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Your name is Baek Saheon, and see, here's the thing. If you don't get a little more space in this apartment, you're going to lose your mind.
You knew this wasn't going to be great as soon as you found out who your roommate was, obviously. But not only is your roommate an adrenaline junkie psycho, he's an adrenaline junkie psycho with no apparent social life.
You didn't think that would be so bad at first. It's not like you're wasting time with friends or dating or whatever when you could be doing something useful instead. But fuck you, apparently, because you guess you underestimated Kim Soleum again, big fucking surprise.
It's not like you go home often, right? As little as you can get away with. But as far as you can tell, he leaves even less. Not like you're stupid enough to ask him for details, but you're starting to think he leaves the apartment for work and to buy food, and that's basically it.
Not the end of the world. When you're lucky (rarely), he gets pulled into a Darkness that takes a couple days to resolve. D-Squad seems to get dinner together on the regular. There's times when you have a little peace and quiet here.
On the other hand, the next time you come back exhausted from hauling ass through a Darkness only to find him watching cartoons in the dark and muttering to that stupid shitty rabbit toy, you're going to fucking lose it.
Obviously it's not a good idea to confront him! Fuck! Who knows what the hell he'll do if he actually gets pissed.
But that almost makes you want to do it even more. It's a bad move, maybe the worst move you could make. But at the end of the day, he's just human. Only human. He's not any better than you. There's some way to get to him, some point of leverage you can use, you just have to figure out what it is.
(And hey, he's not sending you creepy-ass threats every morning anymore. If there was a time to take back some ground, it's now.)
Would be easier if you had anything to work with, anything to tell you what kind of person he is (besides the obvious), but he doesn't make phone calls you can listen to, hardly has any personal belongings, nothing to give you a hint.
So, you're going with something easy.
You wait for the right opportunity. It's just a quiet Thursday night, him getting a drink in the kitchen when you get back late from the office. Bonus, he's not having a one-sided conversation with his stuffed rabbit. Perfect.
You did all your rehearsing and practicing away from the apartment, you're not an idiot. But it's like you can still feel the pressure of his attention as you take off your shoes. You want to look up to see if he's really watching you, but you hold yourself back. If he isn't watching, it doesn't matter. If he is watching, that's a show of weakness. You waste time messing with your shoelaces, trying to ignore the cold sweat on your back.
Hell, you need to just do it. You straighten up—he is watching you, dammit—and shrug out of your suit jacket so you have something to do with your hands. You do your best to channel casual and confident as you walk past the kitchen, toward your bedroom, then stop as if something just occurred to you.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention— You might want to find somewhere else to be this weekend."
He takes his time responding, the bastard. "Oh?"
Casual, confident. "Yeah. I'll be bringing a guy back. It's been a while, so you know, I'm planning to go all out."
How to get to Kim Soleum? Threats that would work on any normal person are fucking useless. But just look at the way he carries himself when he isn't busy getting off on ghost stories— all proper and conservative, like he's really just some normal office worker. Yeah, he knows what to do with himself when things go off the rails, but you'd bet money he's never so much as held a girl's hand.
He hasn't said anything yet. You try to push down the feeling of hope. But hell, this might really work. Fine, if this is what it takes to make him piss off for an afternoon or two, you'll play the part of the biggest sex freak in the world. If the idea of the gay thing is (finally, finally) a chink in his armor, you'll lean into it even harder. You should have bought some gay porn, to sell it even better. You'll have to do that soon. Next time you get home before him, you'll set up with it in the living room, show him what it's like to come home from work to some freak watching weird shit in his apartment.
Eventually he says, "I didn't realize you were…"
Yeah, you nailed it. Finally, something that makes Kim Soleum uncomfortable. Oh, this feels good. You don't let yourself smile now and ruin everything, but it's a struggle to hold it back.
"…taken," he finishes.
Time to push this even further.
"Taken?" You sneer. "Who's taken, I'm not interested in love, I'm interested in… you know." You look Kim Soleum up and down, slowly, trying to ignore the cold sweat breaking out on your back. For fuck's sake, he hasn't even done anything yet. "So unless you want to catch the whole show, you should find somewhere else to be."
There. That has to have done it. You're probably pushing your luck acting like you'd hit on him, but it would be even worse having him think you were out for a relationship and seeing how he'd leverage that against you. Even if he's completely off-track, god knows what he'd pull.
He still hasn't reacted, but you give it a moment longer, really let it sink in before you go off to your own room.
But just as you shift your weight, getting ready to step back, he moves and you freeze in place. He doesn't come right at you, he just takes a few steps, circling you, still holding a steaming mug in one hand. You turn as he gets to your bad side. Even if it gives away the piece of the game, you're not letting him out of your sight like that.
Kim Soleum reaches out, and fuck, you don't flinch, you know you don't, but he pauses and raises his eyebrows for a moment regardless. There's a clink as he sets his mug down on the counter to the side.
Finally, that bastard opens his mouth again. "Then I didn't realize you were so unfulfilled." While you're still trying to figure out what the hell he means by that, he adds, "You don't need to bring an uninvolved party back here."
And with that, he grabs your chin and leans in.
Fuck, fuck, what the hell is— Kim Soleum is kissing you. With tongue, the motherfucker. Thank god, you froze up too much to bite him the way you really want to. Even more thankfully, he isn't biting either, at least not yet. What the fuck is happening right now. He's keeping a tight grip on your chin and his weight is leaned into you, starting to almost bend you backward over the counter.
Why is he so close? What the hell point is he trying to make? How the hell are you supposed to react to this without pissing him off?? You have no idea, but you'd really, really rather think about that than about the way you can feel his whole upper body, his hips, pressing right up against yours.
What do you do now? What do you do? That was your only play, and you figured that even if it didn't work, Kim Soleum wouldn't want anything to do with you. How the hell does he look like that while simultaneously being a freak in ways you never even guessed at?
And when the fuck did he ever learn to kiss like this. You need to know, so you can go find the responsible party and do something permanent to them. It's not— You're not even saying it's a good kiss, fuck this bastard, you refuse to give him that kind of credit. But it's— it's invasive, it's domineering, it's inescapable. You can hardly breathe around him. You're not going to cling to him, you have some dignity, but for fuck's sake, it's hard to tell what else to do with your hands. And if you try to lean back away from him, he just follows you forward, still refusing to release your chin, until he's practically lying on top of you on the counter, and—
Fuck. Fuck no. No no no, you are not doing this, it's just— It's a basic physiological response, okay? Any asshole knows that. It's just a basic result of physical simulation, or sometimes it just happens. Hell, you'd bet money on Kim Soleum popping a boner every time he learns about a new ghost story, the freak.
If you had your way, you'd just ignore this situation until it went away, and then you'd pretend it never happened. But clearly nothing is going your way tonight, is it!!
Kim Soleum finally breaks the kiss, but you’re not enough of an idiot to think this means anything good. He just looks at you for a long pause, while you’re trying not to do anything obvious like shiver with tension. Just as you’re wondering if you should try to push him off, his eyes flick downward for just a moment, and fuck, you’re going to scream, you really are—
Before you can make the stupid decision of trying to fight Kim Soleum, he moves, and you guess you’re making the stupid decision of letting Kim Soleum do what he wants. He turns you, so you’re facing the counter instead of him. It means you don’t have to meet his eyes, at least, and at this point you’ll take any wins you can get.
He leans harder into you for a moment, and no, hell, you don’t want to think about this until you absolutely have to. But the way his hips bear down on yours means your boner presses hard into the edge of the counter, and you struggle to not make a noise, to avoid giving him anything he can leverage against you.
You see his hand in your peripheral vision and flinch before you can stop yourself, shit. But he just reaches past you and puts— he puts that stupid goddamn fucking rabbit on the counter, off to the side, but still where you can see it, leaned up against the wall like it’s just part of the fucking decor and not the kind of freak toy a psychopath like your roommate would take everywhere with him.
He stands up after that, at least. You get a split second to catch your breath before his hands land on your waist—you flinch again—and he pulls your hips back against his.
You’re adjusting, okay? You’re coming to terms with things. You’re not happy, obviously, but you can— You can deal with this. How many times have you almost died since taking this shitty-ass job? This is nothing, you’ve got this.
Kim Soleum sighs and says, “Then let’s get this over with.”
It leaves you breathless with fury, for a split second, what, like you want this, like he’s doing you some fucking favor—
But again, like always, he doesn’t leave you any window to respond—you hate him so much— before bends down over your back, reaches one hand under you, and cups you through your slacks.
You hiss and claw at the counter, but you can’t get any leverage, and in a second you remember that you’re not stupid enough to fight Kim Soleum head-on and drag yourself back under control.
It’s overwhelming. It’s not that he’s good, fuck— But you’re strung so tight with tension that you’re about to snap, and you can’t see him, you have no idea what he could be doing behind your back, and the weight of him on you and the hand underneath—
You can deal with this. You can deal with this and Kim Soleum will think he knows something about you, and he won’t know jack shit, but you’ll have learned more about him in the process. This is fine.
And with any luck, this won’t take too long. It won’t take too long on your side, anyways. There’s just too much nervous tension humming through your bones, pulling you too taut. He gets your slacks open and pushes them down and gets a hand on you directly, and you just press your forehead against the counter and try to breathe.
Come on, you bastard, get it over with already.
He’s been the one pushing this bullshit forward every step of the way. He’s the one pinning you in place against the counter, he’s the one who decided to get into your pants. He’s not even good at this. Come on, you just need him to pull his pants down and get this over with. No matter how shit he is at sex, even if it turns out that he’s more of a freak than you expected, you’ve got the items to deal with it, or points to buy more if things go even worse than you’re guessing.
You’re trying to ignore the way you can feel him against your ass. There’s a little perverse satisfaction in feeling him react to you too, or at least you tell yourself there is. Either way, that’s got to be the finish line. Once he gets what he’s looking for, you’ll get a chance to pull back and regroup.
And—shit—you’re trying to think about anything but your own body, maybe that’s why your own orgasm takes you by surprise. Your body is burning. You want to push him away and get some space, but you settle with turning to press your overheated cheek against the counter and absorb whatever coolness you can.
That was a mistake. It means that when you open your eyes, you’re looking straight at the fucking rabbit.
You hate this. You hate every moment of your miserable existence. But not as much as you hate Kim Soleum.
Come on. You already know where this is going. He just needs to fuck you already and get this over with. Surely he’s gotten enough kicks by now. And now you don’t have to worry about how the hell you’re going to stay hard with a psychopath sticking his dick up your ass. This isn’t going to feel good, your whole body is already miserably oversensitive, but you can deal with it, just do it.
You’re finished. No more aftershocks, no nothing. You’re just soft in his hand and waiting waiting waiting for him to let go of you and finish this.
He doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
He gives you another thoughtful stroke, and it’s awful, it’s so much that you claw helplessly at the counter again, hissing.
He keeps going. What does he want, what does he fucking want from you. You’re trying not to fight him, you swear, you want to make it out of this shit alive. But finally, you can’t help it, you just can’t handle this anymore, and you plead, “Too much—”
Kim Soleum pauses. For a moment, even though you know better, you feel a flash of hope.
And then, perfectly calm, perfectly confident, he says, “You like it this way.”
What the hell are you supposed to say to that?? It doesn’t matter, because you don’t get a chance, he bears down against you even harder and his hand speeds up. You subconsciously try to jerk away from where you can feel him pressed against your ass, and there’s an agonizing flash of sensation against your cock, and you cry out, half overwhelmed, half petrified by what the fuck kind of item he just used on you.
He didn’t, that’s even worse, as he goes on, you realize it’s the counter, the cold of the cabinet doors against your skin as he moves against you.
You press your face into the counter. You want to brace yourself, something, but there’s never a chance for you to recover, to breathe, to think. It was a mistake. Everything you’ve done tonight is a mistake. Your eyepatch catches on the counter as you turn your head, trying to get a decent breath of air. It drags off, and before have time to realize what’s about to happen, Kim Soleum’s terrifying, overwhelming aura is suddenly visible all around you, enveloping you.
You manage not to scream, not to fight him. But it’s so much, it’s everywhere, it’s like a cloud of smoke around you, writhing and alive, suffocating in a way that even his simple physical body wasn’t. Your arm jerks out, helpless, and you feel something on the counter go tipping over.
Kim Soleum stops for a moment. Sternly, he says, “Be more careful. You wouldn’t want to offend Braun.”
Braun? What? With some difficulty, you turn your head and look. You shouldn’t have. He still has one hand on your cock, and with the other, he’s reaching out to set his shitty awful rabbit back up against the wall, a little further away.
And then like nothing ever happened, he goes back to jacking you, even harder than before.
What are you supposed to do? What can you do? You’re hard again, but it’s too much, it feels like pain more than anything else. And he still hasn’t gotten off. Fuck. How are you supposed to make it through this? How much does he want before he’s satisfied. As he drags you relentlessly on toward a second climax, you try to pretend like you can’t still see the rabbit, like it’s not watching you, and do your best not to scream.
***
Your name is Kim Soleum, and with any luck, you’ve just made it through this mess safely.
Braun remarks, Quite an intriguing show, Friend! Even if he was rather unmannerly as a performer— No sense of consideration for his audience.
All you can do is tell him, I’m sure he didn’t do it intentionally.
Braun sniffs. It’s about having a sense of professionalism.
You don’t really know what to say that. All you want is to get out of this situation before Baek Saheon realizes you have no real idea what you’re doing. Especially in the early days of the wiki, he was a favorite named character for posts that, well… they didn’t have much to do with ghost stories. The consensus eventually was that they didn’t belong on the wiki itself, but since they were hosted there for a while, you suppose it makes sense that they would be canon to the universe.
At least, that was all you had to go on when it was clear you had to do something. You’re lucky that the ideas those fans had about him were so… vivid. Even though you haven’t read them for ages, and they aren’t on the copy of your wiki on your phone now, you remembered enough to have material to work with.
…You think they aren’t on your copy of the wiki. You really should… double check that. You almost had a heart attack trying to deal with this once, you need a little forewarning before that happens again. At least you’ve been studying ghost stories, this was something you were not prepared for.
You let go of Baek Saheon, and slowly, gingerly straighten up.
He’s breathing hard and ragged, and doesn’t make a move. Is two times enough to satisfy him? Because honestly, you’re almost out of ideas.
He opens his eyes and glares up at you sideways. “Well?” he demands. “Aren’t you going to finish the job?”
No, really, I’m at my limit, I can’t keep this up.
He’s visibly furious, though it looks like you still have him under control enough that he doesn’t try to take action. He hisses, “Don’t play fucking dumb. You haven’t even—”
His eyes flicker downward.
Hell. More research to add to your to-do list. You really, really hope this isn’t a recurring issue, but it looks like, in fact, twice is not enough. You… really want to meet the authors responsible for those stories, just to express a few grievances.
For now, you really can’t take any more of this, your nerves are at their limit. You force your face to stay calm and raise your eyebrows. “I’m afraid that’s all I have time for tonight.”
You don’t look down at the stains and smears on the cabinet doors. Your face is going to go red if you let yourself think about it. Instead, you turn away from him to step to the sink and wash your hands. You’re not thinking about that either. Nothing to think about here. Baek Saheon has propped himself by the time you finish and go to dry your hands.
He looks ready to explode, but no, you really can’t handle this, just how much more does he want? And besides, you can’t let him think he can demand whatever he wants from you, you have to control the momentum of this. So you collect Braun in one hand and your mug of tea in the other. “I’ll be leaving to wash up first.” You shoot a glance at the cabinets. “I expect you can… clean this up.”
Before he has a chance to say anything, you make a retreat, resisting the urge to run. You take a sip of tea to soothe your nerves as you go. You sigh to yourself, “Ah, it’s cold.”
As if I’m going to risk going back to reheat it now.
You get one last glimpse of Baek Saheon as you turn to close your door. He’s upright now—so you made your escape at the right moment—glaring at you with mismatched eyes. You try not to shiver visibly as the door swings shut. You still need to gather yourself and go out to the shower, but just for a moment, you need to pause and take a breath. And hopefully, hopefully, you’ll have a chance to find your bearings and make some preparations before Baek Saheon demands a repeat performance from you.