#txt ff

"Get off!"

"I can't! Something fell behind me!"

Following Taehyun to the storage closet to help him get archives from the past five years of marketing strategies was fine. Easy enough. Beomgyu trailing behind, insisting to help by holding open the door that was known to need fixing due to it's faulty doorknob was also fine. Beomgyu jumping in to stop a box from falling on your head, letting the door shut behind him and cramping all of you in the tiny space, was not.

You're a jumble of tangled limbs in the blink of an eye— you've fallen back against Taehyun, pinning him against the shelf while Beomgyu tries to keep himself from falling on top of you; you hear a thump, and you're all groaning as the space between you three closes.

"Ngh— c'mon, I can't breathe here!" it's a lie, but you try your best to squirm around anyway, pushing Beomgyu's chest and arching back away from him— but right into Taehyun, pressing him against the shelf as he grabs your waist and curses in your ear that you're squishing him. "Beomgyu, stop leaning on me!"

"Stop fucking moving," Taehyun snaps. The two of you instantly quiet down. "You're both crushing me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper out, and the two scoff. Taehyun's head rests on your shoulder, and Beomgyu is still looming over you. The three of you fall silent as you try to think of what to do.

Okay, it could be worse; you start there. Taehyun and Beomgyu aren't terrible people to get stuck in a closet with, you suppose. They're nice enough to work with, polite and fun to talk to— you'd even go as far as saying you're work friends, and if you're going to be stuck here for a while (which is likely, considering the office is empty now), then it won't be terribly awkward. At least, as not-awkward as it can be when you're sandwiched between them.

"Either of you know any tricks to unlock the door?" You try.

"Nope."

"None."

"Okay…" you gulp. Beomgyu's body is smothering your face, and all you can smell is his— perfume? It's floral and clean, suiting for such a beautiful man. "Anyone we can call to get us out?"

"Not that I know of," Taehyun says. Fuck, the smell of his shampoo is invading your senses— you feel like you're going crazy with how good these two men smell. "We were the only ones left in the office. Maintenance doesn't come on Fridays, and the cleaning crew left thirty minutes ago."

"Wow, that's great," you groan, dropping your head back against Taehyun's shoulder, only to straighten after realizing the intimacy of it. "What about people in the department?"

"You really think someone's gonna answer a company call? At 8PM on a Friday?" Beomgyu says.

You scoff. "It wouldn't hurt to try!"

"Okay, then call someone you think would answer."

You shift around to grab your phone, and the two men are complaining that you don't need to wiggle around so much— a minute passes as you scroll through your contacts, debating on who would be most likely to answer. When you finally decide, you let the call ring out on speaker.

It rings.

And rings. And rings.

Then cuts off abruptly.

"What the fuck?" your mouth is wide open as you try again, only for you to be hung up on again. The two looming over you chuckle.

"Guess she's still not over the text messages." Beomgyu teases.

"It wasn't even fucking about her!"

"It was about the guy she was crushing on though." Taehyun chimes in.

"Whatever," you grumble, "it's not my fault she can't handle the fact that her crush is a weirdo."

The two don't bother refuting that— because who the fuck is delivering suggestive anime figures to the office? Accident or not, that figurine made your stomach churn just looking at it.

"Okay then, I'm all out of options," you sigh— because the only other people you're confident would come to your aid are trapped in the closet with you. "What about you two?"

"Nah."

"I don't make friends with my coworkers."

"Ouch," you say, though you know better than to take Taehyun seriously. After all, it couldn't be true with the way he's gotten himself comfortable with you now. Not to mention that him and Beomgyu are inseparable, despite their constant quarrels.

A long silence ensues. You can't hide nerves in your voice as you speak. "Are we seriously stuck in here then?"

"…I doubt it," Taehyun says, "maybe there's still someone hanging around the office."

The silence that follows after is much worse— Taehyun's attempt of reassuring you was appreciated, but it didn't help much, as you feel yourself becoming restless at the thought of being stuck in this closet all night— or weekend. Does the cleaning crew come on weekends? You don't remember. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency number; it'd be humiliating to have the office find out about your predicament, but anything beats being stuck in this dusty closet.

You're shifting this way and that, your limbs getting cramped up after trying to remain still to not worsen your position. But your overthinking mind has made you lose rationality, as you're wiggling around to try and get away from the two men to no avail. They scold you to stop, their bodies taut and their commands so firm you can't help but instantly listen. You haven't moved an inch, and all you've done is mess up everyone's balance, your bodies pressed firmly together.

Your foot is angled terribly, and if you remain standing like this, you'll lose balance and make things worse. Once more, you shift, and they both tense. Then you feel it.

Against the swell of your ass. Against your thigh. Hot and thick and throbbing against your bunched up skirt, against your stockings, the deep rise and fall of their chests suddenly making more sense.

"Something wrong?" Taehyun is the first to notice you've gone stiff. "Are you claustrophobic? You're breathing pretty heavily."

"I mean, I'm kinda stuck between you two now, wouldn't it make sense to freak out?" you say. "Not a lot of space here."

"Sorry, are we making you uncomfortable?" Taehyun says, "I can assure you no one wants to be here like this. If I could, I'd step away."

"No, that's not it."

You finally meet Beomgyu's eyes. You don't like how he's looking at you, his face dimly lit by the fluorescent office lights that leak through the cracks of the door. Like he knows better than you.

"You feel it, don't you?" he looks down at where your thigh continues to press against his crotch. He lets out a shaky breath. "Both of us."

"Both—?" Taehyun's head snaps up, glaring at Beomgyu. "The hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid, Taehyunie," Beomgyu coos, "your face gives you away."

He takes a hold of your chin, tilting it up. "Yours too."

You try to glare at him. "I'm not sure I follow."

"God, can we stop playing innocent here?" Beomgyu throws his head back in frustration. "No one's coming to get us anytime soon, and we're all stuck pressed up on each other. You feel what it's doing to us. You like it."

"Choi Beomgyu," you gasp out, "This is highly unprofession— oh,"

He's grinding on your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. His thick brows furrow, and his mouth parts to let out a soft sigh. He feels so warm against you, shifting slightly so he can grind right against your inner thigh; your cheeks are warming up at the way you whimper softly.

Taehyun hisses. "Shit."

"See?" Beomgyu huffs, punctuating it with a thrust aimed at the apex of your thigh; you gasp, jolting against Taehyun who only holds you tighter. "Told'ya she likes it."

"I— I don't," you whine, hands grabbing onto Beomgyu's button up, scrunching it in your hands. Your eyes fall to where his hips grind, a tight tent against his pants, and you squint your eyes to find a small dark spot building. "This is wrong, we're going to get in trouble."

"Then we need to make sure no one finds out," Beomgyu hunches forward, his breath on your lips as he pants and groans, letting out a soft fuck. Your eyes are fluttering shut, mouth parting as you find yourself leaning in. He looks up at Taehyun just as you do. "Right Taehyunie?"

You can only feel Taehyun getting harder behind you; his fingers are dug so deeply in your skin that all he's doing now is holding you still for Beomgyu, who in turn keeps thrusting you against him. Taehyun's breath against your neck has you shivering, head leaning back against him as you feel your legs shake from the awkward position.

"Hurry up then," Taehyun grits out, "If I end up cumming in my pants, I'll kill you."

"You heard him right sweetie?" Beomgyu laughs, "Spread your legs a little more, yeah?"

"Beomgyu no," you say, "are you crazy? We're working, we're in the office—"

"After hours, with no one around to interrupt us." He's bunching up your skirt even more, giggling at the way you slap his hands, "All I'm hearing is that you're scared we'll get caught. And we won't. So what's the problem here?"

You try to crane your head back, meeting Taehyun's gaze in hopes that he'll be rational and tell Beomgyu to keep it in his pants— he raises his brow at you instead. When you look back at Beomgyu with wide eyes, he grins.

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

His hands rub up your legs, smoothing over your inner thighs appreciatively. His hand cups your cunt, just to feel how hot you are against his palm, and he curses when he feels the dampness seeping through the fabric. Without warning, he rips a hole in your tights, and you jump back against Taehyun.

"Beomgyu!"

"You sound so cute like that," He grins, reaching up to squish your cheeks in his hand; his nails dig in just a little too much, and you wince— he seems to like your reaction. "Makes me wanna be rougher with you."

"Stop talking like that, you're freaking her out," Taehyun rolls his eyes, "You want her to change her mind because you're acting like a weirdo?"

You bristle. "I never made up my mind in the first place—"

When Beomgyu pulls your face to kiss him, you let out a startled yelp. His hand goes from holding your face to the back of your nape, pulling you into his mouth until you feel like you can't possibly get closer. His lips are plump and his kiss is vicious, parting your mouth so he can shove his tongue in and get a proper taste of you. You whine, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and kiss him back. When he feels you leaning forward in search for more, he bites your lip and pulls away with a laugh.

"You don't need to play hard to get anymore. Y'know that, right?" He smooths out your hair, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. "Though it's hot when you pretend to fight back."

"God, if you don't hurry up then I'll just take my turn first." Taehyun's words have you flushing with heat, the unexpected filth making you buzz with excitement. The two argue about who should have you first, and you're trapped between them while you try to pretend that this isn't just something you've dreamt about and shamed yourself over time and time again.

"Sorry, sorry," Beomgyu shrugs, pushing your panties aside with rough fingers. He swipes his fingers through your folds, whistling when he feels how wet you are. He stares you down while he continues to circle your entrance. "You heard our darling, right? I'll take my time with you next time, I swear."

Next time? You don't get to think too much on what he's implying, because next thing you know, his tip is at your entrance, and he's pushing in.

Oh god.

"Oh god," you struggle to breathe out, nails digging into Beomgyu's shoulders; your other hand flies down to where Taehyun continues to hold your waist, and his fingers part just enough so you can intertwine your hand with his. "Can you— fuck— slow down? Please?"

"Slow down? Seriously?" Beomgyu's brows are scrunched together, his finger circling lightly on your clit— teasing, slow circles that make you clench around him and make his breath stutter. "How am I supposed to slow down when you feel like this?"

Despite his petulance, he proceeds to go a little slower, pushing in until his pelvis is flush against yours, grinding his hips deep inside you as he swoops down to bring you into another kiss. His free hand reaches for your thigh again, hoisting it up on his hip to get better access. He fucks you slow and deep, panting into your mouth when you squeeze him, smiling coyly when you whine against his lips.

"She sounds so nice, doesn't she Taehyunie?"

"Yeah," Taehyun sounds breathless, "even better when you shut the fuck up."

"Don't be mean," Beomgyu pouts, his grip on your thigh tightening as he begins to fuck you harder, bringing out little squeaks from you with every thrust, "she likes it when I talk to her like this. Don't you, baby?"

"No," you say, "it's a—annoying."

"Is it?" His finger on your clit is firmer, matching his thrusts that have become cruel; the small closet is filled with the sounds of him slamming into your cunt and your stifled moans— though you try to pay attention to the way Taehyun occasionally groans and hisses behind you as well. Beomgyu spanks your thigh, and your attention is snapping back to him; he wears a cocky smile that makes you frown, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rolls his hips to aim for your sweet spot. When he finds it, you let out a long whine, your body slumping back in defeat. "Then how come you were so wet before I even touched you?"

You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet down in spite of him— it doesn't work of course, because he's found just the right spots to get you to jolt with pleasure, your facade falling apart the second Taehyun's hand makes quick work to unbutton your shirt, fingers slipping beneath your bra to tug and twist at your nipples; when you feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck, you let out a weak whimper.

"Don't get quiet on us baby," Taehyun murmurs against your skin, "just ignore him."

"Ignore him?" the stimulation is getting to be too much, and you feel yourself getting wound up in no time. Your brain is a muddled mess of senses, hyper aware of even their breath on your skin. Beomgyu huffs, digging his nails into your thigh. "When I'm the one making you feel this good?"

"Don't you try to ignore me when I'm the one that's gonna make you cum," Beomgyu lets go of your thigh to squish your cheeks and bring your face close to his.

"Look at me," he breathes out, "you gonna cum, sweet thing? I can feel you squeezing me."

He doesn't let go of your face, and you're forced to talk through a pout. "Uh-huh— please, wanna cum— please?"

Beomgyu looks at Taehyun, chuckling smugly before he smiles at you.

"So polite," he coos, "but you think you deserve it? After talking to me like that? Sayin' I'm annoying?"

You try to protest, but you can barely make a sentence through your moans, "Y-you're right— ah, m'sorry— please, please let me cum…"

Beomgyu is soaking this in, you can tell— he doesn't say anything for a moment, observing you carefully instead; the way your eyes plea silently to him, your bitten lips that are left open and panting, and the way his cock disappears inside you— the squelching noise that comes from his sudden thrusts, your warm body that trembles under him— and he lets out a condescending laugh, switching up his pace so he's pulling all the way out, just to bottom out in you as slow as possible.

"That's not enough for me baby," He bites his lip, concentrating on not cumming as well, "you gotta beg for it."

Taehyun chuckles behind you, and you whine. "Please… please don't make me— do that."

Beomgyu merely grins. "Looks like you don't want it enough then."

Taehyun pinches your nipple, and you yelp when it's followed by his teeth sinking into your shoulder— enough to give you a quick sting, but not enough to injure you.

"C'mon pretty, be good and ask him to let you cum, yeah?" His hand slides back down to your hip, just so he can press his hard-on against your ass, "I don't think I can wait any longer for my turn."

"Ah, no…" you can feel your face heat up, meeting Beomgyu's cocky gaze, "it's embarrassing."

"Poor girl," he coos, though it's followed by a condescending laugh, "looks like we'll be here all night then."

"Which, honestly…" he slows down, grinning as he watches your cunt stretch around his cock, a thick white ring forming at the base, "I don't really mind."

Taehyun scoffs— his hand on your breast slides up to grab your throat, his fingers wrapping around you effortlessly. He's tilting your head back toward him, bringing his lips close to your ear as he tightens his hold on you.

"C'mon baby, need you to stop being difficult," he murmurs, his voice tense from waiting, "You gonna be good and listen to me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good," he places a soft kiss to your temple. "Repeat after me, okay?"

Beomgyu is entertained by the spectacle in front of him, it shows all over his face; his eyes are dark as he watches Taehyun whisper in your ear, your glistening eyes fluttering open to meet his— you're dazed with pleasure, barely holding off from cumming as you whine out to him, not thinking much of what you're saying.

"Beomgyu— 'm sorry for being mean," you're trying your best to keep your eyes on him— it's cute how embarrassed you are, and Beomgyu grins as you hesitate to continue.

"I'll be a good girl now," His smile tenses at that— he's picking up the pace now, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasure, "Please, can— can I cum, sir?"

"Oh, fuck," Beomgyu shivers at your weak plea— he leans back down to crash his lips against yours, his pace brutal as he begins to slam into you carelessly. It's hard to keep up with his hungry kiss, becoming a mess of spit and teeth as he moans shamelessly against your lips; he pulls back just enough to pant and whine, "yes, of course you can, sweet angel— c'mon, let me feel it."

Your whole body tenses when you finally let go, a long whine of Beomgyu's name leaving you as your high crashes, waves of pleasure overtaking you as you clench around Beomgyu's cock, listening to him moan and praise you breathlessly. The two don't take their eyes off you for a second, watching your body shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Beomgyu slows to a stop after your body slumps against Taehyun's, rely on the two men to hold you up.

"So perfect," Beomgyu gives you a soft kiss, "God, you put on quite a show."

"Shut up," you say, though it's only met with a soft spank to your thigh— you yelp at the sensation, and Beomgyu smooths his palm against the spot.

Beomgyu has yet to pull out yet— just when you're about to tease him about it, you realize why that is as you feel him throb inside you.

"Beomgyu," you breathe out, "you haven't cum yet."

He looks more than ready to shrug off your comment and give you some lame excuse that it's fine— before he can open his mouth, you're wrapping your leg around his hip and pressing him in; a choked moan leaves him at the sensation of you clenching around him.

"Can…" you hesitate, but push through regardless. "Can you cum inside?"

It's silent. You wonder if you've gone too far, ready to take it back when the two men make eye contact and begin to laugh in disbelief.

"Jesus, baby. You really know how to kill a man," Beomgyu's voice is strained, his hips beginning to move again— but his rhythm is sloppy, and he can barely hold back his moans as he fucks you, "You sure about this?"

"Yes," you whine, shivering at the overstimulation, "Please, I want you to fill me up, sir."

You're too smart for your own good— as soon as the title leaves your lips, Beomgyu's head is falling back and his hips are pressing impossibly deep inside you, pulling your hips against his as he grinds into you and cums. He continues to fuck you through his orgasm, hissing out curses and whining your name like it's the sweetest thing on his tongue— when his high has washed away, he leans back into you to catch your lips in a last, chaste kiss.

"Fuck, you're dangerous," he murmurs, "why haven't we done this sooner?"

"Well, I don't think we've gotten locked in the archive closet before."

You're pulling away from Beomgyu's lips to laugh at Taehyun's comment, the former rolling his eyes and calling Taehyun a smart-ass. You're barely given a moment before Beomgyu is pulling out, grinning at the way you whimper at the loss of him inside you.

"Here," he says, bringing his fingers to your cunt to catch his dripping cum, only to stuff his digits inside you, "don't want this going to waste, right?"

"Beomgyu, fuck—" you twitch as his fingers curl inside, massaging your sweet spot, "too much— 'm sensitive."

"Do you need a break?" Taehyun chimes in, "We can stop here if you want."

"No," you're quick to say, and the two men laugh at your eagerness— you try to ignore the way your face is heating up as you reach up for Taehyun's hand on your throat, lacing your fingers with his as you look over your shoulder at him. "I wanna feel you too."

"Is that right?" he says, breathless at the way you flutter your eyes at him and nod; his free hand snakes around your waist to push you back against him, caressing your skin idly, "well, how could I say no to such a pretty thing?"

Taehyun is adjusting your position so he can get better access to you— you end up leaning forward against Beomgyu, pinning him against the shelf behind him as Taehyun bunches your skirt up your hips a little more; his hand caress from your thighs to your ass, and you feel his gaze sweeping over your arched figure appreciatively. His hands land on your hips, moving your panties to the side again and circling his fingers around your entrance; you squirm in anticipation, and he chuckles.

"Don't tell me you're getting impatient?" he coos, his fingers dipping in teasingly before going up to circle your clit, "such a greedy girl."

He's only gliding his tip across your slit now, slapping the head of his cock against your clit to watch your squirm— but even so, you can feel how big he is, can feel the thickness of his length as he thrusts between your thighs, continuing to hiss quietly in your ear each time his tip catches against his entrance.

"Taehyun, stop teasing…" you whimper, leaning your head against Beomgyu's chest; his hand comes up to caress your head affectionately.

"M'kay baby, I'm sorry," Taehyun is surprisingly quick to give in to your commands, lining himself up before beginning to push into your cunt— though he's not as long as Beomgyu, he's definitely thicker, with a curve that aims straight for your sweet spot; your body tenses instant, mewling pathetically the moment Taehyun nestles perfectly into your cunt, drawing out a curse from him as you flutter around his length.

"Feels good?" he asks, running a hand down your spine, pushing against the small of your back to make you arch for him a little more, "You feel so perfect baby."

Slowly, he begins to move, listening for the way your breath hitches and your moans break when he slams back in and grinds against you. He lets you savor the stretch, rolling his hips into you and hitting spots that make you see stars. Slowly, he begins to speed up, until his hips are smacking against your ass and you're getting jolted against Beomgyu. It feels amazing— though as you peek over your shoulder, you find Taehyun focusing on the way your cunt takes his cock, his brows furrowed in frustration and his body tense.

"M…more…" you can't help but murmur, the pace he set too safe for your liking— the moment the request registers in his brain, Taehyun is reaching out for your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back against him, your back arching as he continues to fuck you.

"More?" he asks, his thrusts becoming rougher, "how do you want it, baby?"

"I—" the words die on your tongue the second his hand falls to your throat again, squeezing just enough to have your brain cloud up, "I don't want you to hold back."

"Are you sure?" his voice is strained, and you feel the tension melt away from him the moment you nod, "god, you're such a perfect little angel."

You feel the shift instantly; his hands are greedy as his fingertips sink into your skin, restricting your oxygen and grabbing your hips to fuck back against him. He shifts into something more possessive, eager to claim you as he fucks you rough and deep— his mouth doesn't leave your neck once, sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin, murmuring praises all the while. Your eyes are hazy as they flutter open, widening at the sight that you're met with.

"God, you two look so— so good," Beomgyu moves like a man possessed, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock that's gotten hard again. His eyes are cloudy as they run a path through your face, to where Taehyun hides in the crook of your neck, down your body and to where the two of you connect; when he catches the way his cum is getting fucked out of your cunt and mixing in with both your arousal, his cock twitches in his hand and he groans. "So pretty…"

"Fuck, you're hard again?" Taehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing out a laugh before squeezing your throat, "baby, wanna help him out?"

It feels like your body is moving on its own accord; your hand is wrapping around Beomgyu's cock, your thumb swiping over his tip to collect the pre-cum that leaks out and using it to make the glide along his length smoother— his breath hitches, dizzy at the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, the size difference enough to get him close.

"Oh, you're so good— just like that, fuck, baby," he whimpers, watching your face closely, "you're so pretty, look so good taking his cock— are you gonna cum?"

You're surprised he was able to pick up on it just from watching you— he's moaning as soon as you nod, as though recalling the feeling of your cunt gushing around him. His voice is rough as he purrs out praise to you, telling you how beautiful you look and urging you to cum with him— when you squeeze him particularly hard and swipe your palm over his tip, he lets out a broken whine of your name; Taehyun's hands tighten on you, pulling you back with a low growl.

"So fucking noisy," He snarls, glaring at Beomgyu, "moaning like a whore."

"Can't help it," Beomgyu isn't the least bit apologetic, a coy smile tugging at his lips, "you'd get it if you saw what I see."

You feel your peak building up suddenly, your moans picking up and alerting the two— while Taehyun seeks out your broken pleas for him to fuck you harder, Beomgyu continues to ramble on, though it becomes nonsensical as his own climax approaches. Behind you, Taehyun huffs, his hand leaving your throat and shooting out in front of you.

"Shut the fuck up," his voice is stern, and you're both leaning forward so Taehyun can shove his middle and ring finger into Beomgyu's mouth— to your surprise, Beomgyu moans. "I don't wanna hear another word from you."

Drool begins to pool at the corners of Beomgyu's mouth, and he stares down at where you're sandwiched between them with low-lidded, foggy eyes— Taehyun's fingers push down against Beomgyu's tongue, and before he can so much as moan, he's cumming in your hand.

It's warm and sticky as it falls against your hand, arm, and shirt— you gasp, continuing to pump his cock as your own climax hits, squeezing down on Taehyun so tightly you're triggering his own orgasm shortly after, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more to muffle the loud moan that escapes him, thick cum flooding into your cunt as his hips rut into you, riding out your orgasm and ensuring that none of his cum goes to waste. When he finally comes up from your neck, it's to whisper praises in your ear, his free hand coming up to tilt your head back to him so he can kiss you.

It's gentler than you anticipated, but he's just as needy to taste you— he pants against your mouth and bites your lips teasingly, snaking his tongue inside and devouring your whole. You don't know how long you spend like this, with his cock bottomed out inside you and his lips glued to yours; you're only able to snap out of your daze when you hear Beomgyu let out a shaky sigh.

The two of you snap your heads back to Beomgyu, who you realize with a giggle still has Taehyun's fingers in his mouth.

"You didn't need to do that y'know," Beomgyu mutters after Taehyun has pulled his hand away, but there's no heat behind his words. Considering the clear affect it had on him, you'd call Beomgyu a hypocrite— but you'll keep it to yourself for the sake of keeping peace.

"Whatever," Taehyun says. He presses a kiss on your neck, pulling out slowly, the two of you hissing when you feel his cum begin to leak out, "you okay?"

"Yeah," your voice unexpectedly hoarse, "just… sticky."

Beomgyu smiles sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."

"We need to get out of here," Taehyun adjusts your clothes, moving onto his with a sigh, "but who the hell could we call? Not even maintenance is here right now."

You and Taehyun fall silent, lost in thought and weighing your options— you think of the coworkers you're closer to, but you either don't have their number or know they wouldn't answer, either because they're mad at you or don't want to ruin their Friday night. It seems Taehyun is coming to the same conclusion as you, because he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency line… though you really don't know what they'd think if they found you in your current state…

Beomgyu, who had been scrolling on his phone casually, brings it up to his ear. You and Taehyun watch in anticipation.

"Hey Yena, you busy?" you can faintly hear the sweet voice of Yena, the secretary that always strays from the front desk to personally deliver Beomgyu's lunch orders and lingers around to make meaningless conversation with him. "That's great— listen, me and two others got stuck in the archives closet."

"…I did, but then this shelf got tipped over and a box almost fell on— anyway. I know it's a huge favor to ask, but would you be able to come in and let us out of here?"

There's a pause. Beomgyu sees the way you tense, and he places his hand on your waist reassuringly.

"I'll buy you dinner."

Another pause ensues. Then, a coy smile is spreading on Beomgyu's face, and he's cooing a soft thank you into the phone.

"She'll be here in fifteen."

You and Taehyun sigh dramatically, and you're leaning back against him as you finally relax. But Beomgyu's conversation lingers in your mind, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.

"You're going to dinner? After all this?"

Beomgyu perks up, radiating with a smug joy. "Awe, you jealous?" You scoff, crossing your arms and looking away. "c'mon, don't be like that sweetheart."

He cups your face, urging you to look at him. When your eyes meet his, he gives you a proud smile.

"I never said I was going with her."

Taehyun scoffs.

"Besides," Beomgyu's eyes run down your figure, darkening when they stop at your soiled shirt, "I think it's better we finish where we left off, don't you think?"

Taehyun's hands snake around your waist, hugging you close as he nestles his head on your chin. You can already picture the coy smile he must have on his face.

"That I can agree with."

"As nice as that sounds," you reach forward to grab a fistful of Beomgyu's hair, yanking it just to see Beomgyu's face twist with pain. "You've had Yena's number this whole time? And you knew she'd answer?"

"Well— I mean— I didn't think she'd actually—"

"Liar," you scowl, pulling a little more at Beomgyu's hair— he yelps, though you know it's all a facade. "You're such a perv."

Taehyun tuts, disappointed. "What d'you say we leave without him instead?"

"Sounds good to me."

Beomgyu pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. "Guys, no, don't do this to me."

"You really think you deserve to come with us after you had us stuck here for no reason?" Taehyun asks. Beomgyu can only give him a pathetic, pleading look.

"You want us that bad?" you ask, and he eagerly nods. A small smile tugs at your lips. "Then show us."

"Go on," Taehyun coos, "beg."

Despite the limited light that leaks through the cracks of the door, Beomgyu's eyes shine with need. His hands inch toward you, landing on top of Taehyun's as he closes the space between you three.

Yeah, you couldn't have asked for anyone better to get stuck in this dingy closet with.

Beomgyu is a good, sweet puppy.

Most of the time, at least.

Ever since the day you brought him home from the shelter he’s been completely glued to you.

Always curled into your side, draped across you somehow, finding his way into your space like he belongs there.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come home from work only to find him already asleep in your bed, tangled in your blankets and drooling onto your pillow as if it were his own.

Waking him up is always the same.

A sleepy blink, a soft whine, and then suddenly he’s clinging to you, arms wrapped tight as he buries his face into your shoulder, mumbling about how much he missed you soooo much.

You’d think you’d been gone for weeks with how he acts when you come home. And without fail, it never takes long before he starts pressing little, careless licks along your neck.

When you lightly tug at his hair to pull him away, he resorts to your cheek instead. Completely ignoring your words.

“Gyu, no licking.”

You say it every time. You mean it every time.

But he just can’t help it! It’s just how he shows affection, any other puppy hybrid would do it.

Still, there are moments where his tongue lingers a second too long in the wrong place, and you feel your face warm before you can stop it.

A reaction you’re quick to shut down, brushing him off before he can notice and ask questions he wouldn’t even understand.

You know it’s probably wrong for your body to react this way, but every time you simply tell yourself, “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” and you leave it at that.

Never bothering to read further into it.

Of course, Beomgyu doesn’t know why you pull away.

To him, it’s simple. He loves you, and this is just how he shows it.

The licking isn’t even the worst of it.

He bites too.

Not enough to hurt or break skin, just enough to get your attention.

Teeth pressing into your arm or leg when you’re not giving him the attention he so desperately wants.

He just wants you to look at him, to touch him, to focus on him, anything at all as long as he gets your attention.

Even when he’s just bored, your hands are usually the first thing he reaches for. Absentmindedly chewing on your fingers like they’re just another one of his toys.

Which, to be fair, he goes through quickly.

You’re pretty sure you’ve replaced at least three this month alone.

It’s cute, sure.

Endearing, even.

But that doesn’t stop it from being a little embarrassing when your coworkers catch sight of the faint teeth marks scattered across your hands, raising their brows and asking if you got attacked by something.

You always laugh it off. Awkwardly smiling while trying your best to explain that your puppy just has a bit of a biting problem.

—

By the time evening settles in, everything is quiet.

You’ve been home for a few hours now, the weight of the day finally starting to melt off your shoulders. Your apartment is warm and dimly lit as the TV hums softly. The first thing you deemed interesting enough to watch playing in the background.

Beomgyu is curled up beside you. Head in your lap, body angled toward you, as close as he can get without sitting on top of you.

The same as almost all your evenings go.

You’ve been running your fingers through his hair for a while now. slow, absent strokes that match the rhythm of the quiet room. His eyes are half-lidded and relaxed, completely content like this is all he needs.

After a while your hand slowly comes to a still, resting on Beomgyu’s cheek as you brush your thumb up and down a few times before completely stopping.

You had only stopped for a moment, but that’s all it takes.

It’s subtle at first. The faint shift against your palm, the light pressure of his teeth as he starts to chew, slow and absentminded, like he barely even realizes he’s doing it.

You don’t even bother looking away from the TV.

“Gyu,” you murmur, voice soft. “Stop biting.”

“Not biting.” he mumbles back, muffled against your hand.

You glance down at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself.

He’s not even pretending to watch the show anymore. His entire focus is on your hand, brows slightly furrowed in quiet concentration like this is the most important thing he could be doing right now.

You shift your hand just enough to run your finger lightly over his teeth.

“Are you teething or something?” you tease.

“I’m not a baby.” he mumbles, a small pout pulling at his lips.

You let out a quiet laugh, scratching lightly behind his ear in apology. He leans into it without hesitation, eyes fluttering shut for a second before you move again, sitting up just slightly.

He follows your movement immediately, sitting up as well as he watches you.

You lean forward, reaching for your drink on the coffee table, twisting the cap open as your attention drifts further away from the show playing on.

Just before you could bring the bottle to your lips, a sudden, sharp scream cuts through the room from the TV.

It startles you enough that your hand jerks, the bottle tipping just slightly. Before you can even register what happened, you can feel cold liquid all over your lap.

“Shit-”

You barely have time to react before Beomgyu already has.

By the time you even look down, he’s already leaning in, tongue brushing over your skin as he starts cleaning up the mess like it’s the most obvious solution to this problem.

And to him, it is.

He does this all the time.

Any spill or drop of anything, no matter how big or small, he’s always quick to take care of it before you even think to grab a towel.

So at first, you don’t think anything of it.

You just let him.

But he doesn’t stop at just the tops of your thighs, his tongue trailing up dangerously close to the place where you can feel a faint familiar heat start to make itself known.

And suddenly, you’re very aware of where he is.

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck before you can stop it, and this time you react quickly. Your hand coming down against his head to gently but firmly push him back.

“Gyu-”

He stops immediately.

Not because he understands, nor does he want to stop.

Just because you told him to.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and soft, head tilting slightly to the side in quiet confusion.

You avoid his gaze almost instantly, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to.

“I can clean it,” you murmur. “It’s fine.”

You hear a small, almost pitiful whine leave him.

His brows pull together slightly, lips pressing into a faint pout as he looks back down at your lap, then up at you again, confused.

Because this doesn’t make sense.

You always let him do this.

So why not now?

Before you can even get up to get a towel or a change of clothes, Beomgyu’s tongue is right back on your thighs.

Like I said, he’s a good puppy most the time.

You gasp softly at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue against you again. His hand landing on your knee to pry your legs open, determined to clean you up.

He really was just trying to help you clean your mess!

Sure, he was being a bit of a brat about it, but he’s a brat about lots of things when he doesn’t get his way.

But the second he got your legs open enough for him to lick up the liquid that had fallen to the insides of your thighs, his breath hitched.

Beomgyu isn’t a complete stranger to pheromones. He remembers smelling them from a female hybrid whose crate was next to his for a few days back when he was in the shelter. But what he could smell coming from you completely flipped a switch in his brain.

Without even thinking, his face was suddenly pressed against your core, desperately sniffing trying to figure out why your scent is making him feel so, so dizzy. Intoxicated, even.

Your eyes went wide at his new found interest, hands flying to his head to try to push him away once again.

It takes a few tries, especially as he digs his hands into your legs to keep himself anchored in place. But eventually you manage the strength to move him away.

The words “bad puppy” leaving your mouth as you try your best to sound composed, earning you the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard leave Beomgyu’s mouth.

You’ve never seen him this way before, his eyes completely blown out and full of need, his tongue darting to keep in the drool that threatens to spill from his mouth, his hands squeezing into you as if you might disappear if he lets go.

You would almost feel bad for him if you weren’t so focused on keeping down the filthier-than-you’d-like-to-admit thoughts that were flooding your brain.

And maybe if it weren’t for said thoughts, you’d have noticed the way he was gently thrusting into nothing against his pants sooner.

The moment you did however, the prettiest little “please…” fell onto your ears. Full of nothing but need and desperation.

Your eyes move back up to Beomgyu’s face upon hearing his voice, his eyes all teary now and eyebrows furrowed.

His eyes move back and forth between your own as he doubles down.

“Please… ‘m sorry, I don’t wanna be bad… but it hurts so much…” he manages to get out between sniffles.

Small tears are slipping down his flushed cheeks now as you bring your thumb up to wipe them.

Your gaze softens as he leans into your hand, hiccuping small mumbles of apologies, ears low against his head.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. What’s hurting?” you coo at him, no longer putting in much effort to push away the lewd thoughts corrupting your mind.

“Hurts… down there…” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips continue their sloppy uneven movements.

You hum in response, not exactly sure what to do next.

Before you can begin figuring that out, Beomgyu softly pleads “Help please…” in the most pitiful voice.

He doesn’t seem to even fully understand what he’s asking for.

All he knows is that his head is spinning.

And that the ache in his boxers is so painful.

And that he wants you to fix it, whatever that may mean.

You pause for a moment, considering your options.

You could help him, or maybe you could try to teach him how to take care of it himself.

Either way, playing dumb or backing out was no longer in the equation for you. Especially not while your sweet puppy is begging for your help.

Your gaze drops down again as you think.

You watch as his body continues to react, hips rutting up at nothing even when he’s trying so hard to stay still for you.

Help

The word rings in your head once again.

That’s all this is.

And that’s what you continue to tell yourself as you slowly move your hands away from Beomgyu.

Legs spreading just slightly as he looks up at you with big, eager eyes.

His crying slows as he looks at you patiently, waiting for any kind of approval. You’d be proud of him for waiting if this were a normal night.

You’re not really sure what exactly he wants, but you’re also not stupid.

He’s obviously turned on and hard to the point where it’s hurting him.

You could pull his pants and boxers down and touch him.

Or you could just fuck him until he can’t think straight like your brain has been yelling at you to do since the moment he started licking at your thighs.

No, stop it. He’s crying and you’re thinking about fucking him, you perv.

So instead, you decide the best thing to do is to just stop stopping him.

Your thoughts are abruptly halted as you feel Beomgyu’s hand sliding up your legs, fingers stopping right at the edge of your shorts and tugging ever so slightly.

A soft whine slipping past his lips as he stares at your clothed core.

“Do you want me to take these off?” you ask softly, hooking your thumb into your waistband and watching for his reaction.

Beomgyu’s cheeks flush an even darker shade now. He nods quickly. Looking back up at you, ears perking up and tail slowly starting to wag.

You smile at him sweetly, still unsure of what exactly he’s gonna do to you.

Nonetheless, you find yourself sliding your shorts off and tossing them aside before you can think too much about what you’re doing.

Beomgyu wastes no time eagerly shifting closer to you. Hands resting on your thighs and squeezing lightly as if he’s trying to ground himself.

He still needs to be taught patience though, so you put a finger up and sternly tell him “wait.”

He pouts, but listens. Waiting patiently as his eyes flicker back and forth from your face to your panties.

The soft thud of his tail hitting the ground over and over slows a bit as you watch him.

You make him wait an agonizing 20 seconds before lowering your hand.

“Okay, good boy.”

He swears it felt more like 20 minutes, but he’ll do whatever you want right now. No matter how hard it is to sit still.

Beomgyu presses his nose up against your core again, a little more shy and hesitant at first.

That doesn’t last very long before he’s whining against you and pushing his face as close as he can get. The thin layer of fabric separating you making your scent so much stronger than it was earlier.

His head is spinning now. He has no clue what he’s doing or feeling, his body only moving on pure instinct.

You’re trying your best to not let small moans fall from your lips when Beomgyu begins licking right at your clit through your panties.

He’s a little rough and clumsy, not having the slightest clue what he’s doing.

But then again, he isn’t trying to give you head.

You almost feel slightly ashamed at how easily you’re reacting to his inexperienced tongue. But it’s been so long and he’s just so cute.

Beomgyu’s not picking up on your small noises at all.

How could he?

Poor baby is tunnel visioned onto your cunt.

Although, he does notice the way your scent increases the more he licks.

The thin veil of your panties separating him from you is driving him insane. He has half a mind to just pull them off, but he knows he’d probably get in trouble for that.

So instead, he uses all his strength to pull his face away from you. Leaning his head against your thigh and bringing his pretty fingers up to tug at the hem of your underwear.

He doesn’t need to say anything, the pleading look on his face accompanied by the small whimpers leaving his throat tell you everything you need to know.

For a second, you wonder if maybe this is going too far.

But the way he’s looking at you right now only solidifies that you already have gone too far.

You try your best to ignore your thoughts as you give him a nod of approval.

Beomgyu quickly pulls your panties down, only bothering to completely discard them from one leg. Leaving them to hang around your ankle before you kick them away.

His tail shoot’s up at the sight of your exposed cunt in front of him. His eyes might as well have giant cartoon hearts shooting out.

He hurriedly resumes his earlier position, tongue flat as it swipes across your entire core.

You let out a gasp, not able to contain yourself anymore. Feeling a little embarrassed when you notice Beomgyu’s ear perk up a bit at the noise.

The taste and smell of your slick against his tongue is unreal.

He thinks this must be what heaven is like.

He laps at the liquid slowly oozing out of you, not wanting to waste a single drop.

As cute as it is watching him be so entranced, your clit is feeling a bit neglected now. You know you’ll probably scold yourself for this later, but your hands are already tangling in his hair and pulling him up just enough for his tongue to land right back where you’re needing it.

Your head falls back as a moan leaves your lips.

Beomgyu looks up at you with sweet, curious eyes.

“Does it feel good?” he mumbles against your cunt.

You’ve been asked this exact question by various different men. But this is so much different. Those men knew what they were doing, and Beomgyu doesn’t have a clue.

It’s almost endearing, the way his tail starts to wag rapidly as you moan out “Mhmm, good boy. Keep- fuck- keep going”.

The moment he realizes this feels good for you too, you’re screwed.

He’s so very eager to please you.

He doesn’t understand what he’s doing, but he knows it’s making you happy and that he’s a good boy for doing it.

That’s all he needs to understand.

He’s a quick learner too. Mentally noting every little reaction or tug of his hair.

Soon enough, his clumsy and messy mouth is doing a lot more than just licking.

He’s sucking at your clit, pushing his tongue flat against it and shaking his head, lapping up the juices gushing from your hole.

When the tip of his tongue slides just barely inside of you, you let out a weak “Ah- Gyu-“.

He’s a bit confused, he thought you liked it better on your clit.

But he’s too far gone to think anything more of it before he’s shoving his entire tongue inside of you.

He stills for a moment, tongue prodding around inside of you.

He’s getting pretty good at this, but he’s still fairly clueless. So you take it upon yourself to start pushing and pulling his head back and forth until he quickly learns what to do.

His chin is wet and dripping as he fucks in and out of you with his tongue, tail thudding so loudly against the floor you’re a little worried he might hurt himself.

The slew of curses and moans leaving your mouth only spur him on.

All he wants is to be good for you, and for this to never end.

He pulls his tongue out of you and begins working on your clit once more.

You’re so dazed out you’re no longer even capable of worrying about what you’re doing. Instead, you’re worrying about how empty your hole feels.

You grab one of his hands that are still anchored onto your thighs, bringing his middle and ring finger into your mouth for a moment before pushing them inside of yourself.

Your eyes roll back as you hold onto his wrist and push his fingers in and out.

Poor puppy is so confused :(

His jaw is getting sore and he doesn’t understand why you’re fucking yourself with his fingers when he thought you liked his tongue.

But he won’t complain. Not when you’re mindlessly babbling on about how good he’s doing and how he’s such a good boy.

Your hand starts to slow and loosen its grip on his wrist now, getting a little tired. He’s quick to pick up on it and begin moving his fingers on his own.

He notices the way your breath catches when his fingers hit a spongy spot inside you, fastening his pace and curling his fingers to hit it over and over.

It’s almost scary how quickly he’s getting the hang of this. You’re so close to finishing all you can do is throw your head back and weakly moan out “Gyuuu”

Within seconds you’re coming undone all over his fingers.

And yeah, he could feel the way you tightened around him and how your legs begin to shake a little, but that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t ever want to stop.

If you let him do this until his jaw and fingers physically couldn’t move anymore, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The overstimulation is beginning to be too much as his pace never falters.

You try to push his head away and gather the strength to mumble out “Gyu wait- ah- slow down-“.

But your words fall on deaf ears.

You all but shove him away as he finally lets go.

He looks up at you with a pout on his swollen and wet lips.

You smile softly at him.

“I’m sorry baby, it’s sensitive.” you say, ruffling his hair a bit as you catch your breath.

He continues his pout, but nods and stays put.

You take a moment and allow your eyes to run over his appearance.

His hair is a mess and his chin and cheeks are completely soaked.

Your eyes run down his body and land on his lap, where a large dark spot sits.

He must’ve came while he was eating you out.

He shyly looks away from you, noticing your gaze and moving his hand to cover his crotch.

You were so dazed out you didn’t even pick up on the way one of his hands left your thigh and began rubbing himself through his pants.

Or the way he whined and moaned against your cunt.

“Does it feel better puppy?” you say using your foot to move away his hand.

Beomgyu’s eyes sheepishly meet yours again as he nods.

“Yeah but," he frowns, "it’s all sticky now.”

You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

Maybe your sweet puppy’s silly licking habits have some good uses.

© all content belongs to @2dollarhooker 2026. do not modify or repost.

“soobin?” you poked your head through the door, watching as he looked up from his game, a smile growing on his face the second he recognized you.

“hey.”

“hi,” you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you.

“how was school?” he paused his game, his full attention on you for the time being.

“so tiring. i need to relax,” you sighed, the pounding in your head finally becoming noticeable.

soobin stared at you for a second before chuckling lightly.

“you can take a nap in my bed,” soobin spoke, “i’m gaming with beomgyu, but i’ll try and be quiet.”

the exhaustion in your eyes was evident, and you took him up on his offer happily, practically ready to just sleep on the ground at that point.

“oh, wait,” he stood up quickly, heading over to his tv to turn it on, “is jujutsu kaisen okay with you?”

you laughed quietly, getting situated under his covers, “i’m gonna be sleeping through it. put whatever on, soob.”

“whatever you say,” he smiled, walking back to his pc, “sleep well.”

you hummed in response, turning over to your side as you snuggled up, letting your eyes flutter shut as sleep began to envelop you.

you were grateful for this tradition. getting to hang out with your best friends after a long day of school. it didn’t matter if everyone was busy, just being able to be around them and enjoy each other’s company was enough for you.

you had to admit, ever since you started working along with going to college it got much harder to hang out, but you would always find ways to hang out with them multiple times a week, sometimes crashing on the couch overnight before leaving early for class the next day.

while you slowly lost consciousness, you listened to jujutsu kaisen playing quietly in the back, and the sounds of soobin tapping his keyboard as he talked with beomgyu quietly.

-

you woke up a good hour and a half later, feeling a bit more well rested.

you slowly sat up in bed, stretching your arms above your head as your eyes focused on soobin across from you.

all you could see from where you sat was the back of his head, and sometimes a glimpse of his side profile if he turned his head a bit.

you were pretty bored at this point, not knowing what else to do and deciding you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

soobin wouldn’t mind if you asked him to hang out, right?

you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, calling out his name quietly.

“soobin.”

he didn’t hear, too engrossed with his game as he continued talking to beomgyu and hitting keys on his keyboard.

you reached your hand out to tap his shoulder lightly, “soobin.”

he jumped slightly at the action, pausing his game to turn around and look at you, slowly removing his headphones as he gave you an expectant look.

“what’s up?” he asked, fluffing his hair with one hand.

you cleared your throat, your eyes flickering across soobin’s face, suddenly aware of how attractive he really was. you blushed slightly, trying to not let it show how much of an effect he had on you. something about his hair in the dim light was getting to you.

“i was just, uhm.. bored,” you spoke quietly, now feeling embarrassed for pulling him out of his game to cater to your needs.

his face softened a bit, looking at his game before looking back at you, “you wanna hang out?”

“only if you want,” you sat back on your heels, trying not to look too desperate, but you were really bored and fiending for some attention at this point. and your eyes might have kept wandering to soobin’s lips a bit too much, or maybe it was you following his hand with your eyes as he brushed back his hair.

what you didn’t know was that he noticed everything, every little glimpse and action. he knew you were into him. but he wasn’t going to point that out.

“i would, but me and beomgyu still have a few hours of gaming left,” he responded with an apologetic look, trying to ignore the way your face visibly dropped at his sentence.

“how many?”

“like, uh, three,” he said, an embarrassed look on his face. you glanced at the clock to see it was already 10pm.

“oh, okay,” you responded, slowly beginning to scoot yourself back on the bed, “i’ll just go back to sleep.”

“you sure?” he turned around more, reaching for the tv remote, presumably ready to give it to you.

“yeah, i’m sure. don’t worry about it, i’m still tired anyway,” you yawned, lying back down and turning on your side, “i’ll talk to you later. night, soob.”

he hummed out a goodnight in response, before putting his headphones back on and turning around.

you were disappointed, you weren’t even going to lie. were you less important than the game to him? soobin would usually drop whatever he was doing to hang out with you when you came over, so of course you felt a bit discouraged right now.

but a part of you felt guilty for wanting his attention all to yourself. he was just trying to talk to beomgyu, and they deserve that without you whining. you decided to not ponder on it too much, and honestly soobin’s sheets were too comfortable for you to stay awake any longer. your thoughts became muddled as you once again let your eyes shut and went to sleep.

-

you woke up to the smell of ramen invading your nostrils. you really thought you were imagining things at first until you realized the smell was in fact right next to you.

you opened your eyes to see a large bowl of ramen, and a plate of kimchi sitting next to it. you smiled brightly as you took in the smell more, letting the comforting smell warm you up.

your mouth was watering as you took the first bite, letting out an audible hum and savoring the taste.

you figured soobin had to have made it at some point while you were asleep, looking up to see him taking a sip from his drink, head thrown back as he was close to finishing the bottle.

your eyes flickered to his adam’s apple, maybe staring for a bit longer than you needed to.

you silently thanked him in your head, not wanting to disrupt his gaming anymore, before taking another bite of the yummy dinner.

you didn’t even know if it could be called dinner anymore considering it was 11pm, but you were hungry.

you got lost in thought, eyes focusing in on soobin’s hands moving quickly across the keys, letting your gaze move to his head, watching his side profile become illuminated by his pc when he turned his head slightly.

it was eerily quiet in the room. soobin had turned the tv off at some point, the only light source in his room being his pc.

once again, your eyes dropped to his hands. long, skinny fingers hitting the keys quickly, sliding all over the keyboard as he typed a message out. a part of you felt bad for staring, but what could you say? soobin was attractive. anyone could see it.

you were lucky enough to call him your best friend, but there were certain points you wished you could be able to call him more.

small taps broke you out of your daydreaming, looking out the window to your left to see rain hitting the glass.

well, that’s amazing.

you didn’t remember seeing that it was gonna rain at all, and it was picking up pretty quickly, the soft taps on the window turning into fat droplets pelting the glass.

you grabbed your phone off the bedside table, opening the weather app only to see that it was going to be raining for the next few days.

and not just raining. storming. there was supposed to be thunder, lighting, and flash floods. you quickly accepted the fact you weren’t going home tonight, and if it was going to be storming like they were predicting you probably weren’t going to be leaving the apartment until it was over.

you slowly put your phone back down, going back to slowly eating your food, this time deciding to take a small bite out of the kimchi lying next to your ramen.

your attention was taken away from the food when you heard soobin shuffling in his seat.

he had turned around to look at you, seeming surprised you were awake.

“you’re up?”

“yeah, uhm, i just woke up like five minutes ago,” you responded, taking another bite of kimchi, “thanks for the food.”

he smiled, “it’s no problem, i felt bad for not being able to hang out. beomgyu just really wants to play games tonight since he’s not free any other day.”

“no, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you were still slightly disappointed, but you weren’t going to let that show.

“also, it’s supposed to be raining for the rest of the night, i guess it’s gonna storm pretty bad,” you added.

soobin turned to look out the window, nodding at the sight, “well, you can sleep in here then, it’s gonna be too cold on the couch.”

you shook your head softly. the couch was already pretty cold on normal nights, so you didn’t even want to imagine how cold it was going to be if you slept on it tonight. you were glad soobin was offering up his bed, but that meant he was going to be cold.

“i don’t want you sleeping on the couch either,” you spoke quietly.

he tilted his head at you, lips pouting a bit, “who said i was sleeping on the couch?”

oh.

oh.

your lips parted into a small ‘o’ as you processed his words, just nodding at him. you were totally fine. you could do this! sharing a bed with soobin? your best friend? no big deal. you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers as you bit your lip, trying to ignore the feeling of soobin’s eyes on you.

soobin watched you for a bit, waiting for your reply which never came. he slowly turned around and went back to his game, unpausing it to join beomgyu again.

you picked up your phone once again, confirming to yourself that it was going to be storming. you put your phone down, deciding the best thing to do at this point was sleep, you hated storms, you didn’t wanna have to deal with them and considering you left your headphones at your house you had nothing to help you.

slowly climbing out of bed, you trudged over to soobin, watching the small smile on his face as he chuckled at something beomgyu said. you tapped him on his shoulder lightly and he turned to look at you quickly, telling beomgyu to hold on a second.

“yes?” he asked, taking in the tired look in your eyes.

“i’m gonna go to sleep, just wanted to let you know,” you answered, giving him a small smile before heading back to the bed.

“goodnight, sleep well,” was all he said in response before turning back to his game.

as you climbed under the covers you couldn’t help but feel even more disappointed at the fact soobin was once again choosing his game over you.

what you didn’t know was that soobin felt terrible and he wanted more than anything to spend time with you. if you had come on any other day, it would’ve been perfectly fine. but him and beomgyu haven’t been able to hang out like this in weeks and he wanted to be able to spend time with his other best friend too. with the screen going black on his pc in between levels, he saw your pouty frame sitting in bed and holding onto his bunny plushie, before sighing and finally lying down.

he slowly lifted one of his headphones off of one of his ears, just barely enough so he could hear the outside noise well. just in case you needed anything, he would be able to hear clearly.

you were getting more comfortable in soobin’s sheets, nearly on the edge of passing out. sleep was starting to reach out for you, ready to envelope you in it’s soft embrace, lulling you off into dreamland. you snuggled your face further into soobin’s pillow, consciousness slipping further away from you- then a strike of thunder.

a loud gasp tore itself from your throat as you shot upright, gripping onto the sheets beside you as you tried to catch your breath. almost as fast as you shot up, soobin was spinning around in his chair to see your shaking frame.

“y/n? are you okay? what happened?” he questioned, staring at you with wide eyes.

“nothing, nothing,” your voice shook as you answered, “just a bad dream.”

you weren’t entirely sure if he believed you, he didn’t say anything for a couple seconds and just stared at you, and all you could do was hope another boom of thunder didn’t reverberate through the sky.

“are you sure?” he pressed further.

“i’m fine, soobin. don’t worry about me,” you smiled, a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, but it was enough for soobin to nod at you and turn back around towards his game, still being sure to keep one headphone off of his ear.

letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slowly situated yourself back under the covers, trying to calm your breathing while snuggling further into soobin’s covers.

another boom or thunder shook the sky, your eyes scrunching shut as you held on tighter to soobin’s blanket, trying to ignore the loud noises. every time you were calming down more, another loud boom would follow, the sound filling your eardrums and causing panic to rise within you.

your knuckles were turning white from the hold you had on the sheets, feeling tears well up in your eyes as your breathing quickened. you just wanted the noise to stop. you hatred thunder.

ever since you were a little kid, you had memories of hiding under tables to get away from the thunder, letting out loud, wailing sobs as you clung onto your mom after she dragged you out, crying that you were scared of the loud noises in the sky. it was a fear that never truly went away, always sure to carry headphones with you if you knew it was going to rain so you could pop them in if thunder started and block the noises out of your mind. that however, wasn’t working today.

a small tear escaped your eye, followed by many more. you were trying to remain quiet, trying to calm your breathing which wasn’t really doing much, trying to push the fear out of your mind. small sniffles could be heard from you, burying your head further into soobin’s sheets, doing anything to drown out the noise.

you jumped at the feeling of a hand gently placing itself over yours, their thumb caressing your knuckles lightly. opening your eyes softly, soobin was kneeling next to the bed, concerned eyes looking into your teary eyes.

“are you scared of the thunder?” he spoke, glancing out the window before turning back to you.

you shook your head, staring at him, “no.”

“you’re scared of the thunder,” he replied.

“no, i’m not-” you tried to refute, but a crash of thunder sounded, your body tensing at the sound.

soobin stared at you for a bit with a solemn look on his face, his hand coming up to your face to wipe away your falling tears. you tried to ignore the way your breath hitched, and how your eyes widened slightly.

he stood up abruptly, startling you slightly, “come with me,” he spoke, holding out his hand for you to take.

your eyebrows furrowed slightly, but you knew you could trust him. you raised your hand slowly and grabbed onto his as you flung your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing yourself off to stand up.

you let him guide you over to his computer, his hands dropping to your waist to maneuver you to sit in his chair, giving you a small smile before he grabbed his headset.

“hey, beomgyu, y/n is gonna play with us for a bit. she’s taking my spot,” he explained into the microphone, and you heard a muffled response from the other side, not being able to make out what beomgyu was saying.

he pulled the headset off of his head, placing it over your ears and motioning for you to speak.

“hi,” you stammered, your hands resting on the edge of soobin’s desk, not wanting to mess up anything.

“hey y/n! i was getting sick of playing with that loser, i’m glad you’re here,” beomgyu responded, and you couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that slipped past your lips, lifting your head to look at soobin with a smile.

“what?” soobin asked with a confused look on his face, “is he talking shit about me?”

you shook your head, looking back down towards the screen, “well, i’m really bad at gaming. i wouldn’t get too happy. what even is this game?”

“we’re basically connected by a rope, and we have to work together to get the key that leads you to the next level. it’s mostly teamwork,” he explained while you nodded along to his words, forgetting he couldn’t see you.

“okay, i can do this. that sounds easy enough,” you smiled, your voice more determined as you placed your hands on the keyboard, looking up to soobin to make sure you were using the correct keys. he nodded, and you looked back down, ready to start.

you started walking forward, beomgyu’s character moving with yours, beomgyu going to jump while you fell, dragging both of your characters down.

you sucked in some air, your face scrunching up, “sorry! i didn’t mean to do that.”

you heard beomgyu’s muffled laugh on the other side, “you’re fine. not everyone can be an amazing gamer like i am.”

a soft giggle escaped your lips, shaking your head as you played along with an exaggerated tone to your voice, “oh, right, i’m so sorry. i’ll get it right next time.”

you lied. you had tried six more times, and the same exact thing happened every time. you were starting to feel more embarrassed and you could tell beomgyu was getting slightly restless.

you weren’t on time with beomgyu, you would jump too early and he would fall, or you would jump too late and he would fall. you looked down with an embarrassed look as a sigh left your lips.

“i’m sorry, beomgyu. i told you i wasn’t good at this,” you muttered, your hands coming up to cover your face.

“it’s okay, we’ve got this,” he reassured you, sensing how nervous you were starting to get.

“here,” soobin chimed in from behind you, his hands reaching around you to grab your wrists lightly, “put your hands on the keys.”

you nodded, lowering your hands to place them on the keyboard again, situating yourself in a more upright position.

you felt soobin place his fingers on top of yours, his warm touch sending a shiver up your arms. you sucked in a breath, one you were sure both beomgyu and soobin heard. you clenched your eyes shut for a second in embarrassment and wished soobin didn’t have this much of an effect on you.

“i’ll help you,” he whispered, leaning down so his head was next to yours. if you weren’t wearing the headset he would’ve been whispering directly into your ear. you pushed away the lustful thoughts that filled your brain, clearing your throat and nodding at his words.

“okay..” you squeaked, your voice small. this was humiliating.

“soobin’s gonna help me, beomgyu,” you informed him, soobin guiding your hand to click the restart button on the level, the screen flashing as you two were once again at the starting point.

“i heard him, don’t worry,” he spoke, and you smiled slightly. soobin’s hands pressed down on your fingers, guiding your character to move, quickly getting through the part you were struggling with before.

“not so hard, was it?” he asked so quietly, it was almost a whisper. you turned your head to the side slightly, your breath coming out shaky when you realized how close your faces were.

you nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a small smile, “yeah..”

getting through the levels after that was easy, and you had gotten accustomed to the feeling of soobin being so close to you. you were bickering with beomgyu, the two of you talking about everything while you went through the levels, with the occasional jab towards soobin beomgyu would make.

you would laugh every time, soobin simply shaking his head. he was close enough to your ear to hear what beomgyu was saying, responding to the insults and listening to the way beomgyu would get quiet before bursting out with a laugh, not knowing soobin had heard him.

you had completely forgotten about the storm at this point, too caught up in the game as the levels got harder and harder. to be fair, you were barely doing any work. but it was still fun to at least be playing a part in it.

“okay, we have to lock in. this level is gonna be hard,” beomgyu said, and you heard him take a deep breath as you looked at the screen in front of you.

it definitely didn’t look easy.

“soobin, better work hard-“ beomgyu began to tease, his voice cutting out as soobin’s computer shut off, leaving the room pitch black. your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at the screen, turning to face soobin with a concerned look.

he mirrored your expression, turning to look at the screen, “uh.. let me..”

he bent down, checking the plugs and clicking the keyboard a couple times, a slight hum leaving him.

“i don’t know what happened, everything is still connected,” he mumbled, standing back up to look down at you.

a loud knock on the door caused you to jump slightly, soobin turning around to look.

“yeah?,” he called, waiting for a reply.

“the power went out!” hueningkai called from the other side, and soobin turned to look back at you, the computer turning off suddenly making a lot more sense.

“oh, makes sense,” he responded, reaching down to pull the headphones off of your ears and place them on the table next to you. the two of you shared an embarrassed look, both wondering why you didn’t think of that at first.

“hey, where’s y/n? i haven’t seen her,” hueningkai continued. you looked up at soobin with a small smile, a soft giggle leaving you.

“she’s in here. she’s staying with me tonight,” he responded, smiling back at you.

“oh,” he mumbled, a pause before his next words, “okay. goodnight.”

“goodnight,” the two of you called back, listening as hueningkai’s footsteps descended from the door. silence surrounding the two of you once again.

it was hard to see soobin at all. the room was pitch black, and he looked like a silhouette in front of you, nothing more.

“i’m gonna go get some candles,” he blurted, breaking the silence and beginning to make a move for the door.

your hand moved before you could think too much about it, grabbing onto his wrist and stopping him from going any further. well, let’s be honest, you weren’t stopping him at all. he could’ve kept walking if he wanted to. but he stopped for you.

“don’t go,” you whispered, your grip on his wrist loosening as you lowered your hand back down into your lap, beats of silence passing as you waited for his response.

he hummed quietly, turning back towards you, “okay.”

he was standing so close to you, looking down at you, and from the proximity you could make out his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips as he spoke, “you’re really dependent on me, aren’t you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, a laugh leaving you, “shut up.”

he did, surprisingly. he tilted his head to the side, almost observing you. a loud crash of thunder filled the room with noise, your eyes clenching shut as your body went rigid.

“soobin,” you squeaked out, not even realizing his name had left your lips as you looked up at him, panic flashing across your face.

you felt your eyes grow watery, a pout forming on your lips as you met his eyes. he looked like he was once again trying to figure out what to do. he couldn’t distract you with technology this time, he couldn’t block out the noise for you. a small tear slipped down your face, a broken whimper leaving your lips as more thunder sounded throughout the quiet room. you couldn’t even be embarrassed about crying over thunder at this point. you were so overwhelmed.

soobin’s hands reached under your legs, pulling them towards him, before reaching his arms behind your chest and lifting you up, holding you bridal style.

a small part of your mind flickered to how strong he was, how easily he was able to pick you up and how easily he was able to carry you.

he shuffled over to the bed, lighting tossing your body down as you landed with a quiet “oomph”. your eyes flickered down towards him, trying to make out where he was in the darkness.

you saw him lift one leg up onto the bed, leaning his upper body over you as he held eye contact with you, not saying anything, just watching how you reacted to him.

he slowly began to crawl up your body, the only noise being your shaky breaths and the rain hitting the window. shivers erupted across your body as you felt him get higher.

what the fuck is he doing? you thought to yourself, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as you watched him.

he was so close now, leaning right over your face. a lightning strike lit up the room, your eyes meeting soobin’s more clearly. there was desire evident in his eyes, your mind going haywire. you had to have been imagining that, right? there’s no way.

he leaned down very slightly, his voice quiet and breathy as he spoke, “do you want me to help you?”

a small gasp slipped past your lips, your eyes wide. you couldn’t say anything. the words wouldn’t leave your mouth. this was not happening. this was not reality.

he leaned down, his face so, so close to yours, before he moved his head towards your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he continued, “use your words. yes or no.”

a shiver ran down your spine, a shaky breath leaving your lips as your body finally forced the words out, “yes. please.”

you felt him smile against your ear, lifting his head once again so he was hovering over you. he reached one hand out to wipe the still-wet tears on your face, his thumb then trailing down to your lips and pulling your bottom lip down before letting it slap back into place.

god, he was so hot. you sucked in a breath of air at the action, your eyes locked on his as began to lean down.

it was soft. his lips were so soft, slowly moving against your own as he titled your head up slightly to access your mouth better. a soft whine slipped past your lips, your hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. this was your best friend. you were kissing your best friend. your hands slid up to his hair, tangling themselves in his roots and tugging slightly, hearing him suck in a breath of air before his lips were back against yours.

his tongue prodded lightly at your bottom lip, and you obliged easily, opening your mouth to let him in. he was so gentle with his kisses, but they were all-consuming at the same time. his hand that was on your jaw moved down your body, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt before he pushed his hand under slowly.

a gasp left your lips at the feeling of his cold hand on your warm stomach, his large hand splayed out on your abdomen. he wasn’t moving it, just holding it there, like he was waiting for you to tell him to stop. like he wanted you to tell him this was a bad idea.

you didn’t. you would never. fuck, you’ve wanted him for so long, you weren’t going to cut things off now.

his mouth was pushing harder against yours, his kisses getting slightly more rough. your thighs rubbed together while your fingers found themselves tugging at his hair once again. you felt him smirk against your lips, his hand finally beginning to inch up your abdomen.

another crash of thunder. your lips stuttered against his, the grip you had on his hair loosening at the sound. you were so enthralled, you had forgotten why you two started making out in the first place.

he pulled away from you slightly, just enough so he could speak, your lips still brushing each other so very lightly.

“focus on me. not the thunder. i’m right here,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck.

you only nodded at his words. you felt like you were in a dream at this point. his lips softly kissed at your neck, nipping slightly in certain spots before he made sure to run his tongue over the spot, pressing a small kiss before moving on to another spot.

you rolled your head back against the sheets, giving him all the access he needed as a quiet moan slipped past your lips. a fleeting thought of how you would explain this to hueningkai in the morning popped into your mind but you decided that was a problem for tomorrow.

you felt his fingers reach the bottom of your bra before stopping and tapping your skin lightly. you guessed he was asking if it was okay to keep going further.

“yes,” you spoke, your voice breathy and sounding foreign to yourself. he hadn’t even done anything to you yet. his hand moved up higher, cupping your bra-covered breast in his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

a moan slipped past your lips before you shut your mouth quickly. you had forgotten you weren’t alone for a second. you felt him laugh against your neck, his breath tickling you and the sound so soft. he sat up, the hand that was holding himself up moving to the bottom of your shirt.

“can i take this off?,” his voice was quiet, but it wasn’t nervous. no, he sounded confident. it only turned you on more, a whine slipping past your lips as you nodded your head, arching your back slightly to make it easier for him.

he pulled your shirt over your head quickly, tossing it to a random corner in the room before he was leaving down, his lips latching on to your chest. you sucked in a breath at the action.

“soobin,” you whispered quietly, your voice shaky and ridden with need. you didn’t know where to put your hands, they were going from his shoulder, to his hair, to his biceps.

his hand snaked under your back and you lifted yourself off the bed as best you could as he undid your bra. you tried not to let the fact that he did it effortlessly with one hand linger for too long in your mind. he slid your bra off your body slowly, before leaning back down to press a kiss on your now exposed breast, his other hand coming up to play with the other one. his lips latched onto your nipple, lolling his tongue over the pebbled skin and you swore you were going to go insane.

gasps and whines were leaving your lips as he continued to pleasure both of ur breasts, humming against your exposed flesh. he pulled away just slightly, his hand continuing to squeeze and caress your other breast as he mumbled, “you’re so pretty, fuck.”

“more,” you whimpered out, any proper responses long gone from your mind at this point. your hands clawed at his shirt as best you could, trying to pull it over his head. he got the memo, sitting up and tugging the offensive piece of clothing off of him, your eyes taking in his now exposed chest.

it wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before- no, you had seen him shirtless hundreds of times. this felt different. so, so different.

he leaned back down, trailing kisses down your torso while his hands roamed before finally setting on the hem of your sweats, “lift for me.”

you pushed your hips off the bed slightly, giving him access to pull your sweats and panties down slowly. you heard a small gasp escape his lips, your legs pushing together out of instinct, “you’re soaking, y/n, fuck.”

he hummed, shaking his head before pulling your legs apart, “don’t hide from me.” you whined softly as your head lolled to the side, embarrassment flooding through you. you shouldn’t be embarrassed, really. but nerves were still coursing through your body, your eyes clenching shut.

“hey.” his hands rubbed your thighs lightly, pulling your attention back to him, “why are you so nervous?”

you didn’t say anything for a bit, pursing your lips as you thought of a response. “you make me nervous,” you finally mumbled out, looking down at him slowly.

he chuckled softly, his fingers moving further up your thighs, closer to where you needed him. a soft gasp left your lips, your eyes widening slightly. he hummed, his eyes flickering down and back up, “i do?”

you nodded, a small- and borderline embarrassing- whimper slipping past your lips. your hips wiggled slightly despite your nerves, trying to get him closer to where you needed him. “soobin, please,” you gasped out, your eyes staring into his.

he finally obliged, one of his fingers sliding through your folds, a sharp gasp leaving you. “keep your eyes on the mirror, baby,” he mumbled, giving you a smirk as your head fell back, your eyes barely being able to make out the sight that was being reflected on the mirror.

“want you to watch as i ruin you,” he continued, your body tensing at his words. god, you were not making it out of this. his fingers slid up to your clit, slowly massaging the bundle of nerves. your breathing sped up, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your hands grabbed onto the sheets beside you.

“soob, please. need you so bad,” you whined, grinding your hips up into his hand. his other hand moved to your abdomen, pushing down to keep your hips in place. a moan left you, your hands moving from the sheets to his hair.

“patience,” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. his fingers moved from your clit, two of his fingers prodding at your entrance before pushing in slowly. you moaned softly, your head rolling back. “eyes on the mirror,” he mumbled a reply, pulling his fingers out almost all the way before pushing them back in.

you didn’t really hear him, focusing too heavily on the feeling of his fingers. until you felt him latch onto your clit, his lips sucking lightly and drawing a mix of a moan and a gasp from your lips, “fuck!”

you pulled your vision back to the mirror, the sight barely illuminated, the only thing visible being your silhouettes- which were still incredibly hard to see. your fingers tugged at soobin’s hair, trying your best to contain your sounds as you bit your lip so hard you were sure you could draw blood soon.

he was licking and sucking at your clit, his fingers speeding up inside of you, the wet sounds that were leaving your pussy were something you would have normally been embarrassed by, but you were too far gone by this point.

whispers of his name and profanities were leaving your lips, your hands gripping his hair harder as he hummed against you, sending a chill throughout your body. you felt the first tingling’s of your orgasm creeping up on you, your legs threatening to close around his head.

“soobin- soobin ‘m close..” you struggled out between whines, unable to do anything besides take what he was giving you, throwing your head back against the pillow.

soobin removed his fingers, moving his hands to hold either of your thighs down as he moved his tongue, licking a long stripe up your heat. one of your hands flew from his hair to your mouth, struggling to hold in the noises leaving your lips at this point.

“you’re so fucking wet. tastes so good,” he mumbled against your lips, licking and sucking harder as he pushed your legs further apart, practically making out with your cunt, “you gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my tongue?”

you nodded dumbly, too close to your orgasm to process his words or anything that was happening around you besides the feeling creeping up on you. your eyes were trained on the ceiling, your orgasm growing tighter, so close to falling over the edge.

a lightning strike lit up the room, giving you a perfect view of soobin’s head in between your thighs, your hand gripping his hair, and your fucked out face. you stared back at your reflection, the familiar feeling creeping up on you all too quickly.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you started, your orgasm cutting you off as your back arched into the air, your hand tugging harder at soobin’s hair. your body shook, his hands pushing your thighs down harder as he groaned into your cunt, the feeling heightening your orgasm. muffled whines pushed their way past your lips, although your hand was trying its best to muffle the noises.

soobin wasn’t slowing down. even as you started to come down from your orgasm, tinges of overstimulation mixing pain with pleasure, he kept going. “soobin.. too much,” you whimpered, your hand falling from your mouth to grab onto his hair, attempting to push his head away.

“you taste so good,” he responded, his voice muffled and sending vibrations up your core, your legs twitching at the feeling.

“soobin,” you mewled, tears welling up in your eyes as you attempted to push your thighs together, your head falling to the side.

he lifted his head, looking up at your shaking form with a small smirk adorning his lips, “you can give me one more, can’t you?”

he went back to eating you out almost immediately, except this time he removed one of his hands from your thigh, pushing two of his fingers inside your dripping hole, beginning to thrust them in and out.

you threw your head back, a gasp falling from your lips as your hands tugged at his hair. “i can’t.. soobin,” you whimpered, tears falling down your face at the feeling.

he moved his free hand, once again pressing his hand down on your stomach as he sped up his fingers, the feeling pushing you close to the edge once again. you but your lip hard, holding in the noises threatening to leave your lips as he continued his ministrations.

you couldn’t even give soobin a warning this time, your second orgasm crashing over you as your eyes rolled back, your pussy gushing all over his fingers and face.

he helped you ride out your orgasm, slowly pulling his fingers out of you once it started becoming too much again. he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive clit, your legs jumping slightly at the feeling.

he pushed himself back up your body, enveloping your lips in a soft kiss. you tasted yourself on his lips, humming quietly into the kiss. he ground himself against your core, his bulge applying the perfect amount of friction against your clit. you gasped against his lips as your head tilted back slightly.

he looked down at you, a teasing expression on his face, “what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t care less that he was teasing you at this point, grinding your core up against him. “need you,” you mumbled.

“yeah?” he teased, continuing to grind his hard cock against you. he wanted to be inside you so bad, his sweats were painful at this point and your pussy was providing the perfect amount of friction for him. he wanted to keep teasing you, to see how far he could push you, but his self control was shattering more every second.

he pulled away, a whine falling from your lips at the feeling disappearing. you looked up at him with a pout, “why’d you stop?”

“i’d rather you come on my cock,” he replied simply, his words rendering you speechless. he tugged his sweats and underwear down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. the tip was red and leaking, your mouth dropping open at the sight. he stroked himself a few times with his hand, a cocky smile on his lips when he noticed your reaction.

“holy shit,” you mumbled, a new wave of arousal washing over you. he leaned his body over yours once more, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“are you ready?” he asked softly, lining himself up with your entrance. you nodded quickly, letting out a desperate hum as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. he reciprocated the kiss immediately, pushing his hips forward slowly and enveloping himself in your tight heat.

you gasped, your lips separating from his as your face scrunched up and a moan spilled past your lips, closing your mouth quickly. soobin’s eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he continued to move forward slowly, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

you couldn’t get any words out, noises stuck in your throat as he practically split you open on his cock. he finally bottomed out, his thighs flush against the back of yours. you could feel every ridge and vein, a deep breath leaving him as he spoke, his voice shaky, “i’m gonna start moving.”

“okay,” you whispered, a whine slipping past your lips as he pulled out, pushing himself back in quicker than before. you couldn’t think straight, your mind muddled and completely focused on how good you felt right now, how soobin was fucking you just right, setting a perfect rhythm.

“soobin, fuck,” you mumbled, your hands moving to his neck, his arms, his back, anywhere that you could get a hold of to ground yourself. the sound of skin slapping skin reverberated quietly throughout the room, the both of you trying your best to be quiet, but, fuck, it was hard.

“gonna make you cum on my cock. make you forget about everything else,” he sighed, his hand coming down to push on your stomach, your eyes rolling back at the pressure, “fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.”

he stopped his movement, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips as you looked up at him, “no- no, don’t stop.”

he didn’t answer, grabbing your legs and pressing them to your chest, holding them there by the back of your knees as he started to move again, the new angle making him feel even deeper. “fuck, oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow. he had you practically locked under his hold, unable to do anything besides take all of him.

a certain thrust had him pushing up right against your g-spot, a broken gasp leaving your lips as your hand shot out to the sides, gripping the sheets as your eyes rolled back. soobin caught on quickly, rolling his hips up against the same spot, “right there?”

“yes, yes, please, oh my god,” you babbled, trying your best to hold the sounds threatening to push past your lips in. he picked up his pace more, hitting the perfect spot repeatedly. you felt your high growing quickly, the band getting ready to snap.

“soobin, i’m close,” you whined, his hand immediately coming down to rub circles on your clit. the added stimulation pushed you even closer to the edge, your eyes clenching shut.

“me too, baby. gonna stuff you full of my cum,” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared the edge, “you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“pleeease, i need it. need your cum,” you whine, your hands pulling at the sheets harder as you feel the band in your stomach growing tighter, “i’m gonna cum- soob!”

he sped up his thrusts, rubbing harder at your clit, “cum for me.”

his words pushed you over the edge, your toes clenching and eyes rolling back as your orgasm exploded, your release gushing all over his cock. your pussy clenched tightly around him, making it harder for soobin to move as he groaned, watching how your face contorted as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“fuck, baby. squeezing me so tight. i’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up,” his voice was strangled and shaky, his hips slamming against yours as he shot his cum inside you, throwing his head back and clenching his eyes shut. he rocked his hips slowly against yours, helping the two of you ride out your highs.

your breathing slowed down as your body relaxed into the sheets, trying to process what had just happened. his forehead dropped against yours softly as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before releasing your legs, them instantly falling down by your sides.

“hey,” he whispered against your lips, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hands came up to your face, pressing another kiss to your lips before he continued, “want you to ride me.”

your eyes snapped open, staring into his eyes with an exasperated look, “soobin, i’ve come three times already. i can’t do another one.”

“oh, but i think you can,” he smiled, looking out the window before turning back to you, “besides, it’s still thundering outside.”

you couldn’t even get an answer out before he was flipping the two of you over, a gasp leaving your mouth as your hands shot out to his chest to steady yourself. the new position had him hitting different spots inside you, your pussy clenching around his hardening cock.

a corner of his lip lifted, his hand slapping your ass lightly, “turn around for me, baby.”

you obliged, pulling off of him with shaky legs as you both winced at the feeling as you moved your body, positioning yourself over him once again. you were trying to ignore the soreness in your legs, grabbing his now hard dick and aligning him with your entrance before slowly sinking down.

you bit your lip hard, holding back the moan of pleasure, a small whimper slipping out instead. “fuck, soobin,” you whined, your head dropping to your chest as you continued to lower yourself, finally feeling him bottom out.

“just like that, doing so good for me, hm?” he mumbled, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he helped guide your movements, your mouth falling open at the new feeling. you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your hands steadying themselves on his thighs, helping you move quicker as you bit back moans and cries.

your legs were stinging, threatening to give out on you as you tried to keep going and push yourself through the pain. it didn’t work, your legs dropping down as you took a deep breath. you tried to lift yourself up again, but soobin’s hands held you in place.

“relax,” he murmured quietly, bending his knees and pushing his feet into the mattress, his hips thrusting up into yours and immediately setting a brutal pace. you couldn’t fight the loud cry that left your lips, one of your hands slapping up to your mouth as you tried your best to muffle the desperate sounds leaving you.

he was so deep, hitting you in places that had tears welling up in your eyes, your hand gripping onto his thigh like a lifeline. “too much!” you cried, the hand on your mouth dropping down to his other thigh to hold yourself in place.

one of his hands moved from your hip, slowly sliding up the rest of your body before he reached your neck, grabbing your chin and angling your head up towards the ceiling. “look at yourself, baby. how good you’re taking me,” he spoke gruffly, voice consumed by lust.

your fucked-our face was staring back at you, teary eyes and mouth hung open, soobin’s hand holding your chin and his hips pistoning up into yours. his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pulled between his teeth as he watched the way you sucked him in. you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you at the lewd sight.

it was like a dam broke. all the moans and whimpers you had been holding in were slipping past your lips as the tears that had been welling up in your eyes spilled over. he angled his hips just right, thrusting up against your g-spot again as a loud cry left you. you didn’t even have to tell him at this point, he knew. he kept the angle, repeatedly hitting the same spot that made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

he chuckled quietly behind you, his voice strangled as he spoke, “you want hueningkai to know how good i’m fucking you?” you clenched tightly around him at his words, a whimper leaving your lips. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke again, “you liked that, didn’t you? dirty girl.”

“yes, w-want everyone to know- need you,” you stammered out, your voice shaky and cut off with moans. you were nearing the edge for the fourth time that night, loud, unabashed moans leaving your lips as your hands pushed harder against his thighs, trying to ground yourself somehow.

you were so far gone at this point, only caring about the pleasure coursing through you. you felt like you were in a different dimension. you were so close to tipping over the edge, your cunt beginning to clench around soobin as you cried out.

“you close, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. he doubled down on his efforts, thrusting into you faster, if that was even possible at this point.

“please- please.. need to cum, fuck, please, let me cum, soobin, please, want you to fill me up!” you pleaded, tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes clenched shut. you were so close to falling over the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening more and more, so close to snapping, so close to-

your vision went white, your mouth falling open as a cry left you as your cunt spasmed wildly around him. it was euphoric, your body twitching and spasming as he held you in place, beginning to chase his own high. you could do nothing besides take it, whimpers and cries leaving your lips as the pleasure morphed into pain.

“i’m almost there baby, fuck, just-“ he started, his thrusts sloppy and quick as he neared the edge, “i’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck”

you watched his face with bleary eyes when he came, the reflection dark and hard to make out. his eyebrows were squinted closed and his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth hung open as he filled you up, pulling you down as hard as he could, hot white seed filing you to the brim and spilling out from being so stuffed.

his grip on you loosened, pulling you back against his chest. the position was uncomfortable, your legs and back bent at a weird angle, but you were too far gone to think about that right now. he smiled at your pliantness, adjusting your legs for you the best he could, pulling himself out of you slowly.

you whined at the sting, his hand stroking your arm as he whispered, “it’s okay, just relax, alright?” you nodded, soobin sliding himself out from underneath you so he was next to you, turning on his side and facing you.

“hey,” he mumbled with a smile, watching as you turned your head to meet his eyes with a shy smile.

“hi,” you giggled, your voice hoarse and sleepy.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admitted quietly, biting his lip as he averted his vision.

your eyes widened slightly, turning your body fully to face him as you responded, “you have?”

“yeah,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips as he looked back at you, “i’ve wanted you since we became friends. i just didn’t wanna make things awkward. but you would always give me these looks and i couldn’t tell if you liked me or not. tonight i just.. i couldn't help myself, i guess.”

your mouth fell open slightly, a smile forming on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, “i’ve always been yours, soobin.”

his eyes lit up, a big smile taking over his features as his hand reached up to cup your jaw, pulling your lips back against his. this kiss was different from the others. it was sweet, full of emotion and untold feelings that had finally come to surface.

he pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours as he spoke, “let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” as you nodded along to his words, the rain pouring outside the window as the storm raged on, one thought circulated through your mind.

maybe thunder wasn’t so bad after all.

oh, and how you were going to explain this to hueningkai in the morning.

Choi Yeonjun is a man. In a broad pair of shoulders, the sharp coffee and black pepper that clings to his skin that lingers in the warm pulse points when you press your face into them, and how he keeps himself put together in clothes without the wrinkles of a twice-worn thing off the carpet like the guys your age, who you could ask if they do exactly that and they would shrug and tell you that they did. Not Yeonjun. None of that was what truly set him apart, nor the things that put that stamp of ratified man on his integrity.

That was in the opening doors for you. He insists on it. He doesn't want your hands on any car door handles, only wants to hear the click of the heels bought on his dime hitting the ground when you step out after him. And he wasn't afraid to tell you it, either. It was in how he took the burden of ordering for you at the diners he took you, with the warm crystal lights that hung low over your table as he'd thumb the back of your hand. In how that card of his was yours, too.

You were sitting in bed after a thorough, all brand new, skincare routine, when he proposed the flight to Hawaii. A face mask seeped into your skin as you gawked into the glow of the screen. If he had only see your face. He tells you it's the best part.

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: We have a suite booked in O'ahu for this weekend. Do you need anything for it, baby?

11:00pm [Yeonjun]: Pack light, you'll be coming home with more than you came.

11:01pm [Yeonjun]: How does that sound?

It was that part that made your stomach twist up like it was in there jump-roping. It always is the way he talks to you; because, what kind of question is that? He knew exactly how it sounded. His texting mannerisms scream older, succinct with an air of a man who knows exactly how off-guard this all still leaves you. He is so cruel, in the most savory way. It has long since been decided that men age like wine. They sit on a shelf and mature, until they're more rich and deep. Or at least until they've had their fun, their money, and are left with an itch to funnel it all into making something bloom pretty at his attention and spoiling.

Honolulu is so much alike the post cards, and in the same vein, so much different. It's a bustling metropolis with buildings that scrape the turquoise sky. The beach is within walking distance from your hotel, and that is just as peppered with tourists in cover-ups they probably bought right from the ABC store along the strip.

"Waikiki looks nothing like I thought it did," you say. A piña colada daiquiri sweats in your hand under the thick sun. It's hot here. Not like the bone dry heat of summer back at home, but instead it's thick on your skin like a layer of salt off the breeze. You fiddle with the tropical ribbons of your bikini bottoms at the swell of your hip. Lazy and pampered, and nobody could deny it. You wouldn't.

With his arms tucked behind his head on a tanning chair adjacent to yours, he grins. "What did you think it was?" He runs his finger around the rim of his own drink. He'd made you sip off it and found the wrinkle of your nose at the burn humorous.

Not full on city with the same beeping cars and traffic as home, perhaps. Your shoulders have long since turned pink. Your cheeks, a radiant burn to match. It tugs every time your face moves like the skin's just a bit too tight. "Like… When you think of Hawaii, the first thing you think of. That." It's about time you roast your other side. Or else you'll be glowing red on your front and springtime pale at the back. The cheeky bottoms of your bikini's ridden up with all your lounging, the soft spot where your ass meets thigh turned up this way around. Yeonjun doesn't look away when you catch him getting an eyeful. "That guy didn't even ID me." The spot where your nose presses to your pillow of crossed arms smells like sweat and coconutty sunscreen.

"He's not gonna ask you while I'm there," Yeonjun says. He holds one hand up like a visor over his eyes, looking at you under it. The shirt he'd changed into as soon as you hit the room There's a healthy glow set deep in his skin that leads you to suspect that, even if this is the first time he's taken you on a pretty penny vacation, it's not his first. It's a deep, bronze that speaks of a tan that's built on. You're not his first sugar baby. That's something you've come to terms with. It gets a little easier with a swipe of the card.

"Why…?"

Thumbing the crease of your bottom, he supplies his answer with a hum. "It's his job to sell it. This whole city loves a dollar bill." Lifting his own glass, he adds, "And that kid's not trying to offend me by asking."

That kid. A guy somewhere near your age, give or take. It's always those little things that send a furious, brilliant storm of butterflies through your belly. The little ways he reminds you exactly what he is. They never come in grand gestures. More in the way he just moves through the world, and how it bends around his shape to meet him. He didn't ask the associates in the luxury stores he takes you shopping in to perk up and run to serve him, knowing he'll buy. They just do it.

A handful of girls three rows down laugh with one another over the holistic sound of the resort pools. Lifeguards, kids here on vacation with parents glad they're cannon-balling into the pools and bothering the group of twenty-somethings with palms over the mouth of their tumbler glasses to save themselves the misery of discovering how teal, chlorine water mixed with margarita. Sweat has glued your cheek to where it squishes against your upper arm. You keep your head oriented to watch him. "But can't they get in trouble for that?" Talking comes difficult. The heat makes you too lazy. You can hardly even summon the words.

Smiling at that, he answers, "If they get caught, yeah." The muscles dormant in his biceps ripple as he crosses his arms about his chest. He didn't hit the gym; not that you knew of. But he maintains that like he does. Another thing that seems to just come with the whole matured, better, older man package.

That felt topically ironic. Especially considering that you never do intend to be caught. You dread the thought so hard that you've learned to banish it the moment it springs up. It's easier this way. And way more fun. It's not like you never thought about it; toeing the line in the sand without ever really letting the tide rush in on you. "This stuff is so sweet. Should I have another one?"

That gets a kick out of him. "Yeah? You like it?" Yeonjun says. There's a languor dripping off the way he does, sticky like the air. "That's because it's rum, babygirl. All sugar."

Your throat goes all tight. Fumbling after words, you quickly say, "It taste like a smoothie."

"That's why you don't need another one." He laughs. "It hits you faster than you think it will. Especially with the heat." Then, picking up the drink, he drinks down what you hadn't gotten to you. Those expressive brows twist. "Shit, that's sweet."

You only smile and watch him cross his arms back. They look fit to throw you any which way, or even to carry all the bags he would snatch from you before you even got to try and carry yourself. "Okay, it's not that sweet."

Not in any hurry, never in any hurry, he gets that look on his face that you've come to know to mean that he's guiding the conversation a different way. He corrals you so easily that you tend to not even notice that you're on the next topic. He takes control of any conversation with such ease. On your first date, you had been a shaking, shy thing sat across from him. It didn't matter much. With a little steering you and a handsome smile as he listened to you answer his questions, the burden of even carrying conversations was off your shoulders. That was his job, he'd told you later on when you told him how terrified you were.

"I was thinking about heading back to the suite," he starts. The sharp lines of his eyes linger on you like he's plotting it all out in real time, and there's a prospective smoothness to his voice. As if he'd already playing it all out in his head, and he knows exactly what he has in store for you. "Getting dressed. No need to rush, we have all night. We're here to enjoy ourselves. And then head down to the beach walk, shop around, get you some things to try on for me." He doesn't even smirk. Nothing to justify the way your stomach swoops quick. "And I put a reservation in at this nice, low-key grill for us after. If we need to come back real quick to drop off your stuff, we can." Taking one last drink off his glass, he says, "Sound good, baby?"

Sound good? How could you have any objections? You blink at him for a moment. Up until yesterday, you'd never even flown overseas. Vacations meant twelve hour drives and scrapping with your siblings and the blankets and luggage for space in the car, just to end up squished against the door anyway. You were half lead to believe that things like this happened only on T.V. or for faceless people in a tax bracket you knew you'd never touch. And yet…

"What? Do you have something else in mind?" His lips do quirk now, perhaps because he knows exactly what. "We can do whatever your sweet heart wants. No need to be shy with me. We're here for you. Me and Hawaii are good friends."

You rush to correct yourself. "No, that's, like, perfect." Pressing up to your elbows, still baking your backside, you say, "I've just never done this before."

He's heard that before, that first time you were intimate with him. You never imagined your first to be a man with sixteen years on you, who was not your boyfriend but instead something suspended in an awkward space between that and something else. Something that makes your blood rise to your ears and lie to everybody you know. A year ago, two, you would've turned your nose up at another girl for sitting in Hawaii on a man's money. After all, down to its core, it's only a trade, isn't it? The sugar in sugar daddy is the tan in your skin and the necklace at your throat studded, in the shape of a 'Y', in true diamonds. And in sugar baby, it was something much more coveted. Well, you couldn't sneer at yourself now; couldn't have known that it could come like him, and not in a sixty year old man who had to pay for sex because he wouldn't get it otherwise.

"Good." He leans back into his low pool chair, the perfect image of the leisure that is company to what he is. But he's got an airy, soft thing going on with his mouth as the sun rushes back over it. "Maybe we'll go out on a boat tomorrow, too."

He doesn't even have to ask to know the answer.

When Yeonjun means get whatever you want, he means that. Not metaphorically. Not loosely, not a ceiling that you might accidentally brush if you got overeager. There wasn't a budget. Not on you. You have your questions concerning where, exactly, he might have all this money. His Seeking profile didn't even tell. And when you asked, he kissed you and said, "I'm old enough to know that you don't really care about my job. You'd get bored to hell of it eventually. So let's not open that door anyway."

Whatever that meant. You gleaned enough from the dress shirts and ironed slacks that it wasn't anything too mystifying. It was, maybe, a bit overdramatic in the way he said it. Or maybe it was your own head that did the work of imagining some big secret.

Bushes with a deep, waxy green up against pink and white Plumerias with yellow blooming at their centers, stand opposite to the glowing warm storefronts which stud the sidewalk. Your hotel is right in the heart of it all. You step out, and you're right there in downtown Honolulu. Clearly, you two had the same idea as everybody else did. It must be the season back home. The streets are packed. Groups of girls walk with their elbows linked with Leis around their necks, probably coming from a restaurant where they were handed out, couples with kids and couples here hoping to get away from theirs, they all have the same essence about them as you feel in your chest. You feel like you're just gawking at stupid things with stars in your eyes like you've never seen a bush, or a lit-up tourist trap. But how did you even get here? Here, where something sweet hangs and makes the air even heaver. Maybe those flowers. Or the street vendors boasting cups of million-dollar pineapple chunks with the rinds still on and passion fruit stuffed in with papayas, and the way it overlaps with the salt from the water. The shoreline is close enough from here than you can watch the black water rush up and disturb the sand.

"You look beautiful," Yeonjun had told you when you stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't need any flowery enhancers to sound like he meant it. He told you in the simplicity that he was unafraid to use, and even more potently, in the lingering inventory he takes of the dress. His hands had flexed where they were shoved into his pockets in patiently waiting. Because he know more than any man, maybe, that patience paid sweeter. He didn't just enjoy the silhouette the sundress made, though you know he definitely did enjoy that. You're still suffering the echoes in your knees that the smolder in his eyes had made shake. But he made sure to enjoy the golden bangles that made feminine, sparkling sounds as you slipped into your heels. How they complimented the sunset pinks and oranges of the tropical floral fabric, and made the sanguine flush to your cheeks speak.

He had stopped, especially, at your neck. Traced the shape of that 'Y' as it glittered. And if anybody were to ask, you were certain that his throat had bobbed.

Now, he keeps one steady hand at your back and the other in his pants. He is an impossibly handsome man, in the most literal sense of the word. But night makes him something else. It cuts the lines of his face which had an angle to them that you could only attribute to aging. His eyes were slow and pleased and all over you and the view your push-up bra makes. "Do you want one?" he asks when your eyes linger on a stand selling Hibiscus flowers. The ones the grew well and didn't get too beat up by the elements, which tourists like to pluck off the bush anyway.

"I mean… They're, like, fifteen dollars." That was a good meal's worth, as far as you were concerned. You could go without. "That's crazy. People just pick them anyway."

"Fifteen dollars to look beautiful on you," he says, "is nothing. Do you know how expensive you look right now, sweetheart?" Passing the person running the stand a bill, he takes your chin with his thumb and tucks a yellow one behind your ear. It's huge, flirting with your eyes and brushing against your temples. Approval flashes over his gaze. "There we go. Now you look like you're in Hawaii."

God. Nothing about that should make your head go so dumb.

You make your way down the street doing pretty much the same. You dip in and out of stores, racking up bags in his free hand. He has no complaints to give. It's something chemical to him. Like foreplay, watching your eyes light up and your mouth go shy with every yes. Yes, yes, yes. That's his favorite word.

Of course you drag him into Sephora. The black-and-white storefront pulls you in with gravity amidst the high-end stores and the shops with the shot glasses and tees plastered with Waikiki beach regalia. He lets you browse and drop things into the shopping basket. You giggle when you catch sight of him, there in his fine muslin button down pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out with the strain, classy sunglasses pushing his hair off his forehead, balancing the damage you'd already done in one hand and the carnage that will ensue at checkout here in the other. With a playing smile on his face, he says, "Don't you want to do something you can't do at home?"

"I can't shop at Sephora in Hawaii at home." You take your lip into your teeth to fight a coquettish grin. A toasty lip liner lands in the cart with a plastic sound of the packaging. "I'm like a thousand percent sure they have stuff here that we just don't have at home." The one by your place is half the size, and even less stocked. You'd probably had a hand in that.

"You've gotten spoiled," Yeonjun says, and you think it sounds like lust. "I've made you into a little money monster. You used to be so shy."

You gasp with affront, coloring your words precisely spoiled. "Me? Not even close. You have to beg me to spend money on myself!" You did, in fact, used to be much more shy with him. It took a few dates to be able to look him in the eyes. It's that contrast between you that is so intoxicating. How you get all dressed up in girly outfits and ramble at him, and he has the answers for it all.

He nudges you around and aisle into the next. The cart is slowly filling up. When he had said you'd be leaving with more than you came, he'd meant it. "I do," he rasps. "I've never taken another girl somewhere who loved shopping more. You're a blushing, pretty hole in my wallet."

A throaty imitation of a laugh if all you can muster in response to that. It's not like you didn't know he had other sugar babies before yourself. Had probably taken them to Hawaii, too. The thought spirals out of control before you can stamp it out. Brushing the buttery petals of the flower at your ear, you consider if he's done exactly this, all of it, with another girl, too. He has the means to. And then you get to thinking what he could've done with those girls. Did he tell them how pretty they sounded like he loved so much to tell you? "You're mean," you say, empty banter. "I'm go back in the bowl and find a sugar daddy that doesn't bully me."

The harsh overhead lights cut his features and catch the way his jaw ticks. "Is that it?" His eyes flicker down the the basket you're filling. You don't know if it's pointed or him doing the math. "They couldn't afford you."

The next step you take is a bit more wobbly, a knot pulling tight deep in your belly and making your coordination all loose. He watches watches you flounder. Realistically, you are very aware you are outmatched. It doesn't stop you doubling down. Your low heels click against the tile floors as you shuffle toward a perfume display. Heavy glass with powdery vanillas and sharp, full black pepper and night blooming jasmine, you are a self-fulfilling prophecy and gravitate toward only the luxe stuff. Maybe that's what ruffles you. That he's right. You take a greenish bottle and spritz it into the sensitive insides of your wrists.

"How about this one?" you say, prim, and offer it up to him. "Is it pretty…?"

Taking the offer up, his nose feathers against the skin. You suppress the thrill it gives you. A moment, a beat in the air exists in intimate tranquility, before you what you're about to say. He looks up at you through his brows as the scent profile hits him. Creamy banana leaf and flirty, fruity coconut that embodied everything that you were right now. His eyes drop to your mouth only long enough for you to see that he does it. "Buy it." He surrenders to one more drag of how it melts into the heat of your skin before straightening back up. You only ever remember that you have to look up at him when he does that. "I want you to wear that when we meet."

You've always known Yeonjun was more attuned to scents than other men. It was often the first thing he'd bring up when he entered a space, but it was also something he'd whisper into your ears, voice scraping, while he was behind you. So you know what you're doing when you pout your mouth and say, "Do you think the new sugar daddy will like it, too? Should I wear it for him?"

Whatever you thought he'd do, he doesn't. A scoff, or maybe a brisk, annoyed dismissal, you'd expected. Or maybe even he'd say something. But Yeonjun just pauses. Goes blank, with no playful retort to volley back. All you know is that his dark eyes, which had been so content on an indulgent walk down downtown and a nice dinner after, go severe. Darker with no trick of the light.

He only says, "Right."

That leaves you with nothing to say. You cap the tester bottle and take a real box of the perfume. Because now, you might really need that in your favor if the way he had been drinking it down was anything to go off of. Maybe it'll soften him. Your little makeup and perfume detour ends with a whimper, not a bang, as you stand beside him in line and then watch him pull out that wallet despite it. Two bags sit on the counter waiting for you to reclaim them. Full bags. But when he thumbs his credit card and runs it, a sleek, black, metal thing with weight that speaks for itself, it goes through with a ding. You toy with the frills of your little dress to expel the mortification somewhere, or even anywhere, that isn't a rambunctious ball in your chest. You open your mouth to smooth things over a few times, but decide against it. You can't claim to have not know that it would bother him, but it's too late for that.

A weird thrill shoots down your spine at the view. His shoulders rigid and sharp from the back, holding all the things in his head right now that you can only guess at.

The final act takes place in a shop, with him leaned up against a wall that separates the changing rooms from the rest of the place into its own little dim hallway. Obnoxious lights oppress the clothing racks and shoppers from a high, warehouse-like ceiling. A pop station closes in from a speaker in the corner of your dressing room. The clothes you'd rummaged through racks for hang on a gold hook on the wall, waiting for you to stop holding your breath. Even when you finally make yourself move to drop your clothes on the glossy floor below, you're elsewhere. The way his faced dropped? Not just that, but the fact that it wasn't even anger. You don't know what it was; maybe something new that the two of you had created yourselves, or something unique to the reality of what you were to each other.

Yeonjun's knock against the door pauses you. You can almost see it, how he'd rap the backside of his knuckles, head down. His mannerisms are so vivid and branded into your psyche that you could step out right now and you're certain that it's exactly how you'd find him. "Need help?"

The center of your shoulder blades burn because you'd been contorting yourself for the past few minutes to reach the strings behind you. You take your lip into your teeth and take a look of yourself in the mirror. You look expensive. You look like all the things that Choi Yeonjun touches: taken care of. "Uhhh." A part of you wants to deny him. To play the cards that you hold in this long game. He never fails to remind you how much power you hold over him and this arrangement. Why not test the boundaries? But you know what would be sweeter than that. Wordlessly, you pull the latch with a loudness that all dressing room locks seem to have.

Then there he is. His arms are crossed, the muscles there loose but still something that you have to take your mind off, or else you might start to think how they would feel under your teeth. You rove over the slanted height of him and how he still looks tall, even when he leans his head and shoulder into the frame. His eyes rove over you, too. Not a flicker. Not a quick assessment. No. God, no. Not with him.

The latch snaps shut behind him with a barely-there gesture. Your whole stomach drops to the floor and shatters.

It's a little showy. You'll give him that. And maybe you'll also admit that you grabbed this exact dress for this exact reason. A corner of your lip wants to twitch with satisfaction, but you have a plan to see through, and it starts and ends with him groveling for you. What a sight that would be. Even just imagining it and turning the imagery of it in your head, when he's the reason you can even live this life that you do, makes you a rapt little tease. Boys your age can't do this. They couldn't be him if they tried. You're beginning to think that he was a different species of man completely.

A beat passes, and then he runs the pads of his fingertips along the hem of your dress. It ends so, so dangerously; right about where your ass folds over at the sanguine softness of your thighs. The skittering brush of contact is straight electricity, and it's the littlest touch. His eyes meet yours through the mirror. Dark. Smoldering like pure wood smoke, erupting slow like the mountains on these islands that move slow enough to watch their molten greed come, but know that you can do nothing to stop it. It's no fair how he looks at you. Your knees go just completely useless.

Yeonjun completely disregards even pretending he was going to lace that skimpy back up for you. You swallow cotton. "Is it cute?" you ask, because you have a pretty good idea of what the answer is already.

The breathy gasp when he takes the soft fat of your hips into his hands with a greed that says he'd been thinking about them since you walked into this store and while he waited patiently on the other side of the door for this. Or before even that. He tugs your bottom to the front of his jeans and says, with his voice smooth like the scotch he sips, "Of course it's beautiful, baby. Do you want it?"

"Yes," you choke out around a thick knot of anticipation. Your own face meets you, palms braced on either side of the ornate gold mirror and your reflection giving you a show of how ditzy and pathetic he makes you. "But I don't know if I should." The syllables waver toward the end and belie your coquettish act.

He laughs like a scoff while he pushes the skirt of the dress up the swell of your hips, then past it until he can devour the bend of your arch. He taught you that form. And it looks like he has no notes on your technique, either. The pressure of him testing it makes your head go dumb. "When have I ever told you no?" he rasps. "You have no idea how expensive you are, baby. No idea. Your little shopping trip would've maxed out any other man's card."

There. That's the spot. You pout your mouth at him and catch him eating it up in his reflection. "I'm expensive? Am I too expensive for you, then?"

Of course not. Look at you. Look at where you are. His card is yours and you think that it's near bottomless at this point. You don't even have to ask. Yeonjun's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

Your panties hit the floor in one tug. The walls of the changing room become infinitely smaller as he wraps your hair up in his fist. The ache in your scalp brings a prickle to your eyes. "Is that what you think?" he says, that polished quality wipes completely raw. He tries to sound like he's not losing his mind, but it's there if you look past the lilt. "Do I need to buy you the island? The world?" It sounds like he would. Like he will. Instead of reaching for himself, he tests between your thighs for what he knows he'll find there, because of course you're soaked. You've been soaked since Sephora.

"Uh-huh," you say, because he's flicking your clit in little tests and every time he hits the sensitive underside of it, the nerves there send your heels clattering on the marble and your legs trying to find purchase. And because, what's dignity with a man sixteen years older than you who puts money in your bank account and fucks you in high-end boutique dressing rooms?

He likes that. But he doesn't give you anything real, doesn't reward the behavior you've been prancing around him with. His palm wraps around your waist to press into your belly and steady your scrambling legs like it goes without saying. The way his fingers stretch over the soft, doughy place there, how it eats up the expanse of your waist, makes you swallow hard. "God help the next kid that gets you. What's he gonna do with you? How are you gonna manage pizzeria dates and a one-bedroom apartment when you know what you have? What I've given you?"

You can't answer. His fingers curl into you, and he wastes no time finding the spot that he knows like muscle memory. The delicate anatomy of a woman's sweet spot seems like something that just came with the package of him. He doesn't have to search, and he probably never did. Sparks explode behind your eyelids like the fireworks they had been setting off on the beach in brilliant golds and teals. If he hadn't steadied you with the strength of his palm, you'd probably be crumpling down to the floor right about now.

"Hmm?" You can hear the condescending purr on his mouth, because you don't have the strength to pry your eyes open to see it.

You mewl a sorry imitation for the word, "Yes," and go back to trying to wiggle your ass into the incessant curling of his fingers. The sounds of him fingering you makes your ears and chest flush, each inappropriate, sloppy wet noise proving how easy you are for him. "Right—right there, please." Your head drops as the first word breaks in the air. It's really a sorry excuse for words.

He listens so well. The angle of his two middle fingers, the width of them just enough to make you crazy and the finesse of how he uses them like weapons even worse so, twitches just up. It's as though he feels it himself somewhere inside of you that he's found it, because he finds it and you know you're royally fucked from that moment on. "Good," he says. "That way I know I get to keep you. Because you'll go and you'll try other men,"—his forearm strains with how he forgets the soreness in it to fuck you on his fingers right—"and you'll be right back here. In my bed. On my money. My spoiled little mess."

The thought that maybe, beyond the pleasure he gets out of knowing he could give you anything, buy you anything, dressing you up in him, he likes you this way because it means nothing else would ever fill the spot he carved doesn't occur to you. Currently because your thighs spasm and shake and it takes every working synapse in your brain firing off to digest how he fucks you so good that it's a leash in and of itself. Hopefully you'll be here when he starts going salt and pepper, because what would sex be if not this?

Your choked, scraped whimpers get too loud for him. His palm over your mouth finally has your eyes fluttering open, and the sight that greets you back is potent enough to send the same molasses through your veins as the heel of his palm grinding down on your swollen clit. "Shh, baby." He grinds harder, because he's mean. "So goddamn whiny. What a princess you are; can't take what you were begging for all night. Why act up if you're gonna tell the whole store how I'm being mean to you?"

He gets your answer in a gone, strangled sob against his palm. Your own damp breaths where it seals over your mouth makes the air thinner. Each roll of his palm forward is met with a helpless push of your ass back on him. His wrist is practically pinned between the bulge in his jeans, because of course he's affected even if he'd like to pretend otherwise, and your bottom. It doesn't stop him one bit. The private sounds that his silencing makes is better than any reckless moaning. It's almost dirtier, almost wronger.

"Gonna cum?" he rasps, watching the trashy mess your face makes in the mirror like a god exacting justice. The weeping mascara lines pooling where his hand meets your face and the drooping eyes that want to roll back into your skull, the high pink of your cheeks and how he can watch himself give you this like he give you everything fucking else. You were close, but just the question winds you up tight enough to snap. That face of his goes patronizing with a furrow of his brows. Slick rolls in hot rivulets down the insides of your trembling thighs. "That's right. There we go. You need to grind that pussy on my hand? Grind it. Go ahead and see if I'm gonna give you what you're asking for."

You try to say something. You really do. To tell him that you'll do anything for it, that he's melting your brain like butter, or god, just anything. The backs of your eyes and your throat and the pit of your stomach all prickle and go tight at once. He probably hears something unflattering come out from behind his palm, something strangled and a fie on the decorum that a place like this deserves. That mirror that you'd been depending on to keep you at least somewhat planted where he's had you bent in half goes clattering against the wall behind it because you're grasping at it like it can help you.

He stops. Just completely, unfairly, cruelly stops. His fingers come out of you a mess and you have to pretend they weren't just in you as he straightens up, swipes a thumb through your blackened cheeks, and then he doesn't touch you again. You're left gaping at yourself in the mirror and wondering with a naked dissonance, like when something heavy hits metal and leaves it ringing, what the hell you're supposed to do with the knot in your lower belly now. You almost think to just rub one out after he steps out.

Tugging his collar looser around his throat, he works his jaw and lets you change back. It all feels too tight; the frills and the way you clatter uselessly out when you've finished and the neglected pangs of throbbing, so hard that you can feel the pounding of your heartbeat all the way up in your ears. You avoid eye contact when he pays for the dress up at the register. If the flushed face and the smearing of mascara that would give you away no matter how hard you tried to wipe at your cheeks and jaw didn't give you away, maybe the buzzing in your eyes would. He makes small talk with her and takes the bag and receipt as if he wasn't just knuckle deep in you. It's the antithesis of all things fair. You have to breathe with intention as he leads the way back out onto the streets. The air is thick and salty enough to swim through. It's no help up against clammy, salty skin itself. The only thing that keeps you kinda grounded as you stumble by his shoulder, because even now he's steepled your fingers together, is the sweet scent of the palm leaves touching the sky above you. Otherwise you're swimming through the honking and the weaving between bodies and the pulse of what he did to you.

You want to dig your heels in and demand he wraps his fingers around your throat and fix it. Or make a scene so big he has to. But you just blink dumbly the whole way back to the room, because you are nowhere near as gutsy as that, and half as coherent at the moment.

The door clicks closed behind you again in a pantomime of that stuffy, unreal scene you just left behind. You kick your heels off and wait. Wait to see what he does, to see if he'll pounce on you the way you ran over a generous hundred times on the way here. Yeonjun just steps out of his own shoes, drops the new dress off on a seat, and works his watch off by the night stand. The lamp there, a low warm ambience, lights the angles of him. The way his shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how he tapers out to something thin at the waist that lingers in your mind after you fuck—how the stretch below his navel and the dusting of hair there gives way to the V, and how that gives way to his cock. When you first had seen it, he didn't even laugh, though he could've. You'd just stared like you were torn between running away from it and testing if it was as hard and warm as it looked. No; he held your face as he told you that it was okay, that he wanted you to become so familiar with it that you could feel the exact shape and curve of it in your haziest dreams. You press your thighs together as you struggle with the strap of your heel.

A metallic sound works, and then he sets the silver-faced watch down. Then his eyes finally, for the first time since he stepped into that dressing room, meet yours. Not through any mirrors. The weight of that is entirely different.

"Bend over the bed," he says. "C'mon, baby girl. I've been going insane over this all day."

The hinges of your jaw ache. "Why?" You're stumbling over to do just that, because you're more talk than you are brazen. "So you can just stop again? I have fingers, you know. I don't need you."

And then his belt makes a noise that tells you he intends to see it through this time. Your stomach does three full flips, ass in the air like the obedient lap dog that you'd be for him a hundred times over. Because if he groomed you and petted you and you were his one, favorite girl for it? What else could you possibly need?

"Huh." The belt comes loose in a rasp, somewhere behind you now. He'd circled the bed completely. "I could. We could sit here and do that all night, if we wanted. But where would be the fun in that?" he says, and then he bends over your back and speaks into the shell of your ear, "I have about a thousand other, more creative things I'm gonna do to you, sweetheart. And trust me; I've had a lot of time to think them."

The shudder he tears from you is so visceral, it's like he'd wrapped a hand around your throat. You choke your swallow down dry and say, "Please do it, do whatever you want. I can take it."

He presses a wet, biting kiss into that spot where your pulse meets jawline. And then another that lingers against the back of your shoulder, and then he kisses his way down and straightens back up to make a mess of your outfit all over again. "I know you can," he rasps, his own voice scraped down to something needy that reflects exactly what's burning between your legs right now. You can't tell if it should feel like a good thing, but it just raises a chill on your skin. Because if the same blistering things that's inside you is inside of him right now, then you don't know what you've signed yourself up for.

"You're still on the pill?" he says, and then when you hesitate to answer he takes a handful of ass. "Sweetheart. Please."

You nod. He takes that and forgets the condom in his wallet to let a line of spit fall down over your cunt from the back. As if you weren't wet enough. You don't know if you've ever been so slick in your life, so wiggly that you whine at him to, "Hurrrrry." The glob lands at the top of yout slit and follows gravity to your clit, and he goes quiet to watch it find its place on you. He takes his proud length and strokes it once or twice to feel it twitch, to give himself a pathetic teaser for what was to come.

Then he's pounding into you until stars shoot behind your eyelids, until you're making noises that would embarrass you if they were ever caught on tape. The come from your throat, and they practically stay there, bouncing with each collision of his groin against your ass and the backs of your thighs. You eat straight comforter as he braces one arm beside your hips to cant his hips up, right into the place he had fun with teasing earlier. It's probably pretty obvious to the poor neighbors what the grinding of the headboard against the wall might be, but you're too busy getting your brains fucked away to be a considerate neighbor.

"Mfh!" you tell the bedsheets. The laugh that he pants into your shoulder blades is pure, undiluted dirtiness and heat.

"So mouthy," he croons, though he's no better off than you. Each time you flutter tight around him, his fingers dig deeper divots into your hip. "And so pretty when you're split on my cock and can't talk. Isn't that right, baby?" He bends completely over your back, and you're forced to remember through the scattered thoughts of how he looked behind you in that mirror. His body ate yours up. It didn't matter if you were taller, if you were any other way. He'd make you look tiny anyway, just like how his fingers stretch over the small of your back and how he handles you with it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna hear that mouth go."

Breathing is a thing of the past. You shove your face to one side so at least you aren't suffocating in the sheets, face such a mess that you can feel it more than the twist of your brows and the pout on your mouth. Sweat beads at your temples and hair sticks there over your flaming cheeks. "Choke me, choke me," you say. It's the dumbified words of somebody who has about five words in their current arsenal and was using all their brain power for each. You choke and sob and bite whines into the air and meet every single one of his thrusts.

He's not gonna let you ask twice. The precision of his fingers is food for your brain, thinning your windpipe just enough to twist every nudge of his tip to your cervix into something more potent and overwhelming. Your nails bite into his wrist at your neck, skull digging back into his shoulder and hips being ground into the edge of the mattress every time he strokes with mindless, carnal rhythm. "Choke you?" he almost laughs, like his hand wasn't around your throat right now. "You're full of surprises, you know that? How's that for that sweet brain, baby girl? Huh?"

Your face twists up. "Uh—uh-huh!" You can't breathe, can't think, in the best way. Lips wobbling, you pant, "I like it!"

That has his hips coming down on you in a different way. He falls over your back and drags in the scent at your neck like he's huffing something stronger than the sweet scent of sex on your skin. But it does something electric to him. His abs tighten against your spine, grinding his cock into you like he could be any deeper than this. It feels like he's up in your stomach, you brain, dressing that up just like he does to the rest of you. "Fuck." His voice crumbles into tatters. "You smell so fucking good. Like candy." He kisses at the spot that you, even in this state, recall with a jerk to be where you had sprayed that perfume. It had melted into the warm pulse there, faded down into the base notes. The kiss isn't enough. He presses his tall nose right into it and grabs at you so hard that it aches. "I'm not gonna last long, baby. God, you're getting more of this stuff. I'll buy you more before we—" His wet forehead falls into the soft spot between your shoulders and where your nape begins, every rolling thrust like he's staving off an orgasm coming just from the olfactory sweetness of you.

You've long since raked red-hot lines down his taut forearm, but a particular tightening of his fingers at your throat and a wet slide that hits just the right spot without you having to ask sends you over like a house of cards. The arch in the very angle of your back bows back against him. The suite falls away, all of Hawaii and your agreement follows, until you're just a girl under a man who knows exactly how to play you. "I'm cumming!" you say, all but stumbling over the warning. "Help!"

You don't know what the hell you're saying, and he's off the deep end too. He throws you up the bed and digs his knees in to gain purchase and something in that scent he caught, in the thoughts that had been festering in his head all night, comes alive. He rails you right into the sheets and takes what he needs as you claw at the pillows and sheets through yours. Because with him, you're gonna cum first if he has to grit his teeth and pull out just to make sure he doesn't first.

"That's it," he growls. "That's my spoiled girl." Then his own hips stop and each stutter of them as he fucks it into you, each pant and breath into your shoulders and kiss to the back of your head, tells you that he's followed you down. As his weight smothers you into the pillows, grounding you and suffocating you until you can come down and breathe again, he makes your hair into a loose ponytail to reach the soft parts of your neck that the tangle of it hid.

His heartbeat at your back reverberates into your chest. Speaking into your face as he takes the softness of your cheeks and watches them squish under his fingers, he says, "How's that for leaving you wanting?" There's a lazy, pleased light in his eyes. What else could a man need, more than a pretty girl glowing with post-orgasmic bliss under him, in a bed he put her in, in a frilly, rumpled dress that only he could afford? Nothing. He was living the life that other men loathed him for. He nips the turn of your shoulder and says, "You were put on this Earth to test old bastards like me, huh?"

You can hardly give him an enthusiastic smile. Probably.

ash⦂ #needthat like i finished this in a haze at 4am before a shift so if that tells you anything about how i was feeling…

The house sat strangled in silence. Every window clamped shut, every door bolted. You sat in the security room, eyes flicking from one grainy screen to the next. The neighborhood was dead still. 

Perfect rows of houses, each one shuttered, each one a tomb keeping the families pressed inside. Nobody outside, nobody moving, just that soft electric hum of the cameras reminding you the world hadn’t ended yet.

And then the hunger hit. Sharp and distracting. A reminder your body still wanted things even when your nerves were splitting. You pushed out of the chair, the carpet sighing beneath your feet, and drifted into the kitchen. 

The fridge door opened with a low seal-breaking hiss, and the cold air spilled out, kissing your skin. You grabbed something without thinking, your eyes already on the hallway shadows, your ears listening for anything besides your own pulse.

You turned, snack in hand, and walked back out. You didn’t see it or what you couldn’t see it. On the screen you weren’t watching anymore, two figures in masks stepped out of the neighborhood’s stillness, pale faces stretched into grins no one would ever want to see. 

One raised something heavy, swung, and the black eye of a camera fizzled into static. And just like that, the house had a blind spot.

You sank back into the chair, the vinyl groaning beneath you, and flicked your eyes over the wall of screens. That’s when you saw the static, jagged snow where a camera should’ve been. Your stomach flipped. Huh. That’s….weird. 

The word felt small, useless, floating in the humming dark. You told yourself it was faulty, that tech dies all the time, that nothing bad had really happened. And you weren’t going outside to check it. No way. Not tonight. That’d be suicide.

So you sat there, pressing the thought down like shoving clothes into an overstuffed drawer. Ignore it. Breathe. But then another screen twitched something fast, too fast. A shadow cutting across the edge of a camera’s view. 

Your chest seized. You leaned forward, face lit ghost-white by the monitors, eyes hopping screen to screen, trying to catch another flicker of movement. And then it happened.

On the feed from the front door, a figure exploded into view slamming its face close to the lens, filling the screen with it. Clear plastic masks stretched tight over their face, warping their features into something alien, something that shouldn’t smile but did. 

A grin cut across it, jagged, wet, too wide, painted red with paint or blood. You didn’t want to know. The speaker crackled as the thing shrieked, “Hiii-yaaa!” Your heart fell straight through you, pounding in your stomach like you’d swallowed it whole. 

The figure leaned close, fogging the camera lens with their breath, then rapped a knuckle against it like they were knocking on glass. Knock. Knock. “Hello… anyone home?”

The laugh that followed wasn’t loud, it was thin and papery, the kind of laugh that gets under your skin because it sounded like it came right out of a 90s horror movie. His face no, that mask hovered there, staring dead into the feed, pupils swallowed by the shine of clear plastic.

It was like he wasn’t looking at the camera at all. It was like he was looking at you.

What the hell? The thought stuttered out of you, weak, useless. You couldn’t blink, couldn’t pull your eyes away from the warped grin smeared across his face. “Come out,” he crooned, tilting his head too far, birdlike. “I just wanna play with you.” And then your name. Spoken clean, like it had always belonged in his mouth.

The snack slipped from your hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. You shot to your feet, the chair skidding backward on the tile. “Did… did he just say my name?” The words came out as a whisper, barely air, swallowed by the cold hush of the house. 

On the screen, he didn’t stop. His voice was syrup-slow now, curling around each syllable. “Okay, love. I’ll give you five minutes. Open the door, and we’ll have some fun together. If you don’t…”

The figure lifted a hand, the plastic sheen of the mask gleaming under the porch light. In his grip, a knife. He waved it like a promise, a toy he couldn’t wait to share. “…I’ll just find my way in.” The laugh came again, hollow and wrong, worming into the room around you. 

Your knees locked. Your chest burned. And the monitors hummed, showing every door, every window, every sealed entry that suddenly didn’t feel sealed at all. Oh God. What were you going to do?  

You told yourself to think rationally. To be rational. There was no way they could get in. The house was locked down tight, a bunker. Your dad had promised. But your nerves weren’t listening. They were screaming louder than your thoughts, louder than anything, a static roar in your skull.

On the screen, the figure stayed. Just there. Moving wrong. Tilting his head, dragging the knife along the porch rail like it was a bow over violin strings. He knocked over the potted plants your mom loved, clay pots shattering into dirt and petals on the concrete. He laughed at the mess like it was a private joke, like he’d meant to break them.

You couldn’t stay still. The ground felt like it had teeth. You turned around and your feet carried you upstairs before you’d fully decided where you were going. Your parents’ room. The closet. The lock box. The gun. 

You’d never fired one before. Not once. But how hard could it be? You've seen movies. You just aim. Pull. The thought was jagged comfort; this was backup, nothing more. Just in case. Because there was no way, no possible way, they could break in.

Still, on your way back down, you stopped at the kitchen. Hand reached out on its own, fingers curling around the handle of a butcher’s knife. You held it up, the blade catching the light, throwing a cold glint across your face. 

For a moment, you just stared at it. The sharpness. The reflection. The thin line where the metal split the world into two halves. You, and whatever was coming. 

You stepped back into the security room, the air colder now, humming with electricity and your own pulse. And then your stomach bottomed out. The figure was gone. Your eyes jumped across the wall of screens, one after another, frantic scans searching for a hint of motion, a flicker of shadow.

Nothing. Just the neighborhood, still and hushed, every house sealed up like mausoleums. The absence made it worse like pulling back a sheet and finding the body missing.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, tried to press the fear back down where it couldn’t claw so hard. The gun and knife went onto the table with a dull clink. You dragged the chair close, sat, tried to pretend the vinyl creak beneath you was just furniture and not bones bending. For a second, twenty maybe you almost convinced yourself you could breathe again.

Then the first camera went dark. Not static, not some fault black. And in that instant, you saw it: the figure, a blur of mask and movement, swinging a baseball bat into the lens. The feed snapped dead. Another screen cracked into nothing. And another.

Your eyes jerked from feed to feed, chasing the collapses, your breath stuttering shorter each time. Each blackout closed the house tighter around you, shrinking your world screen by screen. 

Until there was only one left. The front door. The camera flickered once, then steadied. And there he was again, mask filling the frame, that impossible grin smeared red across his face. He leaned close, breath fogging the lens, and his voice came through the tinny speaker, slow and final. “Time’s up.”

Your hand found steel first, then the blade. The gun slid into the waistband at the small of your back, heavy and awkward, but the knife fit your grip like it belonged there.

You stepped into the silence of the house, the kind of silence that feels watched, and remembered something you’d heard once if someone breaks in, kills the lights. Darkness makes them blind. You grew up within these walls. You could walk the place with your eyes sewn shut.

The basement swallowed you whole, air damp and waiting, like the house was holding its breath. Down there, the breaker box felt too easy, too ready, like a trap. 

You flipped the switches and the house died, folding into pitch. Coming back up, every step echoed too loud, too alive, and then you heard a shrill beep cutting through the dark. The alarm. You followed it like a tether until you saw the window open, curtains breathing in and out as if something had just slipped through. Your stomach turned. This wasn’t nerves. This was happening.

You moved without thinking, climbing toward your parents’ room. Best chance to hide, best chance to survive. But halfway up the stairs, movement. A figure detached itself from the living room and spilled into the hall. 

You dropped, pressing into the banister, wood biting your palms. The figure paused. A vase went over somewhere behind them, glass breaking like a scream. “Fuck,” the voice hissed, low and sharp. “Why the fuck are the lights out?”

You crept the rest of the way, slipping inside your parents’ room. Lock turned, a chair wedged under the knob. The bathroom door shut behind you. The dark inside was heavier, thicker, as though it had weight. You crouched low, the knife across your thigh, the gun digging into your spine.

You waited. You listened. The house shifted. Footsteps right outside, or below, or both. Any other night, you’d have called the cops, whispered into the receiver until the flashing lights saved you. But tonight wasn’t any other night. 

Tonight was Purge night. 

Midnight had only just begun and all Police, fire, and emergency services were unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. and every second between now and seven a.m. stretched long and sharp, impossible to cross. If it came down to it, there was no question. You’d have to kill whoever opened that door.

Your ears stretched into the dark, straining for every shift of air, every tick of wood, every breath that didn’t belong to you. The house had become a drum, carrying each sound straight into your skull. Downstairs, you heard them slow steps, uneven, testing the silence like they were listening back for you. A drawer rattled, a heel scuffed against tile, then stillness so sharp it hurt.

You didn’t breathe. You didn’t move. You prayed the quiet would sell the lie that the house was empty, hollow, just another dark shell on a night built for breaking. No voice, no sound, nothing to tell them you were here. Just silence, stretched so thin you swore it would tear.

Your ears sharpened to points in the dark, every sound prying its way inside your skull. The house had never been louder wood ticking, pipes settling, air breathing in drafts you’d never noticed before. But beneath it all was him. Downstairs. A heavy step, then another. A scrape of shoe against tile, the faint clink of something metal? glass? being nudged out of place.

You pressed yourself smaller, tighter, as if shrinking might make you vanish. Your chest ached with held breath. Each inhale felt like a flare that might give you away. You told yourself over and over not to move. Don’t make a sound. Let the house do the lying for you. Let him believe it’s empty.

A floorboard groaned below. He paused. For a long, needle-thin moment, the silence weighed so much you swore it would crush you. Then his voice, low and jagged: “Anybody here…?”

He let the words bleed into the dark, like bait. No answer. You didn’t dare. A shuffle, then another step. He moved through the living room. Something toppled shattering sharp against the hardwood. A string of curses followed. He doesn’t know. He’s just looking. Just let him keep looking.

But the sound of his breathing climbed the stairs with him. Heavy, closer. Each step made your skin crawl tighter against your bones. You could see him in your head, hand sliding along the banister, eyes squinting into the black, ears working just like yours, hunting for the smallest mistake.

You pulled the knife close, pressed the flat against your thigh so the shaking wouldn’t betray you. The hallway creaked. Right outside now. His footsteps slowed, soft, deliberate. He stopped. For a breathless moment, nothing then the faintest whisper of skin against wood as he tested your parents’ door handle. A rattle. Another. Locked. He exhaled through his teeth. “Clever.”

You clenched your jaw until it hurt, gripping the knife so hard the handle cut into your palm. Any second, you thought, the door would break, the chair would shove back, and he’d be inside. 

But then silence again. Steps retreating. Back down the hall. Each one faded slowly, as though he wanted you to hear, wanted you to believe he was leaving. And still, you didn’t move. Because you knew that was the oldest trick in the book.

The footsteps stopped. The quiet was worse than the sound pressing against your eardrums until you almost wished he’d move again. Then the door shuddered. Once. Hard. The crash of wood and metal against wood. A ram, full-bodied, violent. Your scream ripped free before you could swallow it down, tearing out of your throat like it belonged to someone else.

You stumbled back, the knife slipping from your grip, clattering against the floor loud enough to kill you. Hands scrambling, you snatched it up, retreating behind the bathroom door, pressing yourself flat against the cold wall, as if that thin sheet of wood could save you.

The pounding came again. Harder. The chair groaned under the weight, legs scraping across the floor. Another slam, then another, rattling through your bones. The sound wasn’t human anymore it was wild, furious, the guttural violence of something that wanted in, wanted you. 

Each hit made the hinges scream, and all you could think was that the door wasn’t going to last. That nothing was.

The chair finally gave out with a crack that echoed through the room, wood scraping helplessly across the floor. The door swung open fast, banging the wall, and in the hollow that followed you heard him. His breath ragged but amused. “Oh,” he said, a little laugh tangled in it. “That was fun.”

His footsteps started again, lighter now, deliberate, creeping toward the bathroom. Each step dragged across your nerves. Then the knock. Soft, almost polite, like a neighbor dropping by. “Hey, babe,” he called, voice casual, almost sing-song. “This was fun. Why don’t you come out and we can have a little more?”

The smugness rolled off every word, thick enough you could feel it. Your hand shook around the knife, the weight of the gun digging into your back like it wanted to be used. You forced your voice to cut through the air, loud and sharp, even though your throat was trembling. “I have a gun, asshole! Why don’t you leave my fucking house!”

Silence. For a second, it almost worked. Then metal scraped. You turned just in time to see the knob begin to twist, slow, deliberate, like fingers savoring the feel of it. The door shook under his hand. The frame trembled with it. He was smiling. You didn’t have to see it, you could hear the smile in the rattle.

They say when danger comes, your body does one of two things: fight or flight. But there’s a third, and you found it. Freeze. Your muscles locked to the wall, every nerve gone rigid, breath trapped somewhere between your chest and your throat. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even blink.

The door gave way with a groan, hinges crying out as the frame split, and then it swung open. The intruder stepped inside. No rush, no hurry. Just there. His presence filled the bathroom before he even crossed it. 

The air thinned, like the room itself was choking, and each breath you pulled felt stolen, like you weren’t supposed to have it. You stayed pressed to the wall, body stone, knife shaking faintly in your grip, while the darkness between you and him seemed to collapse into nothing.

He didn’t see you. Not tucked tight behind the bathroom door, not with his weight still inside the room. You took the moment, heart screaming at you to move, and shoved past him, bursting out into the bedroom.

For half a breath, it felt like escape. Then your body slammed into something solid, hard, unmoving and like the wall had grown arms. The impact rattled through your bones, dropping you to the floor. Pain flared hot in your spine as you scrambled, eyes climbing upward. And there it was. The mask. The same pale, grinning face that had stalked you through the night, blank eyes pinning you like insects. 

The mask held you there, every breath you managed catching sharp in your throat, and then the sound hit another set of steps, heavier, dragging the wood floor like boots clogged with mud. That was when it landed, the truth you didn’t want, there wasn’t just one. 

Your throat closes around the scream clawing its way up. Behind you, from the bathroom, a voice you already hated too much laughed low and easy. “Oh,” it drawled, pleasure in every syllable. “She’s so much fun.”

Your chest locked tighter, your brain screaming for air it couldn’t find. All night you’d told yourself it was one person, one shadow, one voice slithering through your house. One thing you could maybe fight, maybe outrun. But the way the floor creaked now, two rhythms folding into each other, your ears couldn’t lie. One in front. One behind.

You twisted your head just enough, bathroom door yawning open wider, his silhouette leaning there, casual as a friend in a doorway. The mask in front of you crouched a little, tilting its head the way people do when they’re studying something. 

The room shrank between them, walls pressing in until you were nothing but a pinned insect. Your knife felt small, toy-small, ridiculous against the weight of both of them breathing you in.

And then laughter. Not together, not at the same time. One chuckle dripping from the bathroom, low and amused. The other, closer, muffled by the mask, high and quick, like a broken machine catching air. The two sounds tangled around you, wrapping the dark tighter. 

You finally understood. The open window. The noise in the hall. The voice that moved faster than footsteps could follow. You hadn’t been running from one intruder at all. You’d been hunted.

The chair sat there. The one you’d jammed against the door. Only now it didn’t feel like furniture at all. Its crooked shadow stretched long across the carpet, and in that shadow, those eyes soulless, flat, swallowing you whole. 

You locked with them too long, until your chest burned from forgetting to breathe. Then you broke, tearing your gaze away, reaching for the knife you’d dropped. But a hand got there first.

The figure behind you snatched it up like it was theirs, turning the blade over in their grip, tilting their head as if admiring it under invisible light. The mask bent in a grin. “Awww,” the voice cracked through the plastic. “You thought this could save you?”

Your pulse stuttered. You scrambled backward, your knees aching against the floor, until your hand clawed at your waistband. The gun. Cold metal, heavier than you remembered. You yanked it free, raised it, pointed it right at them. 

They stepped back, both of them now caught in the tightening space between you and the walls. The air itself seemed to shrink, heavy with breath that wasn’t yours.

Then click. The lights snapped back on. And suddenly they weren’t shadows anymore. You saw them for what they were, and it was almost worse. They looked like they’d crawled straight out of a movie in black hoodies, gloves, boots, masks too slick as if they’d studied how to be intruders and dressed the part. 

The sight of them, so deliberate, so staged, made your skin crawl more than the darkness ever had.

Your voice tore out of you raw, shaking, louder than you’d meant: “Any sudden move and I’ll shoot!” The words hung in the room, sharp as glass. And the only response was the soft, muffled sound of someone chuckling behind the mask.

The gun trembled in your grip, the weight of it dragging your arms down, every muscle screaming to steady but refusing to listen. Your thoughts split in every direction, jagged, useless why you? 

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked the silence, thinner than you meant it to be. The one you’d collided with laughed, sharp and hollow, like glass rattling in a jar. “We’ve been wanting to play with you.”

Your stomach is knotted. You forced the words out louder, sharper. “How do you know me?” From the corner of the room, another voice spilled out the one that had crept from the bathroom. Mocking, sing-song. “Wow. We’re so surprised you can’t place our voices yet.” Your chest iced over. “What do you mean?”

But the moment shifted fingers tugged at the masks. Slowly the way a magician might pull a cloth from a cage. Plastic peeled away, and what was underneath froze you where you stood. 

“Soobin? … Yeonjun?” Their names crawled from your throat, barely sound, more disbelief than recognition. The gun dipped lower as your breath snagged. Two of your friends. At least, that’s the version you remembered. Faces you’d trusted. Laughed with. Faces now carrying something hollow, emptied of warmth.

“This has to be a joke,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew the answer. Yeonjun smiled, that same grin without the mask, only sharper now. “No, darling. It’s not.” His voice was velvet, but it left you bleeding as he stepped closer, the knife loose in his hand, swinging like a pendulum.

Soobin stayed where he was, eyes flat, arms loose at his sides, watching. Waiting. The walls seemed to close in with each step Yeonjun took, his shadow sliding long across the carpet toward your feet. 

You didn’t like the way Soobin’s eyes crawled over you, slow and greedy, stripping the air around you bare. It made your skin crawl, made you feel used up and dirty before he even touched you. His tongue dragged across his lips, wet and deliberate, and it pinned your nerves like bugs to a board.

You were too locked into that look, that hunger, to see Yeonjun move until it was too late. He lunged from the side, knife flashing. Pure panic jerked your arm up and you swung with the back of the gun, hard. The crack was wet, sharp. His nose burst open, blood spraying, his curse breaking out ragged as his head snapped back, hands clutching at the mess of his face.

Soobin rushed toward him, hands out like claws, distracted by his friend’s bleeding. It was your chance. You didn’t think, you ran. Out of the room, down the hall, your feet hammering the stairs so fast you skipped steps. The wood rattled under you. 

Behind, curses tore through the air full of rage and venom, their voices too close, chasing you. “Get back here, slut!” Their footsteps slammed against the floor, heavy enough to shake the walls.

You hit the bottom and jumped the last step, landing hard but still running. Straight toward the open window, the one you’d seen blinking red on the security feed. Outside was death tonight you knew that. 

Purge night meant shadows full of monsters. But right now, the monsters wore familiar faces, and they were inside with you.

You darted into the room, the cool night air spilling in through the open frame. You clawed onto the sill, climbed up, freedom a breath away when a hand clamped around your ankle. You looked down. Soobin. Eyes wide, wild, teeth bared. He yanked hard, dragging at you like he meant to pull you back. “Get back here, you bitch!” His voice was shredded, rabid.

You screamed and kicked with your free leg. The heel of your foot smashed into his face. A wet, snapping sound echoed through the house. “Fuck! You broke my fucking nose!” he shrieked, blood gushing over his lips, his grip finally slipping. You hauled yourself free, scrambled through the window, and dropped. 

The bushes tore at your arms and legs, scratches burning hot, but you didn’t stop. You landed hard, rolled, then bolted, sprinting across the lawn toward the nearest neighbor’s house, your breath tearing itself apart in your throat. 

Behind you, the night swallowed the sound of their curses, but you knew they’d follow. They weren’t going to stop.

You stumbled into the siding of your neighbor’s house, palms smacking against the cold metal panels. “Please! Let me in! Help me!” The words tore out raw, shredded. You beat your fists until they stung, until the sound echoed down the empty street.

You looked around, desperate for something, anything, a sign someone knew you were here. That’s when you saw the little red blink of a security camera mounted above the side wall. Watching. Recording. Hope cracked through the panic and you started waving your arms, frantic, screaming up at it. 

“Please! Please help me!” Tears blurred your vision, streamed hot down your face, but you didn’t stop, waving harder, screaming louder until your throat rasped. And then the red light blinked off. They’d killed the feed.

You froze, staring at the dead glass eye. Then rage broke loose in your chest. “You fuckers!” Your voice split against the house, wild, useless. You spun toward the next lawn, ready to run, ready to try again but you didn’t make it. 

A weight slammed into your back, heavy enough to knock the air from your lungs. You hit the ground hard, gravel biting your skin. Pain bloomed hot in your ribs as you groaned, clutching at your sides. The gun slipped from your hand, skittering away across the pavement.

A boot smashed into you, rolling you onto your back. Yeonjun loomed over you, that grin carved wide across his face, blood dried in thick streaks down from his nose and across his lips. His shadow swallowed yours. He bent down, close enough you could smell the copper on his breath, and cooed, soft, sickly sweet.

“Awww, baby. Did that hurt?” Another kick, sharper this time, ripped a hiss from your teeth. “I think,” he spat, voice hitching into a laugh, “Soobin’s hurting worse. With his broken fucking nose.” The next kick folded you, pain flaring through your chest. You clawed toward the gun, fingertips grazing metal

His heel came down, snapping your hand into stillness. Bones screamed. You gasped, struggling, clawing with your other hand to pry him off, but he didn’t budge. 

“Please, Yeonjun…” He crouched, picked up the gun, spun it in his palm like a toy. His eyes glittered, hollow and endless. “As much as I love the fight,” he whispered, pressing the barrel close enough for you to feel the cold metal, “let’s cut this out now.”

Then the gun swung down, the steel slamming into your skull. The world went black before the pain even finished blooming. 

The slap snapped you awake. Your head whiplashed to the side, ears ringing with that high-pitched whine that makes everything sound distant, underwater. The lights above you bled white into your vision, so bright it took time for the world to take shape again. And when it did, Soobin was the first thing you saw.

He stood right in front of you, his face painted with dried blood that cracked against his skin every time he smiled. And he was smiling now, his eyes dancing like this was a game show and you were tonight’s prize. 

Sweet Soobin. The computer science major, the guy who always offered to carry your books, who laughed too loud at your jokes. You never would’ve imagined he had this in him, this grinning, bloodstained hunger. But you never really know people, do you?

You tried to speak, to beg, but your mouth dragged against sticky resistance. Duct tape sealed you shut, your words swallowed back into your throat. Your wrists and ankles screamed against their bindings, the tape biting deep into skin, chair legs digging grooves into the floor with every useless thrash.

Your eyes shot toward the door, wide, desperate, praying for some kind of out. That’s when the tug came. Fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head sideways. The heat of someone’s breath slid into your ear before the words did.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Yeonjun whispered, his voice low. You felt the wet drag of his tongue against the shell of your ear. A whimper rattled out of you, muffled under the tape, your whole body jerking back. His grip only tightened, fist twisting in your hair, holding you still.

You weren’t surprised, not really. Yeonjun had always carried something dark in the corners of his grin, something that set your teeth on edge even when you’d called him a friend. You never knew why it unsettled you. But now you did. 

“No, babe,” he sneered, stepping into your line of sight, his eyes glinting with a hunger older than the night and the dried blood making him look like something out of an American psycho. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The knife slid into view, its edge catching the light, a flash of steel too close to your skin. Yeonjun dragged it slowly along your cheek, the point teasing, then biting just enough to break the surface.

A bead of blood welled, hot against the cool air, and before you could even flinch away, his mouth was there. His tongue licked the line, slow, deliberate, tasting you like it was his right. You cringed, your body recoiling from the heat of his mouth. He saw it. He didn’t like it.

The smack came fast, snapping your head to the side, ears ringing with the crack of it. Pain bloomed across your face as his hand moved down, steady, practiced, fingers slipping over your shirt. Buttons popped one by one, the fabric pulled apart until it hung useless at your sides. He leaned back, lips curling, eyes devouring.

“Wow,” Yeonjun breathed, letting out a low whistle. “You’re so pretty when you’re tied up and scared. Red’s really your color. Right, Soobin?” From the corner, Soobin’s face appeared, lit up like it was Christmas morning. 

His eyes wide, grin too sweet, too wide, like this was the best gift he’d ever unwrapped. “I think every color looks good on her,” he said, voice dripping with playful awe.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, blade tapping against his thigh. “Of course you do. You’re in love with her.” The words cut sharper than the knife, spit out with disdain. Your gaze flicked between them, panic eating through your chest, trying to read the cracks in their faces and trying to find any way out.

Yeonjun crouched lower, so close his breath burned against your skin. His hand slid over your thigh, thumb pressing into the muscle like he was testing ripeness. His grin widened. “Don’t be so scared, baby,” he whispered. “We’re gonna take real good care of you.” 

The air in the room wasn’t just still, it was dead. A corpse-air, thick and tasting of dust and something else, something metallic and sweet-sour, like a penny on a tongue. His hand was a spider. 

A pale, five-legged thing that didn’t walk but flowed, a terrible and silent gravity drawing it up the inside of your thigh, under the cheap cotton of your skirt. Your muscles locked, a fortress gate slamming down, thighs clenched into a single, desperate barricade against that creeping advance.

From below, a low laugh bubbled up. It wasn’t a sound of joy. It was the dry rattle of stones in a tin can. Yeonjun looked up, and his eyes were not the eyes of the Yeonjun you knew. They were black, depthless things, and the smile on his face was a dare. A promise of worse. And the terrible, shameful truth was your body listened to that promise, not you. The barricade fell. Your legs, traitors, fell open.

His spider-hand found its destination, cupping you through the damp fabric of your panties. A whimper escaped your throat, a tiny, dying-animal sound. And from the corner of the room, another sound answered. A low, strangled groan.

Soobin. Sweet, blushing Soobin. His face was a mess of want and terror, a flustered tomato. 

His own hand was pressed hard against the front of his jeans, palming himself, his eyes glazed and fixed but not on you, not on Yeonjun but on the red patch of cotton being rubbed raw against your skin. He looked like a kid watching his favorite horror movie, equal parts thrilled and sickened.

Yeonjun’s other hand, cold and sharp, snapped your chin back to him. His grip was a vise. The world narrowed to the black pits of his eyes and the harsh, grinding rhythm of his hand. The fabric was a torture, a rough friction that was all wrong and yet.

“You can’t deny that you hate this, my love,” Yeonjun whispered, his voice a serpent’s hiss in the dead air. It wasn’t a question. It was a verdict. “but by the way your panties are soaking… I know. I know your body craves this attention. Doesn’t it, love? Huh?”

Then the pressure was gone. Before the relief could even register, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt and your panties. With one brutal, efficient yank, he stripped them both down your legs and off. The air felt cold, a shocking violation against your bare skin.

He didn’t even look as he flung the small bundle of cloth aside. It sailed through the corpse-air like a shot ghost. And Soobin moved. He didn’t walk, he scrambled, a desperate, hungry crab-scuttle across the floor. 

He snatched your panties from the dust, clutching them to his chest for a terrified second before shoving them, a guilty, sacred relic, deep into his pocket. His blush was a fire now, burning with a shame so bright it hurt to look at.

Yeonjun removed your ankles from the chair legs and instead, he draped your legs over the cold, wooden arms of the chair, splaying you open to the room, to the dead air, to their hungry, watching eyes. 

You were a specimen pinned in a display case. You shut your eyes, wanting only the black, wanting to be anywhere but here in your skin. But he wasn’t having none of that.

A sharp, bright pain lanced through you as he pinched your clit, a punishment for closing your eyes, for trying to leave him. You cried out, and your eyes flew open to meet his grim, satisfied smile. 

Then his fingers, slick with your own betrayal, were inside you. Not one, but two, thrusting in a hard, fast rhythm that had no love in it, only a brutal claim. 

His thumb found that aching, punished nub and began rubbing slow, deliberate, maddening circles. And all the while, Soobin watched from the corner, his hand moving frantically in his pocket, his eyes wide, drinking it all in. Waiting for his turn.

The pressure was a live wire in your belly, a buzzing, awful thing you wanted to deny him. The privilege. The victory. He’d made you feel weak, and now he was making this happen. Your body had a different set of instructions, a different wiring. It arched off the chair, a strangled yelp tearing from your duct-taped mouth as a seizure of pleasure racked you, brutal and complete. 

Yeonjun didn’t stop. He was a man carved from ice and focused fury.

As your body shuddered through the last waves, he rose. His movement was liquid, predatory. His hand, cold and sure, circled your throat, not to choke, but to remind you of your place. The wooden chair legs screeched against the floor as he tilted you back, the world upending. Your wide, terrified eyes reflected his flat, empty ones. 

He didn’t speak. He just watched you, a scientist observing a frantic specimen, as he drove two fingers back into you, a hard, piston-like rhythm. A man on a mission. The overstimulation was a bright, white agony.

“You’re gonna come for me again. You hear me?” His voice was low, a whisper from a grave. It wasn’t a question. And your body, the damned, obedient thing, listened. A second, sharper climax was ripped from you, a silent scream behind the tape, your muscles clenching hard around his invading fingers.

He pulled them out with a slick, obscene sound, then delivered a stinging, open-handed slap to your oversensitive clit. The pain and shock blurred your vision. He never broke eye contact as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, tasting you. 

“Okay,” he said, the word flat, final. “Since you had your fun.” His hands trailed down to his own belt buckle, his hand lingered on the buckle, the sound of it unfastening louder than your pulse. “I think it’s my turn now.”

Tears of shame and shock welled in your eyes, making his smirking face swim. He leaned in, his free hand ripping the duct tape from your mouth in one swift, merciless tear. The burn was instant, a flare of raw pain, and a broken scream finally escaped your bruised lips.

He wiped a tear away with his thumb, the gesture horrifyingly gentle. He leaned in so close your noses touched. You could smell your own fear on his breath. “Okay, baby,” he whispered, the endearment a vile poison. “You are gonna open up that pretty mouth of yours so I can fuck it nicely.”

His other hand came up, cupping your jaw, his thumb pressing a warning against the hinge. “And if you bite me,” he breathed, his eyes locking onto yours, draining all the hope from the world, “I’m gonna make sure your legs don’t work again. Ever.” He gave your throbbing lips a soft, chilling peck. A promise.

The wood of the chair was a cold, unforgiving kiss against your back. Duct tape bit into your wrists, a silver-gray serpent holding you fast. Soobin stepped forward from the side, his smile a slick, oily thing in the half-light. It wasn’t a smile of joy, but of ownership, the way a hunter might smile at a trophy pinned to the wall. 

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” Soobin cooed, coming closer, His voice borrowed the shape of kindness, but not the soul, a sweet and poisoned syrup. His fingers, soft and almost apologetic, brushed a strand of hair from your forehead. “We just wanna play. Right, Junnie?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer with words. He pulled himself out, running a hand up and down his length with a dry, rasping sound that made your stomach clench. He brought it to your lips, the tip pressing against your clenched teeth. “Open up,” he whispered, and the whisper was worse than a shout. It was intimate, a secret shared between a predator and its prey.

A low moan escaped him as he pushed in. It started gentle, a lie so thin you could see the cruelty right behind it. It didn’t stay gentle. The gentleness was just the casing around the explosive. Then he began to thrust, hard and punishing, hitting the back of your throat with a wet, meaty impact. 

Your body revolted, gagging, choking, tears springing to your eyes as you fought for a breath that wouldn’t come. Each choke seemed to thrill him more.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, his voice guttural, stripped of anything human. “God, your fucking mouth. It’s a blessing, ain’t it? You were just… you were made for this. Weren’t you? Just a warm, wet hole made to take cock.” His hands were suddenly in your hair, gripping like a vice, the roots screaming. It was his anchor, his grounding wire in the storm of his own violence. 

You felt other hands then, Soobin’s hands soft and efficient, untying your right wrist. You peeked sideways, vision blurred with tears, and saw his sweet face, the empty eyes of a doll. He guided your numb hand to the front of his pants, making you rub him over the rough fabric. He was already hard.

“See?” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “You make us feel so good.” He fumbled with his own zipper, pulled himself out, and forced your limp fingers to close around him. 

You tried to pull away, a feeble jerk of protest, but his grip tightened, sweetly insistent. “No, no,” he chided gently, as if correcting a child. “Be good for me, too.” He started moving your hand on him, a frantic, desperate rhythm.

Yeonjun laughed around a groan, the sound muffled by the flesh in your mouth. A terrible, breathy sound. “Ha. Guess he couldn’t wait. Greedy little bastard.” He was brutally fucking your throat now, his rhythm growing ragged, chaotic. “Shit. Oh, shit, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.”

You tried to pull your mouth away, a final, desperate act of survival, but the hands in your hair became iron, holding you perfectly, terribly in place. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a wet, possessive snarl that promised broken things. “You’re gonna swallow it. All of it. Okay, whore? You’re gonna take it like it’s a goddamn medicine. And if a single drop spills… I’ll break your fucking jaw. I swear to Christ I will.”

And with a final, shuddering thrust, he came, a hot, bitter flood down your constricted throat. You swallowed, again and again, gagging and swallowing, making sure to take every last drop, your eyes locked on his, wide with the primal, crystalline terror of what he was, and what he would undoubtedly do next. His breathing afterwards was the most terrifying sound of all.

Yeonjun’s absence was instantly replaced by Soobin, your grip on him tightening instead of breaking. Soobin’s sweetness was a cracked mask, his concern a viper’s kiss and his hands weren’t hands anymore; they were proprietors, taking inventory. 

One grabbed your breast, a rough, groping squeeze that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with possession. The other trapped your hand, forcing it back onto him, guiding your numb fingers in a rhythm you didn’t choose. 

“Shit,” he hissed, his breath a hot gust against your neck. His hips pistoled against your fist, a frantic, dry friction. “God, you’re just… a set of holes, ain’t cha? Perfect little fucking holes.” He let go of your hand and his fingers, slick with his own sweat, dug into your jaw, prying your mouth open like prying the lid off a can. 

There was no transition, no warning, just the brutal invasion, setting a pace that was hard and rough from the first second. He didn’t let up. The world was a blur of sound and hurt. His ragged grunts, the wet, choking noises you couldn’t stop, the high, thin whine of a bedspring.

You couldn’t see shit. Your eyes were puffy slits, swimming in a hot saltwater haze. Your jaw was a white-hot arena of pain, a bone-deep ache that promised to linger for days. He didn’t even warn you. His body just went rigid, a final, deep thrust that seemed to touch your very spine, and he came down your throat in a hot, bitter flood. He stayed there, twitching, for an eternity, before pulling out, still hard and gleaming under the light.

Then Yeonjun was back. A smirk played on his lips as he released your left hand. He didn’t speak. He just fisted a hand in your hair and dragged you off the chair. Your knees buckled, hitting the floor with a jolt that shot up your spine. “Hey,” Soobin’s voice came, a faint, chiding note from the corner. “Not so hard, okay?”

Yeonjun laughed, a short, ugly sound. “Whatever you say, lover boy.” He hauled you up and tossed you onto the bed like a sack of grain. You landed on your chest, the air knocked out of you. Before you could even think to scramble, hands. Yeonjun’s hands grabbed your ankles and dragged you to the end of the bed. Your toes barely brushed the cold floor, leaving you exposed, bent over the edge.

You felt Yeonjun behind you, lining himself up. A final, pathetic plea escaped your torn-up throat, a last spark from a crushed thing. “Please…gentle. I’ve never…” You stopped yourself, the rest of the sentence too precious, too sacred to give to them. 

“Oh?” Yeonjun’s voice was a parody of surprise, a low, wicked thing. You felt his mouth on your ear, his lips moving against your skin. “Don’t you worry, love. I’ll pop this cherry for you. Nice and easy.”

It was a lie. The kind of lie only the truly wicked can tell with such gentle conviction. And then he pushed. Not nice. Not easy. A slow, inexorable, tearing pressure that gave way to a hot, white pain that struck through you like a lightning bolt, cleaving you in two. It was a pain that felt like it would never end, a brand being seared onto your very soul, and his low, satisfied groan was the sound it made.

The world had shrunk to the violent, rhythmic shudder of the mattress springs, a rusty, shrieking complaint with every one of Yeonjun’s thrusts. Your body was no longer your own; it was a thing being used, a rag doll lifted and dropped on the bed with a brute, pulse-like efficiency.

You’d curled in on yourself, a futile instinct, but he just hooked an arm under your knee and yanked you up, opening you up wider. The fight was gone, siphoned out of you along with your breath, leaving only a hollow, ringing terror.

To escape, you forced your head forward, focusing on the wall, trying to make it your whole universe, anything to fade away from the reality of his weight, his smell, the wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin. 

Soobin came back into view. He didn’t make the bed dip like a quake. He simply materialized on the mattress beside you, a cool presence. His fingers, soft as moth wings, turned your head toward him. His smile was a gentle, crooked thing, a stark and terrifying contrast to the violence happening to the rest of you.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his breath sweet, like mint and something vaguely chemical. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, then traced down your side in a lover’s caress, a world away from Yeonjun’s grip, which you knew with the certainty of a deep, forming bruise was painting your hips in blacks and blues.

“You are so pretty like this,” Soobin murmured, his eyes wide with a kind of awed, genuine affection. It was the most frightening thing you’d ever seen. From behind, Yeonjun grunted, a sound full of effort and contempt. “God, she feels like heaven. Tight little fucking glove. You think I should come inside?” he asked, his voice dripping with a sarcasm that curdled your blood. 

He hammered into you, a punctuation mark of ownership. “Just kidding, baby. I’m gonna pump it right up inside you. Gonna fill this pretty pussy so you feel me for days. A little reminder who you belong to.”

He sped up then, a final, frantic race toward his finish. Your body slid up and down the bed, the cheap sheets rubbing your chest raw, your nipples burning against your bra. You were unraveling, coming apart at the seams. “I’m cumming!” he roared, a raw, animal sound, and you felt the hot, sudden flood deep inside you, a violation that was both intimate and utterly impersonal. 

He collapsed forward, his weight crushing, and placed a wet, possessive kiss on the back of your neck like a brand. 

When he pulled out, it was with a slick, awful sound, and you immediately felt the warm, shameful trickle of his spend beginning its slow crawl down the inside of your thigh. You didn’t want to look. You didn’t want to see the mess he’d made of you. 

A sharp crack split the air a second before the sting bloomed on your ass cheek. You jumped, a fresh wave of tears springing to your eyes. “Look at that,” Yeonjun said, his voice already sliding back into its casual, cool menace. “Perfect.”

The mattress springs screamed a rusty complaint as Soobin slid up to the headboard. His movement was all wrong, too casual, too languid, like a snake rearranging its coils in a sunbeam. 

An arm, Yeonjun’s deceptively gentle, wrapped around your chest and hauled you up like a sack of grain. Soobin reached for you, his hands pulling you, making you straddle his lap. The fabric of his pants was rough against your thighs.

"Come on, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice a soft, horrible thing, like silk wrapped around a razor blade. He said it like this was some drunken backseat hookup, like they hadn’t kicked in your door on the worst night of your life to systematically unmake you. 

Something in you, some final wire that had been stretched to its molecular limit, snapped.

The crack of your palm against his face was a shock of sound in the thick air. His head whipped to the side, and there was a wet, grinding pop as his broken nose slapped back into some grotesque approximation of place. 

For a second, there was only silence. Then his eyes, wide and eerily placid, swiveled back to you. There was no anger in them. Just a vacant, intellectual curiosity, like a child who’d just pulled the wings off a fly and was waiting to see what it would do next. He didn't shout. He just pushed you off him with a terrifying, casual strength.

You stumbled back, right into Yeonjun’s waiting grip. His arms were iron bands around you. You fought, bucking, scratching, a wild animal caught in a trap. "Stop it," Yeonjun hissed, his breath hot and sour in your ear. 

Then you felt it. The cold, intimate kiss of the knife blade against your throat. It was so sharp the pressure alone felt like a cut. "You keep fighting, and I will paint these walls with you. They'll find you drained. And I will get away with it cause it’s purge night. You don't want that, do you, sweetheart? You don't wanna be my masterpiece."

But the animal in you didn’t care. Your elbow slammed back, a blind, desperate shot, and connected with a wet thud against his eye. He grunted, his grip loosening for a nanosecond. It was enough. You made a dash for the bedroom door, for the world, for sanity. You almost made it.

Soobin was on you. His fingers tangled in your hair and yanked, pulling you off your feet with a force that blinded you with white-hot pain. He dragged you back, your back slamming against his chest. He was humming. He was actually humming.

"Why," he whispered, his lips pressed against your ear, his voice still sweet, still reasonable, "do you keep doing that? It just makes it worse. It always makes it so much worse." He sighed, a sound of genuine, put-upon disappointment. "So here's the 'or else.' I'm gonna sit back down. You are gonna climb that pretty ass on me. And you are gonna ride my cock like the good little whore I know you are. Okay, babe?"

He said it like he was asking you to pass the salt. He pushed you away and walked back to the bed, settling against the headboard as if nothing had happened. Your back was to him. Your eyes were on the door. Freedom was ten feet away. Yeonjun let out a low, wet whistle from the corner. A taunt. A promise. Try it. See what happens.

You swallowed the metallic taste of your own pride, your own fear. It tasted like blood and ashes. You turned. You made eye contact with Soobin, whose expression was one of gentle, expectant patience. You crawled. You straddle him. His cock, hard and insistent, poked at your sore entrance. He looked down between your bodies, at where you almost touched, his head cocked.

"Put me inside you," he said softly. You reached under yourself, your hand trembling. You grabbed him. He let out a whimper, a small, pathetic sound that was more terrifying than any roar. 

You lined him up and sank down. A groan was torn from you. You were still raw, still torn from Yeonjun's brutal fucking. Soobin's eyes rolled back in his head for a second, then focused on you, glassy and awed. "Oh, fuck," he breathed, a devout worshiper at his own altar. "Even after getting ruined by Yeonjun... you're still so fucking tight."

The air in the room was thick and used, smelling of sweat and something metallic, like a battery leaking acid on your tongue. Soobin beneath you was all placid smiles, a deceptively gentle landscape. His hands, soft as a shop teacher’s, gave your cheek a double pat, a hollow imitation of affection.

 “C’mon, babe. Ride this cock,” he said, his voice a sugary murmur, the kind you’d use to coax a nervous animal. And you did. You lifted and came back down, setting a rhythm that was yours for only a moment.

A moan leaked out of him, a low, contented sound. He laced his fingers behind his head, a picture of casual ruin. His eyes, lust-hooded and downcast, never left your face, his bangs a dark curtain half-hiding the vacancy behind them. 

Your own vision swam, unable to focus on anything but the feeling, the wrongness of it. Your hands rested on his clothed chest, not for passion, but to steady yourself on this shifting, terrible ground.

Then Yeonjun was there, sitting on the bed beside Soobin like a spectator at a show. The sound of his hand tugging lazily on his own cock was a dry, obscene whisper in the room. His eyes were black pits fixed on the place where you and Soobin were connected, a wet, mechanical joining. “Look at that,” Yeonjun breathed, not to you, but to Soobin. “She takes it so pretty.”

Soobin’s placid mask slipped then, his grip on your hips turning sudden and brutal. He was fucking up into you, no longer letting you set the pace, taking it. Your hands flew back behind you, bracing, and you were just a thing being used, a socket for his plug. He was close, you could tell by the frantic pitch of his grunts, by the way he couldn’t stop the filthy babble from pouring out.

“Knew it… knew you were perfect for this… fuck, just a warm little vice, ain’t you? Made for this. Just for this. Shit—I’m cumming!” He did, a hard, shuddering release into you, and then his hands let go of your hips as if you’d burned him. 

You fell back onto the mattress, the air knocked out of you, a discarded doll.

But the feeling wasn't over. A tongue, wet and insistent, was on your sensitive clit. “Oh god,” you gasped, trying to close your legs, a feeble instinct. Soobin wouldn’t let you, his hands pinning your thighs apart with that same sweet, unbreakable strength. 

Yeonjun was over you, his mouth covering yours, kissing you with a possessive hunger. The violation was complete, a circuit of their torture closing, and you came with a sharp, traitorous yelp, your body betraying you utterly.

Soobin came back up, wiping his mouth. You felt naked, flayed open, even though you still wore your bra and shirt. They were both still fully clothed. The only sound was the ragged sawing of breath in the room. Then another sound cut through it, rising in the night outside the window: sirens. High, lonesome, and final. ‘

The end of the annual Purge.

Yeonjun let out a soft laugh, tucking himself back into his pants. “This was fun, babes,” he said, pulling himself off the bed. Soobin followed, but not before leaning down and giving your lips a dry, chilling peck. “I’ll send you the video,” he murmured, his voice still sweet as poisoned honey. You sat up, your blood going to ice. “Video?”

Yeonjun laughed again, a sound like gravel spinning in a dryer. Soobin just pointed a casual finger toward the corner of the room. There, perched on a stack of books, was a small digital camera. A single red light blinked back at you like a malevolent eye.

“You were so busy getting fucked stupid you didn’t even notice,” Yeonjun said, his voice dropping into something dark and serious, a steel cable wrapped in velvet. “So here’s how this works now. We call you, you come running. You’ll be our little whore until we’re done with you.” He glanced at Soobin, who was watching you with a twisted, lovesick adoration. “And Soobin’s in love with you, so… this is gonna be a while.”