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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

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best friend!jake x f!reader - REM

cw: explicit content a wet dream sex MDNI 18+ ENHA HARD HOURS flufffffy at the end

wc: 3.3K

Jake had always just been Jake. Your best friend. Your couch-sharing, video game-obsessed, cereal-stealing best friend. There was never anything weird about sleepovers with him. You’d done it a dozen times before—falling asleep in the same bed after a movie night, limbs tangled like siblings, breath evening out in the warm dark.

That was just you and Jake. Comfortable. Safe. Normal.

Until this time.

You didn’t even realize you were dreaming until the heat wrapped around you like a second skin. In the dream, it was still Jake—but not the way you knew him. He wasn’t just teasing you over cereal anymore. He was behind you, mouth hot against your ear, voice lower, rougher. You could feel his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath telling you to keep quiet.

You were soaked, aching, grinding back into him like your life depended on it. And then he said it—low and filthy: “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Your whole body jerked.

In the real world, Jake was half-asleep, rolled onto his side when he heard it. The softest moan. Barely there, but unmistakable. His name. Whispered in your voice. Breathless.

“Jake…”

He froze. Eyes wide now. Alert.

You said it again, a little higher, a gasp tangled in the syllables.

Jake blinked at the ceiling. His mind short-circuited. It had to be a mistake. You were asleep. People talked in their sleep. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it wasn’t even—

“Jake,” you moaned again, thighs shifting beneath the blanket.

His brain stopped trying to logic its way out of it. That was his name. That was your voice. And that was very clearly a moan.

He turned his head slowly, heart hammering in his chest. There you were—curled toward him in the dark, blanket half-kicked down to your hips, your shirt rumpled, your lips parted. You looked soft. Warm. And when your hips gave the tiniest, unconscious roll into the mattress, he almost choked.

You were dreaming about him.

And worse—your body liked it.

Jake stayed frozen for a moment, torn between panic and something a lot darker. Something he hadn’t let himself think about. Not until now.

Then you whimpered, a breathy little sound soaked in want, and whispered his name one more time. It broke him.

He rolled onto his side, slowly, watching you. His voice came out low, cautious, but tight with something new. "Hey. Wake up."

You stirred, lashes fluttering. The dream clung to your skin like heat. When you opened your eyes and met his, confusion washed over your face.

“Jake?” you whispered, voice rough with sleep.

He swallowed hard. "You were dreaming."

You blinked, then realization hit you like a punch to the chest. Your face went hot. "Oh my god—"

Jake didn’t look away. “You said my name.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You moaned it.”

Silence stretched. You stared at him, mortified. He stared back, breathing harder than he should’ve been.

“You want to tell me what that dream was about?” he asked, voice lower now. Hungrier.

You sat up, panicked. “No. It was stupid. Forget it.”

He followed, staying close. Too close. “I don’t want to forget it.”

You tried to look anywhere but at him. He was warm, bare-chested, the blanket slipping low on his hips, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. Everything about him was unfamiliar in this moment.

“You said my name like I was inside you,” he whispered. “Like I was fucking you.”

Your whole body burned.

Jake leaned in. “Tell me what I did in the dream.”

You closed your eyes. “You made me beg.”

“For what?”

“To be touched.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped. “Did I touch you?”

You nodded.

“How?”

You could barely breathe. “You said I’d be soaked just from hearing your voice. You were right.”

Jake exhaled a curse under his breath. His hand slipped under the blanket, not touching, just there. Warm. Present. Waiting.

“You still are?”

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “You want me to do it now? Make the dream real?”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer.

“Say yes.”

Your silence only made it worse. Or better. Jake couldn't tell anymore.

All he knew was that you weren’t pulling away, weren’t saying stop, and your body was giving you away with every breath. The way your thighs pressed together, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted like you were still moaning for him in your sleep. It was driving him insane.

He slipped his hand under the covers again, but this time, he touched. Lightly at first. Just a brush of his knuckles along the top of your thigh. He was watching your face, eyes scanning every microexpression, every twitch of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. Only heat. Only want.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice tight.

You shook your head.

He dragged his fingers higher.

“Tell me what else I did in the dream,” he murmured, the backs of his knuckles grazing the edge of your sleep shorts.

“You kissed me,” you whispered. “Everywhere. You said you needed to know what I tasted like.”

Jake swore again, quietly, under his breath, like it physically hurt to hear you say it. He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw. His hand settled on your inner thigh now, warm and firm, keeping you open.

“Like this?” he asked, kissing just below your ear, his thumb stroking slow circles against your leg. “Was this how it started?”

You nodded, breath catching. “Y-yeah. And then you… you made me say it. Everything I wanted.”

Jake smiled against your neck. “You gonna say it again for me now?”

Your voice was barely a breath. “I want you to touch me.”

“Where, baby?” he whispered. “You’re gonna have to be specific.”

You swallowed. “Between my legs.”

Jake moved then—slow but sure, his hand sliding up, his palm cupping you through the fabric, pressing down just enough to make you gasp.

“That wet already?” he asked, voice hot and low against your skin. “Goddamn.”

You were burning now. Everywhere. Jake shifted closer, his mouth finally finding yours in a kiss that started soft but darkened fast. It was everything the dream hinted at and more—his tongue sliding against yours, his hand working you over your shorts until your legs were shaking.

And when he finally slipped beneath the fabric, fingers brushing bare skin, his voice dropped to a whisper that sent shivers up your spine.

“You gonna cum for me like you did in your dream?”

You nodded, breathless.

Jake grinned.

“Good girl.”

Jake didn’t let up. Not once. Not when your hips twitched into his hand. Not when your moans grew softer, more breathless, too real to be part of any dream now. And definitely not when you whispered, voice breaking, that you still wanted more.

His fingers were slow, careful, pressing into the damp fabric between your thighs with maddening precision. He was watching you unravel beneath him, tucked under the blankets in his bed like you hadn’t just crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. The room was quiet, heavy with breath and heat and the low rustle of sheets.

Jake’s voice dropped even lower as he shifted closer, his thigh brushing yours beneath the covers. “Take these off for me,” he murmured, fingers catching on the waistband of your shorts. “Let me touch you the way you dreamed about.”

You hesitated for only a second before lifting your hips, helping him slide them down. He peeled them off slow, deliberate, like he was unwrapping a secret. The air kissed your skin, cool against your heat, and Jake exhaled a rough sound when he saw just how wet you were.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, hand stroking up your inner thigh, his voice gone hoarse. “You’re soaked.”

You turned your face into the pillow, a flush burning from your chest to your ears. He leaned over you, mouth brushing your cheek.

“Don’t hide from me. Not now. You were dreaming about me wrecking you, right? Saying filthy shit, touching you everywhere, making you fall apart just from my fingers.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes.”

Jake kissed your jaw, slow and hot. “Then open for me.”

Your thighs parted again, breath stuttering as he slid his hand between them and finally touched you. Skin to skin. No fabric. No barriers. Just Jake’s fingers sliding through your slick folds, circling slow, spreading the mess he found there.

Your hips jerked. Your hand flew to his wrist.

“Jake—”

His lips brushed your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to—”

“Say it.”

“I want your fingers,” you breathed. “Inside me.”

He groaned low, dragging one finger down until he was teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle circles, making your legs tremble.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Asking so pretty.”

Then he slid in. Slow. Deep. Curling just enough to make your breath catch. You were tight, soaked, gripping him like you’d dreamed about it for weeks. Maybe you had.

His other hand pressed against your stomach, holding you still as he worked you open, mouth at your neck, murmuring things he’d never dared to say out loud until now.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this. So sweet for me. So desperate. You’re not gonna forget this in the morning, are you?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t even speak.

But something wasn’t right.

You whimpered, hips shifting, trying to meet the rhythm of his fingers—but it wasn’t enough. It felt good, warm, intimate, but the pressure didn’t build. He wasn’t hitting where you needed. The ache was there, pulsing, hungry, but nothing he did with his fingers made it crest.

Jake noticed immediately.

“Talk to me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over your jaw. “Not enough?”

“I—I don’t know,” you admitted, breath catching. “It feels good but—something’s missing.”

Instead of getting frustrated, he only smiled. Patient. Steady.

“Okay,” he said, kissing your neck again, softer this time. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got you.”

He pulled his fingers back slowly, making you whimper at the loss, and kissed his way down your stomach, lifting the covers, settling between your thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. You stared down at him, dazed, mouth open as his hands gently spread you open again.

“Let me try something else,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on you.

Warm. Wet. Careful.

He started slow—kissing, licking, exploring, letting you guide him with the way your body tensed and shuddered. His tongue stroked low, up, around—and then his fingers returned, sliding in again with a different angle, a new rhythm.

And that was it.

Your back arched off the bed, legs shaking as your voice ripped out of your throat like it had a mind of its own.

“Ngh—Ohhhh my god, Fuck!”

Jake moaned into you, gripping your hips harder, tongue pressing deeper, fingers curling with a newfound precision.

“There it is,” he murmured against your skin, smug and breathless. “That’s what you needed, huh?”

You couldn’t answer. Your body was already spiraling, nerves unraveling, vision white hot as he kept going—steady, focused, relentless—like he was going to make you say his name like that all over again.

Everything was too much now. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers, every muffled groan vibrating against you—it all hit at once. Like he’d found a switch and refused to let go. You couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop whining. Your hips rolled up against his mouth, chasing the heat, the pressure, the way he made you feel like you were made for this.

“Jake—Jake, I—I can’t—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down.

“You can,” he said, voice low and thick between licks. “You’re gonna cum for me, baby. I’m right here.”

You sobbed, hands fisting the sheets, legs shaking uncontrollably. Every nerve in your body lit up with electricity, your throat releasing soft, desperate cries you couldn’t contain.

And Jake took all of it. Ate you through every gasp, every tremor, every broken moan like it was everything he’d ever wanted.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you whine,” he groaned, licking slow and deep. “Gonna make you do it all night.”

Your hand found his hair, tugging, not to stop him, but to ground yourself. You could barely think, barely breathe. Every time his mouth moved, it was like the world narrowed to just that. Just him. Just the wet heat and the flick of his tongue and the way he looked up at you like you were the only thing he’d ever worship.

“Jake,” you whimpered, voice breaking, “suck—can you suck really, really, really hard?”

His breath hitched. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded quickly, eyes wide, body trembling. “I—I was gonna say—”

But whatever you were about to say disappeared into a shattered moan as Jake sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked. Hard. Precise. Deep. The pull of it sent shockwaves through your spine, and your words collapsed into a cry so loud, so raw, it felt like your soul left your body for a second.

Jake didn’t let up.

“Just like that?” he asked against you, voice thick, lips slick.

You could only nod, hands gripping his shoulders now as your hips bucked wildly, chasing the pressure, the drag, the sting of pleasure that tipped you past the edge. Your moans were constant now—high-pitched, pleading, delirious.

He groaned in return, sinking his fingers deeper, curling perfectly into the spot he knew you needed.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped. “You’re making a mess all over me. You’re perfect like this. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave—overwhelming, endless, bright. Your body seized, toes curling, legs shaking as Jake held you steady, mouth still working you through it like he couldn’t get enough.

And when it faded, when your muscles sagged and your chest heaved and the only thing left was the sound of your breathing and the feel of his breath on your skin—Jake kissed your inner thigh, soft and slow, like he’d just done something sacred.

Then he looked up at you, lips swollen, chin glistening, eyes dark with pride.

“Taste better than you dreamed?” he asked.

You were still breathless, eyes glazed, but the smile that curled on your lips was all he needed to see.

“Way better.”

Jake kissed your thigh one more time, slow and reverent, before dragging himself up the bed. His chest brushed against yours, and he hovered over you, lips glossy, breath still uneven as he stared into your flushed, fucked-out face.

He leaned in, hand cupping your jaw, and kissed you—deep, slow, messy. You moaned into it, tasting yourself on his tongue, your fingers curling in his hair as your body trembled beneath his. His weight, his mouth, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go—it was too much and not enough all at once.

"Can I—" he started to ask, voice raw, mouth barely pulling back from yours.

But you didn’t wait for him to finish.

Your hand slid down between you, fingers wrapping around him without hesitation. He groaned—loud, guttural—as your fist tightened around the base of his cock, guiding him down.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes rolling back as you angled your hips, lined him up with your entrance, and started pushing the tip inside.

“Baby,” he gasped, head dropping into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, you’re—”

You cut him off with another roll of your hips, pushing down until he was halfway in. Your back arched, legs wrapping around his waist as the stretch hit, deep and hot and perfect. His breath hitched again, hands gripping your thighs like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Wanted this,” you breathed into his ear, voice trembling. “Wanted you.”

Jake shuddered, nearly losing it right then. He kissed you again, harder now, one hand cupping the back of your neck as he whispered against your lips.

“You’ve got me.”

He started moving—slow at first, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you, every breath and moan and whimper. His strokes were deep, unhurried, every push and pull drawing out long, shaky breaths from your throat. Your hands roamed his back, nails dragging over the ridges of muscle as he filled you again and again, each time more deliberate than the last.

“God, you feel unreal,” he muttered into your skin, lips dragging across your collarbone. “So tight—so warm—every time I move, I feel you clench around me like you don’t wanna let me go.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, voice rough. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Jake, please—”

He buried his face in your neck and kept going, kept moving, hips rolling smoother now, harder, deeper. The room was filled with heat and skin and the obscene sounds of slick and gasping breath. Your body responded to every thrust, meeting him halfway, legs pulling him in like you couldn’t stand any space between you.

He shifted your hips slightly, angling deeper—and you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“There,” you gasped. “Jake—right there—”

He groaned like he was in pain, like holding back was getting harder with every second. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, his rhythm slipping just slightly as you clenched around him.

“You close, baby?” he panted.

You nodded, desperate, trembling. “So close—keep going—please—”

His mouth dragged up your neck, hot breath on your cheek. He kissed you again, messier this time, barely holding it together.

And then you whispered, “Cum inside.”

Jake’s rhythm faltered. “No, baby,” he gasped. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“I’m on the pill,” you breathed, staring up at him. “I want it.”

He groaned but still hesitated.

So you leaned up, voice low and filthy, words curling straight around his resolve.

“You came inside me in my dream,” you said. “I thought you said you were gonna do it better.”

Jake swore under his breath and slammed into you harder, deeper, making you cry out.

“Say that again,” he demanded, voice tight.

“You said you were gonna do it better,” you repeated, moaning when his hips snapped again. “So do it. Fill me. Make it real.”

His mouth crushed against yours, and he lost his rhythm—hips stuttering, fingers digging into your skin, every part of him pushing closer, deeper, chasing that final edge with you clinging to him like you’d fall apart without him.

“You want it?” he panted. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please—Jake, please—”

And with a low, broken moan, he came—deep inside you, holding you down like he needed to mark you, claim you, fuck his name into your body forever.

Afterward, the room was silent except for your breathing. The kind of silence that felt heavier than sound. Jake stayed above you for a moment, panting, one hand braced beside your head, the other still resting on your hip. His skin was damp, flushed. Yours, the same.

He pulled out slowly, watching the way you winced and hissed at the sensitivity, and then he collapsed beside you with a deep exhale.

You both stared at the ceiling.

“…What the fuck,” you whispered, voice raspy.

Jake let out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah. That was…” He trailed off, head turning toward you. “Insane.”

You turned to face him too, eyes wide and unsure. “So… what now?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You swallowed. “We don’t have to make this a big thing, if you don’t want to. We can just… keep it casual or whatever.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change for a second. Then he rolled onto his side, reached out, and flicked your forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Don’t say dumb shit,” he muttered.

You stared at him.

“I’m in love with you,” Jake said plainly. “Have been. For a long fucking time.”

Your lips parted.

“And if you think I’m gonna let you call this ‘casual’ after I just came inside you because of a dream you had about me, you’re out of your mind.”

A smile spread across your lips before you could stop it.

Jake grinned back, softer now, and leaned in to kiss you—slow, sleepy, real.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m in love with you too.”

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims @prettygurlnikittie

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

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hiii can you write a dilf story!! maybe like neighbor or something idk I just love your writing a lot !!

yes yes hereeee

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

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hi! could you write a jake oneshot based off freak by doja? xx

hi yes out here now!!

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

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dilf next door !jake x freak f!reader - Freak like me

cw : m!receiving oral begging, grindin on his shoes, bondage, face slapping, sub!jake until its not, powerplay dom!jake, pussy slapping. 18+ MDNI

wc : 3.7K

a/n: sorry again.

Jake’s fat cock is in your throat.

One hand grips the back of his thigh, the other fists his sweatpants at the waistband, just above where his shirt has ridden up. He’s leaking like he hasn’t been touched in years, twitching against your tongue every time you swallow.

His head is tipped back against the kitchen cabinet, mouth parted, chest rising with short, broken breaths. His fingers are white-knuckled where they dig into the counter behind him, and he can’t keep his hips from twitching forward, not even when he’s trying so fucking hard to stay still.

You know this because Jake is the kind of man who tries. He always tries. Tries to be polite, tries to be soft. Tries to swallow it down when his gaze lingers on your thighs, your chest, your lips wrapped around a popsicle in the summer heat. Tries to keep his tone friendly when you wave from your driveway in tiny gym shorts.

But you’ve seen the way his smile falters when he thinks you’re not looking. The way his eyes betray him. The way his cock strained the front of his sweats the last time you asked him to help carry a box inside. You’ve known for weeks now.

Tonight, you decided to do something about it.

You showed up at his door wearing only a hoodie and bike shorts, all soft fake innocence and a fake request for salt. He blinked at you like he’d forgotten how to breathe, hair messy, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, the soft grey cotton of his pants clinging to thick thighs and the outline of something fat underneath.

He let you in with his usual shy smile, voice gentle, hand motioning toward the kitchen. He turned away, unaware of the way your eyes dropped to the curve of his ass as he walked. Unaware that you were already planning exactly how you’d have him whimpering before the hour was up.

It happened so fast.

He bent to grab something from the cabinet. You stepped in closer.

When he turned, still sweet, still unsuspecting, you looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Do you always get hard when I come over?”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

His whole face flushed like he’d been caught watching porn at work. You didn’t give him a chance to lie. You just grabbed his cock through his sweatpants, felt how stiff and heavy he already was, and smiled like you’d been gifted something expensive.

And then you dropped to your knees.

Now here you are, lips stretched wide around the tip of his cock, spit clinging to your chin, eyes watering as you sink lower, and lower, and lower.

Jake is a wreck above you, completely undone. He’s panting your name in between gasps, whimpering, telling you in a shaky voice that you don’t have to do this—but you already know that. You’re not here to be asked. You’re here to feast.

You moan low in your throat just to watch the effect it has on him.

His stomach jerks, his thighs go tight, his voice cracks as he lets out a ragged, “F-fuck, baby—Jesus Christ—” He sounds like he’s seconds from breaking, and you love it.

You love how soft he is, how sweet, how deeply unprepared he is for someone who wants him like this. His ex-wife probably laid there like a mannequin, barely touching him, letting him do all the work while she criticized him with her silence.

You’re the complete opposite. You’re on your knees for him, begging for the chance to be used. And you want him to see it.

You pull back with a slick pop, and before he can speak—before he can ask if you’re okay or say something adorable and unnecessary—you reach down, shift your knees, and begin grinding against the top of his shoe.

Jake freezes.

His eyes drop, jaw falling open as he watches you drag your clothed cunt along the arch of his sneaker, slow and deliberate.

You rock your hips down with needy little grinds, moaning softly under your breath, your spit-slick lips still parted, your panties already soaked through. “Needed something,” you whisper, breath shaking. “You feel so good, I couldn’t help it.”

Jake makes a noise that doesn’t sound human. “You’re… fucking my shoe.”

You nod, completely shameless, already moving faster. “It’s yours, isn’t it?” you murmur. “Smells like you. Feels like you. So warm, so firm… fuck, it’s perfect.” Your eyes flutter shut. “I could cum like this.”

“You’re serious.” His voice is rough now. Wrecked. Disbelieving. “You’re actually getting off on my fucking shoe.”

“Hard,” you gasp. “Gonna make a mess, too. Want your sock soaked through. Want you walking around all day with my cunt on your foot like it belongs there.”

Jake groans. His cock twitches hard in front of you, the head flushed and leaking.

You moan again and swallow him down—deep, fast, desperate—and that’s it.

He breaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck—baby, I can’t—I’m gonna cum—please, I’m gonna fucking cum—”

You hold him there. You press your nose to his skin and take him to the root, let your throat tighten around him like a vice, and let yourself go absolutely slack with it—like you were made to take him. Like this is the only place you’re meant to be.

He cums hard, thick ropes pulsing into your mouth, your throat, hot and messy and endless. He whines like it hurts. He shudders from head to toe, tries to pull back, but you keep him in your mouth, swallowing around him as he trembles. He sounds so broken when he moans your name again, voice shaking, eyes shut tight. Like it’s too much. Like it’s exactly what he never knew he needed.

You keep grinding.

Harder now. Desperate.

Your panties are ruined. The pressure of his shoe against your clit is unbearable. You’re soaking the laces. Your thighs are shaking. Your orgasm builds like a scream in your chest, your body locking down around the drag of fabric and friction and the taste of his cum still on your tongue.

Then you’re coming.

Violent. Messy. Loud.

Your hips jerk forward, one long, feral cry spilling from your lips as your entire body clenches, rocking through the waves of it with no shame, no filter, no apology. You don’t even stop. You keep riding his fucking shoe until your vision blurs and you collapse forward, catching yourself with one hand on his thigh, panting, dazed, glowing.

Jake looks like he’s about to pass out.

You blink up at him. His face is flushed, lips parted, sweat glistening at his temple. His cock is softening now, still slick from your mouth. He stares at you like he’s trying to remember how breathing works.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind,” he whispers.

You grin up at him. Your voice is hoarse, raw from taking him so deep. “Wait ‘til I tie you to my bed.”

He swallows.

You reach up and pat his chest sweetly, then drag your nails down his stomach. “Better hydrate,” you murmur. “Next time, you’re not gonna be standing by the time I’m done with you.”

Jake moans again.

Jake’s fucking naked and tied to your bed, cock hard and leaking, mouth swollen from how many times he’s bitten down trying not to cry.

You’ve ruined him already—left him shaking, flushed, sensitive, the head of his cock glossy and red from being stroked, spat on, denied. His wrists are bound to the headboard with your silk scarves, arms stretched and flexed, muscles tight from the tension. His legs are spread wide, ankles cuffed to the posts at the bottom, so open and vulnerable you could do anything you want to him—and you fucking will.

He looks like a fucking offering laid out for slaughter.

He’s been begging for nearly fifteen minutes now. He doesn’t even know what for anymore. You’ve got him so twisted up he’d say yes to anything. Anything to have your pussy back on his cock. Anything to feel you ride him again like you did the night before when you choked on his cum and came all over his foot like a filthy, brainless freak.

He hasn’t been the same since.

You sit between his spread thighs now, fully clothed, your hoodie sliding off one shoulder, thighs glistening with your own arousal. His cock jumps the second you touch it, and he gasps—so fucking sensitive, twitching like it hurts, but still begging to be touched. You spit on it again, letting the saliva drip slowly from your tongue before you smear it around the tip with your thumb.

Jake lets out a cracked moan, head thrown back, chest flushed and rising fast.

“Please,” he pants. “Please let me cum—please, baby, I’ll do anything—anything you want, I swear—”

You slap his cock. Not hard. Just sharp enough to make him jolt.

His moan breaks into a sob.

“Oh my god,” he chokes out. “I’m gonna fucking lose it, I swear—”

“You already did,” you mutter, climbing into his lap and dragging your soaked panties against the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate. “Look at you. Look at this fucking mess you made.”

Your pussy’s dripping. His cock is coated in your slick, your spit, his own leaking pre-cum that you didn’t even bother cleaning up the last time he came. You just licked it off your fingers while he watched, eyes wide and dazed like he couldn’t believe it.

You grind down again, harder, dragging the length of his cock along your soaked slit—your panties so wet you may as well be naked. He can feel everything. And he’s losing his fucking mind.

“Please,” he whines, and it’s a real whine this time, shaky and high and wrecked. “Please let me put it in—I need your pussy, I need it, I’ll fucking cry for it—”

You reach back, grab his cock at the base, and line him up.

Jake holds his breath.

Then you sink down, slow, letting him stretch you open inch by inch, your soaked walls squeezing around his cock so tight he nearly passes out.

“F-fuck—” he gasps, voice cracking. “Fuckfuckfuck—holy shit—your pussy’s—so fucking tight—so wet—oh my god—”

You sit fully on him and grind down. Circle your hips once, twice, just to watch him fall apart.

Jake screams.

“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps. “I can’t hold it—I’m gonna fucking cum—baby, please—fuck—”

“No, you’re not,” you growl, slapping his thigh hard enough to make him jolt. “You’re gonna take it. Every single fucking second of it. You’re gonna sit there and let me use your cock until you’re crying, begging me to stop.”

“I’m already crying,” he whimpers, voice thick and wet and so fucking broken it makes your clit throb.

You ride him slow at first. Just enough for him to feel the way your pussy clenches down every time he whines. He’s shaking so hard the cuffs rattle. His arms flex and his head drops back, throat exposed, mouth open, a string of drool sliding down his cheek. He’s not even trying to be strong anymore.

“You’re so easy,” you murmur, leaning forward, your tits brushing his chest. “One little taste of this pussy and you’ve turned into a cockdrunk mess.”

“Y-yeah,” Jake gasps, not even ashamed. “I don’t care—I’ll be your fucktoy, I don’t care—please—ride me—break me—I’ll cum in you, I’ll fill you up, I’ll give you anything—”

You bounce.

Hard.

The slap of skin on skin is obscene—slick, wet, fucking filthy. Your ass hits his thighs again and again, your cunt swallowing him with every bounce, your juices dripping down his balls and soaking the sheets underneath.

Jake is screaming.

“I’m cumming—baby, please, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum—”

“Do it,” you snap. “Fucking give it to me.”

He does.

It hits him like a freight train.

His whole body arches, arms straining against the restraints, cock throbbing violently inside you as he empties himself, hot and thick and so much it leaks around your pussy and down your thighs. He cums hard. Harder than before.

You don’t stop. You keep riding. Keep grinding. Keep slapping your cunt against his oversensitive cock until he’s shaking, moaning, twitching beneath you.

He starts crying.

Real tears, silent at first—just leaking from the corners of his eyes while he whispers your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

You slow down. Not to be kind—just to drag it out. Your cunt keeps clenching around him, squeezing more cum out of his twitching cock while he sobs beneath you.

“Again,” you say softly. “You’re not done.”

“P-please,” he chokes. “I c-can’t—too much—hurts—”

You slap his face.

He whimpers.

“You wanted a freak, daddy,” you whisper in his ear. “Now take it.”

You should’ve seen it coming.

Should’ve noticed the way Jake’s eyes snapped open after the third orgasm you milked out of him. Should’ve heard the way his voice changed when he said your name—lower, rougher, like it wasn’t a plea anymore. Like it was a warning.

But you were too busy grinding out another high on his cock, watching him cry, whispering filth into his ear like he was yours to keep. Too drunk on power to realize that the leash was loosening. That the heat building behind those trembling moans was something else. Something darker.

Something dangerous.

So when his hand broke free from the restraint and clamped around your throat in one swift, unhesitating motion,

You froze.

“Get the fuck off me,” he growled.

It wasn’t a request.

You barely realize what’s happening until your back hits the mattress.

Jake doesn’t warn you. Doesn’t ask. He just grabs you—lifts you like you’re weightless, tosses you onto the bed like you belong there—and you do. You belong right there: on your back, legs open, waiting for him. Your hair’s a mess, your skin is slick with sweat, and you can still feel the faint sting from where he slapped you earlier—tender, warm, and aching for more.

Jake towers over you now, fully in control, not the shaky man you once had sobbing under your tongue. This Jake is all muscle and purpose, eyes dark, chest heaving, every part of him radiating pure, controlled hunger. His voice when he speaks is low, quiet, devastating.

“You thought you could break me?” he says slowly, climbing onto the bed. “You thought you could ride my cock, spit on it, slap it against your tongue like it was yours?”

You nod, dazed, already drunk on him. “I—yes—”

His hand wraps around your throat, not tight—just enough. Just enough to remind you whose bed you’re in now. Whose game you’re playing.

“That’s cute,” he mutters. “Because you don’t belong in control, baby. You don’t belong on top. You belong right here. On your back. Legs open. Mind empty. Pussy leaking. Waiting for me to do whatever the fuck I want.”

Your body answers before your mouth can. Your hips twitch, slick pooling between your thighs again like he hasn’t already ruined you twice tonight.

He laughs when he sees it. “Of course you’re wet. You like it when I talk to you like this. When I tell you you’re nothing but a body for me to use.”

You nod, breathless.

Jake shoves your thighs apart and stares like he owns you.

His hands grip your knees, pushing them up, back, open—not just spread, but displayed, exposed, like you’re nothing more than a fucktoy laid out for his use. You tremble under the weight of his stare. He doesn’t move right away. He just watches you—watches the mess between your legs, the way your hole clenches around nothing, fluttering like it’s begging for him.

“You see this?” Jake mutters, voice rough, chest rising with each breath. “This is what a cockdrunk little slut looks like. All ruined and open and twitching. You get like this just from being told you’re mine.”

You nod again, too far gone to pretend otherwise.

“Say it.” His hand slides up your thigh. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasp. “I belong to you, Daddy.”

His eyes flash. “Say it properly.”

“I’m yours. I’m your slut. Your hole. Your mess. Use me.”

Jake groans low in his throat, the sound of a man completely gone. His hand slips between your legs again, fingers dragging through your slick, knuckles brushing where you’re most sensitive. You arch into his touch like a puppet on a string. And when he slaps you—sharp, wet, deliberate—you moan like it’s your name.

“Fuck, you really love it, don’t you?” he growls, doing it again. The sting shoots straight to your core, makes your body jolt and your eyes roll. “You need it. The pain, the mess, the shame—all of it.”

“I do,” you gasp, eyes wet. “I need it. I need you to use me—mark me—make me your fucking toy.”

Jake leans in close, one hand still pressed to your thigh, the other wrapped tight around your throat. His lips brush your ear, and his voice drops so low it makes you ache.

“Good. Because you’re not getting a break tonight. You’re gonna take every slap, every thrust, every fucking drop I give you—and then you’re gonna beg for more.”

Jake doesn’t give you time to recover. Not even a second.

His hand on your throat tightens—not dangerously, just enough to remind you that you’re not in charge anymore. Just enough that your back arches and your breath stutters, your eyes going hazy even before he says another word.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough, dangerous. “You haven’t even been fucked yet and you’re already shaking.”

You are. Your whole body is trembling beneath him. Your thighs twitch, your chest heaves, your cunt pulses like it’s trying to pull something in. He lets go of your neck and drags his hand slowly down your chest, past your stomach, over the soaked heat between your legs. He spreads you again—thumb parting you with no gentleness at all.

You gasp. Loud. Shameful.

“Fucking mess,” Jake mutters, more to himself than you. “You’re dripping down your thighs, baby. What do you think you look like right now, huh?”

You can’t answer. You’re too dazed. Too open.

But Jake isn’t asking for answers.

He slaps you again. Sharp and wet. The sound echoes, and the burn is instant. Your back jerks off the bed, but your legs stay spread like they know better.

“Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Thank you for slapping my pussy, Daddy—thank you—thank you—”

He cuts you off with another one. Even harder. Your mouth drops open in a silent cry, your hands gripping the sheets like you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself to the mattress.

Jake’s breathing hard now. He’s watching your face as you squirm, watching your thighs tremble, watching your hole clench around nothing with every sting of his hand.

“You don’t even know how to behave without being punished, do you?” he growls. “You need it. You need to be used. You need to be slapped open and filled up and fucking wrecked just to remember who you belong to.”

“I do,” you pant. “I need it. I wanna be wrecked. Want to be yours. Just yours. Just a hole—your fucktoy—”

He slams your knees back, folding you in half.

“Yeah?” he hisses. “Then beg for it.”

You’re shaking. Voice thin. Body raw.

“Please, Daddy. Use me. Fill me. Fuck me until I cry. Spit on me. Mark me. I want your cum inside me for days. I want you to ruin me. I want you to break me.”

Jake growls low in his throat.

“Fuck. You’re gonna wish you never said that.”

And then he takes you.

Not soft. Not slow. Not kind.

He takes you like you asked for it—like you were made to be taken. His hands on your thighs, his cock driving deep and rough, your screams muffled against the mattress as he folds you, bends you, owns you. His fingers digging into your skin, his voice dark in your ear, your name warped with every curse.

“Mine,” he snarls, over and over. “My slut. My pussy. My fucking property.”

Your body isn’t yours anymore.

It’s his. All of it. The bruises blooming on your thighs, the slick between your legs, the spit drying on your chest—it all belongs to Jake now. Your name doesn’t matter. Your words don’t matter. Your pleasure is just a side effect of being used the way he wants to use you.

And he’s nowhere near finished.

You’re still folded in half when he pulls out, slow and deliberate, letting the drag of his cock stretch every sensitive inch of you one last time before he sits back on his heels. You can barely move. Barely speak. But he doesn’t need you to.

He just needs you to listen.

“Don’t close your legs,” he growls. “Keep ‘em open. Wide. Let me see what the fuck I’ve done to you.”

You try. Your legs twitch. Shake. Collapse inward from instinct.

Jake slaps your thigh—sharp, fast, not enough to hurt, but enough to snap you back into place.

“I said open.”

You whimper. Force them apart again. Your skin burns. Your hole pulses. Your cunt’s dripping, twitching, raw from being filled and slapped and stretched, and you’re so far gone you don’t even care. You want him to look. You want him to see the mess he’s made.

And he does.

Jake leans forward, grabs your chin, forces your dazed eyes to meet his.

“You see this?” he murmurs, dragging two fingers between your legs, coating them in slick, cum, spit—everything. “This isn’t you anymore. This is mine. This whole filthy body? Mine.”

You nod, throat dry. “Yours.”

“All of it.”

“Every inch.”

Jake hums. Then presses those two soaked fingers to your lips.

“Suck.”

You don’t hesitate. You take them between your lips, tongue swirling, your moan caught on the mess of everything he’s fed you.

He watches you with a filthy kind of pride. Like he’s not just fucking you—he’s training you.

“Good little toy,” he mutters. “Look at you. So easy to break. You’ll do anything, won’t you?”

You nod, still sucking. Still moaning.

He pulls his fingers out, grabs your face with one hand, and tilts it down.

“Look.”

You blink, then see it: the mess between your thighs. The slick, the spit, the raw stretch of your hole. You gasp—shocked by the sight of yourself, of what he’s made you into.

Jake grins.

“You look better like this,” he says softly. “Ruined. Used. Nothing left in that pretty head except my name and my cock.”

You breathe his name like a prayer.

He leans close.

“Flip over.”

You obey.

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

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pt 3 of enhypen having fight with pregnant wife ?

guys i didnt forget i swear i just need time!!!

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Note

so… where to begin… you act like you don’t really care about jungwon aaaand flirty jungwon who KNOWS you CARE and then teases and gives you backshots after truth or dare where you have to sit on his lap or smth like this… yeah…

i’m going crazy i guess.

(sorry for possible misunderstanding 😭 english is not my first language)

here you go!

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enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Text

jungwon x f!reader - truth or dare

cw: smut backshots, truth or dare a party some alcohol overstim fucking in a hallway playing hard to get reader

wc: 4K

The air inside Sunghoon’s apartment was thick with warmth, laughter, and the low thrum of bass-heavy music bleeding from the speaker in the corner. The living room, dimly lit by cheap string lights and the occasional glow of someone’s phone screen, was comfortably chaotic—half-empty beer bottles on the coffee table, abandoned playing cards scattered across the floor, and the faint smell of smoke drifting in from the open balcony door.

It was a typical night, the kind that started with everyone pretending to be responsible and ended with terrible decisions made over drinks that tasted like battery acid. At least, that’s how it always went with this group. Someone would drink too much. Someone would say something they shouldn’t. Someone would push a boundary just to see how far they could take it before it snapped.

Tonight, that someone was Jungwon.

His eyes had been on you all night. Watching. Waiting. Calculating. It wasn’t the kind of attention you could ignore, not when it felt like a slow, deliberate pull against your skin, a weight settling in the space between your shoulders. He was leaning back in the chair across from you, his posture lazy, one arm draped over the backrest like he had all the time in the world. The amber liquid in his glass swirled idly under his fingers, but his gaze—dark, unreadable, patient—never left you.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. At least, not yet.

Jungwon had always played this game too well. He never pushed outright, never gave too much away. Instead, he let his presence sink into the background, subtle but undeniable, like a whisper against the nape of your neck that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. He was a walking contradiction—soft-spoken but sharp, polite but dangerous, calm but never still. Always watching, always waiting, like he was just biding his time until you let your guard slip.

And you hated it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

If anyone else in this room looked at you the way he did, if anyone else had the audacity to sit back with that quiet little smirk and wait for you to break first, you would’ve shut it down in an instant. You would have rolled your eyes, called them a creep, and gone right back to pretending they didn’t exist.

But this was Jungwon.

Jungwon, who had spent the past few months testing you. Jungwon, who had a habit of getting under your skin in ways that felt almost calculated, like he was learning you. Figuring out what made you tick, what made you squirm, what made you second-guess yourself even when you swore you wouldn’t.

Jungwon, who knew you liked it.

The worst part was that he never actually called you out on it. Never forced the subject, never acknowledged the weight of his own attention, never once said anything that could be used as proof that any of this—whatever this was—was real. He didn’t have to. He just looked at you like he already knew the answer.

And the problem was, he wasn’t wrong.

The sound of Jake’s voice cut through the air, sharp and mischievous as always. “Alright, everyone shut up. We need a game.”

There was a collective groan from the group, though no one actually made an effort to leave. If anything, some of them perked up, already sensing that whatever Jake had in mind was going to be just chaotic enough to be entertaining.

“Please don’t say beer pong,” Sunghoon muttered, taking a slow sip from his drink. “I don’t have the patience to watch you throw a tantrum when you lose again.”

Jake scoffed, offended. “First of all, I have never thrown a tantrum in my life. Second of all, that was one time, and I should have won because—”

“No one cares,” Heeseung deadpanned, tipping his bottle in Jake’s direction. “Get to the point.”

Jake, unbothered as always, simply grinned. “Truth or Dare.”

This time, the reaction was immediate. Sunghoon groaned again, louder this time. Jay muttered something under his breath about how he should’ve left an hour ago. Someone else laughed, already grabbing another drink like they were preparing for whatever was about to happen.

You, however, felt something shift.

The second those words left Jake’s mouth, you felt it—a quiet but distinct shift in the air, an almost imperceptible pull that dragged your focus back to Jungwon.

Because when you finally did look at him, when your gaze flickered up and met his across the dimly lit room, you realized something that sent a slow, creeping heat curling through your stomach.

He was already looking at you.

He was smirking.

It was subtle, barely there, just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but you saw it. You felt it. That silent confirmation that he knew. That he had been waiting for this exact moment. That he had already won.

Jungwon’s voice was smooth when he finally spoke, quiet enough that you almost had to strain to hear him.

“I’m in.”

He said it like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t expecting anything from it, like he wasn’t sitting across from you with all the patience in the world as he waited to see what you would do.

It wasn’t fair.

The worst part was that no one else seemed to notice. No one noticed the way Jungwon was watching you like he was waiting for something, like he had already decided exactly how this was going to play out and was just waiting for you to realize it too.

You weren’t about to back down.

Lifting your drink to your lips, you took a slow sip, ignoring the way your stomach tightened under the weight of his attention. When you set your glass down again, you leaned back into the couch, tilting your head slightly, and let your lips curl into something just shy of a smirk.

“Fine,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Let’s play.”

Jungwon didn’t react right away. He let the words hang between you for a second, stretching the tension just long enough to feel intentional, before the smirk on his lips deepened just slightly.

The game had started off simple enough. Truth or Dare. A childhood staple turned into an excuse to push limits under the guise of drunken amusement. Someone had already been dared to take three consecutive shots of the worst vodka in the apartment, another had been forced to send an embarrassingly explicit text to their ex, and at some point, Sunghoon had been dared to kiss Jay, which had resulted in an explosion of laughter and a very flustered Jay swearing he would get revenge.

But none of that mattered. Not to you. Not when Jungwon was sitting across from you, watching, waiting, looking as though he already knew exactly how this was going to end. He was relaxed, too relaxed, one arm slung casually over the back of the chair, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his thigh, his glass cradled in the other hand as he took slow, measured sips. But his eyes—dark, unreadable, knowing—were fixed on you, making the space between you feel smaller than it actually was.

He had been watching you all night.

It was subtle, the way his gaze never strayed for long, the way he seemed unaffected by the noise and movement around him. He was patient, unnervingly so, biding his time, waiting for the inevitable. There was something about him that always felt like a challenge, something that made it impossible to ignore him, even when you tried. And God, had you tried.

The worst part was that he knew.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And when Jake spun the bottle and it landed directly on you, you knew it too.

The chatter in the room shifted slightly, just enough to signal that people were paying attention. Anticipation crackled in the air, feeding into the slight tension already woven between your shoulders. Jake grinned, the kind of grin that meant nothing good, and leaned forward.

“Alright, princess. Truth or dare?”

Your breath was steady, controlled. You could feel Jungwon’s eyes on you, heavy, expectant. If you picked truth, Jake would find a way to expose you. If you picked dare, you would be putting yourself at his mercy, at whatever fucked-up, boundary-pushing challenge he had been waiting to throw at you.

And yet, you still found yourself saying, “Dare.”

Jake’s grin widened, slow and satisfied, his gaze flickering between you and Jungwon.

“I dare you to sit on Jungwon’s lap.”

The shift in the room was immediate.

The laughter dulled, the conversations thinned out, and suddenly, it felt like every single person in the apartment was waiting for you to react. Even the music seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your own breathing, too sharp, too aware. You weren’t looking at Jungwon, but you didn’t have to. You could feel him, could practically sense the amusement rolling off him in waves, the anticipation humming beneath his carefully crafted exterior.

There was no way out of this.

Not without losing.

And you refused to lose.

With a slow inhale, you pushed yourself up, moving toward him with measured steps, refusing to let the moment feel as monumental as it did. The second you reached him, he tilted his chin, his smirk deepening, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He just spread his legs a fraction wider, resting one arm lazily over the back of the chair, waiting.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, smooth, amused. “Scared you’ll like it?”

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you rolled your eyes, acting unaffected, and sank down into his lap, gripping his shoulders for balance. It was meant to be simple. A dare. A game.

But the second you settled against him, you realized your mistake.

Because he was hard. Already.

A slow pulse of heat spread through your stomach, coiling tight, thickening your breath. You tried to shift, tried to find a neutral position, but the movement only made it worse, the friction sending an electric shock through your core. And Jungwon? He felt it. You knew he did. His fingers flexed against your waist, his grip firmer now, securing you in place before you could pull away.

His breath was warm when he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something just above a whisper.

“…You’re wet.”

Your stomach plummeted.

Heat flooded your entire body, rushing up your neck, into your face, between your thighs. Every inch of you locked up, your hands tightening against his shoulders, your breath catching before you could stop it. And he felt that too.

The worst part was that he sounded satisfied.

He shifted beneath you, slow and deliberate, just enough to let you feel him, to feel everything. You sucked in a sharp breath, body going rigid, but his grip didn’t waver. If anything, he only held you tighter, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, barely grazing bare skin.

“Guess that answers my question.”

Your thighs clenched involuntarily, the pressure between your legs unbearable. Jungwon hummed, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was in control.

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers dragging over your skin. “Unless you want everyone to see how bad you want it.”

A shudder worked its way through you, a slow, involuntary reaction that only made him chuckle. His breath was steady, controlled, unaffected, while yours was dangerously close to ruined.

And then, before you could stop yourself—before you could think better of it—you moved.

Pressed down harder.

Jungwon inhaled sharply through his teeth, his fingers digging in. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, he slipped.

“You’re fucking with me.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at your lips, your nails dragging down his arms.

“Is it working?”

His hands snapped back to your waist, grip firm, unrelenting. His voice was lower now, wrecked.

“You better hope these people leave soon,” he muttered, his breath heavy, hot. “Because the second I get you alone?” His fingers slid lower.

“You’re done.”

The party was still going, but you weren’t there anymore. Not really. The room was a blur of half-drunk conversations and muffled music, voices blending into a meaningless hum as Jungwon’s words sank deep beneath your skin, spreading like wildfire. You’re done.

That should have been a warning. A threat. But all it did was send a pulse of heat straight to your core, an ache that made your thighs clench involuntarily. You shouldn’t have pressed down on him like that. You shouldn’t have let him feel how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

But it was too late. He knew. And now, he was going to make you pay for it.

Jungwon’s grip on your waist was still firm, fingertips pressing possessively into your sides as he leaned back slightly, his mouth brushing against your ear. His voice was low, calm, controlled—but beneath it was something darker. Something lethal.

“Get up.”

Your breath caught. He didn’t say it loudly, didn’t need to. The authority in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, made your stomach tighten with anticipation. You hesitated for only a second before obeying, pushing yourself off his lap, legs unsteady beneath you. He followed immediately, his movements smooth, purposeful, like he already knew exactly where this was going.

You barely had time to process what was happening before his fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip deceptively light as he led you through the crowd, weaving through the bodies without so much as a second glance. No one even noticed. No one saw the way his other hand lingered against the small of your back, or the way your pulse was hammering so hard you could hear it in your ears.

He didn’t stop until you were in the hallway.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you barely had time to take a breath before he was on you.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, his body pressing flush against yours, heat radiating through the thin fabric separating you. His hands found your hips instantly, his grip strong, unrelenting, possessive. His eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, filled with something filthy.

“You think you can fuck with me like that?” His voice was different now, rougher, his breath warm as it ghosted over your jaw. “Grinding on my lap in front of everyone, acting like you don’t want me to ruin you?”

Your breath stuttered. Fuck.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His hands were already moving, sliding lower, gripping your ass hard before yanking you against him, forcing you to feel how hard he was. The friction sent a shockwave through you, made your fingers clench at his shoulders as a quiet whimper slipped past your lips.

Jungwon chuckled.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His lips found your neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin as his fingers worked their way under the hem of your shorts. His touch was teasing, barely-there, cruel in the way he traced the outline of where you needed him most but never quite touched.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw as his hand finally dipped lower, sliding between your thighs. “Did grinding on my cock do this to you? Or have you been dripping for me all night?”

Your head fell back against the wall, breathless, desperate, but he wasn’t satisfied yet.

His fingers barely brushed against you before he withdrew, bringing them up between you, glossed in your arousal. His eyes locked onto yours, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips. And then—he pressed them against your mouth.

“Open.”

A quiet, strangled noise slipped past your lips. His voice was a command, sharp and absolute, and your body responded before your mind could catch up. Your lips parted, your tongue flicking out instinctively as he pushed his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, watching the way your mouth wrapped around his fingers, the way your tongue licked over them, cleaning up every drop. “You really are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You shouldn’t have moaned at that. But you did.

His eyes darkened even more, his breath coming heavier now. His free hand slipped behind your head, tangling into your hair before he pulled you into a kiss so filthy it left you dizzy. His tongue shoved past your lips, licking into your mouth like he wanted to consume you, tasting the wetness he had just fed you, owning it.

His hips rolled forward, grinding against you just right, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the party still happening down the hall, not the fact that you should be ashamed of how easily you were coming undone for him. All that mattered was the way he was fucking devouring you.

His hand slid back down, slipping inside your shorts this time, pushing past your underwear until he was touching you properly. You choked out a gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as he dragged his fingers through your wetness, slow and deliberate.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

You whimpered, grinding down against his fingers, shameless. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed him.

He must have sensed it, because his fingers curled suddenly, sliding inside with no resistance. Your body arched, your head tipping back against the wall, and he fucking grinned.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting deeper, watching your face with pure hunger. “Take it. Let me hear you.”

The heat between you was unbearable. You weren’t sure when you had lost control, when pride had melted into something desperate, something raw, something so shamelessly filthy that you didn’t even care anymore. Maybe it was when his fingers first pushed inside you, stretching you open, fucking you slow like he had all the time in the world. Maybe it was when he licked his own fingers clean, tasting you, groaning about how sweet you were like he was going to fucking devour you.

Or maybe it was right now, when your head tipped back against the wall, legs spread wide, his fingers thrusting so deep into you that you couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips.

And fuck—the sounds.

Lewd, wrecked, absolutely obscene. Squelching, wet noises filled the empty hallway, a disgusting testament to how completely ruined you already were for him. And you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. You wanted more. You needed more.

Your thighs trembled around his wrist, your fingers digging into his shoulders, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. Not when you were this close to breaking. Not when your breath was coming out in shaky, broken whimpers, your body begging him without words.

But words were what he wanted. He wanted to hear you say it.

Jungwon slowed his fingers, barely moving inside you, just enough to keep the pressure, just enough to tease. His smirk was deadly, dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched you fall apart.

“You gonna beg for it?” His voice was smooth, dripping with arrogance. “Or are you still trying to pretend you don’t want me to fuck you senseless?”

A sharp whine ripped through your throat. Your head lolled forward, forehead resting against his shoulder, every ounce of shame burned away by the throbbing ache between your thighs. His fingers curled inside you, pressing against the spot that made your whole body jolt, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, nails clawing into his arms. “Fuck me, Jungwon. Please. I need it. I need you.”

The words left your lips before you could stop them.

And Jungwon stilled.

For a moment, it was silent. His breath hitched, his fingers pausing inside you like he hadn’t expected that, like he had assumed he’d have to drag the desperation out of you. But here you were, falling apart in his hands, pleading for him without hesitation.

His lips parted slightly, his gaze dropping down to where his fingers were buried inside you, then back up to your face, taking in your flushed skin, your half-lidded eyes, your slick dripping down his wrist.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost in awe. “You’re really begging me, huh?”

His cock twitched against your thigh, hard as fucking steel, straining against his pants. His control was slipping. He was slipping.

And you wanted to break him completely.

You moaned, shifting against his fingers, your breath coming out in a messy, broken plea.

“Yes—please, please, please, I need you to fill me up—I need your cock inside me, I need you to ruin me, Jungwon, please, I’ll do anything.”

A low groan tore from his throat, deep and wrecked, his head tipping back for half a second before he lost it.

His fingers yanked out of you only to grip the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down your thighs in one swift motion. You barely had time to process before he spun you around, pressing your chest against the wall, his palm splayed across your lower back as he forced you into a deep arch. Your fingers curled against the wall, your whole body trembling in anticipation.

“You want it that bad?” His voice was deeper now, breathless, wrecked.

You whimpered, nodding frantically. “Yes—yes, please—”

He clicked his tongue, his hand smacking against your ass hard enough to make you cry out.

“Say it properly.” His cock pressed against your bare skin now, hot and leaking through his boxers, teasing where you needed him most. “Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath shuddered. Your brain was gone. Completely useless.

“I—I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand, until I can’t even think—I want you to fill me up, make me your fucking mess, make me scream—”

Jungwon swore under his breath. And then—

He shoved his cock inside you in one brutal thrust.

A ragged, filthy moan punched out of your chest, your body stretching around him, the delicious burn of it sending a shockwave through your spine. Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the wall as he bottomed out, stuffing you so deep you could feel it in your stomach.

Jungwon groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his breath ragged.

“Holy fuck,” he gritted out. “You’re so fucking tight—”

Your walls clenched around him, making his hips jerk involuntarily, dragging another obscene squelch from between your legs. The sound alone had him groaning, biting down on your shoulder.

And then? He snapped.

He pulled back only to slam back in, setting a brutal, relentless rhythm, fucking you into the wall so hard that the framed picture beside your head shook. Your moans turned into screams, high-pitched and desperate, bouncing off the empty hallway walls, but you didn’t care. You wanted everyone to hear.

Jungwon was panting now, wrecked, completely fucking gone.

“Listen to yourself,” he growled, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you back onto his cock as he slammed forward again. “Fucking screaming for me. You really wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you stupid?”

Your answer was nothing but a broken sob.

His hand reached around, slipping between your legs, rubbing tight, filthy circles on your clit. The pleasure was unbearable, your whole body shaking, throbbing, and you could feel it—

The inevitable. The uncontrollable.

“Come for me, baby,” he groaned against your ear. “Come all over my cock—let me feel you fucking fall apart.”

And then—

You shattered. Completely.

A loud, broken wail tore from your throat, your body locking up, spasming around him as your climax ripped through you. Your walls clamped down so tight that Jungwon lost it immediately after, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a deep, wrecked groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your ragged breathing, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He stayed buried inside you, filling you up completely, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

The world outside the hallway didn’t exist anymore. Time had blurred into nothing but the aftershocks of pleasure, the slow hum of satisfaction thrumming through your veins as Jungwon’s body stayed pressed against yours, still buried deep inside you. The both of you were wrecked, breathing hard, coated in sweat and sin, the scent of sex thick in the air, clinging to your skin, to his.

You should have moved. You should have pulled away, found your clothes, pretended this never happened. But you didn’t.

Neither did he.

Instead, he tightened his arms around your waist, keeping you in place, his cock twitching slightly inside you, still hard, still refusing to let you go. A low hum rumbled against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your damp skin, slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was raspy, sleep-heavy already, like he had decided that the night was far from over.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, your body still overstimulated, burning. You tried to shift, but the movement only made him groan, his cock pressing deeper, making you whimper.

“Jungwon—”

“Shh.” His fingers slid up your stomach, dragging against your overheated skin before slipping beneath your jaw, tilting your face back to him. His lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing, just tasting. “You can take it, baby. Just stay like this for me. Let me feel you.”

A sharp exhale left your lips, your pulse throbbing at the thought. The idea of staying like this all night, full of him, stretched around him, completely owned by him. You swallowed hard, your nails digging into his arm, your whole body fighting between exhaustion and the craving for more.

But the heat in his eyes told you exactly what he wanted.

And you wanted it too.

You nodded, barely breathing, and his smirk deepened. His fingers slipped lower, brushing against your still-sensitive clit, making you jolt.

“Good girl.”

He adjusted his grip, guiding you both towards the bedroom, his cock still buried inside you, refusing to slip out,refusing to give you even a second to feel empty. The sensation was overwhelming, filthy, unbearably intimate.

By the time he reached the bed, he pulled you down with him, settling you into his lap, his back against the headboard, his arms locking you in place. His hands traced slow, lazy circles over your bare thighs, completely unbothered by the way your body trembled from exhaustion.

You wanted to speak. Wanted to ask him why he was doing this. Why he wasn’t letting go.

But you already knew the answer.

Because this wasn’t the last time.

This wasn’t going to be a one-night thing, a mistake you could brush off in the morning.

Jungwon wasn’t going to let you forget this.

He shifted slightly, his cock twitching inside you, making a filthy, wet sound escape from between your legs, making your head tip back, your breath catching. His grip tightened.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not letting you leave until I’ve fucked you in every way I want.”

A sharp whimper escaped your lips, your fingers digging into his chest as he tilted his head, studying you like he was memorizing the way you were already breaking for him.

“You know that, right?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Your entire body was buzzing, aching, ruined.

Jungwon smiled, smug, knowing, victorious.

His hand slid up your back, gripping the nape of your neck as he pulled you forward, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss. The kind that sealed the truth neither of you had spoken out loud yet.

This wasn’t the last time.

Not even close.

Because you were his now. And he had no intention of ever letting you go. Not until you knew exactly what it meant to belong to him.

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