do you want me to do? Be explicit. Iâm not your husband. I donât do guesswork.â
The pressure built again, a tantalizing promise of release held just out of reach. The need was a physical pain now, a raw, scraping hollow that demanded to be filled. Your sanity was a distant shore. There was only the fire and the ice-cold boy who controlled the faucet.
You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears tracking through the dust on your cheeks. The words felt like swallowing ground glass.
âPlease⌠touch me.â
A beat of silence. Then a sigh, disappointed. âAgain with the vagueness. Where?â The last word was a sharp whisper, accompanied by a sudden, pinpoint burst of sensation so intense it blurred your vision. âHere?â
You gasped, nodding frantically, your forehead nearly touching the tile.
âSay it.â
Your voice was a broken thing, ragged and small. âThere. Please. Touch me there.â
âBetter.â The approval in his voice was the worst part. It felt like a stain. âBut weâre still being so clinical. So detached.â The phantom touch withdrew completely, leaving you shaking, the emptiness somehow more violent than the teasing. âI want to hear you want it. Really want it. Beg for it.â
The withdrawal was a new kind of torture. The chemical tide, denied its outlet, turned inward, scraping at your nerves. A low moan escaped you. The last fragile thread of resistance snapped.
âPlease,â you babbled, the words tumbling out in a desperate, humiliated stream. âPlease, I need it. Please, just⌠do it. Make me come. I canât-I need to come. Please, Sunghoon, please.â
There it was. His name, followed by the specific, degrading request.Â
âSee? Was that so hard?â The smile didnât leave his face. It was a real smile now, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners. He looked like a boy whoâd just been given the best present. He unfolded himself from his cross-legged position and crawled toward you.Â
You tried to shrink back, but the cabinet was still there, unyielding. Your body, thrumming with the poison, betrayed you further, tilting toward him as he closed the last of the distance.
âShhh,â he whispered, though you hadnât made a sound. His hand came to rest on your bare knee. âJust relax. Iâll take care of it.â
His other hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. The touch was intimate, possessive. His eyes scanned your face, reading every flicker of terror and unwilling need. âThis is better, right?â he murmured. âAsking for what you need?â
You couldnât answer. Your throat was sealed shut with shame.
He leaned in. You braced for a cold kiss, but he just rested his forehead against yours. His skin was like marble. You could see the faint, impossible pores in his nose, the individual black lashes. He was so there.
âNow,â he breathed, the word floating into your mouth. He slid your panties off quickly, wasting no time before sinking into you.
The sensation of him thrusting inside you carved a white-hot line of pure pleasure through the drugâs fever. It was fullness where there had been an agonizing need. It was so profoundly wrong that your mind short-circuited. A shattered sound was trapped in your frozen lungs.
Sunghoonâs forehead still pressed to yours, his brown eyes wide open, watching you dissolve. A soft, appreciative sigh escaped his lips. âOh,â he whispered, as if genuinely moved. âThatâs it. See?â
He began to move.
There was no rhythm to it. Each movement was calculated, a cruel parody of intimacy you usually get when itâs Jake inside you. Sunghoonâs targeting places that made your back bow and your fingers claw against the tile. The chemical need, met with this chilling mockery of relief, created a feedback loop of sensation that was intolerable. Pleasure and revulsion twisted together, inseparable.
Tears streamed down your face silently. You were pinned between the solid wood of the cabinet and the solid cold of him.
âYou feel that?â he murmured, his voice thick with a dark kind of wonder. âThatâs all me. Iâm everywhere you are.â
His form began to blur slightly at the edges, not vanishing but spreading. The cold wasnât just inside you anymore. It was seeping into your muscles, your bones, a frost spreading through your bloodstream. The heat of the drug fought it, creating a war under your skin. You were shaking violently, a puppet with its strings cut and frayed.
The pressure inside you coiled tighter, drawn by his will. The climax, when it was ripped from you, was a devastating earthquake. It was a seizure of icy voltage, a shattering that left you hollowed out and raw. Your vision whited out at the edges, and for a few seconds, there was nothing. No sound, no sight, just the echo of the violation.
Then, when you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Jake.
Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, his work bag dangling from one limp hand. His face was a blank slate of incomprehension. He blinked, his brain visibly scrambling to process the scene: you, on the floor as your body shakes with an invisible weight, surrounded by a chaos of pills.Â
âWhatâŚ?â His voice was soft, almost polite with confusion. He took a step inside, his keys jangling. âDid you fall? Are you hurt?â
He was looking at the pills, at your state of undress, trying to fit it into a logical box. Maybe youâd fainted, had a seizure or something medical.
Sunghoonâs laugh was a humid whisper against your neck, his rhythm relentless and claiming. âHe looks so stupid,â he murmured, the words slithering into your ear as your body jerked with his movement. âJust a confused little husband.â
âTalk to me,â Jake pleaded, his confusion sharpening into alarm as he watched your back arch against the cabinet. âWhy are you⌠whatâs happening?â
Your mouth moved. No sound came out. How could you form words around what had just happened? A ghost drugged me and then fucked me on the kitchen floor while I begged for it? The sentence was insanity itself.
âHe looks pissed,â Sunghoon murmured, his voice a secret just for you. âBet heâs never seen you like this. All used up. Bet he doesnât know what to do with it.â
Jake took another step, his shoes crunching on a pill. âTalk to me. Right now.â The command in his voice was new. It was fear, sharpened into anger.
âShe canât,â Sunghoon answered for you, his tone sing-song with mock sympathy as he drove himself harder into your yielding body. âSheâs a little busy being full. Arenât you, sweetheart?â
Jakeâs gaze dropped, following the helpless, rhythmic clench of your body in thin air, and the color drained from his face. The logical world he built his life on splintered right there on the kitchen tiles.
âStop it,â he growled, though he didnât know who or what he was commanding, his voice thick with a rising terror. He took another step, hand outstretched not to you, but to the empty, charged space between your thighs.
Sunghoonâs pace became punishing, a brutal celebration of his own invisibility. âSee how he watches?â he cooed, his breath chilling your skin. âHeâs starting to get it. That his wife is coming apart on nothing.â
A sob tore from your throat as the sensations crested, a terrifying wave you couldnât fight. Your eyes locked with Jakeâs, screaming an apology he couldnât possibly understand.
âTell him,â Sunghoon insisted, each word a thrust. âTell your husband why youâre gaping open like a cheap whore while he watches.â
âItâs him,â you choked out, the words raw and scraped from your throat as your body betrayed you with another uncontrollable shudder. You forced your gaze away from Jakeâs shattered expression, turning your head as if to address the cold air at your cheek. âSunghoon. Show yourself.â
Jake moved then, a jerky, mechanical step to the side, his eyes fixed lower. From behind you, he saw everything. The impossible, intimate flutter of your walls around something that was stretching you out despite the empty space. His breath hitched, a sharp, pained sound.
âWhat?â he whispered, the question hollow.
A rich, amused laugh answered, swirling through the chilled kitchen air, the sound closer to your ear than Jakeâs voice had ever been. âWhy would I do that?â Sunghoon purred, his movement inside you shifting to a slow, possessive grind that made your knees buckle. âI only like pretty girls seeing me.â
Jakeâs confusion finally broke into a frantic, disbelieving motion. His face was a mask of revulsion and desperate denial, his mind scrambling for any explanation other than the one his eyes reported.
âThis isnât happening,â he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice thin. He took one last, jerky step forward, his hand outstretched with a trembling hesitation.
His thumb brushed your inner thigh, a touch so familiar it made you weep, before his index finger pressed tentatively against the slick heat of you, right at the point of that impossible, rhythmic clenching.
He felt it immediately.
The undeniable, solid presence of something moving inside you, something cold and foreign thrusting hard and deep. His finger was pressed right alongside it, trapped against the invading shape by your own tortured flesh.
He froze.
His eyes, wide and unblinking, locked onto yours. His breath stopped in his chest. All the color and warmth left his face. The sensation against his finger was a concrete, physical truth his logic could not absorb or explain away.
Sunghoon thrust again. A full, brutal slide that made your entire body jolt and a sick, wet sound escape you. Jakeâs finger moved with it, forced aside by the motion. You moan at the fullness, stretched beyond what you could handle. He snatched his hand back as if burned, staring at his own fingers as if they belonged to a stranger.
Sunghoon chuckled, a sound of pure delight that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. He slowed to a torturous, rolling grind, savoring the audience. âBelieve it now, Jake?â he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.
âYou felt that,â you managed to say, the words tearing out of you on a ragged exhale. âYou felt him.â
âI felt something,â Jake corrected, his voice a hollow rasp. He looked down at his own body, then back at you. His expression crumbled into something worse than fear, shame. His sweatpants tented unmistakably.
Sunghoonâs grinding inside you paused, replaced by a low, delighted hum. âOh, this is good,â he breathed into your ear, his fingers tracing a cold line up your ribs. âLook at him. Terrified out of his skull and still pitching a tent. You must just give off a vibe, huh?â
âJake, please,â you begged, fresh tears hot on your cheeks.
âDonât âpleaseâ me,â he snapped, but the anger was thin, covering a bottomless well of panic. He didnât move from the refrigerator, as if pinned. âWhat is this? Some kind of⌠sleepwalking thing? A seizure?â
âItâs not me!â you cried, your body jerking again as Sunghoon began a slow, teasing slide.
âHe thinks itâs you,â Sunghoon murmured conversationally, his lips ghosting your temple. âHe thinks his sweet wife is having some hysterical episode, rubbing herself on the cabinet like a cat in heat while he watches. And he likes the show.â
âStop saying that,â you whimpered, closing your eyes.
âWhat am I saying?â Jake yelled, pushing off the fridge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He still wouldnât come closer. âIâm not saying anything! Youâre the one talking to the goddamn air!â
Sunghoon laughed, and the vibration traveled through you. âTell him the truth. That Iâm here, inside you. That your husband is so turned on by watching his wife get haunted that heâs about to bust a seam.â
The crude words, spoken in that intimate, boyish voice, finally broke something in you. You focused on Jakeâs terrified, aroused, utterly lost face.
âYou canât see or hear him, but you felt him. Heâs-â your words break off into a moan when Sunghoon presses down on your clit with his thumb. âHeâs inside me.âÂ
Jakeâs mouth fell open. A violent shudder ran through him.
âThatâs it,â Sunghoon cooed, his pace increasing, becoming purposeful and deep. âNow weâre all on the same page. Youâre both so fucked up. A matched set.â
âWho? Who are you talking to?â Jake demanded, his voice cracking. He took one step forward, then another, driven by a frantic need to fix this.
âSunghoon,â you sobbed, the name now a permanent stain in your kitchen. âHis name is Sunghoon.â
Jake reached for you, not the air this time, his hands aiming for your shoulders to pull you away from the cabinet, to shake you awake. But as his fingers brushed your skin, Sunghoon thrust hard, pinning you in place. You cried out, your back arching.
Jake flinched back, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. In that horrible moment, his hips unconsciously jerked forward an inch, a tiny, reflexive stutter against the roaring adrenaline and paralyzing fear.
Sunghoon saw it. You felt his delight like a static charge.
âYou slut,â he whispered, warm and approving against your ear. âYouâre so slutty you broke your husbandâs brain. He wants to fuck you right now while he watches you get railed by a ghost. Thatâs a new one, even for me.â
Jakeâs hands dropped from your shoulders as if your skin had electrified him. He took two stumbling steps back, his breath coming in short, ragged pulls. The visible evidence of his arousal was now a source of palpable shame, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his posture folding in on itself.
âThis isnât real,â he whispered, but the words held no conviction, only a hollow hope. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, took in your body. He scanned your trembling legs, the sheen of sweat on your collarbone, the frantic rise and fall of your chest. Logic had nothing left to give him.
âFeels pretty real from here,â you gasped, as Sunghoon resumed a slow, excruciating rhythm, each deep stroke a cold mockery of intimacy.
A different kind of tension was coiling tight in your belly, separate from the violation. It was a low, chemical burn, a remembered heat flickering back to life in your veins. Your mouth felt cottony. The edges of the room pulsed softly.
Jakeâs eyes narrowed slightly, doctorâs instinct cutting through the panic. He saw the unnatural flush on your neck, the dilated black of your pupils swallowing the iris in the dim light. His gaze darted to the empty water glass on the counter, then back to your face.
âThe pills,â he said, his voice shifting from terror to a strained clinical concern. âYour prescription. Did it do something to you?â
Sunghoonâs movement inside you hitched, then stilled, a predator listening. A cold finger traced the shell of your ear.
âOh, this is juicy,â he murmured, his voice a secret just for you. âThe little medicine. Itâs still buzzing in there, isnât it? Must be getting pretty uncomfortable.â
You nodded at Jake, a stiff, jerky motion. âJust two.â The admission was thick on your tongue.
âJust two,â Sunghoon parroted, laughing softly. âBut it still aches doesnât it? Your systemâs all lit up with nowhere to put the juice.â
Jake ran a hand over his face, the friction loud in the quiet kitchen. âOkay. Okay, thatâs a side effect. A rare one, but itâs in the literature. The heightened⌠sensitivity. It can cause agitation, a feeling ofâŚâ
âOf needing to come so bad it feels like your skinâs on fire?â Sunghoon finished for him, cheerfully crude. âTell him, sweetheart. Tell your smart husband what his wifeâs little medicine is making her feel right now, with me inside her.â
You shook your head, biting your lip until you tasted copper.
âTell him,â Sunghoon insisted, and he pushed deeper, a sharp, startling penetration that made you cry out. âOr I stop moving entirely. Iâll just sit here, inside you, and you can ride out that chemical burn all by yourself. See how long it takes before youâre screaming.â
The threat was worse than the motion. The burning intensified, a wave of raw, frustrating need that overrode dignity. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk against the empty air, seeking friction, release, anything.
Jake saw it. His clinical analysis collided with the grotesque reality before him.
âIt⌠it hurts,â you choked out, the confession shattering you. âJake, itâs burning. It wonât stop. The pill and he⌠and I canâtâŚâ
Sunghoon hummed in approval. âGood girl. Now ask him. Ask your husband to help you feel better.â
âNo,â Jake said, the word immediate and final. He backed up until the counterâs edge dug into his spine. âI am not⌠I am not doing anything with you while that⌠while heâsâŚâ
âHe doesnât care,â Sunghoon sang, his voice light. âIâm not going anywhere. This is the situation. Your wife is in physical distress, and youâre just going to stand there and watch her cook from the inside out? What kind of a husband are you?â
The burning was a live wire now, sizzling through your nerves, concentrating in a desperate, aching pulse between your legs made a thousand times worse by the occupying cold. Rational thought dissolved.Â
âJake, please,â you begged, your voice breaking into a sob. âPlease, just help me. Make it stop. I donât care, I canât think, it just hurts.â
âI canât,â he whispered, agony in his own voice. âNot with him there. Donât ask me to do that.â
âYou donât have to do anything to me,â Sunghoon keeps talking as if Jake can hear him. âJust her. Sheâs the one suffering. Think of it as medical aid for the burning.â
You slid down the cabinet another inch, your legs giving way. The tile was icy against your thighs. âPlease, Jake. I need you. I just need it to stop. Help me.â
The words hung in the chilled air. Jake stood paralyzed, a man torn between the impossible and the unbearable. He stared at his wife, broken and begging on their kitchen floor, and the last wall of his denial crumbled into dust.
A ragged breath tore from his lungs. He crossed the cold tiles in three stiff strides, his own body still tensed with a revolting mixture of fear and that traitorous, persistent heat.
âOkay,â he said, the word barely audible. âOkay, just⌠tell me what to do.â
Sunghoonâs laughter was a silent tremor you felt deep inside your marrow. The oppressive, moving cold within you stilled, becoming a static fullness. âFinally,â the voice sighed near your ear. âJust get her ready for us. Sheâs tight as a fist.â
Jake knelt, the linoleum cracking under his knees. His hands, usually so sure, hovered over your splayed thighs. He looked into your eyes, seeking permission.
You gave a tiny, desperate nod.
His touch was clinical at first, fingers slick with your own moisture, probing tentatively. He touched where the emptiness should have been, and his knuckles brushed against solid, cold resistance.
He flinched, a full-body shudder. âChrist.â
âHeâs right there,â you whispered, watching his face. âCan you feel him?â
Jakeâs jaw worked. He pressed two fingers in alongside that chilling presence, a slow, careful stretch. The sensation was wrong, all wrong. Your warmth hugged his fingers, but they slid against something unyielding and frigid, a sleek barrier sharing the same space.
âItâs like a wall,â he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. âA cold, living wall.â
âIâm not a wall,â Sunghoon chided, amusement rippling through the connection. âIâm just comfortable. Hurry up, man. The anticipation is cute and all, but weâre burning daylight.â
Jake added a third finger, his movements becoming more urgent, a mechanic trying to fix a broken machine with the engine still running. He was breathing hard through his nose, eyes glazed, focused on the paradox under his hand.
You gasped, the stretch a raw contrast to the chemical fire. âPlease, Jake. Now.â
He fumbled with the waistband of his sweatpants, his movements clumsy. When he positioned himself, the reality of it hit him like a physical blow. He could see nothing. But the space was occupied. He pressed forward, and the head of his cock met not just you, but the shocking, solid coolness of another.
âOh, God,â he choked.
He pushed, and the impossible happened. He slid in, a tight fit alongside that other presence. They were packed together moving in a perverse unison. He could feel the otherâs shape, its motion, a synchronous pressure alongside his own.
âSee?â Sunghoonâs voice was a breath of pure delight. âCozy.â
Jakeâs first thrust was a stutter, a spasm of horror and base mechanics. His eyes were wide, unseeing, locked on a point past your shoulder. He was inside his wife, and he was not alone. The trippy, brain-breaking reality of it short-circuited expression.
He just moved.
The rhythm was jangling and off, two separate entities trying to share a single groove. You were utterly full, stretched beyond any sense, the burning panic now fused with an overwhelming, choking pressure. You could feel every inch of Jake, warm and familiar and trembling. And you could feel Sunghoon, cold and exacting and still, just⌠there.
âThere you go,â Sunghoon coaxed, as if coaching a teammate. âGet a rhythm. Itâs like a tandem bike. Or a threesome where one guyâs a ghost. Cheaper, I guess.â
Jake made a sound, a guttural mix of a sob and a moan. He found a pace, a deep, driving tempo born of desperation to finish this. Each forward push met that chilling presence, a constant, rubbing reminder.
Your sounds were cries strangled by sheer overwhelm. Your fingers scrambled against the cold tile, finding no purchase. Sunghoon began to move again, subtly at first, then with more definition, carving his own path within the shared space. Jake gasped, faltering.
âDonât stop,â Sunghoon commanded, his voice losing its playful edge for a slit-second. âYouâre doing so good. Just keep going. Sheâs almost there.â
It was a lie. You were nowhere near anything but insanity. But Jake obeyed despite not being able to hear the command. Jakeâs rhythm became frantic, purposeful, a man trying to hammer a nail through his own nightmare.
Sunghoon matched him, thrust for thrust, a cold echo to Jakeâs heat.
The pressure crested in a splitting fullness. You screamed, a raw, torn sound that seemed to startle the very air in the room. Your body locked, convulsing around the dual invasion. It ripped through you, locking your muscles and arching your spine off the cold tile.
Jake felt the violent, rhythmic clench around him and cried out, a sound of utter surrender. His own release was torn from him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he spilled warmth inside you.
Inside you, the cold presence jerked, then pulsed. Another flood of wetness joined the heat, this time a cold wave that whipped a broken gasp from your throat. And as Sunghoon finished, a low, satisfied groan escaping him, something flickered.
A crackle of static, a warp in the air behind Jakeâs shoulder. For a second, it was just a distortion. Then it solidified.
Sunghoonâs groan cut off into a sharp, startled hiss. âShit.â
Jake, still buried in you, his body trembling with spent horror, felt the new presence like a change in pressure. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his bleary, tear-filled eyes following your frozen gaze over your shoulder.
And he saw.
A man, crouched on the floor of their kitchen, one hand braced against the cabinet as if steadying himself, his other hand still hovering near the back of Jakeâs thigh. Mid-twenties, dark hair falling into eyes that were wide with momentary surprise before they shuttered into cold amusement. A pretty, boyish face that didnât match the crude reality of where heâd just been.
Jake froze. All breath, all thought, all sound left him.Â
Sunghoon recovered his grin, though it was tighter now. âOops,â he said, his voice no longer a whisper in your ear but a clear, resonant sound in the room. He didnât move his hand from beside Jakeâs leg. âGot a little carried away. Hi, Jake.â
Jake did not speak. He was a statue etched in pure, paralytic shock. His eyes dragged from Sunghoonâs face, down his arm, to where his own body was still joined to yours. The geometry of it, the three of them connected in this vile chain, finally had a visible link.
The logical mind, so diligently clung to, gave its final, silent scream and went dark.
With a raw, animal noise that started in his gut, Jake wrenched himself back, separating from you with a wet sound. He scrambled away on all fours, like a crab, until his back hit the oven door, his sweatpants tangled around his knees.
He stared, unblinking.
âYouâreâŚ,â Jake breathed, the word rusted.
âIâm,â Sunghoon agreed, pushing himself upright with an eerie, weightless grace. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, looking between you, still splayed and trembling on the floor, and your husband huddled by the stove. âYeah. This is awkward.â
Jakeâs hand rose, pointing a trembling finger. âYou were⌠insideâŚâ
âYeah, we covered that part,â Sunghoon said, sighing as if bored. He examined his own nails, which looked perfectly solid. âThe seeing part is new. For you, anyway. She,â he nodded toward you, âhas been getting the full VIP specter experience for a while now.â
Jakeâs head swiveled to you. His eyes were shattered windows. âYou see him? Like this?â
You could only nod, pulling your knees to your chest, a futile attempt to shield yourself from both of their gazes. The burning was gone, replaced by a hollow, frozen ache and a shame so profound it felt like your own ghost was leaving your body.
âAll this time,â Jake whispered. The words were flat, dead things. âYou werenât stressed.â
âTold you,â you managed to whisper, but it held no victory.
Sunghoon pushed off the counter and took a spectral step toward Jake, who flinched, pressing harder against the oven. âDonât look so betrayed,â Sunghoon said, his head tilting. âYou just had a conjoined orgasm with me. Thatâs a pretty intimate icebreaker. Weâre practically besties.â
âDonât touch me,â Jake spat, the command automatic and weak.
âIâm not,â Sunghoon said, holding up his translucent hands. He took another step, crouching down to bring himself eye-level with Jake, who recoiled. âBut see? Now you believe. Now we can all play together properly. No more misunderstandings.â
Jakeâs breathing was a series of sharp, panicked inhalations. He was looking at a ghost, a real ghost, in his kitchen, discussing shared orgasms.Â
Sunghoonâs smile turned intimate, conspiratorial. âWe should do this again sometime. Maybe without the pills. Now that weâve broken the ice, you know?â He paused. âOr, you know. Now that Iâve broken you in.â
He straightened up, winked at you, and then his form simply unraveled, dissipating like smoke in a draft until the space by the counter was empty.
omg if ur still taking hesitation reqs. maybe something early on in the relationship after they hookup where they're hanging out together and jw starts making out w reader and reader thinks its going to progress further into sex and is surprised when jw says "can we just kiss" and it infuriates her bc she's rarely done just that and its almost more intimate than sex to her . sorrydhahfhejc
AYO here you goooo. Another anon requested more detailed kissing scenes too, so hopefully this suffices!
As far as timeline goes, I feel like this is quite early relationship probably even before part 2.
This Jungwon for visual because someone on twitter said itâs the expression guys make before theyâre about to kiss you and now I canât unsee it
Enjoy!!!!
hesitation masterlist
Despite all the ways he manages to surprise you, regardless of the fact that Yang Jungwon has made a habit of catching you off guard and keeping you constantly on your toes, he also has a pattern.
One that goes a little like this:
First, he manages to convince his way into your apartment. Over the weeks, heâs gotten better at it. Or maybe youâve just gotten worse at resisting. Either way, itâs starting to recur with alarming frequency.
Tonight, it was one of his favorite excuses that landed him next to you on your comfortable but slightly worn couch. There was a new movie out that he just had to show you. Something scary thatâs apparently been taking everyoneâs Twitter feed by storm.
His facade was flimsy from the beginning, mostly because you already know that heâs an absolute baby when it comes to horror films. The last time he used a similar excuse, the only parts of the movie he managed to watch were from behind his fingers.
Then again, the movie itself was never his end goal.
Jungwonâs patient when he wants to be, but he never lets the opening credits roll without sneaking his way a little closer to you. Thigh pressed against yours, arm slung across the back on the couch, fingers toying with the strap of your bra just under your shirt.
You can never decide if you should roll your eyes or press your legs together a little more firmly to stop yourself from squirming under his ministrations.
Then, he pretends to watch whatever plays out on the screen. Will even lean over and whisper little comments, something about filming locations or actor feuds or plot predictions you have half a mind to suspect he just looked up on Wikipedia before coming over.
With every new comment, he lets himself get a little closer. Until you feel his words more than you hear them.
Lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he tells you about broken box office records and controversial interviews.
Youâre no better, of course. After heâs done with you, you could hardly give an accurate plot synopsis. And the way little shivers flutter down your spine every time he gets closer is a dead giveaway that you know exactly what his game is.
You do. Youâd have to be an idiot not to, at this point. Even if a movie night wasnât the oldest trick in the book, itâs landed Jungwon and you in a similar position more than half a dozen times by now.
You know what heâs doing. Youâre letting it happen.
Pretending to protest when he lets his latest whispered fact about fake blood capsules turn into an actual kiss, pressed just below your earlobe.
âJungwon,â you warn.
âWhat?â he pulls back, only barely. Eyes already heavy-lidded, the way he looks at you is dangerous.
Heâs unabashed, shameless in the way he lets his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips before slowly dragging them back up.
Itâs not subtle, but heâs been paying attention over the weeks, too. He knows he doesnât have to be.
Still, he always hovers there for just a moment. Eyes locked on yours like he can feel the way your heart is hammering so hard you think itâs trying to escape your chest.
Like he loves the way your thighs start to fidget, a dead giveaway of exactly where your mind has gone.
Tonight, the screen behind you flashes with another jumpscare.
Neither of you notice. Neither of you care.
Jungwon lets his eyelids flutter shut before leaning in. Slowly, but deliberately. All the way until his lips press against yours.
Itâs chaste at first. His arm falls from the back of the couch to curl around your shoulder, something possessive in his grip.
He kisses you, mouth closed, eyes screwed shut. Lets his mouth cover as much territory as it can, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, the curve of your cheekbone, the junction of your jaw.
But he always comes back to your lips. And this time, itâs with renowned fervency.
Lips parting, he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Lets his tongue start to wander. Lets his teeth start to tease.
The first time heâd kissed you, really kissed you, it took you longer than usual to find your rhythm.
It wasnât a fault of his abilities. Just the fact that before Jungwon, youâd never known anyone that liked to make out so messy.
But heâs obsessed with it. Heavy, deep, open-mouthed kissing that leaves your lips sticky and swollen and covered in him.
Now, youâve had time to adjust. To understand that a refined, even rhythm was never what he was going for.
Not when he wraps his hand around the curve of your cheekbone to angle you better.
When he pulls back slightly to press his thumb against the corner of your lips, watching with a heavy gaze as you bend to his silent request.
Slowly, you part your lips, let his thumb slide beteeen them. Eyes locked on his, you press your tongue against the intrusion, mouth closing around his thumb as he slides it deeper past your lips.
You canât help it, the way your eyes screw shut for a moment before finding his gaze again. The way a sudden, desperate whine is pulled from somewhere deep in you, reverberating around his finger.
Eyes heavy, focus zeroed in on every micro expression you make, Jungwon pushes the pad of his thumb a bit more firmly against your tongue. And then releases a low, breathy groan when he feels you suck.
And then, like he canât quite help himself, he leans back in. His doesnât pull his thumb from your mouth, not entirely. Instead, he just slides it over, out of the way as his lips cover yours again, hungrier now. So heated, so desperate, itâs almost feverish.
He leaves his thumb there too, uses it as leverage to keep your mouth as open as he wants. To let his tongue find yours and encourage you to slide it further into his waiting mouth. Until he can return the favor by closing his lips around it, tugging gently before he sucks.
He releases it with a popping sound that reverberates around your living room, quiet except for the moan that gets half stuck in your throat and the low drawl of yet another forgotten movie.
Someone on the screen screams in terror. Jungwon bites at your bottom lip, tugging gently before replacing his teeth with his tongue.
Thereâs something about it for him, youâve realized â seeing you like this. Messy, pliant, covered in the evidence of heavy, wet kisses that leave your lips spit-slick and swollen.
It eats at his control. Like the idea of you letting him touch you like this, cover you in him like this, does more to him than you can imagine.
Itâs why most nights, Jungwon only manages to put you through a solid ten minutes of making out before his hands start to wander further.
Before his fingers start to dip beneath your waistband. Until youâre too lost to the sensation to kiss him back properly.
He never minds. He just keeps his mouth against yours. Open, still searching, still licking into you, while his fingers in your underwear make your jaw fall slack, swallowing all the pathetic little whimpers that escape from your throat.
But tonight, his hands stay in infuriatingly neutral places. Dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as his palms splay across your stomach. Teasing along your collarbone, your throat.
Wide against your cheek as he angles you to his liking. Tangled in your hair when he pulls â gently, but with no room for argument. Dipping back into the space between your parted lips when he decides he needs you more open to make a better mess of you.
Time is a flighty thing, but you can tell heâs been chasing your lips for longer than usual. That no matter how many times you adjust your position, tilt your hips in search of friction, his hands refuse to wander any lower.
It confuses you. For one, you can tell that heâs hard. Straining against his grey sweatpants in a way that would usually inspire more urgency than the lazy, deep, wet kisses he still presses into you.
Until now, youâve always been a follower. Happy to let him set the pace and the tone when it comes to the bedroom.
But maybe tonight heâs waiting for you to be the bold one.
Youâd be lying if you said it didnât make you squirm even more â the thought of him falling apart against you, mouth slack on yours with your hand wrapped around him.
So, a bit timidly but still undeterred, you let your palm start to slide forward. Tracing his upper thigh until itâs all the wayâ
Jungwonâs hand slides out of your hair, falls to meet yours. And stops it dead in its tracks.
A frown pulls at your face, furrow between your eyebrows appearing as he slides his tongue against yours again.
You try to pull back, but his mouth chases yours. Itâs even messier, hotter, wetter now that youâve thrown his aim off. Like heâs terrified of breaking contact and all the more desperate because of it.
Bringing your other hand to his chest, you press firmly against him. He takes the hint well enough. Finally, he stops for long enough to allow you to speak, but not before pressing a final, surprisingly chaste kiss against your reddened bottom lip.
Only scant inches between you, his eyes bore into yours.
Heâs a mess, too. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, hair messy where it falls over his forehead. Eyes heavy and still narrowed in intent. So completely fucked out from nothing but kissing.
You have half a mind to just pull him back into you.
But the frown is still pulling at your brows.
âJungwon,â you mumble, suddenly a bit unsure how to approach this.
âMm,â he hums, pressing an errant kiss to the tip of your nose like he just canât help himself.
âWhy did youâŚâ you trail off, eyes falling to wear your other hand still lies enclosed in his. Resting against his upper thigh, only inches from your original intent.
Even without saying it directly, he knows what you mean.
His hand around yours squeezes, reassuring like he can tell that the gears in your mind have started spinning.
âI justâŚâ he starts voice low, hoarse. Scraped raw from his previous ministration. Thereâs something vulnerable in his gaze when he asks, âCan we just kiss?â
A flicker of surprise crosses your features, quickly replaced with a resigned sort of acceptance.
Maybe this is it, you suppose. The beginning of the end. Heâs found some other girl to keep him entertained. Maybe sheâs better at this than you.
Maybe this is just the beginning of his evening and heâll make an excuse to leave an go see her soon.
You hate it, the deep twist of jealousy that wrings your gut out unpleasantly. Itâs not fair, probably, but you decide that you hate her, whoever this other girl is.
Then again, maybe you should be relieved. This whole thing with Jungwon was never meant to be serious after all. Just a way to blow off some steam.
Maybe itâs better to let it fizzle early, naturally.
After all, you donât think thereâs much you wouldnât agree to when he sits in your couch with his smile and dimples and easy sort of comfort. When heâs got his fingers in your mouth and his lips insistent against yours.
That kind of power, the thought of him having it over you, is terrifying.
So yeah, itâs probably best to just call things off. Before you run the risk of getting too attached. Before you start obsessing over ridiculous things like the idea of him whining against your mouth, jaw slack as you work your hand against him under the waistband of his sweatpants.
You nod, about to pull away, when Jungwonâs hand wraps around the back of your neck. He lowers his lips again, until theyâre brushing against yours.
All of a sudden, your heart is hammering, drilling against your rib cage.
âHad the shittiest day,â he mumbles, pulling your lip between his lazily. âEveryone was so annoying.â His tongue is back in the mix now, traces the seam of your lips. âAll I could think about was this. Getting my mouth on you.â
âBut youâŚâ You frown. You still donât get it. Heâs not leaving for round two with someone else? âYouâre hard,â you point out.
âYeah,â Jungwonâs laugh is more exhale than sound. âIâve been stressed as hell all day and now Iâve got my mouth on the prettiest girl in the world.â He smiles then, a little dopey as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face. âOf course Iâm hard.â
âBut you donâtâŚâ Youâre still so confused. And now, another feeling is starting to seep in. Fear. Something about it, the idea of him coming over here with nothing but the intent to make out like teenagers, is so horribly intimate you want to die a little. âYou donât want me to do anything about it?â
âNot tonight,â he shakes his head. âFeel free to ask me again in the morning, though.â His smirk is short-lived, melting quickly into a smile so genuine youâre not sure what to do with it.
The morning.
The morning.
Heâs not running off to some other girl. Heâs not tired of you and trying to craft an early exit. Heâs sleeping over, and youâre not even having sex.
You have no idea what to do with that.
As if he can see the gears in your head spinning on full speed, Jungwon decides the best way to ease your worries is to distract you.
Or rather, to pull you back to him until your mind and your mouth and your senses are too full of him to leave room for anything else.
For now, at least, it works. You let your words and your worries and your questions die on your lips as he replaces them with his own.
You let him make a mess of you for long minutes, reveling in the tension that builds, the heat that generates slowly, more steadily than usual.
Itâs frustrating in the most delicious way. The thrill of denying the unmistakable ache building deep in both of you.
The undeniable intimacy of choosing this instead. Of letting breaths mingle, lips explore, swallowing sighs, knowing itâs not going any further.
Of knowing that for tonight, this fulfills whatever need he came to you with. That heâs staying. That youâll have the morning to see what desires youâre ready to explore then.
Jungwon is still hard in his sweatpants, and youre still chasing friction you canât quite find. But it disrupts the illusion of urgency. It makes kissing, making out for hours in your couch like teenagers, feel like a luxury instead of a punishment.
The fear is still there, even if heâs good at burying it.
Because Jungwon has a pattern, but tonight he strayed from it. Found another way to lower your defenses. To catch you entirely off guard.
Someone that can do that so easily is dangerous. Will probably have terrible consequences for you and your poor little heart.
But for now, you just close your eyes, letting him make a mess of your lips and your hair and your heart.
You can deal with the consequences in the morning, you figure. Can let the doubt he eases with gentle touches redouble.
Yeah, you decide, sinking a little further into his touch, ignoring the surge of warmth that flares from the pit of your stomach when he sighs into your mouth. Iâll deal with it tomorrow.
I just imagined bestfriend's boyfriend riki...gosh that's so hot
pairing: best friend's bf! nishimura riki x fem! reader
warnings: infidelity, riki and reader fuck in the same bed as his gf while she's sleeping, degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, choking, creampie
đ BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND RIKI i just clenched sorry this is so hot, i love your brain... this one is a little shorter than most. sorryđ hope you like it anyways
best friend's boyfriend riki who creeps into the bedroom late at night, ignoring your best friendâand his girlfriend'sâsleeping body as he slides into bed behind you, clothed bulge pressing into the curve of your ass.
you gasp softly, looking over your shoulder at him. âwhat are you doing?â you whisper. he hooks his chin onto your shoulder, looking up at you with faux puppy eyes as his arms circle your waist.
âi need you, doll. aren't you gonna help me?â he asks, grinding into the cleft of your ass. you hold back your sounds, glaring over at him.
âriki, she's right here. can't we wait until morning? or at least move into another room?â you scold him, only making his pout deepens.
âbut i need you now. we'll be quiet, i promise,â he murmurs, turning his head to press heated kisses to the skin of your neck. everything in you wants to argue back, to push him off and send him away, but the way his bulge presses against you, paired with the way his teeth graze your pulse point ever so slightly, is enough to make you cave.
âfuck, justâjust hurry up,â you whisper. he grins against your shoulder, reaching down to pull his hard length out of his sweats. he gives himself a few pumps before he's tugging your panties to the side and sinking into you with a muffled groan into your shoulder. your cunt is still loose from earlier, when he fucked you in the closet while your best friend showered.
he clamps his hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he slowly thrusts inside you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he gasps silently against your back. âgod, you feel so fuckinâ good. so much better than her, yeah?â
your face scrunches up, pushing his hand off your mouth. âdon't talk about fucking her while you're inside me,â you whisper, unable to contain your envy. he grins softly, lips trailing back up your neck until they're grazing the shell of your ear.
âjealous?â he murmurs quietly as he thrusts up into your cunt, the soft plaps muffled by the covers, âfuckinâ slut, aren't you? trying to steal me away from my girlfriend?â
you bite back a moan, grinding back onto his dick. âso what if i am?â you spit. âyou obviously don't like her that much.â
he scoffs, bringing his fingers to your neck so he can wrap them around your throat, squeezing tight. your eyes roll back, jaw dropping in a silent moan as you clamp down around him, making him hiss under his breath. âfuck, should i break up with her, huh? leave her for her lying whore of a best friend?â he pumps into you harder, delivering a harsh thrust that forces a moan out of you.
you and riki freeze. your best friend shifts, turning over in her sleep until she's facing the two of you.
he curses lowly, fucking up into you with renewed vigor. your eyes squeeze shut, clamping your own hand over your mouth as you try to will yourself not to make any noise. riki tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers. âuh-huh, open. look at her while you fuck her boyfriend,â he commands, a muffled whimper escaping your lips as you open your eyes, forced to see the consequences of your actions. âpoor thing has no idea you're ruining her fuckinâ life, does she? has no idea how shameless you are for dick?â
you clench around him, head leaning back against his shoulder as he fucks you just right. âanswer me,â he growls, landing a harsh slap to your ass, not giving a single fuck as the sound echos throughout the quiet room. you whine softly, shaking your head. ân-no, she doesn't know.â
he grunts, sticky tip battering against your cervix with each harsh thrust. âthat's right. she has no idea i'm cheating on her, no idea i plan to leave her for this slutty cunt.â
hearing his promise is enough to send you over the edge, clamping down on his cock as you cum, a loud moan flying out of you as you shake. the sound sends a bolt of fear through riki, the adrenaline triggering his own orgasm, cock twitching against your gummy walls as he shoots his hot load deep inside you with a drawn-out groan.
as you two pant in and out, the bed dips next to you, your best friend's voice ringing throughout the room.
â¤ď¸â â â â â jo looks the prettiest when he's hitting it from the back
â˘â ââ  masterlist ââ ââ âââđ°ââ ââ ââ ââââââđŹ ââ ââ âââđľđ˛đŽđąđ°đŽđťđźđťđ âââ ፠soft dom!jo x fem!r âś doggy style, unprotected p in v, pretty jojo . 896 wc don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
you know joâs pretty. heâs always been pretty.
his face is perfect while he does everything and anythingâsmiling at you across the practice room while covered in sweat, hair damp and clinging to his temples after hours of choreography; concentrating on the pronunciation of english lyrics with that focused little furrow between his brows, lips moving silently around the unfamiliar sounds; laughing at some dumb joke fuma made, head thrown back and eyes crinkling into perfect half-moons that make your chest ache with how soft he looks.
but tonight you think youâve found him the prettiest heâs ever been, and itâs while heâs fucking you from behind.
the bedroom is dim, only the low amber glow of the bedside lamp painting everything in pale gold. youâre on all fours in the middle of the bed, knees sinking deep into the soft mattress, back arched deep the way he likes itâspine curved like an offering, ass tilted up for him. the sheets are already twisted beneath your palms, cool against your heated skin.
joâs behind you, one hand gripping your hip so hard you know theyâll be fingerprints left tomorrow, the other is braced on the small of your back like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he lets go.
heâs been inside you for what feels like forever and not nearly long enough. every slow, deliberate thrust drags the thick head of his cock right against that spot that makes your arms shake and your mouth fall open on a broken moan. the wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, filthy and perfect.
you turn your head just enough to look back at him over your shoulder, andâfuck.
joâs face is flushed, scrunched up, lips parted just slightly with that pretty pink bottom lip caught between his teeth like heâs trying not to fall apart.
his dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, strands falling into his eyes. those eyesâhalf-lidded, glassy, completely focused on where heâs disappearing inside you again and again.
his cheeks are pink, lashes fluttering every time you clench around him, and thereâs this soft, wrecked little expression on his face that youâve never seen before. like heâs the one getting ruined.
âangelâŚâ his voice is low, hoarse, brows furrowed as he focuses on how you clench perfectly around him. âyou feel so good. so tightâahâmmphââ
he angles his hips and drives in deeper, and your elbows buckle. you drop to your forearms, face pressed into the soft pillow, ass still up for him. jo groans at the new angle, the sound raw and beautiful, and you force yourself to look back again because you cannot miss this.
god, heâs glowing.
the lamplight catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the delicate curve of his throat when he throws his head back for a second, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. every time he bottoms out his brows furrow just a little, like itâs almost too much, and his mouth falls open on a silent gasp.
he looks so pretty it hurtsâethereal and filthy at the same time, like some kind of fallen angel who decided the only place he wanted to be was buried inside you.
jo catches you staring. his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, and the corner of his mouth twitches into this dazed, crooked smile that makes your stomach flip.
âareâyou watching meâ?â he says between heavy panting breathes, voice trembling. he slows his thrusts deliberately, grinding deep instead of pulling out, rolling his hips in filthy little circles that make you whimper. âlike seeing how wrecked i get for you?â
you nod frantically, unable to form words. he leans forward, sweaty chest pressing against your bare back, one arm wraps around your waist to hold you right where he wants you, fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. his lips brush your ear, breath hot.
âmm...keep looking,â he whispers, and snaps his hips forward hard enough to punch the air out of your lungs. "want you to see exactly what you do to me.â
he fucks you like thatâdeep, relentless, face right next to yours so you canât look away even if you wanted to. his damp hair brushes your shoulder with every thrust, and you watch every flicker of pleasure cross his perfect features up close: the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow, the way his mouth goes rests open and his head tips forward so his forehead rests against your skin.Â
his breathing is ragged, little gasps and moans escaping with every snap of his hips. you can feel the tremble in his thighs where they press against the backs of yours, the way his fingers dig harder into your hip like heâs anchoring himself.
youâve never seen anything prettier in your life.Â
not the way he looks on stage under bright lights, not the soft morning version of him with sleepy eyes and bedhead, not even the quiet concentrated version of him drawing. thisâsweaty, desperate, completely lost in how good you feel around himâis the most beautiful thing youâve ever witnessed.
joâs rhythm starts to falter, hips stuttering, breath coming in short, desperate pants against your neck. âmmphâcloseâah, iâm so closeââ his voice cracks on your name, raw and wrecked, and the sound of it makes you dizzy with want. heâs grinding now more than thrusting, chasing that edge, buried so deep it feels like heâs part of you.
you reach back blindly, fingers threading through his short hair, tugging just enough to make him moan. âcum for me,â you gasp. âwanna see your face when you fill me upââ
he makes this broken, gorgeous sound at your wordsâhalf-moan, half-sobâand buries himself to the hilt, in one final, deep thrust.Â
he grinds against you as he comes hard, thick pulses of his seed flooding you, face pressed between your shoulder blades like he needs the contact to stay grounded. you feel every pulse, every twitch, every warm spurt as he empties himself inside you, hips jerking with aftershocks.
you catch his reflection in the mirror across the roomâeyes shut tight, brows furrowed deep, mouth open in a silent cry, cheeks and ears flushed dark and short black hair sticking up in every direction. he looks completely undone, ruined in the most stunning way possible.
heâs never looked more beautiful.
jo stays there for a long moment, breathing hard against your skin, arms trembling as he holds you close. then he presses the softest kiss to the back of your neck, voice hoarse and sweet.
âlove you,â he murmurs, still buried deep, still shaking a little. âlove you so much.â
you smile into the pillow, heart so full it feels like it might burst, body buzzing with warmth and satisfaction and that deep, bone-melting affection only he can pull out of you.
then you turn your head just enough to catch his eyes againâstill glassy, still soft with love and satisfactionâand you know without a doubt that this is the version of jo youâll never get tired of seeing. the one thatâs yours alone.
authors note: this fic is quite literally just based off of that one clip of himâŚi rewatched it at least 15 times writing this so i could get his facial expression as accurate as possible hehe (´⯠̍âŻ`) i hope u guys enjoy this !! ill be back properly soon~ be patient for me, okay?
genre: university au, younger jungwon, slight age gap (reader is 3 years older)
In your second year of grad school, there are three constant truths. One, you hate Tuesdays with a passion. Two, you rely far too much on an ungodly amount of caffeine to get you through your day. And three, you absolutely do not have feelings other than mild annoyance for Jungwon, the entirely too persistent undergrad that canât seem to leave you alone.
â or, a collection of younger university bf jungwon drabbles.
[see individual parts for warnings, summaries, word counts, and ratings! mature parts are linked here but published on mortaldreams.]
1. part one
2. part two (m)
3. part three (semi-m)
4. part four
5. part five
story tag (picture, asks, random posts, etc. related to hesitation)
"it's even better when it's with ice cream, know what i mean, peaches and cream"
peaches and cream - 112
ËâĄË ࣪ a/n: this is a draft i completely forgot about, idek if i like it. i remember having trouble making an ending and that lowk still stands but here y'all go !
niki's never been shy about how obsessed he is with your body, but tonight? something about how wet you are, how messy you've gotten and how his tongue comes away extra shiny every time he licks into you, has him groaning, nearing his own orgasm just from tasting you.
"damn, babyâŚ" he pants, eyes glued to the slick glistening at your entrance. "you're so fuckin' creamy."
his thumb swipes over your folds, collecting the mess and watching it string between his fingers like honey. he lets out a sound, close to a whimper. "you see that? shit, is this for me?"
your thighs twitch when he dips his thumb inside and pulls it out slow, watching more of you cling to him before he licks it off with a low moan. "god, i could eat this pretty pussy all night."
he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then another right above your clit. he then spreads you wider and leans back in, his mouth rougher this time.
the sounds are nasty, wet and slightly humiliating, yet he's not embarrassed.
"mm fuck, baby. you're dripping," he mumbles against you. "making a mess for me, huh?"
your hand shoots down to grip his hair, back arching off the bed, as he grins into you.
"shit, baby, look at you," he says, pulling back just far enough to admire it again. your pussy's museum worthy. your slick is smeared all over your inner thighs, dripping down to the sheets, and all over his face.
he strokes himself, being painfully hard the entire time he was eating you out, beads of precum slipping out.
"if you keep," he groans, sliding his dick through your folds, hearing the mess in between your legs, "..creaming like that and i'm gonna lose my fucking mind."
you whimper, thighs falling open even wider. "rikiâŚ"
"yeah?" he rasps. "needy for it, angel? gonna let me fuck it out of you?" you're nodding before he even finishes the sentence.
he doesn't even bother with his boxers, he just shoves them down far enough, strokes himself a few times and sinks into you in one smooth thrust.
"ffffuckâbaby, fuck." he moans loud, head tipping back and fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave nail marks. he barely gives you time to adjust, already rolling his hips into yours with slow, deep strokes that make you feel every vein.
"she's so loud for me. you hear that?"
the lewd sounds of him sliding in and out of you are obscene, and he loves it.
"couldn't even wait for me to finish eating 'cause she needed me inside of her." you nod desperately, clawing at his shoulders, gasping his name again and again as he thrusts harder.
he leans in close, lips brushing your ear. "this pussy's mine, you hear me?"
a moan escapes you, full of need, and you can't help but to clench around him.
"that's it," he pants. "cum for me, baby. it's so beautiful when you do."
Package Deal
Ship: Best Friend!Heeseung x Reader x Enemy!Sunghoon
Description: For as long as you were going to be Heeseungâs best friend, youâd have to put up with his other best friend, Sunghoon, who absolutely despises you. Things only get more complicated after an incident that leads people to think you took the package deal.
Warnings: Threesome, Eiffel Tower, MxM action, Dom/BratTamer!Heeseung, Switch!Sunghoon, Oral (m&f receiving), Unproteced Sex, Squirting, Impact Play, Dacryphilia, Creampie, Cum Play, Edging, Overstimulation, Humiliation/Degradation, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise, Pussy Slapping, Multiple Orgasms, Sadomasochism, Dry Humping literally this is 90% smut barely any plot, terrible attempts at humor
Wordcount: 15k
A/N: Ahh sorry I keep making the reader not get along with Sunghoon lol. I just love best friends and enemies tropes, what can I say. I hope everyone enjoys this. I started writing it before March and found finishing it cathartic. I still plan to write Heeseung fics in the future and have him be included as a character in future Enhypen fics. You can find the BTS Jungkook & Taehyung version on my blog @littlemisskookie as Group Bonding!
When you first met Heeseung it was for your debate program in University. He was the only one who could match you with for wit, point for point, all within the allotted time and with brevity and well spoken analysis that you were in awe of. Surprisingly the two of you did not become rivals, the way high school you would've fantasized, having read way too much enemies to lovers fanfiction. No, instead you two actually became very good friends, building a friendship based on mutual respect, sticking together even after graduation.Â
Heeseung was practically perfect in every way except with one minute (major) flaw: his other best friend.
You and Park Sunghoon never really saw eye-to-eye; the moment you crossed paths with his childhood best friend, his original debate partner back in high school, you knew you had entered a battlefield.
It was a never ending fight between the two of you, always vying for Heeseung's affections. Sunghoon had always accused you of being a leech, just another sycophant who would reveal her true colors and nefarious intentions towards his best friend. Apparently they had known each other since childhood, and he had seen a million girls like you come and go. You, on the other hand, found Sunghoon to be an entitled, pompous brat whose rich family provided so much for him he had never been told the word no. He was so used to Heeseung being his and his alone that you had trouble picturing him sharing anything in his life. That was probably the real reason why girls didn't last long around Heeseung.Â
It didn't help that Heeseung was constantly trying to facilitate things between the two of you, arranging for the three of you to hang out despite both parties' protest.
"If you guys only got to know each other better, I'm sure you'd get along!"
"Won't you guys try, for me? C'mon, I've always pictured what things would be like, the three of us."
"You're both my best friends. Why would anyone choose just one?"
More times than you could count you were invited to hang out with Heeseung, only to find Sunghoon already be there. You tried to get along with the man, really, but it was nearly impossible. He was so possessive of Hee, constantly glaring at the two of you when Heeseung showed you any affection. He always had some snide comment to make about it afterwards, like just seeing you two so close made him want to throw up. You were positively sure at this point that the younger was in love with his best friend, but it was a working theory.
Regardless, anything you showed up to with Heeseung, you'd have to be ok with Sunghoon tagging along as well. Tonight's party was no exception, though you had lost track of the duo when you went to find a drink to drown your sorrows, and then had to do it again after seeing said sorrow to drink over.
You stumbled up the stairs with a heavy heart, downing most of your cup to replace one bitter taste in your mouth with another. To your surprise you see your best friend waiting in the hallway, no Sunghoon in sight, looking just as drunk as you based on the way he was slumped against the wall.
You walked up to him, back pressing against the wall as well, leaning your arm against his for support and also needing the comfort of his body heat against yours right now.Â
"Hey, where've ya been? I've been looking for you for the past ten minutes I feel," you pouted, taking another sip of the fruity concoction in your cup, the vodka starting to become less noticeable.
The moment Heeseung registered you he glowed, beaming with a goofy, drunk, genuine smile that made you feel safe.
"Hey, sorry! Hoon broke the seal, and I didn't want to lose more than one person in a single night," Heeseung chuckled, grabbing you arm and tucking it against his, pulling you in closer to his side. "How're you enjoying the party?"
You shrugged, unsure if you wanted to mention the sight downstairs you were currently running from. "It's fine, I guess."
"Yeah, I was thinking about the three of us ditching to go to that party on Brunswick, but none of us seem quite capable of driving just yet."
That put a damper on your hopes of Heeseung whisking you away from this place.
"I just remembered, I forgot to show you earlier today the new watch I got from Etsy!" Heeseung's glazed eyes lit up. "Look, it's called a serpent's watch."Â
Heeseung flashed the fancy accessory on his wrist, the nontraditional wristband being coils of metal that wrapped down his wrist, the clock shaped closer to an oval or diamond than a circle. It really was shaped liked a serpent.
You absentmindedly nodded, fingers brushing over the way the watch wrapped around Heeseung's wrist. Your mind kept drifting from Heeseung's forearms, however, and without sobriety to keep your mind where it should be, tears were soon falling from your eyes.
Hee noticed immediately.
"Hey hey, what's wrong?" Heeseung cupped your face in his hands, thumbs swiping under your eyes to wipe away at the tears. "It's a party, you should be happy-drunk, not sad-drunk."
Your lip trembled as you melted into Heeseung's touch. "It's Jake," you explained, a pout on your lips as you said the name. "Just saw him downstairs with some girl. I just wasn't expecting it to hit so hard, y'know?"
"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry." Heeseung wasn't the biggest fan of your ex, secretly (not so secretly) elated when the two of you broke up. You didn't share the same sentiments, very clearly heartbroken when Jake dumped you to have sex with other girls. Go figure. "It's natural to be upset."
"I justâ" You sucked in a breath. "I want to be over it already, y'know? I'm so sick of being pathetic and still crying about it."
"It was only two months ago. I don't blame you."
"You should. You should be sick of me at this point, crying to you about this. God knows Sunghoon is." You blinked away the tears, slowly coming back down to Earth as you grounded yourself further against Heeseung. "I'm sick of me."
"I could never be sick of you, trust me. Jake doesn't know what he's missing out on. Any sane man would be on his knees for you if you so much as asked."
That earned a laugh out of you, effectively brightening your spirit a tiny bit. You sniffled, resting your forehead against Heeseung's shoulder, sighing as you composed yourself. "Thanks, Hee. I appreciate it. God, why can't more guys be like you? There's too many assholes like Jake and Sunghoon around."
Heeseung chuckled at that. "Hey, Hoon's not that bad."
"He is to me."
"You guys just need to work on getting closer, that's all. Find some shared interest or hobby or something. Anything you might like to do together."
You rolled your eyes a bit. "I don't think there's anything like that that doesn't involve violence."
"He likes you more than you think. He just doesn't realize it yet," Heeseung assured.
You heard a knock from inside the bathroom, Sunghoon's voice calling out. "Heeseung?"
"Speak of the devil," Heeseung grinned. He turned toward the door. "What is it?"
"Can you come in here real quick?"
Both you and Heeseung exchanged puzzled glances.
"Are you guys about to get up to some gay shit?" You whispered quietly. "I mean, it's hot, I guess. Am I supposed to keep watch?"
"Dunno yet. Let me see what he needs," Heeseung said, not even bothering to deny the homosexual allegations as he stepped inside the bathroom. Sunghoon was turned away from Heeseung, looking down and fidgeting with something. "Everything ok man?"
"Yesâ I mean noâ I mean... shit." Sunghoon turned around, letting Heeseung see his situation. Unfortunately for him, the zipper of his pants had gotten stuck onto his boxers and was refusing to budge. "It's stuck," Sunghoon stated the obvious. "I've been trying to get it loose for like, five minutes now."
"Whoo boy, let's see what we're dealing with." Heeseung gave the zipper an experimental tug upwards. Sunghoon wasn't used to having Heeseung's hands so close to his genitalia, but he supposed it was a testimony to how close they were.
Sunghoon leaned against the sink, ears tinged pink with embarrassment as Heeseung yanked at the zipper with reasonable force.
"Hey, watch it man! I don't need you zipping up my balls, too," Sunghoon freaked.
"Relax, it's notâ Jesus Christ, this thing really isn't budging," Heeseung hissed, hands starting to become sweaty with his efforts.
Sunghoon's eyes widened. He buried his face in his hands, feeling how hot his cheeks were already getting "Fuck. Fuck, man, what am I gonna do? I can't go out there with my fly like this!"
"I'd be more worried about the fact you spent, like, 500 bucks on these pants." If Heeseung used too much force on this he was at risk of breaking it beyond repair, and he really couldn't afford repairs for Prada the way Sunghoon could.
"Dude, I literally want to die right now." Sunghoon prayed everybody would be drunker than he was, at least enough where he could make a speedy exit without anyone noticing his problem.
"Wait!" Heeseung's head shot up, as though a brilliant idea came to him. "I know someone who's great with zippers!"
Sunghoon's thick brows furrowed, and all he could think about was lightning somehow shooting into the house and striking him down mercifully. "What? Waitâ"
"Y/N! Get in here, we need your help!" Heeseung swung open the bathroom door, dragging you inside without preamble or Sunghoon's approval.
You grumbled, eyes narrowed with confusion. "Do I need to aim for you guys or...?"
"No! Hoon's got a bit of a..." Heeseung's eyes flicked down towards his friend's crotch. "...situation."
Your eyebrows jumped this time. "He has a boner?"
"No!" Now it was Sunghoon's turn to interject. He felt like he could die of embarrassment then and there, having to humiliate himself in front of you of all people. "My zipper is stuck."
"Aw, guess that Prada label doesn't guarantee quality after all, does it?" You jutted your lip out in a fake pout, taking your opportunity to jab at him. You were still suffering from the sting of seeing your ex, and Sunghoon was the best target you could ask for tonight. This was just too perfect.
"Hey, be nice," Heeseung scolded. "Will you help?"
"Maybe..." You tapped your cup against your chin, pondering. "If he begs."
"What?!" Sunghoon was shocked by your sheer audacity.
You shrugged, fighting (and failing) to keep the corner of your mouth from quirking up into a smirk. "If you want me to help, you have to say please. It's only polite."
"Oh my god, you're such a bitchâ"
"That's not very nice."
"Nice? I canâ"
"Guys, stop!" Heeseung interrupted the both of your squabbling, not wanting to be cramped in a bathroom with the two of you shouting in his ear. "Just say please, Hoon."
Sunghoon's eyes practically bulged out of his sockets when he heard Heeseung taking your side. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, triumphant.Â
He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw as he muttered the words. "Will you please help me with my zipper? Please?"
You looked so cheeky and smug, putting your cup down on the sink. Sunghoon suddenly had the urge to bite you. "Well, since you sound so pathetic."
You reached for the zipper, and Sunghoon hissed to resist the urge of slapping your hands away out of annoyance. "I'm gonna get you back for this, I swear..."
"That's not how you say thank you to a favor, Hoonie," you teased, your fingers twiddling with the metal as you tried to yank it up.
"We both know you aren't doing this as a favor." Fuck, you were so close to him. He could smell both the perfume you wore and the alcohol you drank. Now he had to worry about the friction your jerky little tugs were causing.Â
"Aw, look at you guys getting along," Heeseung smiled, reaching up to pat your head. "I told ya, you just needed to bond a little."
"We are not bondingâ ow!" You tried to turn your head to face him, but something caught in your hair. You tried to move again, only realizing that Heeseung's fancy watch was now tangled in it.
"Sorry!" Heeseung apologized, trying to move his hand back but tugging your head along with it, making you howl. "Oh, sorry again!"
"Stop moving!" You reached one hand back to reach for his wrist, trying to pull a few strands away to get loose.
"Can you get lower? It's hard for me to untangle myself at this angle."
"Fuck!" The hand still on Sunghoon's zipper yanked on it in frustration, the tug doing nothing to free it.
"My hand's getting tired up here, it'll be quicker!" Heeseung whined petulantly.
You rolled your eyes and reluctantly sank onto your knees, the cold tile biting against your skin. You were now staring up at Sunghoon, who found the view a lot hotter than he cared to admit.
But he did say he was going to get back at you.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Look at you. Can't believe you're on your knees in a bathroom for me."
You scowled. "It's not for you."
"Right. You're on a dirty bathroom floor for me and Heeseung." Sunghoon snickered at your glare, soaking in your scowl.
You reached up for his zipper with both hands, tugging it back down in another attempt, your other hand gripping onto fabric to pull it out. "You really shouldn't piss off the one with a zipper to your balls."
"That's if you can do your job correctly down there."
"Oh, you can fuck right offâ Oh fuck, Hee!" Your head jerked back again slightly, and your eyes scrunched as you winced in pain.
"Sorry!" Heeseung apologized again, patting your head with the unadorned hand. "It's almost out, just a little longer."
"Fuck!" You gripped onto Sunghoon's pants tighter, pulling him closer to you as you jerked the zipper more, feeling some leeway.
Sunghoon grappled onto the sink counter, trying not to fall against you or get hard, his footing unsteady as you tugged his pants closer to your face. If he wasn't careful you were going to end up with his dick print against your cheek. The sound of your little whine made popping a boner nearly impossible. It was difficult too with the sight of you frustrated and on your knees between the two of them, tiny hands scrambling with his zipper, and his mind was going to places they really shouldn't.
Your hand was moving the zipper up and down, desperately trying to get it loose, the tiny bit of fabric bunched beneath slowly giving way. You fisted at the fabric next to it, trying to pull it in the opposite direction so it would give.
"Fuck, I think I'm close," you muttered quietly to yourself, not even realizing how you sounded.
Fuck. Fuck Sunghoon needed to get his zipper fixed now because any second now he was going to get obviously hard, and there'd be absolutely no way of hiding it from you or Heeseung.
"I-I think I mightâ"
"Shut up, I'm almost there!" Of course you'd be fucking stubborn when you put your mind to something.
"Me too!" His best friend innocently commented, eyes glued on his watch. Heeseung seemed oblivious to Sunghoon's panic, just as focused as you when it came to the task at hand.
You tugged one more time, the slide finally becoming easier and the zipper making its way successfully to the very bottom, no fabric stuck. "Finally!"
Heeseung managed to free his watch with your hair still intact, though it was a mess from the tangles and pulling from prior. "Yes!" He rolled his wrist with satisfaction, his other, unadorned hand now combing through your mess of hair in attempt to smoothe it. "See, that wasn't too bad."
Sunghoon felt entirely too suffocated, and for the first time in his life he was desperately wanting a woman off her knees. "For you," he huffed, feeling hotter by the minute.
It was just then that the bathroom door, which you neglected to lock behind you, swung open.
The three of you must've been a sight: your hands up near Sunghoon's crotch while you were on your knees, Sunghoon's pants unzipped, your hair a tangled mess and makeup slightly smudged from crying. Sunghoon and Heeseung were also incriminating, both sweating a little from their frustration, breathing heavy from their intense focus on very different missions.Â
Heeseung looked like a deer in headlights as he turned back toward the people in the doorway, the appearance of the situation seemingly dawning on him.
"Um... I know this is super clichĂŠ but... this isn't what it looks like."
â
So everybody thinks you had a threesome in the bathroom with the two hottest guys on campus.Â
That's just great.
It's not like anyone's dick was even out or anything. Sure, you could see how it'd look like you guys were about to have a threesome, but that's a huge difference! Instead, you were getting bombarded left and right with people you've never even met, asking you what happened, what they were like, who was better, who was bigger. They heard some of the things that were being said, you couldn't fool them. The dialogue alone was incriminating. When you told them the truth they never believed you, some giving you a cheeky smile saying, Fine, keep your secrets.
You were starting to think you might as well have with how many people were convinced.
The mere idea of it was crazy. You, having a threesome with your best friend... and his best friend. Who you hated.
Still, your mind kept drifting back to the image of him looking down at you, so pissed, so on edge. You were lucky he seemed so panicked about the zipper that he didn't notice you pressing your thighs together.
You were a horny drunk, you could admit that much. You just didn't imagine you'd be getting horny for Sunghoon of all people.
Or Heeseung.
You thought of the way Hee's fingers carded through your hair, the assuring pat on your head and the way he cradled your face when you were crying. You thought about how he looked from above as well that night, brows furrowed in concentration, biting down on his lip.
Fuck. You can't be thinking of this. It was just a drunken misunderstanding.
You need to stop thinking about fucking your best friend and his best friend. End of story.
There was no way that was ever happening. Sunghoon hated your guts the same way you hated his, and Heeseung was always oblivious to everything.Â
You just had to pretend that none of it was bothering you.
That's why you were loud as hell as you barged your way into Heeseung's apartment, holding your copy of his key between your fingers.
"Hee! I'm here!" you called, just in case Sunghoon was inside and you were unwittingly put into a trap with him. You stumbled your way into the living room, where Heeseung sat on his huge ass sofa, solo. "No Hoon today?"
"Nah, he's not going to be out of class for another hour at least. I'm all yours 'til then." He was so cocky with it, crossing his fingers behind his head and leaning back, giving a mischievous grin.
"Lucky me," you chuckled, kicking off your shoes to join him.
With an early start to wine and enough time to get you tipsy, your conversation with Heeseung had delved into the topic no one, you especially now, could take off their minds: threesomes.
At first it started with the two of you laughing over how ridiculous the rumor spreading about the three of you was.
"So, I'm guessing you heard the rumors too?"
"Which one? The one about the dean having the same dealer as us, or the one that Sigma Ki has a cuck hazing ritual?"
You lightly shoved at your friend, rolling your eyes. "You know the one."
Heeseung laughed at your annoyance, positively beaming. "Oh, you mean the one about you, me, and Hoon fucking each other in the bathroom? I may have heard about it."
How crazy that'd be. How stupid everyone was for automatically believing it. Then it continued, getting a bit deeper. You were currently ranting about how the concept of it in the general public, and what was deemed as more "acceptable" was two girls with one guy. It had only become a recent phenomenon of a girl getting to have two guys at the same time, the riskiest it was willing to go before still forcing her to choose one of the two. Meanwhile men's fantasies included harems and two women and expectations for girls that had been ingrained in the misogynistic society you were subjected to today.
"I mean, let's be soooo for real," you droned, the alcohol in your system making you bolder with your opinions. "Threesomes with two guys and one girl don't happen in real life. It's just a porn fantasy, and not one that gets delivered enough anyways because visual porn is much more catered to the male gaze. God forbid a woman's the center of attention."
"I'm sure those threesomes happen more often than you think, you know."
"Think about all the threesomes you know of, with real people you know, and measure out how many of those were two girls and how many were two guys. Those specific pairings. Go."
Heeseung pondered for a moment, giving it some thought. "So it's a bit... imbalanced."
"Guys have it so easy!" You whined, sinking into the couch cushions, crossing your arms with a huff. "Girls are constantly expected to be gay with their girl friends. If a girl isn't down to have a threesome with another girl, she's seen as boring. That's why so many of those Tinder couples are looking for a girl. And it's all catered towards the guy. Hell, if I were with another naked chick, the guy definitely wouldn't be getting all the attention. It's like rowboating with a heavy ass robot in the middle. Sure, hypothetically you can get the job done, but overall it'd just be best if the useless piece of junk were out of the picture."
Heeseung cackled at your comment, shaking his head. "You have the strangest way of describing things."
"I'm pretty sure I heard it from some comedian." You waved aside the thought. "Meanwhile, if you ask a guy to have a threesome with his bestie, he'd look at you like you have two heads! It only exists in porn, not real life," you rambled on.
"I'm still sure it happens in real life more often than you'd think."
"No, I doubt that. That's why it's so silly that everyone's so gullible. Guys are always going on about how it'd be gay to have a threesome with another man, but it's just as hot for the girl as it is for the guy in the switched scenarios," you pointed out. "Why else would girls be reading yaoi or reading gay fanfiction when they themselves are not gay men? Get turned on when they kiss?"
"I don't know. Some guys aren't as insecure in their masculinity as you think."
"Oh yeah? Like who?"
"Me."
You scoffed. "You? Yeah right."
"I don't think I'd mind," he shrugged, as though it were the most casual thing in the world.
"Oh really? So if a woman asked if you and your best friendâ if you and Sunghoon, were down to fuck her, you'd do it?" Surely Heeseung was just blowing smoke out of his ass. Your sweet Hee? No way. The mere concept of him and Sunghoon actually sharing a girl was enough to give anyone a nosebleed. Like Sunghoon would be capable of sharing in general.Â
Heeseung stared at the ceiling, as though thinking about it. "Depends on the woman."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I wouldn't sleep with just any woman, first of all, my best friend included or not."
"Fair point." You thought about it for a moment. "Imagine, like, the hottest girl you've ever seen, then. You'd be down to fuck her no matter what."
Heeseung looked at you with a half-lidded gaze, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. "Is she as hot as you?"
You rolled your eyes at his typical sleazy compliments, brushing it off with ease. He sometimes unintentionally flirted with you like this, riled you up, reminded you of what you couldn't have. At least, definitely not with Sunghoon in the way. It was always innocent banter, some light teasing, like he doesn't know what it does to you. You wonder if he was truly oblivious or if he was just really good at pretending as a way to watch you squirm. "I forget, this whole thing's easy to you. You forget the rest of us plebeians have trouble even getting one person to want us, let alone two. You could probably pick three for one night, easy." You ruffled his hair, pushing his head to the side. "Not all of us look like we could be on the cover of Vogue, you know."
Heeseung pulled you in closer, arm looping around your waist until your thighs were pressing against one another's. "You're hot and you know it."
"Yeah, but I'm not on like, you or Sunghoon's level," you snorted. Hate Sunghoon all you want, you couldn't deny the man creeped into the edges of your mind when you were getting off to the thought of his doe-eyed best friend. How you got to know two such gorgeous men, even in this sense, was beyond you.
"You're prettier than both of us. Sunghoon would agree." Heeseung leaned in and nosed your neck affectionately, and half of you expected Sunghoon to walk in any minute and scold you two for defiling the couch, even though the gesture was surely done with the purest of intentions.
"Doubt that," you chuckled. "I know I'm sorta prettyâ"
"Definitely pretty."
"Definitely pretty," you corrected yourself. "But I have no doubt that I get weird stares when the three of us are in public, and people who don't know us wonder how I was able to pull that off."
Heeseung cocked his head to the side, studying your reaction, assessing your words and narrowing his eyes as though he wanted to argue. Slowly, his gaze drifted further down your face, lingering on your lips. "Ask me the question again."
"What question?" You forgot it already.Â
"Ask if me and my best friend would be down to fuck you."
Immediately your heart jumped. Your cheeks burned at his clarification, and you squirmed in your seat. "I don't think I phrased it like that!" You couldn't help but feel exposed, even though he misread your question entirely.
"It is now." He leaned in closer, invading your space. You instinctively tried to sink further into the couch. Heeseung stopped his face a few inches from yours, arm hooking over the back of the couch behind you, impossible to ignore, waiting on your answer. He nudged at your chin with his fingers to get you to look at him properly, the way his eyes glittered being far too mischevious for your comfort. "Ask it."
You wanted to tell him to fuck off and quit playing with you, but you were also determined to hide how affected you were. This was so unlike him. Typically he was a clueless dolt, adoring, sweet, not this. The last thing you wanted Heeseung to know was how accurately he was now seeing you now. Did he always? Was he just pretending like he didn't know all this time? You didn't want him to see how excited you were getting by some hypoethical question that could never happen for two very big, very handsome reasons.
But this is Heeseung you're talking about. There was a very real possibility he was just bluffing to get a reaction out of you. You were used to him pulling shit out of his ass to make some contrived point.
"Fine." You squared your shoulders, looking Heeseung in the eye. "Would you want to fuck me with Sunghoon?"
There's something that seemed to go dark inside his eyes, his face serious. "Yes."
You couldn't prevent the immediate small exhale of your nose, shaking your head and breaking eye contact. "You're so full of shit. Anything to prove your point and win an argument, huh?" He was exactly the same back in debate, go figure.
You were about to push him aside when you felt a hand on your knee. You stared up at him in surprise, his face still deadly serious.
"I mean it."
His thumb did a small brush against the side of your leg, and it was enough to make your knee jump beneath his palm. Your heartbeat raced, and you're suddenly left shy, as though this weren't your best friend Heeseung.
"I... That still doesn't prove my point!" Your brain was now melting away, and you're scrambling for whatever solid parts were left to form words. Heeseung was saying he wanted to fuck you. With Sunghoon. What kind of sick joke was the universe playing with you? "The likelihood of one guy agreeing to that in the first place is super low, much less two."
"Sunghoon would say yes, too."
You looked at Heeseung as though he were crazy. "Are we talking about the same Sunghoon?"
"Yes."
"Bullshit." You couldn't help but relax a little, reminding yourself of the impossibility, especially where Sunghoon was involved. "He hates me."
"He doesn't hate you," Heeseung insisted.
"He does, too." Your confidence was slowly returning, and for a moment you pay no mind to Heeseung's hand on your knee, your mind now tuning back into debate-mode. "And I know for a fact he'd think you're crazy for even asking and say no."
"He wouldn't. I saw how he was looking at you in the bathroom."
You swore your heart stopped then and there. "You're bluffing."
Heeseung grinned, and you could practically see the devil horns starting to grow. Perhaps the angel act really was a disguise. "Wanna bet?"
"What on?"
His smile deepened. "If he says no, we forget this whole thing happened. Hell, I'll take you out to that trendy little coffee place you love so much. You win."
The unasked questioned stands in the air before you take the plunge. "And if I lose?"
His eyes flicker down to your lips for just a moment, barely long enough for you to catch. "Guess."
You sucked in a breath at that. The thing about Heeseung was that he could never truly be trusted for when he was bluffing and making shit up or when he was saying fact. It was one of those things that made beating him in the moment, with all his deceit and bravado, even more special.
So that's why you found the courage to say: "Call him."
Heeseung didn't even break eye contact with you, whipping out his phone from his back pocket and ringing up Sunghoon, turning it on speaker so it was loud enough for both of you to hear.
When the first dial rang you started to have second thoughts.
When the second dial rang you started to think about how Sunghoon would believe you were a total freak for wanting this, for wanting to be shared by Heeseung and him of all people, and you'd be ready to die on the spot when you next saw him.
When the third dial rang, you started to believe you were being overdramatic, and that it'd go to voicemail and you and Heeseung could have a big laugh and forget the whole thing ever happened. Maybe make it an inside joke between the two of you. What if he had picked up?
And then he picked up.
You were ready to scream when his deep voice came out of the speaker. "Yo."
"Yo, man, what you up to?" Heeseung sounded so casual, and he only smiled when he saw your look of worry and shock as you mouthed at him to hang up.Â
Heeseung was so close to you that you could hear everything on Sunghoon's end without the phone even being on speaker. "Just got out of class. What's up?"
"Wanted to know if you're free to come over."
"Sure dude. What're you wanting to do?"
Heeseung's eyes locked with yours, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Y/N."
There's a moment of silence on the line, and you wondered for a moment if Sunghoon hung up at the mere mention of your name.
Finally, he spoke.
"Tonight?" He didn't ask any further questions about what Heeseung means by that. He didn't sound shocked, only mildly curious. Amused. Not even repulsed the way you were anticipating.
"More like now." Heeseung was clearly loving watching you squirm, seeing you panic at the audacity he had to go through with the stupid bet. "How soon can you get here?"
He said it. He actually said it.
There's some noise on the receiver, but Sunghoon sounded calm. "She asked for this?"
"Directly," Heeseung confirmed. "Explicitly, in fact."
Your cheeks burned further with humiliation. There was silence again. "Is she there?"
Heeseung held out the phone, turning down the volume a bit, tilting his head as though with mock pity. Now whatever answer Sunghoon had to give would be right against your ear. "He wants to talk to you."
Your mouth is suddenly dry as he passed you the phone, and you licked your lips as though that'll do any good. "I'mâ I'm here."
"Did you really ask for me and Heeseung to fuck you?"
The words almost felt like a caress in your ear, but you're sure you're mistaking a disgusted scowl as a purr of lust. Your mind clearly couldn't be trusted tonight.
You looked back at Heeseung, still close enough for him to pick up on what's being said. You realized you have a chance to deny it all, pretend it was a joke gone too far, a prank. Heeseung would be true to his word, pretend it never happened.
And then your mind raced with everything that could happen.
God, this could be such a bad idea...
"I did."
There was a pause on Sunghoon's end, and it felt as though everyone in the room was soaking in your small confession, like you were in a booth with a priest at church all over again.
"I'll be there in 30."
Sunghoon hung up, the line going dead.
Your head felt as though it were filled with static, absorbing what had just happened.
Heeseung, however, wasted no time, immediately throwing his phone away and focusing all of his attention on you.
You could barely wrap your head around the situation, still trying to comprehend multiple facts at once. Heeseung wanted to fuck you. Sunghoon wanted to fuck you. Heeseung and Sunghoon were both going to fuck you. Now. At the same time.
You rapidly blinked, not even noticing the fact that Heeseung was drawing in closer, crowding your space more than ever.
"Is thisâha, I mean, wellâ is this for real? This can't be real." You absentmindedly shook your head, as though trying to wake yourself up from a dream.
"It's real." Heeseung's eyes were intense, staring at you in a whole new light now, one you couldn't help but tremble under. "It's happening."
"Butâ This can'tâ"
"Yes, it can."
"No, you're just fucking with me with another one of your silly pranks. Was this planned?" You laughed, knowing the idea would be so Heeseung. If they were secretly recording this there's no doubt the look on your face is priceless. You'd kill him if he posted it. "Funny. Fun one. You got me."
"Y/N." He grabbed your wrists, pulling you in so your chest was against his, staring you in the eye. "Sunghoon's going to be here in half an hour."
You stilled in his hold, gulping at his words as you slowly comprehended the truth of them.
"So you're all mine until he gets here."
That made your heart stop.
You were barely able to make out words.
"I... you don't..."
"I do." Heeseung emphasized. "Do you?"
Your mind felt as though it fully shut down, the only thought in your brain being how Heeseung's lips are closer than ever. "What?"
Heeseung didn't get impatient with you, instead being very understanding of the fact that he already turned you brainless without even really touching you. He moved a centimeter closer, his lips barely brushing against yours, like the particles that made up both of you were just passing by. "Do you want this?"
Your mind was in static mode again as Heeseung pulled one of your hands up to his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat against your palm.Â
"You want me and Hoonie?" Heeseung questioned further, clarifying. "I think we both made it very clear we want you."
Never in your life had you guessed your best friend would say that. You slowly came to terms that this very much wasn't a dream, and that Heeseung was actually saying this to you. "You want me?"
"I'll want you any way I can have you," Heeseung emphasized, a soft smile on his face. "Even with Hoon."
"I... I can't believe you'd both..."
"Hoon understands," he said, moving his lips closer to your pulse point below your ear. "He's wanted this longer than you'd think." His breath tickled your neck, and you shivered. "I'm more curious about how long you've wanted this."
You shuddered and found yourself pulling him closer, wanting to feel more than just his lips lightly brushing against you, teasing you when Sunghoon could be here in less than half an hour. How long had he known? Had he always been observant, and you just projected some oblivious facade onto him?
"You mean longer than the bathroom?"
Heeseung's gaze drifted down to your lips. "Did you?"
"I... maybe." You wanted to be flirtier, more enticing, but you were still somewhat in shock due to recent revelations. You were too stunned to even try to act sexy right now. "I feel like I'm suddenly discovering new things about you."
"There's a lot of things you're about to figure out. Just ask."
"How is it you know what I want?"
"Because, I know exactly how you feel about me," he purred in your ear, moving a lock of hair behind it. You held your breath when you felt the tip of his nose along your neck, so close, raising goosebumps. "I always have..." He dipped his head lower, pressing a small, soft kiss at the center of your neck. "I know how you feel about Sunghoon, too."
You knew there was no way he could miss the way you gulped at that.
"Constantly fighting with him, building up so much frustration... you wanna know he'd take it out on you, don't you?" He pressed his lips again at the base of your throat, sucking softly, whispering the dirty secret into your skin. "Wanna know how I'd tell him to do it?"
"Fuck." You couldn't deny the wave of heat that flooded to your core with his words.
He chuckled, watching you fight back against the urge of curling in on yourself with how aroused you were. His hands gripped your waist tighter as he slowly got off the couch to move in front of you, lips ghosting over the center of your ribcage as he traveled down your body. "Want me to show you?"
"Where's all t-this coming from?" You breathlessly smiled, still trying to grasp the fact that this was all real, and not a serious maladaptive daydreaming episode. Heeseung was always so sweet, so respectful. How were you supposed to predict this side of him?
"From you telling me you want my best friend and I to fuck you," he hissed, giving a small nip now just to have you feel the sting of his teeth on your skin instead.
"You m-made me say it!"
"Yeah? I'll make you beg for it too." He rose up to your face, brushing your hair out of the way so he could look into your eyes properly. "Tell me what you want, pretty girl."
His hand slid up to your neck, not tight, but present, like he wanted to measure your heartbeat himself to make sure you wouldn't lie to him.
You licked your lips, trying to swallow down your doubts of courage. The feeling of being so vulnerable to him in this context was baffling.
"I want for both you and Sunghoon to fuck me. Happy?" You managed to spit out the words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
Heeseung let out a wicked grin, whistling at your attitude. "Oh? Talk back, don't we? Yeah, Hoonie will fucking love you."
He finally pressed his lips against yours, hand sliding up to the base of your head , fingers tangling into your roots and keeping you locked in place as he devoured you, making sure your head wouldn't hurt from being pressed against the back of the couch. He wasn't tender or sweet, the way you probably would've predicted and fantasized about when you first met him, and the small budding crush you had on his cute features hadn't warped into something darker, more lustful. No, he was sure of his movements, kissing you with purpose, actions deliberate as he moved with noticeable skill that could only come from practice. His tongue slid against yours with an ease that made your knees weak.Â
Heeseung was infuriatingly good at kissing you. You supposed it was to be expected, with how much action he probably saw, face like that and all, but still. He had this way of kissing you that made the rest of the world disappear, with only his hands on your face and his lips on yours to ground you.Â
You eyes were fluttering shut, and soon you were both moving in tandem, finding a tune that only you two knew. The soft sounds of his lips smacking against yours filled the room, and the grip he had on your roots, pulling your hair properly this time, was driving you crazy.
"Please," you gasped the word into his mouth. He groaned and kissed you some more, his hand tightening as he pressed you further against him. You gripped onto his shirt, the taste of him so irresistible you forgot completely that he was your best friend, and you shouldn't be doing what you're about to with his best friend too.
You subconsciously spread your legs, drawing Heeseung in so you could grind your core against his.
He chuckled into your mouth, one hand moving down to your hip to pin you down and deny you. "Needy little thing, aren't you? We're just getting started. Let me take my time with you."
You wanted to scream at him that you two didn't exactly have time, but found your brain back to mush the moment he began kissing you again, lowering his hips to yours to slowly press his heat against you. His hand stayed on your hip, halting movement from you so that he could control the gradual pace, teasing and torturous as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. It felt so good to be pinned beneath him already, in his arms, like you two were made to fit together.
You moaned against his lips when the fabric of his jeans hit your clit in a particularly delicious fashion. He growled in response, hand cupping your chin better to angle your face a little more to the side, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue in, letting it coax your lips along with his. He licked his way into your mouth, greedily swallowing more of your moans as the hand on your hip drifted down to your thigh, hitching it over his own hip to grind more securely against you.Â
He rolled his hips, pressing you further against the couch as you felt him get harder against you, his hand tightening against your thigh as he tried to pull you impossibly closer to him.
"So fucking good," he rasped against your lips, mind spinning at all the soft, weak little sounds that escaped you. "Can't believe I finally get to have you like this."
You kissed him harder, hands pressed against his face, wanting to memorize the feeling of his cheekbones against your fingertips. You gripped onto his hair, his shirt, anywhere you could reach, try to rock back against his hips and fully feel the bulge pressed against your pussy.
"Fuck, Heeseung..."
"Mmf, say that again." He bit your lip before pulling back.
He pressed up at an angle that hit the sweet spot against your clit, and you had no choice but to obey. "Heeseung!"
"Shit, you sound so whiny." He buried his head into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the skin just to hear another pathetic sound leave your mouth. He sucked hard, and you knew it'd leave a mark. "Hoon's gonna lose his mind," he groaned into you.
You threw your head back, your hips quickening against him. "Hee, please, do something."
He snarled at your impatience, nipping at your neck again in punishment before smacking your thigh. "Be patient," he grit, blunt nails raking over where he slapped you. "You're mine right now, remember?"
You nodded, a shiver running up your spine as his fingers trailed further down your leg before going back up higher and higher, ghosting over the fabric of your underwear.
His thumb brushed over the lace of your panties, and he bit his lip in anticipation. "Shit, I don't think you even know what's coming."
You canted your hips to receive more of his touch. "M-Meaning?"
"Meaning I need to start getting you ready for when Hoon arrives," Hee said. He pulled on the waistband, dragging them down your legs and discarding them to the floor. "I need to make sure you're wet enough for both of us."
Hearing your best friend talk so dirty was enough to send your mind into a tizzy. You grabbed his hand and pressed him right against your sex, eager to not waste time and see how much he can offer you in twenty minutes. Heeseung took the hint, fingers sliding up and down, getting a feel for the glide and slick you've already produced.
"Shit, you're so wet already," Heeseung said in awe, lips parted as he admired the shine on his fingers from you. "Are you excited?"
"O-Obviously." You were barely able to contain the whine when he slides a digit inside, curling it up to search for your g-spot. "It's not every day a girl gets propositioned by a hot guy, let alone two."
He quirked a brow. "Oh? You think we're hot?"
Your cheeks shouldn't burn this much from stating the obvious. "I mean... you're not bad to look at. Don't let it get to your head."
Heeseung's grin only widened. "And Sunghoon?"
You glanced away, squirming a bit as you felt him find the sweet spot inside of you. "He's f-fine I guess."
"Look at you, getting so flustered," Heeseung cooed, bending down to peck at the flush in your cheeks. "You can admit you want him, baby. It's ok."
Hearing your best friend call you "baby" in this context was something else entirely. Before it always felt so casual, something you couldn't read into. Now he was saying it like you were his. Suddenly your hips were bucking against his hand more, your body beginning to take control of your mind.
He was speeding up, and your mind was steadily beginning to melt. "I-Iâ"
You felt more pressure build up as Heeseung slid in another finger, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy starting to get louder.
"You can tell him when he gets here," Heeseung whispered against your lips, wanting a front row seat to all of your pathetic whimpers and moans while they were still just for him. "He'll be thrilled."
Another whine escaped your lips from Heeseung's ministrations.
"Fuck, why are you so good at this?" You muttered half to yourself, in disbelief that Heeseung was already making you feel better within five minutes than your ex did in five months.
He sucked against your neck, purposefully marking you, humming against the skin as he sloppily thrust his fingers inside. "Mm, you're just easy to ruin. You can't even hide how turned on you are."
You felt heat pool down into your abdomen, your tells showing. "Hee, I'm getting close."
To your dismay he pulled his fingers out of you, giving the side of your neck sweet kisses in apology. "Not yet. You'll need to wait."
He swallowed your whine of frustration, cradling your face in his hands and kissing you, the glide of his tongue against yours somewhat distracting you from the ache left between your legs. His kiss was wet, using just enough tongue for it to feel filthy, making sure you memorized the way he tasted.
Once your orgasm had surely died down he kissed his way down your jaw and your chest, getting on his knees, face all the way down to your now neglected pussy. He sighed with content when he saw how needy and wound up you already were, your body begging him to break it in properly. He couldn't help himself, giving your sex a sweet kiss as well, mouth trapping your clit and giving it the attention it was so desperate for.
Your back arched off the couch as Heeseung began eating you out, the wet muscle traveling between your folds and lapping at all you had to offer, his jaw widening so he could feel more of you. He moaned, and the vibrations made you buck against his mouth. He pinned you down firmly, throwing an arm over your hips, sucking on your clit reverently. Burying your hand in his hair, you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, his tongue dragging along you.
You looked down at him, his lashes long, kissing the apples of his cheeks as he focused on your taste, your breathy whimpers, the way your thighs twitched next to his head when he focused his tongue on the spot right beneath your clit.
"Fu-uck," you moaned, your nails scratching against his scalp as he got you close to the edge again. "Feels so good, Hee."
He moaned into you again in response, making you dig your heels into his back.
Pleasure pooled down to your abdomen, and you felt your abs begin to tighten. Before you could even think about hiding your orgasm from Heeseung, he's pulling away, making you shiver with the cold air against your hitting your bare cunt.
"No!" You whined, losing your grip on his hair as he rose up, rubbing your thighs in apology as he planted his lips to yours, replacing your complaints with the taste of yourself. His hand came up to your throat, not tight, but enough pressure for you to want to lean into it.
Heeseung didn't stop kissing you until your protests died and your muscles relaxed again, and you were just a desperate, breathless mess beneath him.Â
When he finally let you have air, your eyes were glossy with the second lost orgasm. You slumped over and laid on the couch, panting with tear-brimmed eyes, frustrated beyond belief.
Heeseung gave an apologetic look, like if it were up to him, you'd be cumming your brains out by now.
"Poor baby." He pouted along with you, hand traveling down to gently caress at your folds, spreading them between his fingers and feeling how wet and denied you were. "Bet it hurts so bad, doesn't it?"
You nodded, squirming under his touch, wanting so badly to cum against his fingers.
He didn't give you hope yet, though, sliding his hand up to your lower belly. "It'll feel better soon," he promised, slowly pushing down and applying more pressure. "It'll feel really good once me and Hoon are right here."
You gasped, biting your lip at the thought of them that deep inside you.
As if on cue, the front door opened, revealing a panting Park Sunghoon.
"That couldn't have been thirty minutes," Heeseung laughed, rolling off you as Sunghoon strolled closer to you two, his eyes devouring the sight of you teary eyed, cunt exposed and swollen, ready to be taken. His chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily, nostrils flaring as he stared at you with hooded eyes. The lust was palpable, every muscle in his body appearing tight, tense at seeing you so vulnerable already. Heeseung moved behind you, propping you up so your back was against his chest, adding to Sunghoon's view.
"I may have sped a little," Sunghoon admitted, biting his lower lip. His eyes never left you, as though he were transfixed. "And used the stairs instead of the elevator."
Heeseung squeezed your face, grinning down at you, like he understood Sunghoon's obsession unquestionably. "Hear that baby? You're not the only desperate one."
Your eyes locked with Sunghoon, whose gaze was intense and made it impossible for you to look away.
Sunghoon cautiously raised a hand to your knee, slowly tracing upward as you shivered under his touch. "Has she cum yet?"
"Not yet. I've been edging her. Figured you wouldn't want to miss it." Heeseung moved your hair to the side to kiss your neck, pulling one of your thighs to the side to open you up more for Sunghoon. "She does this cute little whine whenever she's close."
Your cheeks flushed, and your thighs twitched in response. "J-Just hurry up and fucking touch me already."
Sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, and before you knew it he landed a sharp slap right against your cunt.
"Fuck!" Your back arched, your hips bucking until Sunghoon roughly slammed them back down, planting another smack against your swollen folds.
"Is that how we ask for things?"
"It's how Iâfuck!" You couldn't hold back the pornographic moan that tumbled out of your lips as Sunghoon did it again, though this time rubbing your clit after, as though to blur the pain into pleasure.
"Such a mouth on you still." Sunghoon clicked his tongue, as though disappointed. "Heeseung didn't teach you manners while I was on my way?"
"We didn't have much time for our lesson," Heeseung excused, pulling your shirt further up your torso to run his hand over your exposed skin, his touch gentle in contrast to Sunghoon's. "She's still learning."
"How many times did you edge her?" Sunghoon trapped your clit between two of his fingers, applying pressure on the tiny bud to watch you gasp.
"Twice." Heeseung raised the shirt over your tits now, trapping a nipple between his digits similar to Sunghoon.
"Wanna go for a third, princess?" Hoon slapped your cunt again, making you cry out and shake your head, desperate just the way Heeseung described. Still, your reaction every time he strikes your pussy was noticeable.
Sunghoon wasn't going to let you live it down.
"You like when I slap your little pussy don't you? Don't tell me we've got a painslut on our hands."
Your cheeks burned at the term, and your breath caught with embarrassment. Both could see it all over your face that you were getting hot and bothered by how he treated you.
Sunghoon chuckled a bit at that. "Then be a good girl for us, and maybe, just maybe, we'll let you cum."
Your eyes watered even more, but even then, you nodded in agreement, now under the mercy of two men.
Sunghoon smirked, victorious. "Atta girl."
"You should feel how tight she is," Heeseung suggested, giving a reassuring squeeze.
Sunghoon finally sank two fingers into you, making your breath hitch. Sunghoon's gaze darkened, already imagining how your walls would squeeze his cock. "Fuck, what a tight little slut."
Your thighs twitched at the name, and both men took a mental note your reaction to being degraded.Â
Sunghoon started curling his fingers inside of you, pressing against your g-spot, having the heel of his palm press deep against your clit. He licked his lips, eyes flickering between your pussy and your face, examining your open mouth and your small mewls as he started to work up what Heeseung started, the wet sounds of his digits inside of you filling the room.
"Fuck, you're so fucking wet. Hee must've really worked you up, huh?" Sunghoon purred, sliding in a third digit easily, not missing how your eyes started to roll back as he stretched you out. "Bet you've been dreaming of this since the party."
"S-Shut up," you stammered out. "Says the one who was forming a boner."
"Yeah?" Sunghoon started increasing the power of his thrusts, veins starting to pop out of his forearm as he did so. "Why don't you just shut up and let out more of those pretty moans?"
"Why don't youâ"Â
Your words were cut off by Heeseung pressing his two middle digits against your tongue, rendering you silent.
"Now now, play nice you two," Hee chastised, shaking his head. "I thought my baby agreed to be good, no?"
He slipped his fingers out of your mouth, earning a glare.
"Come here." Heeseung pulled your jaw to face him, kissing you and muffling any insults you had to throw at Sunghoon. His tongue glided against yours, quelling your anger and making you buck up needily against the younger man's hand.
When you broke apart, you weren't even given a second to breathe, Sunghoon's large hand being the one holding your face now, focusing your attention back onto him.
"What? No kiss for Hoonie?" He grinned at your scowl. "Or is Hee's baby too good for it?"
"Give him a kiss, baby," Heeseung encouraged. "Let me watch."
You licked your lips, only allowing for a moment of trepidation before leaning into Sunghoon. His lips met yours readily, hungry as he kissed you, the pace of his fingers quickening with every stroke. He growled when you moaned against his mouth, grinding his palm firmer against your clit in reward. He pressed his mouth against you like he was trying to brand you with his kiss, make you feel it even after he was gone.
He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, demanding, his other hand sliding into the roots at the back of your head, angling your face just how he liked so he could kiss you deeper. He groaned as you whimpered against him, trying to keep up a good fight. He made it look too easy, the effortless way his mouth dominated yours bringing you to shame. He sucked on your tongue a bit, the helpless sound you made in response only making him harder.
When he broke away you were both left staring at one another, gathering breath, analyzing the blown out pupils of one another.
This was Park Sunghoon. The man you were constantly fighting for Heeseung's attention. The one you couldn't spend five minutes with without starting an argument.
You weren't sure which one of you leaned in first, but suddenly you were both slamming your mouths against each other again, but this time hungrier. More desperate. There was a carnal desire in how Sunghoon kissed you now, like he wanted to eat you and make you cry for every bullshit fight you put up against him.
Heeseung was mesmerized, his eyes never leaving you and Sunghoon as you clung onto the younger, trying to bring him closer to you, clawing at his clothes as you expressed your pent up sexual frustration through the kiss. Heeseung's hand slid down between you and Sunghoon's, his digits playing with your clit. You whined against Sunghoon's mouth, your orgasm starting to approach.
You broke away from the kiss, whining just like promised. "Please let me cum this time, please!"
Sunghoon chuckled at how easy you were to break this time, purposefully slamming his fingers against the sweet spot inside of you repeatedly. "Aw, should I? But you were being such a brat earlier."
"Let her cum," Heeseung crooned, sympathizing with you. "She's got a lot ahead of her."
Sunghoon always did have a habit of going along with Heeseung's desires.
But he wasn't going to be nice about it.
"You hear that?" Sunghoon scoffed, grabbing your face and bringing you close to his, his eye contact intense as he studied your pitiful expression. "Congratulations, sweetheart. You get to cum until your brain fucking melts."
You arched against Heeseung as Sunghoon jackhammered his fingers into your cunt, right behind the spot where Heeseung was still toying with your clit. Hee doubled his efforts, pressing down harder, making sure to give attention to the spot right underneath that had your toes curling. Your thighs began to shake as your orgasm overtook you, and suddenly clear liquid was gushing all over both of their fingers.
Sunghoon's jaw dropped open, watching you squirt against both of their hands. He was completely enraptured, mouth dropping open in awe as he watched you shake like a leaf.
"Fuck, that's it, make a mess for me. Make a mess all over Hoonie's fingers," he muttered to himself.
You couldn't stop it, the pleasure coming over you like a tidal wave. You gripped onto both of them to steady yourself, droplets flying out of you as you shook. Neither man stopped, both continuing until you were drained of every last drop, eventually slumping over against Heeseung, the aftershocks of your orgasm riding it's course along your thighs until it was no more.Â
Both men pulled their hands away, your legs giving residual twitches at the sensation.
"I... I think I ruined the couch.." Your voice had that breathless, cute little whine that made it impossible for anyone to be mad.
Not they would be in the first place.
"You did perfect baby." Heeseung kissed the corner of your mouth. "It's about to get a lot messier anyways."
You were limp and complaint as they both maneuvered you onto all fours, the dark stain forming on the couch mocking from beneath you. Heeseung yanked off his clothes behind you, shedding each article one by one.
The tip of Hee's cock nudged along your entrance, sliding up and down your folds and catching at your clit every time he wanted to watch you cringe from sensitivity. Soon the small shocks would stop, and when you stopped tensing he focused more on your hole, slowly breaching it. It gave way, letting him push inside the first inch.
You held your breath as he started to get the entire tip inside, your walls stretching despite Hoon's thick fingers. Sunghoon cradled your face in his hands, observing your struggle.
"Poor thing. You look like you're about to cry any second."
He leaned in, kissing you when Heeseung got past the tip, now slipping another inch inside you. Hoon's lips were a good distraction, letting you focus on the natural instinct to follow his flow instead of the overwhelming sensation of Heeseung filling you up. Sunghoon slipped a hand down your body, gently twirling his fingers around your clit, coaxing you to let more of Hee in.
"That's it. Let him in. Let him stretch you out so I can have my turn. I'm not allowed to fuck you until after. "
You moaned against his lips. "Mmfâ who says?"
You could feel him smile, like you had been let in on a shared secret.
 "We made a deal after the party." Heeseung hissed from behind as he sank further into you. "But we had been thinking about it for a while."Â
You furrowed your brows, trying to form a coherent sentence and not focus on how good Heeseung was stretching you out right now. "W-What deal?"
Heeseung smirked at the expression you wore as he pushed in more, now over halfway inside. "That if we did this..." Both of you let out a strangled noise of pleasure when he bottomed out inside you, his balls now flush against your cunt. "I get first dibs."
Sunghoon laughed, patting your cheek condescendingly. "Bro code."
That's when it dawned on you that you had fallen into Hee's trap, just as he planned. The moment you asked the question, it was game over for you.
Heeseung pulled back some, giving a few experimental, shallow thrusts, letting you get used to the feeling of him. Eventually you stopped tensing up, loosening as you became accustomed to the sensation, your nerves coming alight as he started to go deeper.
"How's that dick feel, baby?" Sunghoon mocked you with the pet name, combing his fingers through your hair in faux comfort, keeping your face angled up so he could drink in every expression you couldn't hide. "Is it just like you've always imagined?"
"Fu-uck you." Your jab lacked it's usual venom, instead becoming breathy at the end as Heeseung hit a sweet spot.
"Ask nicely," Sunghoon bit back.
You were about to respond when Heeseung's hand jotted out in front of you, grabbing Sunghoon by the nape and pressing his mouth against yours, forcing the two of you to kiss to stop your bickering.
"Behave, both of you," Heeseung scolded, gritting it out as he started using longer strokes, letting you feel how long and deep he was every time he pulled out to the tip to thrust back in to the hilt.Â
Sunghoon seemed to melt against your mouth, not even arguing with Heeseung as he moved his lips against yours. Every moan that escaped your mouth and into his he took greedily, tilting his head to the right to kiss you thoroughly as each of Heeseung's thrusts pressed you closer together.
Heeseung really was such a good mediator.
You broke away for a breath of air, glaring at Sunghoon and his swollen, pouty lips. He glared back, though it seemed to be because you pulled away when he didn't get his fill of kissing you.
"I still hate you," you said, though the words have no bite. Not when each one comes out breathless and weak along with Heeseung's strokes. Not when you give Sunghoon that stare that lets him know that even if you did hate him, you wanted him in equal measure.
"C'mere. You don't need to talk anymore." Sunghoon grabbed your face, making you arch your back further as he started kissing you again, unashamed with the wet, sloppy sounds of your lips smacking together or the low growls that emanated from his chest.
You two stayed making out for a moment, your lips repeatedly crashing against his as Heeseung rocked you back and forth on his cock. Neither of you seemed to mind, though, both breathless and panting into each other's mouths in a mess of tongue and teeth, and you desperately grasped onto Hoon for stability. Hoon sucked on your tongue, moaning when he felt you melt in his arms.
He finally let you go, pulling off his shirt, hands moving to his pants and pulling his flushed, aching cock out with little finesse. He's about the same size as Heeseung, and your jaw already began to ache as you examined the challenging girth.
Sunghoon tapped the tip of his cock against your pouty lips. "C'mon, open that bratty mouth. There's a good girl."
You gave a gentle kiss to the head, and then another, opening your mouth more with each one as you started using your tongue, slowly making out with it the way you would either of them. You closed your eyes, suckling on it a bit, the same way he did on the tip of your tongue earlier.
Sunghoon seemed to be enamored with the sight, jaw dropping open as you slowly progressed to kitten licks, peering up with them with the faux innocent look that only got him harder.
He muttered under his breath, curling his fingers into the roots of your hair and slowly pressing you down further.
You complied as he pushed your head down, opening your mouth greater as the full head was suctioned by your lips.Â
Sunghoon hissed when you flicked your tongue on the underside of his cock where the head met the shaft, and he slowly sank you down further, the gradual slide of your throat down on him making his toes curl.
Sunghoon tossed his head back, feeling your throat suction around him as he start to fuck it properly. "Oh shit. Don't stop, just like that baby. Fuck, you're so good at this. Your mouth feels so fucking good."
He was decent enough to give a slow pace, following along with Heeseung who did the same in order for you to get used to being filled from both ends. Sunghoon did his best not to buck into your mouth or push too far into the back of your throat. It started to get harder when Heeseung started fucking you faster, though, your body naturally being pushed forward again and again, making you gag further and further down Sunghoon's cock until his eyes were rolling to the back of his throat.
"Holy shit," Heeseung moaned, slapping your ass thrice in quick succession. "My baby's being such a good whore for us, isn't she? Fuck, yes, take it. Suck that dick baby, c'mon."
Fuck, hearing Hee of all people start moaning that you're a whore was spurring Sunghoon on. Slowly his concerns and restraint of getting you used to two cocks melted away. You seemed to be a natural already, and Hoon was always the type to tease and bully what he was secretly fond of. Heeseung was well aware. How else do you break in a toy?
"Look at me. You want both of us? You want to be a greedy little slut for one night?" Sunghoon moaned, hand cradling your throat to feel how he moved inside of it. "'Course you do."
Heeseung slapped your ass again, your yelp muffled around Sunghoon's cock. Heeseung's hooded gaze stayed glued on how your ass would ripple against his hips with every snap. Every time he looked up he'd see Sunghoon's bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, the way his eyes never left your face as he tangled his digits into roots.
His grip tightened on your hair as he bobbed your head up and down, Heeseung's thrusts pushing you further down on both of them from either end.
"Fuck, you're both so fucking hot," Heeseung growled. "Such a good slut, taking our cocks like this. You're such a good girl."
 Sunghoon grinned, looking down at your pathetic form, forced to take everything they had to offer. Your face was so flushed, your eyes trying to look up at Sunghoon's without rolling back. When he looked up at his best friend he saw his his hands digging into your waist to pull you closer, how his dark stare devoured the view, how his eyes kept meeting Sunghoon's to see if he was also losing his mind. He was. "How does his dick feel? Is he hitting the spot you need?"
You moaned in response, unable to give a clearer answer due to how thoroughly he was using your mouth.
Sunghoon pulled you off for a moment, letting you moan out loud now in tune with Heeseung's thrusts. He tightened the fist in your roots, angling your head to look up at his cocky grin from above.
"You want me to hit it too?"
You bit your lower lip and grinned in confirmation, finally smiling along with him for once. It melted away though into a face of pleasure as Heeseung's hand came around to your front, toying with your clit as his staccato thrusts picked up rhythm.
"Fuck, I'm fucking close," he moaned. "Need to feel you cum around me. Need to feel everything. Needâ"
Heeseung's words were cut off by Sunghoon's free hand grabbing his nape and pulling him in, slamming their lips above you. Sunghoon slipped his tongue inside, eyes closed as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, swallowing Heeseung's moans.
Heeseung grunted in Sunghoon's mouth, panting as his thrusts got sloppier and his digits rubbed harder against your clit. Sunghoon's hold on your roots was firm, keeping your neck craned, forcing you to watch how their tongues tangled together and listen to their lips smack, Heeseung's groans turning into whines as he got closer to the edge, all being devoured by Sunghoon.Â
It was too much, and before you knew it your cunt was spasming around Heeseung's cock, cries muffled around Sunghoon's.Â
Heeseung couldn't last much longer, hips stuttering as he felt you cum around him, his whimper against Sunghoon's tongue delicious as he buried himself as deep as he could, cumming inside you.
The two men finally broke apart, a spit of string still connecting them before snapping, leaving both breathless with parted, swollen lips.
Heeseung tried to recollect himself, garner his breath, try to regain some semblance of self. Slowly he pulled out of you, both of you winching at the sensation. You collapsed down onto the couch, a boneless heap. Slowly, white appeared at your entrance, Heeseung's cum beginning to slowly trickle out of you.
"Fuck... look at that." Sunghoon reached over and spread your folds, more cum dribbling out. He put a finger in, coating it in Heeseung and you, pumping it in and out, watching you shiver with sensitivity. "Can you take more?"
"Mmfuck," you whined in response, hips wiggling. Whether you were chasing Sunghoon's digit or running from it, you couldn't tell.
"C'mon, baby. Let Hoonie fuck you good. It's about time you both start getting along," Heeseung cooed, running a comforting hand up and down your thigh to ground you.
Sunghoon added another digit again, watching your face contort in pleasure as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't you want to make it up to me? All those times you were an annoying brat?"
Heeseung smiled, hand going up to comb your hair out of your face, his deceiptively sweet face reassuring you. "It's time for you two to fuck it out."
You nodded, and soon Sunghoon was repositioning you onto your back, spreading your legs wider, pushing one of your legs up and over his arm, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, with both of you sucking in a deep breath. You grabbed onto the arm holding up your leg, biting your lip as he buried in hilt deep. Despite how open Heeseung fucked you, you still felt tight as ever around Sunghoon, and you could feel him right up in your guts the way Heeseung promised.
Sunghoon bit his lip hard, trying (and failing) to contain his grunt as he sank into your heat.Â
"Holy shit. You feel better than I dreamed."
He gave a small, experimental thrust of his hips, examining how your breath hitched and your thighs clenched. Here you were, fucking the man who annoyed you most, who you were always fighting for Hee's attention. You supposed this was a good way for both of you to get it at the same time, Heeseung utterly entranced as he watched Sunghoon's first few strokes inside of you.
More of Heeseung's cum spilled out of you as Sunghoon pushed further in, the first slide going much smoother due to how much Heeseung filled you up.
Sunghoon's pumps were shallow at first, noticing your small winces from overstimulation and possible soreness. Judging by the slight rasp in your voice that's already started to appear, you were going to need a bit of a recovery period after tonight.
Heeseung was growing impatient, however, believing Sunghoon should've came in you closer to yesterday. He was eager to see you filled to the brim with both him and Sunghoon, to see Sunghoon's cock limp and drained because of you. And here the two of you were, wasting time like always when you could be fucking each other's brains out.
"What, don't tell me you're scared of her now Hoon? After all that talk?" Heeseung laughed, clapping Sunghoon on the back of his nape, pulling him close. "Thought you wanted to fuck her?"
That got Sunghoon going a bit, his next thrust sharper than the sloppy, slow rolls he was giving before. Your breath hitched, the sensitive spot inside you slowly drawing in heat.Â
"Justâ" Sunghoon bit his lip, trying to control himself despite the devil at his shoulder. "Don't want it to hurt."
The laugh Heeseung barked out made him feel silly.
The grin Hee gave you bordered on menacing, like he was reaching his wits end. "Did you forget already?" The sharp smack he delivered to your swollen folds had you curl into on yourself, clamping down on Sunghoon and causing him to rut harder into you, trying to sink deeper in. "She likes it."
Hee's words woke Sunghoon up from his worrisome daze, and he drinks in your expression from Heeseung's action. The way your eyes watered and your lower lip trembled, but also the way you opened your legs further, as though asking for more.
The word pops up in Sunghoon's head again.
"Painslut," he growled.
Heeseung grinned wickedly as Sunghoon began to properly pull his hips back, no longer restraining himself and delivering sharp, heavy thrusts that had his balls clapping against your cheeks. The plap plap plap accompanied by the wet gush of your pussy repeatedly swallowing his cock, as well as the pornographic noises you were both omitting, was music to Hee's hears.
Both of you were staring at each other with such intensity, eyes never leaving one another's as Sunghoon drilled into you, mouth dropping open with yours as you both experienced mind-numbing pleasure with each other for the first time when you were supposed to hate each other.
Heeseung could practically taste the mixed emotions from both of you in the air, and he lived off of it.
"Fuck her open." Heeseung bit his lip, watching Sunghoon pull back and roughly slam into you again. "Harder. Make sure she feels it."
Sunghoon furrowed his brows, delivering a harder thrust, savoring the moan that escaped you as he reached in deeper, tip hitting right against the spot that had you feeling weak.
Heeseung sucked in a breath. "That's it. Now you're doing it. Just look how wet she is for you."
You felt Sunghoon twitch inside you at that. Heeseung's commentary was doing wonders for both you and Sunghoon, both of you getting seemingly more flushed. Hoon's thrusts quickened, his enthusiasm showing as he repeatedly hit that spot that had you gasping again and again and again.
"Fuck." Sunghoon grunted, his grip on your waist tightening as he pumped inside. "Feel that? Feel how deep I am?"
He emphasized his question with a brutal thrust that had you scrambling for purchase, grabbing onto Heeseung as your body began to move with Sunghoon's. "Yes, H-Hoon!"
"Fuck yeah you do. You love this, don't you? Love letting me use you like a little slut." Sunghoon groaned, watching the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. "Still hate me?"
"Yes," you spat out bitterly, your pride still clinging on in some semblance as Hoon started pounding into you.
Both Heeseung and Sunghoon laughed, and it only made your cheeks burn hotter.
"No you don't." Sunghoon landed a smack against your pussy, feeling you clench around him in response. "Holy shit, you got so tight. C'mon, squeeze me baby. Show me how much this pussy loves me."
The cry you let out was pathetic, unwittingly obeying his command as your walls contracted around him.
"There we go. That's a good girl. So you can listen."
Heeseung hummed, enjoying the sight before him, watching both of you slowly unravel in each other. He saw it coming a mile away. He was just glad he got to see it finally happen first hand.
"I'm just so glad to see my best friends finally getting along." He pressed a kiss against your cheek, the action surprisingly tender given the filth of the situation. He pulled back, moving behind Sunghoon so he could watch the view from his friend's perspective.
Both men watched how coated Sunghoon's cock was in Hee's cum, the white glistening along his shaft every time he pulled back. Heeseung's cum helped make the glide easier, extra lubricant added on top of your already dripping wet pussy. You could feel the wetness coating your inner thighs, and wouldn't be surprised if the surface area only grew as Sunghoon continued using you like this.
"Fuck, that's so hot," Sunghoon moaned, tossing his head back and drilling into you with more fervor, veins popping along his forearms as he slammed his hips against yours. "You're so hot. 'Course a pretty girl like you likes being fucked like a slut."
"So pretty," Heeseung agreed, biting his lip, eyes glued to where both of you were joined. "You're both so fucking hot."
He tilted Sunghoon's chin, turning him to face him as he planted his lips against the younger. Sunghoon was responsive to say the least, pressing against Heeseung harder, his hips stuttering for a moment as his brain tried to keep up. Heeseung's other hand slid down Sunghoon's abs, raking his nails along them to make Sunghoon shiver and open his mouth wider.
Sunghoon panted, his thrusts getting sloppier as he moaned into Heeseung's mouth. You could see glimpses of their tongues dancing together with every part of their lips, the whimpers that Heeseung swallowed only driving you closer to the edge. Hearing Hoon's soft pants and moans, muffled against Hee's lips as he held his face tight in his hand, not letting him free for even a second even as he grew breathless and his whines turned needy, was enough masturbation material for a lifetime.
"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm close," Sunghoon moaned against Heeseung's mouth, the words barely decipherable with how Heeseung was devouring him. He whimpered, the sounds getting cut off or replaced with the sound of smacking lips, Heeseungâs grip firm and unrelenting.
Heeseung finally let Sunghoon go, letting the younger man moan and suck in deep, greedy breaths of air. Heeseung's lips were shiny and swollen, and he stared down at where Sunghoon was absolutely destroying you, his thrusts starting to get sloppier with every pump. "Cum inside."
Sunghoon's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. "Fuck fuck fuck fuckâ"
Heeseung looked down at you, where your eyes nearly crossed with Sunghoon abusing your g-spot, the prospect of being filled up by your biggest annoyance making your back arch against the cushions.
"You want it, right?" Heeseung reached up and pressed his hand down on your lower abdomen, feeling his best friend through the barrier. "I can feel how deep Hoon is inside you. You want it right here, right? Right where I'm pressing."
He pushed harder, making both you and Sunghoon cry out. "Yes! Please, please Hoon. Cum in me. I'm so close."
Sunghoon's hand moved down to your clit, pressing demanding circles against it to drive you to insanity. "Cum for me then. Make your pussy beg for it."
Before you knew it you were doing exactly that.
"Fuck, that's it," Heeseung hissed. He leaned more of his weight on the hand pressing down on you, his grin mischievous and wicked. "Good girl."
The combined stimulation from both of them had you spasming around Hoon, your walls involuntarily quaking and squeezing his girth as promised. Sunghoon let out a guttural groan, your orgasm triggering his own as he hunched over you, his hips stuttering as he began to coat your insides.
You felt the warmth as he starts to fill you up, some gushing out of you already and between your cheeks. Heeseung stopped pressing down on your stomach and grabbed Sunghoon's ass, having him gasp and rut deeper, cockhead firmly pressed against the deepest spot inside of you.
"Keep fucking her," Hee commanded, his tone leaving no room for question.
Sunghoon did as he was told, continuing to pump into you as you started to cringe from the overstimulation. Sunghoon was too, his groans morphing into weak little whines as he let out every drop into you, fucking you still. You could see the mix of pain and pleasure in his face, his thrusts slowing down as his cock began to soften.
Heeseung squeezed. "Don't stop," he ordered. "Keep fucking her. Don't you dare stop."
Hoon, the loyal, pathetic friend he was, obeyed. His weak, stuttering thrusts continued, overstimulating you both as his pelvis rocked against your clit. His pumps were shallower now, lacking the power from before, as though every thrust now took something out of him. Both of you were left breathless, staring into each other's eyes, tears brimming them as you both broke further under Heeseung's command. The man watched with a shit eating grin, clearly pleased watching your glassy gazes.
Sunghoon's head dipped down, and it took every ounce of strength not to collapse on top of you, humping you slightly with what he had left to give, his hips stuttering and sloppy. You felt a tear fall on your collarbone as he whined, not stopping his movements until Heeseung gently pushed him back.Â
Both you and Sunghoon cringed as he finally pulled out, the white appearing immediately and trickling down on the sheets. Sunghoon slumped over you, breathing heavily, burying his face in the crook of your neck as both of you finally got to come down from your highs.
It turned out, however, that Heeseung was the hardest to satisfy.
He sneered, pulling Sunghoon off of you and scoffing at how he broke before you.Â
"What are you doing? Clean her up since she's been so nice to you."
Heeseung gripped Sunghoon by the roots, lifting his head and planting him face first into your used pussy.
Sunghoon obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut as he opened his jaw wider, letting you melt in his mouth. He lapped up Hee's and his own cum readily, humming with satisfaction, his ministrations becoming greedy. You cringed from the sensitivity, but Heeseung didnât let you run from it, using a hand to pin you down as he leaned over you and kissed the pain away. You tried to focus on how his lips moved against yours, but still found yourself bucking against Hoon's mouth and whining into Heeseungâs.
Heeseung smiled, tightening his grip against Sunghoon's scalp as he pushed him harder against you, chuckling at the tears in your eyes.
"See baby? I'm having him make up for being so mean to you," Heeseung cooed. "What do we say?"
"T-thank you," you weakly stammered out, feeling the coil tighten for the last time.
"There we go. I'll even help."
He shoved your legs further apart to make room for himself, pushing Sunghoon's head lower so he could slide his tongue inside. You gasped when Heeseung's mouth joined, the dual sensation of two tongues against you bringing you closer to an orgasm no matter how much your body screamed.
Sunghoon rose his head up higher, tongue meshing against Heeseungs as both slid over your clit, trapping it beneath the pressure of the two muscles. Neither man seemed to shy away from each other, and you could hear the wet smack of their lips against each other as they made out, your cunt acting as a third.
Your thighs trembled, the feeling of both of them at the same time, and the visual stimulus of their eyes peaking up at you from between your legs, made the final orgasm of the night especially satisfying. You gave what was left of yourself, seeing white and feeling as though you were floating for a moment. Slowly, you came back down, feeling their hands rub soothingly along your legs and waist.
Both were panting just as hard as you, their pink, swollen lips an enviable shade, glossed with orgasm who-even-knows. Heeseung had a smug, calm smile on his face, whereas Hoon had heavy lids, exhaustion starting to set in his bones with how spent he now was.
Heeseung patted your head gently, a stark juxtaposition to his rough demeanor prior. "Back to Earth?" He quipped.
You nodded, post-millionth-nut clarity settling in as you realized your best friend and his just gave you the best sex of your life.
"I guess now I have a better answer for all of those people asking if we've fucked," you joked.
That earned a laugh from Heeseung, and even a grin from Sunghoon, who was usually impervious to your quips.
"You're so cute." Whether or not Sunghoon meant to say that out loud was unclear, and you weren't given enough time to think about it because soon he was having you taste yourself on his lips. And him. And Heeseung.
Heeseung was absolutely thrilled watching his two best friends make out, fucking pervert that he is. Everything went just according to plan, even better than predicted, and now he could finally reap the rewards of all his hard work.
đontains : midieval au, angstâish, comfort, mentions of war, reader is taller than jw, kissing, slight pda, reader is slightly objectified as jungwon's woman, they fall in front of others but it's cute.
đŚc : 593
đow playing : Distant Lover â Marvin Gaye
đrom this ask based on this video.
Tears streamed from your eyes for the nth time that day, rolling down in a torturous promenade to join the half dried rivulets staining your cheeks.
The symphony of waves crashing against rocks by the shore complemented by brids chirping while continuing their daily course failed to calm. On the contrary it felt rather mockingâthe way everyone and everything could go back to the way it was before as if nothing had happened.
As if you werenât missing 5,000 menâincluding your husband.
Your fists clenched on the sand beneath your skin, absurdly hoping it would somehow bring him back. As if he would surge right through the earth and return to your arms.
After all, desperation birthed delusion.
Even the sound of a ship carrying a whole army hitting the dock couldn't wake you up from your agony induced slumber. You'd completely passed out on the beach partially in hopes you'd rise to meet Jungwon.
"Is she okay?"
"Why is she here all alone?"
"I think that's Yang's woman."
"Y/n is it?"
The call of your name stuck out from within the clamor. Jungwon had learned to remain on his toes at any second, even in his sleep. But he didn't need any kind of training when it came to you.
Pushing and shoving past the men he'd just shared months of trauma with just to find out if you were really there.
His face melted into one of concern and adoration at the sight of you looking so peaceful. You'd pulled him into to a trance just by being thereâunconscious too. At that moment it was just him and you, not considering the 100 other men surrounding you.
"Sweetheart" Jungwon shook your body slightly, watching your brows twitch as his voice slowly pulled you back into sensibility. Your eyes fluttered open languidly, Jungwon's visage gradually coming together like a puzzle you'd solved before.
"Jâ" a sharp gasp left your throat while you attempted to sit up and regain your composure, "Jungwon?"
Your hands flew to his face touching every part you could ensuring he was real and not a figment of your imagination.
"I'm here darling" Tears bordered the ducts of his eyes, a cry threatening to capture wrap itself around his speech. "I'mnot going anywhere anymoreâwe won, we made it."
You couldn't care less about your legs wobbling beneath you as you struggle to stand on your feet. He met you halfway though, scooping you in his arms and helping you up.
You threw him slightly off guard whe your lips suddenly connected with his in a kiss that tasted of tears, the seashore and pure unadulterated yearning.
You managed to stand on your feet but bent your knees and arched into him feeling engulfed in his embrace.
He held you as close as humanly possible and you gripped him from behind his shoulders. The unfavorable position had you sinking back into your prior position but neither of you cared. Jungwon chased your lips resulting in the both of you falling downwards into the sand.
A round of cheers erupted from the men who watched the interaction from start to finish. A few snickers were heard here and there but the two of uou were far from embarrassed. The relief of being reunited overshadowed any kind of shame.
You lay next to your lover, resting your head on his chest and listening to the pattern of his heartbeat.
Jungwon planted a chaste kiss on your head and swore to you, "I'mnot going to leave you my love, ever again."
Omg disregard my previous ask!!! I can't believe I left this out; who would prefer face sitting, eating it from the back or you laying down
finally finishing this ask! i love it ^_^
long ahh a/n: first ot7 post in awhile. this is an old draft. i had to take some time to gather myself, i was OVERLY funky abt hee leaving and its made it difficult to write or even keep up w enhypen. for now though, he's still included in my stuff and even if he's not itll just be enhypen + evan đ¤ˇđ˝ââď¸
jake - doesn't care if he can't breathe or if he passes out , he needs that thang ON HIM. you'd think he's the one being ate out with all the hooting and hollering he's doing.
heeseung - i feel like his reasoning is a little lazy. he doesn't have to do too much AND he gets the love of is his life riding his face? score. just because he's a tired man doesn't mean you're not getting ate off the bone though.
sunghoon - likes to show off how strong he is and how much he can take. he only started liking this position because you swore you would crush him or he wouldn't be able to breathe. he proved you wrong. several times.
eating it from the back ⊠âË
sunoo - swears you taste sweeter in this position. is so messy with it too, spit and your own essence dripping down the back of your thighs. also noisy. has probably said nom nom into your puss.
jungwon - hear me out. he's very versatile, but i think he uses this one the most because he's a tease, and he likes that when he's in the back you don't know his next move. when he's mad he holds your hands together so you can't touch him.
laying down ⊠âË
niki - likes to hold eye contact with you while he absolutely devours you from down there. and when you're close he COMPLETELY buries his face in you, its so messy and loud and absolutely embarrassing if you weren't on the verge of cumming.
jay - is down for whatever you want that night. he loves whatever you're into. but he's a classic man, so eating it laying down is probably his first thought. legs on his shoulders btw .
- he's a calm brat tamer at first. he doesn't need to yell or make a big deal. he'll tell you to come here and hit you with "do you really think it's okay to act like that?" makes you explain yourself so you can see how ridiculous you're acting.
- and if the subtle humiliation wasn't enough, the sex will be.
- the sex is MEAN. he has you in LETHAL backshots. no, you cannot touch him, yes, you need to ask for permission to cum and he will deny you until you're sobbing out apologies.
jay
- complete contrast from jungwon. he will sit down and have a genuine conversation about why you're acting like this and then give you the best sex of your life, so good its almost tortuous. back to back orgasms. you're so blissed out you can't even act up anymore.
sunoo
- sunoo is mean! he is a sweetheart, and doesn't really want or have to tame you often, but don't cross the line. he WILL edge you for what feels like hours and then overstimulate you.
niki
- not a brat tamer persay, but when you have your tantrums he absolutely will ask "you done?" and then take you to the room to dick you down because CLEARLY that's what you need!
sunghoon
- for some reason i dont see it. the most he'll do is slap or pinch your clit, but besides that, when you're acting bratty he chooses to ignore it until you communicate what you want.
jake
- doesn't realize he's taming you, he just does what you say. he peeps the attitude, asks you whats wrong and when you climb on top of him, he just let's you use him as a stress reliever!
heeseung
- i'm sorry he ain't taming nobody. when you act bratty he thinks you're genuinely just having a bad day.
- worries that he's done something to upset you, but doesn't know what he did.
- you end up feeling bad and giving him head as an apology, which leads to great sex.
least
â.ËâŽđ§âŽË.â
a/n: i really need to make a mean dadawon fic like ouuu i need him to tear me up lowk. sorry.
đ đđđđ âľżđĽâ dom sunoo dom jungwon public sex fingering mlm make out masturbation (m) cumming in panties/sweats jealousy possessive poly relationship petnames : đąđźđšđš , đ˝đżđśđťđ°đ˛đđ , đŻđŽđŻđ˛ â 1163 â
specially for @hoonsocks @gyuzies and @yvampyr gullppp! im pretneding yg r sunoo and won drooling emoji also based off this edit
you felt heavy stares bore the back of your head.
you were supposed to go to the club with your friends, having fun for once without your over protective boyfriends, who frankly enough, dont even have time or even should be out at the club in the first place.
you could barely hear them from the bar, so why would you be able to hear their yells from the dance floor.
so why are you now sandwiched inbetween then in the alley?
the cold bricks of the alley wall did scraped against your back, yet it was nothing compared to the heat of the bodies caging you in, the thumb of the music a echo only to be drained out by the sound of your own heartbeat and their breaths.
âcome on, princess. you really thought weâd just watch you in that tight dress?â jungwon growled, his lips brushing your earlobe, words a mix of need and thrill.
sunoo had sneered at jungwonâs words, the sound almost blocking out all the previous noises, his fingers leaving a burning trail as he mapped your hips, to your waist, to your thighs.
âyou looked so good, baby. good that we couldâve eaten you right then and there.â sunoo purred, his voice dropping into a rough whisper, his knee nudging yours apart as his chest pressed against your back. âdancing like that for everyone else, did you forget who you really belonged to?â
you let out a soft whimper at his words, allowing him to spread your legs further apart, the dress riding up higher against your body â allowing those panties you wore to be shown under the dim lights. you could feel sunooâs boner press against the plush of your ass, the fabric of the jeans almost a burning sensation.
âwe were very patient,â jungwon murmured, mouth moving from your ear to the sensitive skin under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin, not hard enough to mark, but with a promise that made your knees weak. âwatching, waiting. letting you have your⌠fun.â
his hand, which had been rubbing circles close to your chest, slid up to cup your chin, tilting your face up towards his â his eyes dark and shaded by the shadows. â âbut the gameâs now over, princess.â
sunooâs laugh was soft, one where you could feel the wind of his breath against your neck. âheâs right, itâs our turn now.â
he dipped his head, plump lip capturing your own into a kiss filled with possession and pent-up frustration, one dizzy and overwhelming. only for your eyes to blow wide open as you gasped for air, to be claimed by jungwonâs mouth, his own kiss deeper and slower.
sunoo groaned against your neck, hips rocking forward, grinding the harsh line of his erection against the curve of your ass, âsee how pretty you are for us?â he panted, fingers slipping beneat the edge of your laced panties, tracing your folds, the hot slick coating his fingers. âall of this, just from us watching. you liked it, didnât you? knowing we were there?â
you couldnât answer, nor form any words in your head. jungwonâs kiss had stolen your breath, and the touch of sunoo was maddening. you could only reply with a arch into sunooâs touch, and pressing forward against jungwonâs solid chest.
jungwon broke the kiss, the wet sound echoing against the walls. his breath was hot and quick, forehead resting against your shoulder. his eyes darted down to where sunooâs hand was working between your thighs, a possessive growl escaping his lips.
his hand slowly crept to his own boner, hands rubbing against the tent as soft grunts escaped his lips. ânoâ fuck, no more clubs,â he states, voice a rumble that vibrates through your chest. âno more tight dresses outside our house. this,â he groans, free hand coming up to brush his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, catching the drool. âthis is what happens when you tease us, we take whatâs ours.â
sunoo chose that moment to slide a finger inside of you, the sound escaping your lips almost out of a pornography, the sound only to be muffled by jungwonâs thumb pressing against the pad of your tongue.
âshh, doll. weâve got you,â sunoo cooed, yet his voice was thick and heavy with his own desire and need. his finger began a slow and torturous rhythm inside your gummy walls, which occasionally tightened against his thick fingers, other arm banding around your waist, holding you tight against his body. âgonna remind you, gotta make sure you wouldnât even think about dancing for any other manwhore in that club.â
jungwonâs hands moved from your lips to your hips, grip firm and aligning you with sunooâs fingers, other hand slipping down his sweats to finally touch his length, precum staining the gray. he watched your face, from every flutter of your wet lashes, to every bitten-back moan threatening to escape your lips. âlook at me,â he commanded, voice harsh yet soft all at once.
when your teary eyes met his, he gave a slow nod, smirk spreading across his lips â his teeth bitting his lower lips, eyes never taken away from the sight. âgood girl, you take sunoo so well. donât you?â
you moaned pathetically at his words, nodding with a desperation you never knew could exist.
âour good girl,â sunoo purred, the arm around your waist going to grab jungwonâs cheeks, smashing their lips together. the sound of their wet lips echoing against the brick walls â your sandwiched inbetween theirs.
you were surrounded and claimed in the filthy alleyway at the back of the club, the world narrowing down to their strong scent of colognes, the sweat of their want and arousal and the sheer smell of sex. you could feel your stomach tighten, thighs quivering in a need of release.
the sounds of making out just above you making you wine softly, biting your lips as a way to say âstop ignoring meâ.
âoh, someone wantâs to cum, doesnt she?â jungwon mocked, hand going faster against his cock, soft squelching escaping both of your bodies.
âi think we should let her,â sunoo hummed, his palm hitting your clit with every thrust of his palm. âsheâs been good, hasnât she?â he mocked, his swollen lips landing one final kiss on jungwonâs before latching onto your bare neck.
âcum for us, princess.â jungwon groaned, landing three more thrusts against his hand before his seed spilled over his first, staining the sweatpants he wore.
you let out a whiney moan at jungwonâs words, feeling your orgasm rush over you and into your panties. the liquid covering sunooâs hand in an instant, as his fingers slowly worked against you, allowing you to ride your high out.
âso good for us, baby.â he murmured, biting the purplish skin one last time.
ânext time, you stay home.â you grumbled, voice slightly raspy from kissing the both of them, soft breaths filling the alley way.
âno promises.â
â â â â â â â â ËăăăâŚăăă.ăăËă . â â ⪠Ë
đ @hoonsocks @gyuzies @ewstain @haruawya @renwon @yvampyr @nishisgirll @drkbl00d and whoever else is on it i keep forgetting
pairing: Yang Jungwon x f!reader (reader is older than Jungwon)
synopsis: you thought working as a producer for Enhypen would be fun. hardworking artists who treat their staff respectfully, so respectfully they make sure you feel comfortable and relaxed. Jungwon in specific takes great care of that. Preferable in-between your legs.
content warnings: explicit!language, explicit!content, smut, oral sex (f receiving), pussyaddict!jungwon, squirting, heavy overstimulation, messy messy messy eater, typos! Not proofread
You have always been a workaholic. Not because you need the money, not because you need to impress anyone anymore at this point, but simply because you love your job.
You feel blessed, every day, for being able to live out your dream and spread your music across the world, even if itâs someone else singing it. You have been working as a producer for the kpop industry for about two years now and now, finally, you kind of settled for a specific group you would be working for more frequently. Enhypen was kind of the perfect choice, the ideal group to work for. The boys were well-mannered, polite and overall easy to work with. And of course, incredibly handsome as well.
Youâve only been permanently working for them for about two months now and youâre currently preparing demos for the next comeback.
âFuckâ, your scream echoes through the entire studio and is soon followed by the sound of your fist slamming onto the desk in front of you.
file couldnât be saved.
file couldnât be saved.
file couldnât be saved.
âNo, no, no!â You grunt in frustration. This is the second time already, that this happens to you and although you try your best to refresh your screen or redownload the projects, your hard work is lost and you know it. Itâs already night by now and youâve been working on this for the past 5 hours. 5 hours of work down the drain because of your old, stupid laptop.
Youâre so deep in your frustration and anger, you donât even notice the door to your studio slowly opening. Like some ghost entering unnanounced, but instead itâs Jungwonâs head bopping around the corner.
You donât want him to see you like this. Jungwonâs always been exceptionally sweet to you. So considered and gentle, just like the proper, good leader that he was. He was cute too, in a playful, almost childlike way. But he isnât a child, he is a man and youâve already noticed that a bit too much especially lately.
Even in your frustration you canât deny the fact that he looks so hot in his grey sweatpants and tightly fitted black shirt. And those glasses heâs wearing. They make him look like a hot nerd. Youâre so distracted by his looks, you almost forget about the misery youâre in. Until his voice pulls you back into reality. Heâs standing right in front of you now and closes the door behind him.
âWhatâs wrong, Noona?â He asks you in a soft tone. You find it cute when he calls you that, so you chuckle softly even though you feel like crying.
âMy laptop acted up once again and now my works have been deleted, but itâs okay, Iâll just redo them.â, you try to cheer yourself up but fail miserably and Jungwon immediately senses it by the look in your eyes. He sighs in frustration too as he looks back and forth between you and the laptop in front of you, trying to figure out a way to help you, but he canât. He doesnât know much about composing, not the way you do anyway.
And he really admires you for that. He never wanted to admit it to you, but he was actually the person that had talked their ceo into hiring you permanently.
âIâm really sorry that happened, Noona. If you want I can stay here with you, so youâre not aloneâ, he suggests with a smile on his face. He looks even cuter like that, with his dimples and squeezed eyes. âOh, youâre probably tired, so go home, Jungwonah, I got thisâ, you assure him but Jungwon insists by already sitting down next to you. If heâs being honest with himself, he just wants to watch you as you work.
And thatâs what he does. He watches you so attentively as you lock back into your work and try to recreate the files youâve lost. His head rests on his hand comfortably as he studies the serious expressions on your face:
The way you furrow your eyebrows and push your hair back. The way your head bops to the rhythm, the way you clench your jaw when youâre uncertain about specific sounds. You look so hot, Jungwon thinks and he feels his ears heating up right away. When heâs assured that youâre not noticing his piercing eyes on you, he allows his eyes to wander down your neck to your cleavage. Youâre only wearing a black top, a tight one that hugs your round tits perfectly. Jungwon canât help but bite down his lower lip as he watches them jiggle a bit as you move in your chair.
You truly donât notice him. Youâre a workaholic, after all. Once youâre locked into the music youâre creating, a bomb could go off next to you and you wouldnât notice. Thatâs probably why you barely noticed how you accidentally dropped the pen youâve been holding in your hand for no particular reason.
But Jungwon does right away so he gets up.
âItâs ok, just leave itâ, you assure him absentmindedly but Jungwon is already on his knees, looking for the pen underneath your desk and thatâs finally when your attention shifts a bit. Because how can THAT possibly be left unnoticed? Jungwon crawling underneath you, right in front of your legs. You try not to look down, try to keep your mind from shifting to forbidden places, forbidden thoughts. But again, how is that even possible? For a moment youâre worried. Jungwon shouldnât be down there in front of you when youâre wearing a skirt that he could easily peak under. That would be entirely inappropriate of him. But⌠why is it turning you on so much?
âI got it!â, Jungwon suddenly exclaims in a cheerful chant and you meet his eyes when you look down. Heâs on all fours right in front of you, cat eyes darting up at you, looking at you through his lashes. Heâs smiling so proudly and you hope he canât see that the heat has already risen to your cheeks. The position the two of you are in is⌠risky, to say the least. Dangerous and Jungwon finally notices it too.
Your knees are right in front of him and if only you parted your legs.. just a bit. The two of you seem frozen for a moment, unable to move and thatâs when a very tempting thought crosses the boyâs mind. He wants to comfort you, right? He wants you to relax after losing your precious files. As an artist, itâs his job to make his coworkers feel comfortable⌠feel good to work with him.
He doesnât even notice how he slowly starts to lick his lips but you do. Fuck, you think to yourself. That just looked so fucking hot. That tongue, that pink, soft tongue with the little slit in the middle. He must be so skilled with that - no. You stop yourself. You cannot think about such things, not when itâs about Yang fucking Jungwon.
âYou⌠thank you for picking it upâ, you mumble almost inaudible because you fear you might accidentally let out those ridiculous thoughts. And you hope that he takes this as a call to get back up but he stays right there, so all you could do is focus back on your laptop. Which is entirely impossible with Jungwon right there in front of you on his knees.
âYour legs must hurt from sitting around all day, Y/n noonaâ, Jungwon suddenly whispers and you can sense the shift in his voice right away. Youâre still a musician after all. Thereâs an airiness to his voice, a soft groan almost. And itâs gotten lower, darker, more⌠lingering, yet almost seductive. No, itâs definitely seductive.
You hear it and you feel it in the way you suddenly feel his fingers on your legs, running them up and down. His hands feel so good and heâs not wrong after all: your legs do feel a bit numb from sitting around all day. Youâre still not looking down but you can feel his breath hitting against your knees so you know heâs shifted closer to you, causing you to immediately clutch your legs together even more. The friction is relieving and thatâs when you feel you have long started to get wet and you wonder if Jungwon is doing this because heâs noticed it. Maybe heâs already seen your juices leaking through the thin fabric of your slip or heâs already smelt their sweet scent.
Nevertheless, you feel so embarrassed, you canât even think about ever meeting his eyes again. Why is he not getting up againâŚ? You ask yourself again and again and again.
His hands continue to run up and down your lower legs until he begins digging his fingers into your soft skin. Heâs massaging your calves now and heâs loving the way youâre obviously avoiding to look at him. Heâs enjoying the view of your tits from below too much anyway. He canât see underneath your skirt yet but he wants to, he will eventually, he knows it. He knows it because youâre not stopping him. He would make this count and entirely unforgettable for you because heâs already thinking ahead to the times he would repeat this very action. And many other actions.
It doesnât take long for his fingers to wander up but they stop at the hem of your skirt. Then he waits for your approval and when you finally look down again, he feels as if his heart jump out of his chest. The look in your eyes screams pure sex, you canât deny it. Heâs riled you up just by massaging your legs, you feel pathetic but you also donât want to let this opportunity go to waste. How many times will you find an idol between your legs again? Especially one you like as much as you like Jungwon.
âWhat are you doing?â You whisper in a serious tone but both Jungwon and you know that youâre not intended to stop him. Jungwonâs head is already between your legs now, with your knees on both of his headâs sides, but your skirt is still covering your clothed core. Jungwon grins now. He feels at his rightful place: right there underneath you, on all fours, about to eat you out like youâre his last meal. He truly has to stop himself from drooling onto the floor at the thought of tasting you just once. Oh he can already picture your pretty pussy. Oh, how he would dive right in there, bury his entire face in your womanhood until heâs suffocating. His cock feels like itâs about to explode in his pants. At this point heâs so hard it hurts.
âI want to help you relax, Y/n. Youâve been working so hard for us, the least I can do is return the favour.â Jungwon speaks in such a low tone, youâre actually surprised and it turns you on even more. He starts letting his finger dance over the fabric of your skirt. He doesnât intend on taking it off, that would just cost him unnecessary time. So instead, he folds it up enough to finally reveal your panties. And theyâre SOAKED. You havenât even realised how much more juice has seeped past your lips. You can hear him inhale deeply and you can hear him do it too.
Jungwon closes his eyes as he inhales once again, taking in as much scent as he can and he immediately starts grinning. Just from the smell he can tell heâs about to have a FEAST. Everything this man does is so fucking hot to you, the impatience inside of you keeps growing and growing. Well, the impatience between your legs is.
Jungwon leans forward now, pressing his nose against the wetness of your underwear and you gasp in shock but all he does is snicker and inhale your scent yet again. Youâve never seen a man do that. The vibrations of his little laughter immediately send shivers down your spine and ring against your swollen clit that already demands to be touched, but Jungwon takes his sweet time. You can tell he takes eating pussy very seriously and it only excites you that much more. With one hasty move, heâs pulled your slip all the way down to your ankles but once again, he doesnât bother wasting time on taking them off all the way because slowly, he is starting to become the impatient one. He has to taste you now, thereâs no way around it.
Jungwon wraps his arms around your legs from below and lifts them up over his shoulders immediately, which causes you to shift downwards in your chair, causing his core to be pressed against his chin already, just like he had planned.
The first thing he does is twirl his tongue around your entire womanhood in a big circle. Another approach no man has ever done with you. For Jungwon, itâs truly about collecting all those juices with his tongue, as if heâs trying to swoop them up.
A moan leaves your lips already and you immediately press a hand to your lips. You didnât expect him to be THIS good already and he hasnât even started fully yet. Jungwon snickers once again.
âFuck, you taste amazing Noona!â, Jungwon praises against your lips but heâs still looking up into your eyes past your folded skirt and thatâs when you giggle a bit. He looks forbiddingly cute like that, even when heâs eating you out. Then he pulls back a little to lick his lips as if heâs just eaten a very luxurious dinner. Now that his curiosity is killed, he wants to take his time to truly pamper you slowly and romantically, like you deserve. So he starts to press sweet kisses to your inner thighs, but it actually only pisses you off.
âQuit teasing, didnât you say you want to help me relax, Jungwonah?â, you grunt in frustration and try to shift to press your pussy back against his lips which only makes the cheeky boy laugh devilishly. Oh, heâs a tease. Youâve always known that.
âForgive me, Noonaâ, he says before licking up a long stripe from your entrance over your juice-coated lips all the way up to your clit. Thatâs when you squirm once and he knows where your sweet spot is right away. He focuses on your clit right away and starts to twirl his tongue around it. His tongue dances almost as well as he does. That magic muscle inside of his mouth, it drives you crazy. Heâs so precise with his licks, yet so sloppy at the same time. Heâs drooling onto your already oozing pussy, so he slurps up your wetness again and again inbetween kitten-licks. Your moans fill the room that is already used to music, but certainly none of this kind. In a twisted way, you think about how insane this sound would go in a song. The sound of jungwon groaning against your cunt, mixing with his slurping and sucking and licking.
Jungwon is desperate. Desperate for your juices, desperate to eat you out and itâs very clear: heâs not doing this for you. Itâs not about just getting you off, itâs not about GIVING. HE needs that even more than you do. To be between your legs, to eat your juices until heâs satisfied - which he never is.
Heâs completely high on your juices by now and heâs still only focusing on your clit. His head is bobbing and shaking from side to side, up and down repeatedly, again and again and again and heâs getting faster too. Youâre completely overstimulated already, youâve never felt anything like this before. You wouldâve never thought this sweet, young, hardworking leader would know how to eat pussy THIS WELL. Your hand sneaks into his hair on its own but Jungwon doesnât mind. In fact, he even lets a desperate cry, a whimper accidentally slip his mouth when you gentle pull on it and press him closer to your core.
What sends him over the edge is when you start grinding your pussy against his face, running it against his nose and chin and all he has to do is stick out his tongue to occasionally dip past your folds inside your entrance. He doesnât care that youâre already coating his face with your juices - in fact: he wants you to soak it as well. And still, his eyes never leave yours. He loves to study the way your face twitches or your mouth open and he adores when you frown like that as you moan his name which also gets louder and louder.
âJungwonahâŚâ, you whine for more as you feel your orgasm slowly nearing and he gets it immediately. He wraps his arm around your thighs now to hold you in place, but his free hand is already at your entrance, with both his index and middle finger fiddling with your folds while his incredibly skilled tongue is already focused on your clit again. He changes between licking and sucking at the sensitive bud, but what trips you over the edge is when he slowly starts pushing the two digits past your entrance right into you. You twitch inside your seat as much as you can, but Jungwonâs grip around your thighs is tight, so all you can do is sit through it. Literally.
Jungwon doesnât waste any time again and starts fucking into you, with his fingers slightly curling up to meet the rigged spot right above your entrance, your g-spot. Heâs so fucking skilled, it blows your mind once again. As heâs thrusting into you with no mercy at a speed that doesnât give you time to attempt to muffle your loud cries, heâs still licking eagerly at your clit. His head is shaking like crazy now and thatâs when you feel it.
Your legs cramp around his neck, your stomach sinks and your entire body tenses up as your own orgasm washes over you with no warning. You bend your back so much, youâre almost lying on his shoulders only.
âAhh- Jung- Jungwon!â, you cum with his name on your lips, just like heâs wanted you to but Jungwon doesnât think about stopping even when your release has long spilled into his ever-hungry mouth. No, in fact, heâs still twirling his tongue all around your clit so sloppily now, your legs start to shake as your try to push him off because youâre pussy is already so sensitive from your intense orgasm.
âPlease- please I canâtâŚâ, you whimper as you continue to try to push him off with your entire lower body shaking around his head and thatâs when, at least, Jungwon pulls his pussy-juices soaked fingers out of you. But he only does that to wrap his other arm around your legs as well to hold you even steadier as he dives in even more.
Heâs truly just making out with your sore pussy by now and youâre screaming and squirming, thereâs even a tear or two escaping your eyes and the orgasms just never end. Your body is on fire, struck by lightning, youâve truly never felt anything like this ever before and Jungwon only laughs as your juices finally gush out of you right into his face, on his tongue and against lips. Heâs gotten exactly what heâs wanted ever since youâve started working for them and thatâs FINALLY when he gently puts your legs down and moves back just enough for you to see the mess youâve made out of him.
Your juices are all over his glasses, he can barely see through them anymore but he doesnât care. No, he wanted that and you know it.
Thereâs juice dripping from his chin, juice dripping from his lips that heâs licking now and he looks so fucking proud itâs leaving you speechless.
In fact, all you can do is focus on collecting your breath for now. There are still single moans escaping your lips from time to time, but you feel completely destroyed. You feel like your body is on fire while being made out of jelly.
âFeeling relaxed, Noona?â, Jungwon asks smiling proudly as he cleans his glasses on his shirt after heâs gotten up again and youâre still there half lying on the chair that is ALSO soaked in your releases and you donât even notice how the boy has sneakily stuffed your soaked panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.
Warnings: cum eating, smut, cheating, member x member (just bros helping each other out yk?), exhibitionism, mild violence, just pure filth, not proofread
Wc: 3.6k
a/n : reblogs, likes and feedbacks are appreciated!
"Pretty little body just made to be fucked yeah?"
Heeseung whispered, running his fingers through your hairs, dick hard and leaking but he didn't want to get overstimulated just yet. The night was long and he knew he was going to be in your pussy again by the end of it.
His palm cupped your tit and he squeezed it harshly, making you whine, body so exhausted you couldn't even squirm properly. Your droopy eyes met his from where was sitting beside your head, touching you all over, just feeling you for pleasure, basking in sensory gratification.
"Make me and my brothers feel good, yeah? Pleasure our dicks with that tight little cunt" He groaned, his breathing starting to get heavy, feeling arousal coursing through his viens just at the thought of what was to come.
His words registered briefly in your tired brain. His brothers? But sunghoon just had sex with you. Were there more? And if so, how many? Would you be able to take that many dicks? Your thighs squeezed at the thought, pussy already aching with their previous assault.
"fucking hell" an unkown voice pulled you out of your fatigued state. You jolted up in your naked glory, suddenly feeling very exposed and conscious in front of another stranger staring you down. You were looking around frantically for something to cover yourself up with but as you were about to reach for the duvet, it was snatched away.
"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now sweetheart" Heeseung mocked you. His eyes shining in amusement upon seeing how you were trying your best to hide yourself even with just your body. Legs closed and hands on your chest, a failed attempt at hiding yourself from the lust filled eyes directed at you. You averted your shame filled gaze from heeseung's and your eyes travelled to the new man who was watching your body like a hawk. His gaze so intense it made a shiver run down your spine.
"like what you see man?" Heeseung asked and jake walked closer to you without answering him. He was feeling hungry. He had been feeling hungry for a woman's flesh for a while now. And seeing you sitting there? Naked and ready for the taking?? He was throbbing in his jeans. His palms itched with a carnal urge to grope your body.
"My dick likes it more"
Jake climbed onto the bed, crawling till he was in front of your cowering body, hands reaching out to pull your hands away from your chest, mouth watering when you let your hands fall with little resistance.
"fuck yeah" He cursed and grabbed your right breast harshly, squeezing it so tight it made you arch into his touch, a sharp cry of pain leaving your lips.
"That's like a good girl, let him play with you however he likes" Heeseung praised you from where he was sitting manspread on the couch again, rubbing himself from over his sweats. Jake's mouth captured yours messily, teeth clashing and tongues melding with little to no patience evident in his movements as he pushed you to lay down on your back. He was even more desperate than heeseung in his approach to handling your body. You were already squirming underneath him, small hisses of pain being whimpered into his mouth because of the way he was groping your sensitive flesh.
Your hands came up to push at his shoulders slightly but he groaned into your mouth in frustration and pressed himself closer, his palms squeezing your tummy and travelling down to grope your hips. Too much, he was overwhelming you.
You breathed in a mouthful of air, panting harshly when he was pulling away all of a sudden and hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans. His lust filled eyes met yours and you shivered upon feeling the intensity of his desire.
Your eyes travelled down to watch him pull his leaking cock out, his tip an angry red. He hissed and tugged on his dick a few times, the scene so hot it had your thighs squeezing together in arousal.
"looks like I'm late to the party" another voice made you look towards the door and Lord. This man was big with his arms out on display. Just like sunghoon. His eyes were glinting with intrest as he watched you and jake on the bed.
"Just in time man" Heeseung commented from the couch and patted the space beside him for Jay to join. You couldn't focus on them for long because jake was tugging you up roughly by your hairs, rubbing his cock all over your lips while you whimpered, staring up at him with big doe eyes.
"Need you to choke on it" Jake grunted and without waiting for another second, he was forcing his dick into your mouth. A chocked noise escaped your throat as he lodged himself deep in a rough thrust, his head thrown back, groaning in pleasure. You held onto his thighs, nails digging in when he started to thrust in your throat in earnest, his movements rough, the force and constant assault in your mouth making tears spring to your eyes. He held your head like a fleshlight, fucking into it with abandon.
"Deeper, fucking take it deeper" he groaned from above you and meshed your nose against his pubic hairs, a deep sigh of pleasure reverberating in his chest upon feeling your tight throat, the gagging sounds making him throb in your mouth like crazy.
"Let her breathe jake, you're gonna kill her before I get to fuck that cunt" Jay joked from the couch and heeseung groaned, too focused on the sight of you gagging on Jake's dick, his hand squeezing his painfully hard cock.
"Don't you have a girlfriend waiting at home bro?, I thought you just wanted to watch" Jake panted, finally letting up his hold on you and letting you breathe. You panted, your eyes filled with tears and saliva mixed with cum dripping from your mouth. You were a sight to behold.
"She's the woman I'm going to marry but she doesn't satisfy my dick" Jay groaned, half in frustration and half at how turned on he was, watching Jake pull your mouth back on his cock.
Gagging and choking sounds filled the room again, Jake's thrusts increasing in speed, his hold tight at both sides of your head, moving in and out, in and out, setting a rhythm of fucking into your throat so deep that he could feel himself cumming
"f-fuck fuck" Jake groaned, thrusting one last time and his hips stilled, lodging his dick deep inside your throat, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as his body convulsed, filling your mouth with his cum.
You weren't ready for so much cum but tried to swallow everything, choking and coughing as his taste made your stomach churn.
You couldn't even breathe properly before Jake was manhandling your body around, forcing you on your hands and knees, your head facing the two men sitting on the couch while he grinded his still hard dick against your ass.
"you're right, you need to keep these whores around to stick your dick in once in a while. One woman to keep your heart full and the other to keep your balls empty" Heeseung grunted and your watery eyes met his, your mouth falling open in a filthy moan when you felt Jake pushing himself inside your pussy from behind
"fuck this" Heeseung groaned and slipped his hands inside his sweats to pull his dick out, jerking it off furiously, still maintaining eye contact with you.
"So fucking tight-god fuck yes -pussy feels so fucking good" Jake groaned from behind you, his grip tightening on your hips and he started to thrust in, making soft moans to fall from your mouth, eyes focused on the way heeseung was fisting his cock.
"Shit man that's so hot" Jay hurriedly pulled his own sweats down his legs, his dick slapping his stomach, making you glance over at him. His leaking and girthy length making your mouth water.
"Yeah baby watch them jerking off, you like when men jerk off to you?" Jake growled in your ear, his hot breaths falling on your neck, his hips snapping into yours harshly, leaving you a babbling mess. Your eyes were glued to the sight of jay's thick cock and the way he tugged on it, teasing his slit and hissing in pleasure
"God she's fucking clenching, fucking slut" Jake pulled your body up from your hairs, a pained cry left your lips and your back arched touching his chest while he pistoned his dick in and out of your fuck hole.
"fuck her faster" Heeseung moaned and Jake's pace increased.
"God yeah, yeah baby" Jake whimpered into your ear, his hands slipping forward to squeeze your boobs, making you moan louder, your eyes threatening to roll back in extreme pleasure.
"This is better than any porn I've ever jacked off to" Jay panted, his dick throbbing in his palms while he tugged on it, up and down, up and down. Your eyes met his and he groaned, his tongue hanging out of his mouth while he gooned.
"ughh fuck you're gonna make me cum" Jake increased his pace, the delicious clench of your cunt making his head spin in pleasure.
You both moaned at his increase in pace and your eyes rolled back,closing in pleasure, unable to hold back your own orgasm at the feeling of his hips drilling into your cervix repeatedly.
"fuck fuck holy shit gonna-mhmmn" He filled you full with his hot load, panting near your ear, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, both of you trying to come down from your highs.
You yelped when you felt another cock pressing into your clit, your back still pressed to Jake's chest, eyes meeting heeseung's as he pulled your body closer to him, rubbing his cock head against your bundle of nerves
"pull out man, I can't fucking wait" he panted and you moaned at the feeling of Jake pulling out from inside you, your hands coming up to hold onto heeseung's shoulders for support, thighs shaking. At this point your mind was blurry with sensations.
Heeseung's hot breaths fell on your face, your eyes staring into his sex crazed ones as he pushed you down on your back when Jake moved from behind you.
"God you drive me fucking insane" He groaned and thrust into your pussy in one go, a pained scream escaped your mouth and he moaned in pleasure. Already feeling himself close to cumming with how much he had edged himself on the couch.
His hips started thrusting, in and out, in and out, his mind focused on using your body to cum and satisfy his lust.
"is it tight?" a choked voice asked and you glanced at the side to look at Jay through your teary gaze, he was jerking his cock furiously, his hips lifting off the couch, indicating how close he was.
"So fucking tight" Heeseung groaned, taking your earlobe into his mouth as he fastened the pace of his hips. His dick was feeling so good, he wanted to spend all night in your pussy.
"Wet and warm?" Another pained groan, jay's head falling back as he imagined how your cunt would feel around his throbbing cock, his other hand moved on its own to squeeze his balls, increasing his pleasure.
"so wet, so fucking warm" Heeseung panted and rutted into your cunt like his life depended on it. In a sense it did.
"fuck-oh God fuck yeah- jay's hips jerked. Once. Twice. Three times before he was spilling his load all over his palms and thighs. The sight so erotic it had your own body convulsing, your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you came undone on heeseung's cock with a pornographic moan, your nails digging into his shoulders, your back arching to increase the depth of his dick in you. Heeseung whimpered and moaned, his head swimming in ecstasy, the squelching sounds from your meeting sexes making the knot in his stomach snap, his fuck cream filling you to the brim.
"oooh fuck yeah baby milk that fucking dick" He whined, face buried in the crook of your neck while he used your pussy to get off.
Tears were streaming down your face, vision so blurry that you could no longer see the other two men in the room, your body and cunt overwhelmed and overstimulated. Too much, everything was too much. Heeseung's hips stilled eventually and he sighed in satisfaction, holding your sweaty body close to calm himself down. Thanking his lucky stars for having found you in a stranded hotel room. All alone. His hand would have never given him this much pleasure.
He pulled his body up and his dick plopped out of you with a pop, warm cum spilling down your thighs, leaking from your hole
"fucking nasty" heeseung chuckled and climbed off of you. Your eyes were shut in exhaustion, unable to feel your legs, body spread out on the bed, like an invitation for anyone to come and stick their dick in you.
At least that's what it looked like to Jay. His hands parted your thighs apart and his tongue penetrated your cunt, slurping all the mixed cum from inside of you, making you moan and sob in overstimulation, your fingers fisting the sheets for support.
Jay groaned at the nasty taste and heaved himself up to hover over your body, his one hand squeezed your cheeks to open your mouth and he attached his mouth to yours, sharing the messy mixture of cum with you.
You moaned into his mouth, pussy starting to drip again, just the thoughts of sex and dick taking over your mind. You needed to get fucked hard. Again and again. You needed dick lodged deep inside of you. Hard and fast.
Jay's hands parted your thighs and he settled his bare dick against your opening. He groaned into your mouth, still sharing cum, rough movements of his tongue making saliva drip down from the junction of your mouths. Your hips pushed upwards, needing and needing.
"Yeah you need that dick? need it to quench that thirst don't you?" Jay mocked, his own dick leaking loads of precum in anticipation of your pussy. You nodded with wobbly lips and he couldn't hold himself back, a curse falling from his lips and he took his dick in his palm, parting your pussy lips and pushing himself inside, a loud groan leaving his lips "fuck yeah baby, give it to me"
Your back arched and you moaned in pleasure, your mouth falling open in a gasp upon feeling his girth. He was the biggest you had taken that night and it fucking hurt. Hurt so much that you started to squirm, your tiny hands pushing against his chest to push him away.
Jay groaned and chuckled upon feeling your efforts, his lust blown eyes stared into your teary ones and he bit his lower lip, forcing his length inside your tight gummy walls, pulling his hips all the way out and thrusting back in, smirking when a pained gasp fell from your lips. He thrusted again. And again. His own eyes threatening to roll back in pleasure, the tightness and warmth of your pussy making him crazy in lust.
"cmon baby fuck back on me" Jay slapped your tits, making a sob rip from your throat. That hurt.
He rolled his hips into yours and slapped your chest again, squeezing your flesh painfully, wanting to see you sob in pain.
You tried to cover your chest with your hands, sobbing and shaking your head "p-please" you whimpered in pain.
"Yeah?" He asked, his tone mocking and eyes dark, rolling your hips into yours again and again, forcing your hands off your chest even when you thrashed around "no please-please it hurts" you sobbed but your cries fell on deaf ears.
He held your hands above your head, his hold tight on your wrists while he slapped your tits again and again with his other palm, his hips snapping faster against yours the more your skin turned a painful red.
"Hurts yeah? That's what my girlfriend says. fucking bitch-he pelted a harsh thrust and clenched his jaw in pleasure and anger coursing through his veins-what fun is sex if doesn't fucking hurt?"
Your sobs of pain were driving him crazy, squeezing your flesh harshly as he rutted into your womb, skin slapping sounds filled up the room, drowning out everything else.
If you weren't basking in overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you would have noticed the slick sounds coming from across the room, wet palms sliding against dicks and low moans leaving red bitten lips as heeseung and jake jacked off like some sex drunk freaks. Heeseung could no longer feel his legs, but the delicious slide of his palm against his balls and dick was driving him delirious.
Jake was panting like a dog, pained groans leaving his plump lips as he rutted into his fist, the sight of yours and jay's grinding bodies too hot for him to hold back.
"Man you wanna help me out?" jake gasped, his palm not doing enough to make him reach completion. His words caught heeseung off gaurd, but his lust ridden brain was not in the headspace to think rationally, his eyes travelling down to watch Jake's hips rutting into his palm.
"H-how" he groaned, not stopping his movements on his dick, it felt too good to stop.
"Just-fuck just jerk us off together, I saw it in a video before, it looked like it feels really good" jake explained, his cock throbbing, dark eyes running over heeseung's heaving form. Mind clouded with the single thought of cumming, it didn't matter that this was heeseung, his best friend.
Heeseung's dick twitched in interest at the proposal and even though he was sceptical, one look at the heated sex scene on the bed was enough to have him scrambling to his knees. He and jake both standing on their knees, facing each other as heeseung wrapped Jake's and his dick in one palm, both of them groaning in sick pleasure. Flesh against flesh felt good no matter whose it was.
"No homo" Heeseung groaned and jake nodded, his eyes rolling back upon feeling heeseung's ministrations, his palm starting to jerk both of them off, dick sliding against dick, slick and wet.
"No homo" He gasped and rutted his hips into heeseung's touch.
A loud moan made both of them to turn their heads towards the bed. your body was folded into half while Jay panted like an animal on top of you. His carnal instincts taking over as he slapped your body around, turning your flesh red and blue, bruises were already showing up on your skin.
You were full on sobbing now, trying to run away from the assault and the merciless dick moving in and out of you.
"Cunt so tight baby, making me feel so good" He groaned into your mouth, capturing your lips in a messy kiss, hips snapping harshly into yours. Deeper, harder, faster.
He parted your thighs and went in further, a hiss leaving his lips at the delicious clench, world fading into mind numbing pleasure.
"yeah yeah yeah baby, scream for me, tell me to stop" he whimpered, teeth gritting when you fucked back on him. Your hips thrusting upwards. He slapped your cheek when your eyes started closing, a pained whimper falling from your lips.
"eyes on me" he grunted and grinded his groin against yours, the junction of your meeting sexes wet and messy.
He grabbed both of your boobs and dug his nails into the sensitive flesh, using your chest as leverage to fuck into your cunt, dragging his dick back and forth against your gummy walls
"p-please stop t's too m-much" you cried, your free hands now slapping against his shoulders, trying to push him away. His hot breaths of exertion fell on your face and he bit your lower lip harshly, making you scream, his hips never stopping or slowing down.
"Squeeze me, ugh fuck yeah, make me cum in this fucking pussy" He groaned in pleasure, your pain only pushing him closer to the edge. His eyes glanced at the side briefly and the sight made him cum, a pornographic moan falling from his lips and he rutted furiously into your cunt, eyes focused on the couch, fingers digging painfully into your flesh.
You whimpered and followed his gaze, your own eyes rolling back at the sight of heeseung and jake rubbing their dicks against each other. Jake's head rested on heeseung's shoulder while heeseung's head was thrown back in pleasure, gasps and moans falling from thier mouths as heeseung's palm jerked them off together desperately. His hips stuttered and so did Jake's
"oh god-god I'm so-"
"fuck me too, mhmmfuck-" and the knots in their stomachs snapped, spilling their loads all over each other's dicks. The sight was enough to have you squirting, liquids squelching while you babbled in pleasure, hips jerking as Jay groaned above you
"yeah you fucking liked that didn't you" he moaned and started thrusting in you again, chasing another high. He would never admit it but the sight of his best friends pleasuring each other was enough to have him hard again in seconds. This was something he would think about later. For now tho, he needed your pussy to get off
"mmnhmfuck yeah baby take this fucking dick"
Sweaty bodies rubbed against one another and he could already feel his high close. Just right there, right there-
You sobbed in overstimulation, your vision fading in and out of consciousness. Body jerking up and down with jay's harsh thrusts. His balls tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust a few more times before unloading all his cum in your womb. He rutted ruthlessly to empty his balls inside and then he was pulling out of you, lying at your side in exhaustion.
The sound of a phone ringing snapped the three boys out of their post orgasmic bliss and jake cursed, picking up the phone from the couch and glancing at jay
"Man it's your girlfriend"
The panicked shuffling was all you heard before passing out. Your body buzzing with overwhelming sensations, remotely aware that you were supposed to report back to the hotel manager after cleaning the rooms. But that could wait.
