The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k
Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart.
Or
This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰��
P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂
Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics
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...need your reassurance...
...your only focus…
...for the foreseeable future...
He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.
For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.
You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.
Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.
“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.
Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.
“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.
“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.
“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.
“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.
“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.
“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.
Therapy was hard.
Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.
But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.
He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.
“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.
“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.
“And what were those?”
“She didn’t want to see me.”
“Did she say that?”
“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.
“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”
“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.
The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.
Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.
“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”
“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.
“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”
“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.
“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.
Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”
“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”
Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.
“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”
“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.
“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”
“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”
“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”
“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”
“And how did you respond to that?”
“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”
“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”
“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.
“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”
"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.
“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”
Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.
“Joel?”
“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.
He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.
“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”
This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.
“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.
You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.
“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”
“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.
“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.
“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”
Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.
But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.
No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.
No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.
No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.
When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?
A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?
Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.
People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.
Joel, will you please sign the papers?
He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.
No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.
The papers are not ready.
Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.
Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.
An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?
You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.
The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?
So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?
Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?
Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.
Can you turn back time?
Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.
?
You know I can’t..
Sign the papers. Please.
“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”
“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.
“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.
“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”
His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.
“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”
The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.
“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.
“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”
“She asked me to leave the house.”
“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.
“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”
“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”
“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”
“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”
“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”
“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.
Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”
Fuck.
How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?
His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.
“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”
Fuck.
“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”
“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.
“You could have called.”
“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.
Touché.
“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.
“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.
Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.
“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.
“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”
Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.
“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.
Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”
“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.
“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”
“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.
“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.
“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”
“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.
“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”
“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.
“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”
The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”
“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”
“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”
“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”
“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.
“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”
Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.
“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.
Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”
“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.
“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.
“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.
“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.
Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.
“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.
“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.
“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.
Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.
But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.
Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”
“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.
“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.
Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?
“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.
“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”
You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?
But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.
You were right.
It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.
He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.
There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.
Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.
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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre
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I would like to apologize for the amount of time this took to write lmao. I couldn’t find a good stopping point and got overwhelmed with how I would finish this part, but at least there will be a part 4 in the foreseeable future. I’m working on some headcannons for Hattie so we can get to know her a bit more!
Thanks for reading!!
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No Expectations
“Jack, I need your moral support. Please come here now,” Hatton’s hands threatened to begin sweating with the amount of anxiety that was coursing through her body. She had her MacBook out, the cursor hovering above the attachment that Trevor had sent her. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, but she knew that Jack would bring her back to earth.
“Sure, Hattie. Let me drop everything I’m doing and come at your beckon call. There’s literally nothing more in the entire world that I would want to do right now,” Sarcasm laced Jack’s words.
“Attitude Mister. Check it now,” Hatton quickly brought it to his attention.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to make sure I have everything packed to go back to Jersey. Luke is coming over tonight and I want to check his stuff and make sure he’s ready to go. When do I need to come over?” Jack was rustling through some papers as he held his phone to his ear with his shoulder.
“Now?” Hatton put her innocent voice on, knowing Jack could never say no to her.
“Hattie, you better be glad that you’re my best friend in the world,” Jack sighed as he laid the papers down.
“Thank you, Jacky boy,” Hatton smiled.
About 20 minutes passed when she heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps that skipped up the stairs. Jack pushed open Hatton’s door and plopped down beside her on the bed.
“What’s up,” he asked, pulling out his phone to keep him occupied.
“Trevor sent me a PowerPoint on why he would be a good boyfriend. I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I am and I need your company here,” Hatton explained as she fiddled with the rings on her hand.
“You couldn’t just FaceTime me with this?” Jack groaned. This whole ordeal gave Jack flashbacks of their middle school days of romance.
“Jack, this is my future we’re talking about. What if he’s the one? What if I say yes to be his girlfriend? What if we get married and have kids and finally get a happily ever after?” Hatton was serious, but Jack was trying not to laugh.
“You realize, like, 2 months ago you didn’t like him…” Jack smirked, but was met with an unamused look from Hatton.
“3, 2, 1,” Hatton took a deep breath and clicked the attachment. She clicked the ‘present’ button and began to read the slides.
“Ok, I actually want to see these,” Jack admitted as he scooted closer to Hatton and read the slides.
“I will buy you flowers when you least expect it,” Hatton laughed, “Because that’s boyfriend material.”
“I have a dog?” Hatton was getting upset. She wanted him to take this seriously, but he’s giving her these lame reasons? Actually, the dog isn’t lame, but basing an entire relationship on one is.
“Uh oh, here’s the mushy ones,” Jack announced as he clicked to the next slide.
Hatton’s eyes scanned the slide.
“Every time I look at you it gets harder to breathe. You’re quite literally breathtaking and I’ll remind you that every single day,” Hatton could feel the heat in her cheeks rise.
“That’s gross,” Jack fake gagged, but stopped when Hatton gave him a look.
“Every time your name pops up on my phone (which isn’t much, but still…) my heart races a little,” Hatton began sporting a smile.
“I know that Jack Hughes will always be by your side (hi buddy) and that would be the closest I could get to be his brother. I’ve already asked Quinn to marry me and he told me to fuck off,” The slide caused a rupture of laughter that filled the entire room.
“He’s got a point,” Jack chuckled.
“Every time I picture my future, at least for the last 3 years until now, I always picture you in it. I’d like you to be more than a friend, and I’d love for you to give me a chance to prove that I can love you the way you deserve,” Hatton couldn’t shake the smile off of her face even if she wanted to.
“I would’ve bullied him in high school for this,” Jack shook his head and leaned back into the pillows, pulling his phone out to go through his Snapchat.
A link on the last slide caught Hatton’s attention, but she managed to read the text that sat above it.
“Here’s a plane ticket. If I convinced you to allow me to be your boyfriend, I’d love to see you and keep explaining how I can be your boyfriend while being thousands of miles away,” Jack squealed as he watched Hatton open the link to the plane tickets.
Sure enough, there was a ticket for first class from Detroit to Anaheim that was a week away.
Jack kept glancing between the ticket and Hatton while she just sat there staring at the computer screen.
“It’s not going to disappear if you look away you know,” Jack poked her in her side, resulting in an elbow to his stomach.
“I don’t know what to do. I mean, I guess I could skip school for the week. I could do my assignments online,” Hatton wasn’t talking to Jack in particular, but more so thinking out loud. Jack didn’t seem to pick up on that memo though.
“I’m no genius by any means, but it sounds like you do know what to do,” Jack raised his eyebrows at the girl sitting beside him. She couldn’t be annoyed with Jack because he was right. She wanted to jump on that flight. Hell, she’d probably jump on a flight sooner if possible, but she didn’t want to begin this relationship with being so spontaneous.
“When do you leave for Jersey?” Hatton turned to face Jack, quickly changing the subject, but eager to know the answer.
“Um, 6 in the morning,” He scratched the back of his neck, preparing for a lecture of why he should’ve told her he was leaving sooner.
“Jack Hughes, what the hell?!” She pushed at him, hoping to push him off the bed, but he barely budged.
“I probably would’ve told you sooner….actually I shouldn’t lie I probably wouldn’t have. In my defense, I did tell you I was busy before I got here,” he pointed out, but it didn’t fix Hatton’s frustration.
“Yeah, but you failed to mention that you’ll be leaving in less than 24 hours, dumbass,” she thumped him on his ears, eliciting a wince from him.
“I was going to come over tonight to tell you bye,” he grumbled, but Hatton just rolled her eyes.
“I’m FaceTiming you when I get there,” Hatton announced.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he patted her leg as he began to stand up.
“Wanna come help me finish packing?” He knew she wouldn’t say no to his request.
“I guess I could,” Hatton played as if it was even a thought that she wouldn’t.
Because he was leaving in the morning, they took separate vehicles back to his house, so Hatton just planned on spending the night, wanting to spend as much time with her best friend as possible before hockey stole him back.
….
The next week passed painfully slow as Hatton had said goodbye to all of her boys. She had friends that were girls, but none that she trusted as much as Jack, Turcs, Cole, or Quinn. Maybe Trevor, too.
The boys just made life interesting. They weren’t full of drama, and everyday was some sort of adventure. She missed them a lot when they were gone, so to think that she would get to see Trevor, and possibly Alex, gave her something to look forward to.
She appreciated the gesture of the plane ticket from Trevor, but what the hell was he thinking with a 7:00 am flight? There was an hour drive from her to the airport, and she had to be there at least 2 hours prior so that she wouldn’t be an anxious mess. And that leads her to now, lugging her bag from her room to her car and making the drive to Detroit.
The drive wasn’t terrible, but Hatton had to stop for coffee so that she wouldn’t fall asleep behind the wheel. The traffic was steadily getting worse as she made her way to the airport parking, though. She went through TSA and checked her bag groggily, the sleep not too distant from the night before.
Once Hatton was awake enough to be aware of her surroundings, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, even if the flight was four and a half hours. A shaken espresso from Starbucks would do the trick to give her enough energy to get through the travel day without catching an attitude with somebody.
After grabbing her coffee and finding a corner to read one of her books, the intercom finally came on, announcing that her flight was boarding first class. She grabbed her backpack and book and made her way to her seat next to the window.
The book she was reading seemed to speed up the flight, the one and only time she glanced at her watch and there was only an hour left until they landed. She spent the last hour watching outside of the window, taking a few pictures, and just thinking about what this next week could lead to.
That was great, until she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even talked to Trevor to let him know she was coming. She couldn’t text him, so she just had to wait until the plane landed, mentally kicking herself for forgetting such a major detail for the day.
The plane landed and everybody deboarded. Hatton quickly grabbed her suitcase from the baggage claim and tried to find a place outside to make a quick call to Trevor.
As she pressed his number to call him, she heard a phone ringing behind her. Confusion swept over her as she turned around to see the tan skinned, wind-swept hair that Trevor wore so well. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile when he smirked at her.
“Let me guess…Jack?” She knew that Jack couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut even if he wanted to, but for once it turned out in her favor.
“Did you really think he wouldn’t tell me that you were coming? Which brings me to my next question, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He grabbed the suitcase from her and walked her to where his car was parked, all the while taking in how she could possibly be as beautiful as she was right now after traveling all day.
“I’ll be honest, I completely forgot to. I don’t really have a good excuse,” She admitted. She placed her backpack into his backseat, but Trevor wouldn’t let her grab the door to get into the front because he had to.
“Thank you,” Hatton smiled up at him and waited for him to get in so they could drive away.
The drive wasn’t long, mostly filled with a few road rage moments for Trevor along with small talk to fill the silence. They pulled up to the house that Trevor called home. He wished that Hatton had come a year ago, that way she could’ve experienced life with him and Jamie, but he was sure his friend would make an appearance at some point while Hatton was here.
“Wow, you’re house is really pretty,” Hatton commented while unbuckling and grabbing her backpack from the backseat. Trevor grabbed her suitcase and they made their way inside.
Trevor smiled, a blush rising onto his cheeks, as he shrugged his shoulders.
“I have a couple of extra rooms that you can choose from. You could always just room with me, though,” he smirked and threw her a wink.
“And there’s the Trevor I know,” Hatton chuckled as Trevor began to show her around the house. A part of her wanted to just stay in the same room as Trevor, but she’d be here for a week, so they would have plenty of time to make rooming changes if need be.
Trevor let Hatton unpack by herself, giving her some time to decompress on her own from traveling all day. He had planned for the first day to be less action packed so that the two would be rested for his game day tomorrow.
“Okay, I think I’m unpacked,” Hatton breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down on his couch, momentarily closing her eyes as she was realizing that it would just be him and her sleeping here for the entire week. It was never just the two of them, there was always somebody else with them, even if it was just Jack.
“So, I have some pretty cool things planned for the week, but I figured we take it easy today…that ok?” Trevor plopped down in a recliner beside the couch.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Hatton kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet beneath her, making herself more comfortable.
“Um, I know this conversation is just going to be awkward no matter when we have it, but seeing as you’re hear you saw my reasons why I think we could work out,” Trevor watched as Hatton nodded her head, urging him to continue with the conversation.
“Yeah, speaking of, where’s your dog?”
“He’s getting a bath. We can go pick him up in a little while. Back to what I was saying....I just feel like I need to say some things in person so we can just completely clear the air about how we feel about each other,” Trevor was just going to rip the bandaid off and get everything out of his system. He's had ample time to think about what to say to Hatton, but none of it sounded good enough now that she was sitting so close to him, just the two of them. He let his heart go on autopilot, deciding that may be the best way to go about this.
“You obviously know I like you. Like a lot. But, um," Trevor stuttered as he rubbed his arm, subconciously trying to ease the anxiety that seemed to peak when he tried to take about his feelings. That was something about Trevor that only a select few knew; Trevor loved attention, but he avoided showing his true feelings at all costs. He would rather just make everybody around him smile or laugh than let them in on how he feels.
"Hattie, you mean the world to me. You meant the world to me when I knew you couldn't stand me, and you mean the world to me now that you've traveled this far and you're sitting right here," The words were flowing from his mouth, reaching Hatton and wrapping around her heart like a ribbon on a gift.
Hatton could feel her cheeks go rosy, not caring if Trevor noticed or not. She listened to each word that left his lips as if they were a raft that could save her from drowning from confusion. Because that's what Hatton felt most of the time: confused. Why did he feel like this towards her? Could she really let herself be in a relationship with him? Let him see the most vulnerable parts of her that very few were lucky enough to know about?
"You told me I needed to figure out how to make a long distance relationship work, so that's what I've been doing. I've talked to some buddies that have been in a long distance relationship and they gave me some words of advice. Long distance can't, and won't, work if we both don't work on it. I can tell you when I'm free from practice and games so that we could FaceTime or text or something. I'm willing to pay for your travel when you come here, and I swear I will make time each month to come see you as well. Even if it's for short periods of time. I really want this with you. More than anything, more than the fucking Stanley Cup, Hatton," Trevor chuckled, but he was completely serious. If hockey didn't pay his bills, then he'd drop everything to be with her.
"You must want me lot," Hatton grinned, teasing him.
"You have no idea," Trevor sighed, returning her grin.
"Ok. You have to ask me to be your girlfriend, though," Hatton's upside down smile was plastered on her face as she watched Zegras process what she just said.
"Wha- so that's a yes?" He could hardly form words because of the excitement that was running rampant in his head. His heart was working overtime.
"Did you ask me?" Hatton raised her eyebrows inquisitively, waiting for him to ask her the question that would start their future.
"Hatton Carlisle, would you do the absolute honor of being my beautiful, loving, caring girlfriend," Trevor was being a bit dramatic, but he didn't care because it made Hatton giggle.
"I would love to, Trevor Zegras," Hatton smiled.
Trevor got up from the recliner he was in and walked the two steps it took to get to Hatton. He cupped her face in his hands, taking a few seconds to take in her features, and placed a passionate kiss on her lips. The kiss saying everything that Trevor might have left out when previously discussing his feelings for Hattie. Hatton's fingers immediately grasped for his hair, slightly pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Trevor took this as an opportunity to place himself between her legs, supporting his weight by placing one hand on the arm of the couch while the other was still cupping her cheek, his thumb caressing her smooth, rosy pink cheek.
Before things went too far, Trevor broke the kiss.
"We've got all week to show each other how much we like each other. We've got about 30 minutes to go pick up Louis," He chuckled, tucking a piece of Hatton's hair behind her ear.
The two loaded up into Trevor's car to go pick up Louis.
All that Hatton could think about was that Trevor wasn't just the annoying third wheel of her's and Jack's friendship anymore. He wasn't the one that pushed her buttons constantly, or made her question her sanity. He was her boyfriend.
Her phone ringing interrupted the comfortable silence in the car. Of course it was Jack.
"Bitch, did you not tell me you would call me when you got to Anaheim? I can't exactly help you when your literally on the other side of the country from me," Jack was yelling from somewhere off screen, but there was no way Trevor and Hatton couldn't hear him. His voice echoed all throughout his apartment.
"Sorry, bud. We've got some exciting news though," Hatton smiled.
As soon as she said that, Jack's face popped up on the phone, "Is my boyfriend there?"
"You mean my boyfriend?" Hatton smiled, knowing that Jack would have something to say about her statement.
"No fucking way..." Jack wore a grin as big as the sky, giving the Cheshire Cat a run for his money, "Let me see our boyfriend!"
"Jacky! My man, what's going on?" Trevor glanced at the phone before returning his attention on the road.
"It's about time. I'm telling Cole and Alex," And with that he hung up.
The two laughed, Trevor interlocking their hands. He couldn't believe that she actually agreed to be his girlfriend. It felt surreal, 3 years of pining after her and it all paid off.
"I'm glad you're here, Hatton," Trevor smiled.
"I'm glad I'm here too, Z," She gave his hand a squeeze. This week just might be one of the best weeks of their lives so far.
----
That night Hatton decided to sleep in a bed by herself, not quite comfortable with being completely vulnerable with Trevor quite yet. She tossed and turned all night long, replaying the day in her head over and over again. The sudden feelings she had developed for Trevor scared her, quite honestly. If she was capable of falling that hard that quickly, how much more control over her could Trevor have?
Before she knew it, the sun was peeking through a tiny sliver of the blackout curtains in her room. Like usual, there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep now. Her natural timer prohibited it. It made her feel a little better though when she heard a door open and the pitter patter of paws, followed along with what had to be Trevor's footsteps. She could hear him disarm the alarm system and open the back door.
Hatton decided that it would probably be rude of her to stay in bed all morning, so she stretched, tossing the covers off of her in the process. She put on a bra and brushed her teeth, but didn't bother doing anything else this early in the morning. If Trevor, for some odd reason, expected her to look like a model, he could suck it.
She put on a pair of slippers and made her way to the living room, quickly spotting Trevor sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs that circled a fire pit on the back porch, playing on his phone as Louis inspected the perimeter of the yard.
Before Hatton could even open the door, Louis somehow spotted her and began barking. Trevor quickly apologized as he picked him up and opened the back door for her.
"He's not aggressive, but he'll let me know when someone's here," Trevor chuckled as he scratched the dog behind the ears.
"No worries! When you're as cute as him you can get away with anything," Hatton gave the dog a pat on the head as she made herself comfortable on the couch that sat across from the chair that Trevor had previously been sitting in.
"Do you happen to have a coffee maker?" Hatton desperately needed caffeine. Now that she thought about it, she might have a caffeine addiction.
"I do not, actually. Jamie took it in the divorce," Trevor managed to say with a straight face, but furrowed eyebrows from Hatton gave away her confusion.
"Divorce?"
"Yeah, he moved out and had the balls to move down the street. He can be a bitch, but he's no threat to you," Trevor said so nonchalantly that Hatton couldn't tell if it was a joke or not.
"That's nice to know..." Hatton trailed off. The two sat enjoying the peace that the early morning exuded, watching Louis be Louis and occasionally mentioning something insignificant. A chill washed over Hatton, goosebumps quickly rising.
"So, I have a preseason game tonight, as you probably know. The game isn't until 5, but I do have a practice this morning if you want to tag along...," Trevor explained, hoping Hatton would want to come to the stadium.
"And what's in it for me?" Hatton was obviously going to support Trevor, but was it really Hatton if she didn't make him work for it?
"Well, that depends on what you're thinking of...if you want to go out to eat, there's plenty of places that will be open after the game. If you want to do something, Disney is literally like 5 minutes away and I have an off day tomorrow. If you're thinking a little alone time..." Trevor wiggled his eyebrows, but he was completely joking, unless Hatton wasn't. In that case he would definitely keep the offer on the table.
"Z, what if I actually said yes to the last option. What would you do?" Hatton chuckled as she spoke.
"Probably think somebody kidnapped the real Hattie and replaced her with whatever is sitting right here," Trevor rubbed the bottom of his chin, pretending to think about what he was saying.
"Disney tomorrow would be amazing," Hatton didn't even have to think about it. She adored Disney, the smell, the rides, it was one of her favorite things. She couldn't wait.
The two made their way inside to get dressed for the day, but not before a knock at Trevor's front door elicited a howl from Louis.
"I got it," Trevor announced, leaving Hatton alone in the kitchen while she poured a bowl of Lucky Charms.
She could hear somebody come through the front door, heading to the kitchen. Hattie could tell that Trevor was quietly chewing out whoever it was that he let in, but she couldn't quite make out what he was saying exactly.
"Trevor shut the fuck up. You never used this damn Keurig, anyway," A dark-haired, fair-skinned guy sat a black Keurig down on the counter adjacent to Hatton, not noticing there was a girl right next to him.
"Why do you even need-" As soon as the guy turned and caught a glimpse of Hatton, he knew exactly why Trevor blew his phone up asking about the stupid coffee maker.
"I think I might know who you are," Jamie sent an innocent smirk to the girl across from him.
"I think I might know who you are as well," Hatton giggled, connecting the dots as to the whole "divorce" thing that Trevor had mentioned.
"You must be the infamous Hattie. Trevor hasn't shut up about you for as long as I've known him," Jamie winked, chuckling when he saw Trevor giving him a death glare.
"You must be Trevor's ex in...some capacity. You didn't have to bring the coffee maker back. I could've run through Starbucks or Dunkin," Hatton rolled her eyes as she made eye contact with Trevor. He, in turn, shrugged his shoulders.
"It's no problem, I'll just make my morning coffee here and then we can carpool," Jamie popped in a coffee pod and started it for you.
"So how did Trevor mange to get you here? I thought you didn't like him..." Jamie waited patiently as the coffee poured into the mug he had placed underneath.
"She's my girlfriend now," Trevor interjected, immediately sending Hattie the biggest grin he could manage. He would never get tired of telling people that. He had worked hard to earn that title.
"Willingly? I don't normally judge people, but I'm judging a little bit," Jamie widened his eyes jokingly, causing Hatton to chuckle. He passed her the cup of coffee and began to make his.
"You know, I kinda feel the same way. He's a weirdo, but he's very convincing," Hatton could feel Trevor staring at her, but she just watched Jamie as he smiled.
"Yeah…you know I'm right here?" Trevor spoke up.
"Yeah, we know," Jamie nonchalantly said as he sipped his coffee.
Trevor rolled his eyes as he walked away towards his room to change into his outfit for the day, Hatton filing to her room shortly after to do the same.
As she ruffled through the articles of clothing that hung in the closet, she smiled. She was going into this week with an open mind and heart. No expectations, just experiences.
She was eager to see it all unfold.
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Collateral 🗡️ 18: You, me, and our men
Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?
PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT
🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung
🗡️ word count: 17.1k
🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+
🗡️ warnings: dear god, buckle up... discussion of drug use; very soft and fluffy moments; threesome; oral sex (m & f); screaming orgasm; multiple orgasms; playing footsie; punishment & reward; orgasm denial & control; voyeurism & exhibitionism; all of these men are shit heads; loud, sloppy oral; squirting; begging & teasing; light humiliation; safe words; Yoongi & Namjoon being domestic at a silly time; submissive Jeongguk; mc dominant for the first time; use of restraints; noona kink; hair pulling; face & body slapping; masturbation; praising; riding (forward & reverse); mirror sex; finger sucking; a little spanking; fingering; ass eating; overstimulation; after care; i love these characters so fucking much and it really shows ughhhhh.
🗡️ note: i really have no idea how i let the smut scene™ get so huge and wild, but i hope you enjoy it. after all the pent-up tension, it was fun to write. perhaps this scene being huge and gratuitous is my way of distracting you from the horrible realities of the Collateral universe, which will become extremely present in the next chapter. it feels more like a oneshot than a proper chapter, but...whatever. i know not one of you will complain. ok enjoy!!! i love you!!!
🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!
🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3
From the moment you wake up, your nerves are haywire.
You know two things to be true. The first is that this is the last day in the foreseeable future that you will be spending in Jimin's home. The second is that Yoongi will be home shortly after 2 PM.
When Jimin wakes you up by rubbing over your forehead and whispering sweetly, it dawns on you that this is the last time, and it causes a swirling of happiness and sadness to fill your chest. The sun blares through the window at an angle that you typically miss in your sleep, and you squint against the morning light, a sight that has become something of a stranger to you.
With a loud yawn, you rub sleep from your eyes. Then you grumble, feeling as if you had just gone to bed moments ago, frustrated to discover that it is only 10 AM and that you have, in fact, slept far less than normal. It is sweet for Jimin to wake you early on your last day; it warms your heart to know that he is up to something.
"I thought we could get some coffee and pastries before I send you off to the Min Mansion," Jimin suggests with a smile.
Today, Jimin is dressed casually in a burgundy turtleneck tucked into charcoal slacks, with his hair partially pushed off his forehead. His skin is dewy and clear of makeup, radiating with natural beauty. And you can tell his patience for you is wearing thin as his smile falters and his eyes widen; Jimin does not like to wait, and he is absolutely incapable of hiding anything on his face.
"Alright, alright," you mutter before he has the chance to complain.
With a somewhat indignant huff, you toss the warm, pretty pink and orange comforter aside and try not to lament how you will not be returning to its embrace. Then you pad over to the closet and choose a pair of black leggings and cozy green sweater, and you get dressed in there, knowing Jimin is still sitting on your bed, likely scrolling through his phone.
"Don't worry about your things," Jimin calls when you stand a little too long, taking in the sight of clothing and shoes scattered around, cluttering up a sliver of space in the large, walk-in closet. "I'll have Joonie come deal with it. He loves doing your peasant work."
"That is true," you respond with a smile, shutting off the light in the closet and walking out in socked feet. "If there is one thing Namjoon is good at, it is doing exactly what I want him to."
Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically, and mutters, "Gross," under his breath, and the two of you giggle as you exit the room into the hallway, and set out for a morning errand.
Hanging out with Jimin for several hours is a blast, and you spend most of the time seated on a café patio watching passersby and commenting on everything from the cooling weather to people's clothing styles and any random little thought that crops up in between. But as time ticks by, you become antsy.
By 1:30 PM, you are a wreck, checking your phone so often for a notification that Jimin snickers and tells you to relax.
At 1:45 PM when you get the "Almost home!" text from Namjoon, your heart becomes so frantic, you feel like you might throw up.
"Alright, let's get you home," Jimin grumbles when you announce the news with shaking hands clenched tight to your phone. Maybe caffeine was a mistake.
You are able to distract yourself a little with chatter during the drive, and even get lost in singing a song on the radio that you recognize as one of the tracks a dancer named Cherry enjoys stripping to. The breeze coming in through the windows as you leave the city pulls you into a calm state, and you close your eyes to enjoy the way the wind feels.
But as soon as the car pulls into Namjoon's driveway, your stomach is turmoil, sloshing and churning, threatening to make you sick. You realize you are squeezing your hands tightly when the dig of your nails begins to hurt your palms, and you open them wide, flexing and attempting to relax them before resting them against your knees and squeezing.
All you can think is, What if he hates me? What if he remembers every horrible thing I said? What if he never wants to see me again?
Of course, you do not fully believe any of that; you do not think Yoongi has it in him to hold a grudge over something like that, especially if Namjoon has relayed the things you said to him the other night. But you do fear that something you said could have stuck with Yoongi—burrowed deep into his subconscious to make a home, festering with hateful words during quiet moments when all he wants is peace.
"Dove?" Jimin asks softly, and you gasp, pulling your gaze from the black dashboard that had gone out of focus as you stared at it. You glance up to find the vehicle has stopped in front of Namjoon's garage.
"I'm scared," you mutter softly before you can stop yourself, squeezing your eyes closed to fight back the urge to cry.
"I know," Jimin responds as he reaches over to rub a hand over your shoulders and down your back. "But this is Yoongi, and he loves you. He is not going to be angry with you."
Although no tears have fallen, you press the sides of your index fingers below your eyes as if willing all condensation to stay put. And, with a deep exhale, you nod and say, "I don't think I worry about him being angry. But I do worry about him being hurt."
Jimin's hand slides up to your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, forcing your eyes to close involuntarily. "Go in there and talk to him," he urges, and you swallow thickly and nod some more.
"Thanks for everything," you mutter, smiling despite yourself.
"Any time, dove," Jimin responds, and you know that he means it.
The seatbelt feels heavy when you unbuckle it and release it to clunk against the door as it slides into resting position. With a slow, deep fortifying breath, you reach for the door handle and tug, then you begin the process of making your limbs move, one after the other, sluggish with anticipation.
As you approach the door, your heart pounds, and you wring your hands in front of you with each step forward that you take. It will be fine, you tell yourself over and over. It will be fine, it will be fine, itwillbefine.
Before you have a chance to lift your hand and knock, the door opens, and you squeeze your fists tight once more while taking in Namjoon's bright, beautiful smile. The urge to cry returns and your exhale rattles something fierce from deep in your lungs.
"Hey, sweetheart," Namjoon says, eyes soft and knowing, assessing your very clear signs of distress. He wears a fuzzy brown cardigan over a white tee with black slacks, looking soft like a teddy bear and so inviting. "Deep breaths, yeah?"
You nod and let out a chuckle of relief as you step through the threshold and lean against him. Namjoon wraps his arms around you and steps back into the house, pulling you along just enough to allow him to close the front door. Both of your hands grip onto the cardigan, and you rub over the soft fabric with your thumbs while toeing out of your sneakers one at a time.
"Alright, clingy," Namjoon jokes, rubbing splayed palms over your shoulders and back before attempting to release the hug and take a step away. You continue to hold on tight and step with him, causing Namjoon to laugh and take you firmly by the arms. "The only way out is through. Let's go release you from limbo; Yoongi is excited to see you."
Tears spill at the mention of Yoongi's name, and you heave an exhale, then stand straight and wipe uselessly under your eyes. Even as Namjoon rotates, you feel the urge to bury yourself forward once more, allowing your body to turn while your forehead rests against his chest.
"Darling," Yoongi's deep, soft, beautiful voice calls from beside you, "why are you crying?"
You hardly get a look at Yoongi as you back away from Namjoon and fling your arms around Yoongi's middle, gripping onto another soft sweater as you bury yourself into his chest. Yoongi wraps you in a warm, delicate hug and presses his lips to your temple, holding you there while you tremble and cry. He smells sweet and musky and perfectly him, and you are so terribly in love.
"I'm sorry," you manage to whimper.
Yoongi's hold on you tightens, and he slides his head beside yours, uttering soft shushes while his hands rove everywhere they can reach, squeezing your neck gently and patting over your hair.
His voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, "I'm sorry, too."
"I didn't mean anything I said," you sob, and Yoongi's hug tightens then softens.
"It's alright if you did," he says, voice full of love; no malice to be found. Because, of course, Yoongi is soft and understanding with you. Of course, he knows your heart. "You have every right to be hurt."
Finally, you release the hug and back up only far enough to smile at the face that greets you. Yoongi's hair is wild dark waves framing his beautiful face, and with tears in his eyes, he looks softer than ever before. He wears a light blue sweater, and you rub your hands over his chest searching for the words to say; overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.
You settle on a simple, "I love you," and it feels so right when it passes your lips. It feels so right when Yoongi's lips upturn into a sweet smile that reaches his eyes. "I love you, and I'm sorry, Yoongi. I'm so sorry."
"Let's sit?" Yoongi offers, and you exhale deeply, releasing so much tension that has built and built in your shoulders and chest.
Yoongi guides the three of you over to a large, light brown leather couch. The cushion groans as Yoongi sits, and you take your place beside him, followed by Namjoon, who sits on your other side. You bend your legs and turn your body to Yoongi, who does the same, facing you with his elbow against the backrest.
"You look great," Yoongi says with a smile, and although you are the most dressed down you have been in weeks, you return his smile, welcoming the compliment. With a teasing lift of a brow, he adds, "Namjoon says Jimin has been teaching you to dance?"
Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you chuckle, then nod. Yoongi waggles his eyebrows, making you laugh harder. You lift a hand to swat him on the chest, but Yoongi catches it and holds your palm against him, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.
"Yes, Jimin has been teaching me to dance," you respond somewhat sheepishly. "And Hyejin, a little."
"Ah, Hwasa!" Yoongi responds happily, smiling widely—devastatingly. "I'm so glad you spent time getting out and making friends. I was worried about you being cooped up in a dark mansion for three weeks."
You chuckle, but something heavy settles in your chest, making you frown. "I was drinking a lot at first. But dancing helped me get out of my head. It's been really good for me."
Yoongi releases your hand and attempts to scoot closer, knocking his knee against yours. In fluid, unspoken movements, Yoongi spreads his legs—lifts one leg to rest against the backrest and slide past you—and you mold into him, shifting onto your knees to slot yourself into the space he has made and scoot onto your side, wrapping your arms around his chest.
"Namjoon," you mutter against Yoongi's sweater. "This hug needs a Namjoon."
The sound of Yoongi's laughter rattling in his chest against your cheek is a symphony, and you squeeze him tighter, feeling love build and build and pour from you. The couch shifts behind you as Namjoon stands, and Yoongi attempts to scoot the two of you forward while Namjoon wedges himself behind Yoongi. The two of them shift around until one of Namjoon's legs slide beside Yoongi's, multiplying your hug as two more arms wrap around you, sinking you further against Yoongi's chest.
"Better," you mutter happily, tilting your head to press soft kisses to the underside of Yoongi's chin and against his throat. Yoongi sighs with a smile and tightens his hug, and you continue to kiss along the curve of his neck until Namjoon—whose lips are pressed just below Yoongi's ear—comes into view.
"Thank you for giving me another chance," Yoongi says, tugging at your heartstrings so hard you nearly cry again.
"You're not allowed to thank me for loving you," you complain against his skin, breathing in his musk.
Yoongi chuckles gentle and sweet and says, "On the contrary, I am extremely grateful for your love." His voice softens as he adds, "And I intend to do my best to never take you for granted again."
"I don't understand what drove you to use…" you blurt out, then trail off, unable to say the word heroin, feeling it lodge itself in your throat, sharp as a needle and thick as tar. As you swallow around the discomfort and continue, Yoongi's fingertips trace shapes against your back, and Namjoon gives your biceps a gentle squeeze. "I don't understand addiction at all, and I overreacted. Even if my feelings were genuine at the time, the things I said were awful. I want you to feel safe with me, and I want to support you through whatever you are going through. I guess I was just shocked, but that's no excuse to lash out."
Kisses litter your cheeks and forehead, firm and soft and lingering, punctuated with hums. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean into Yoongi's lips, smiling as his body says so much without the use of words.
"I feel safe with you," Yoongi finally says, and you sigh, content. "I can't fully explain what drives me to use…and I can't promise I won't again…but I want to try to stay clean. I deserve to feel happy, and pushing you away or putting myself at risk of overdose are terrible ways to chase happiness."
"You can always talk to me," you offer despite silently acknowledging how huge and heavy and impossible some things might feel to voice. "And Namjoon."
"I'm going to resume therapy, too," Yoongi says. "I was talking to Christopher for a while, but stopped shortly before you moved in. I think it would be good for me to return to him."
You nod and bury your face against his neck, wondering if you should also talk to the family therapist. Some nights, you wake up screaming, returned by your subconscious to the night of the crash—to the sight of Taehyung stabbing a man clear through the gut with a blade.
Even now, the thought claws at your subconsciousness with such force that Namjoon says something softly, and you hear Yoongi hum in response, but the sounds are distant and hard to parse. You squeeze your eyes closed, determined to be present and not spiral, breathing away the memory of that night as best as you can.
"I hope the therapy helps," you say with a bit of a pout, feeling emotionally overwhelmed but with a desire to keep assuring Yoongi that you are here for him. "I'll do my best to love and support you."
Yoongi squeezes you tight and sighs against you, and Namjoon's hands slowly rub over your arms and Yoongi's in calming motions. This feels like the right time to voice what has been weighing on you so heavily, but as you open your mouth to speak, you begin to feel nervous. But why should you feel nervous with Yoongi? Since he began opening up to you, he has been supportive and understanding; asking him what the three of you are should not be scary.
"How would you define our…" you begin, trailing off while your pulse pounds loudly in your ears. "Our, uh…our relationship."
Four arms hug you tight, and Yoongi hums softly. Then, he asks, "You mean the fake engagement doesn't make my intentions clear enough?"
"No, you're right," you chide, lifting a hand to swat at Yoongi's shoulder, making him laugh harder. "Silly me."
It takes a moment for Yoongi's laughter to die. His shoulders continue to shake, and you give him time to respond truthfully while you rub his soft blue sweater between your thumb and forefinger.
"I consider the two of you my romantic partners," Yoongi finally says, voice low and sweet. "I consider us exclusive, but with an asterisk attached to the word, allowing you and Jeongguk to play around if that is something you still want."
"It is," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm.
"And the same goes for me," Namjoon says, making your smile widen. You already know these things to be true, but it feels so nice to hear them spoken aloud.
"Okay," you respond. "Good."
"I suppose we have never had this conversation," Yoongi muses. "We sort of just…fell into one another."
"A beautiful collision," Namjoon says, fingers tracing shapes against your shoulders. "I feel so lucky to have been pulled by such an undeniable gravitational force, creating a galaxy of beauty and warmth between the three of us."
"What the fuck," you mutter against Yoongi's sweater. "That was so poetic and cute. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don't want to move."
Namjoon chuckles and gives your shoulders a squeeze. "You have plenty of time to kiss me, don't worry."
With a dreamy sigh, you mutter, "Good."
The three of you sit like this for a while, quiet and tangled around one another. Then Namjoon's phone rings, shrill and loud, and he shifts around as he fishes the device from a pocket to answer.
"Hey, Tae," he says, and you smile to yourself; they say, speak of the devil, and he shall appear, but you only needed to think of him moments ago.
"Hey, would you two like to join Taehyung and Jeongguk for dinner?" Namjoon asks. "Jeongguk is cooking."
"Darling?" Yoongi prompts, and you nod without taking time to consider the offer. As nice as it is to have a quiet moment between just the three of you, you imagine Taehyung and Jeongguk are eager to see Yoongi again. And you did tell Jeongguk that you would be interested in the five of you getting together soon.
You, me, and our men.
Namjoon confirms that the three of you will be joining them, then ends the call and informs the two of you that you have just over two hours to get ready and meet at Taehyung's place.
"I need to change into something a little nicer," you grumble, reluctant to release Yoongi from your hold.
You remember the closet of things that are at Jimin's place, and you frown, feeling torn once more. You are glad to be returning to Yoongi's bed, by Yoongi and Namjoon's side, but having a little home away from home was nice.
"Let's head home, then?" Yoongi suggests, and you nod but continue to lean into him, breathing in his musk and feeling his warmth.
It takes coaxing to get off the couch, and you whine and grumble the entire way, stumbling over your feet as you move, arms still slung around Yoongi and refusing to let go. Namjoon chuckles and heads to the door first to put on his shoes, and Yoongi waddles in that direction, walking you backward and pressing you into the door while he leans and bends to put his shoes back on.
Only when you need to use your hands because shoving your feet into your sneakers proves feeble with the tongue and heels bending and getting stuck, do you release Yoongi, huffing and puffing indignantly the entire time.
"Want a piggyback ride, sweetheart?" Namjoon offers as he opens the front door, and you gasp loudly because yes, absolutely, you do.
"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, excited, and Namjoon walks outside, steps down the three short steps onto the ground, and stands with his arms held out to the sides. You run and leap onto him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, making him wheeze as he reaches for your legs and adjusts you in his hold.
"Sorry, Joonbug," you mutter as you loosen your hold and place kisses along his nape, and Namjoon chuckles and says, "It'll take a lot more than that to kill me, don't worry."
Yoongi closes the door and falls into step beside the two of you, and off they walk to the dirt and gravel path that leads back to the main mansion. Yoongi reaches for one of Namjoon's hands, linking their fingers together, and you smile as you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder, feeling safe and warm and happy—indestructible and untouchable in this soft, quiet moment.
The walk back is peaceful, with only the sounds of footfalls crunching softly guiding you home, and you close your eyes, relaxing and breathing in the gentle bouquet of Namjoon's skin, shampoo, and laundry detergent. Despite being big and strong, with more blood on his hands than you can imagine, Namjoon is sweet, sweet, sweet, filling you from limb to limb with so much affection.
You hear the ground change underfoot and open your eyes to find yourself being carried past the driveway and garage, toward the front door. It feels good to be home, and you straighten out and watch over Namjoon's head as Yoongi takes the lead and begins to unlock the front door. Although you have cried more than necessary for one day, tears well in your eyes, and you feel so inexplicably happy to finally be home.
Yoongi takes off his shoes, then pulls yours off for you, chucking them aside while Namjoon steps from the slides he wore. There is a very light atmospheric scent to the mansion that you only now realize you have missed, and you look around at everything that is just as it was the last time you saw it—frozen in time and waiting, shrouded in dust motes that sparkle in the sunlight.
Namjoon carries you through the main hall and up the stairs, holding onto Yoongi's hand once more. Once you reach the master suite, Namjoon bends to lower you to the bed, then spins before you have a chance to fully release your hold, and closes in fast, slotting his lips against yours and sending a thrill of arousal through you. It has been far too long, and you melt into his touch.
"We have two hours," Namjoon mutters against your lips, slotting himself between your spread legs. His mouth trails low, kissing and nipping at your neck and making you shiver. "I need to have both of you before I lose my fucking mind."
"You have me," you groan, lolling your head back with pleasure. "I'm all yours. You too, kitten."
"Kitten," Yoongi repeats in a low rasp as he climbs onto the bed behind you.
The tangle of bodies is chaotic and haphazard—ravenous. Hands push and tug and remove articles of clothing while mouths desperately attempt to remain attached to mouths and skin, bruisingly firm touches and moaned confessions, making up for lost time.
You slide to the floor eager to wrap your lips around Namjoon's half-hard cock, feeling him shudder beneath your fingertips while his whimper becomes lost between Yoongi's lips. Yoongi joins you on the soft rug, and you share your prize, watching with bated breath as his pretty doll lips wrap around Namjoon's hard length. And as a show of love, you graciously allow Yoongi to swallow Namjoon's cum.
Namjoon has you on your feet and then on your back against the dark comforter so fast your head spins, and the two of them take their time pulling orgasm after orgasm from you with their mouths and fingers until Yoongi finally spins you onto your hands and knees, and fucks you so hard, you scream into Namjoon's warm, open mouth.
"Taehyung's gonna kill us for being late," Namjoon jokes as he presses Yoongi into the mattress to stretch him on one finger, then two, all the way to four. When Yoongi makes you cum with his mouth mere moments before his own orgasm hits, it feels too good to be true. And when Namjoon's back arches and he fills Yoongi with his own release, the whorling mixture of moans and whimpers in the air lulls your trembling, achingly euphoric body deep into the comforter.
You are so fucked out and high on pleasure that Namjoon has to carry you to the shower.
When Jeongguk opens Taehyung's door wide and inviting, the first words that greet you are, "Taehyung is going to kill you for being late." His eyes drift between the three of you, and you watch as his gaze hones in on the bruise you sucked into Yoongi's throat hours before.
The savory scent of meat and spices hit your nose, and you take a deep inhale, smiling as you say, "It smells amazing."
Jeongguk beams and takes a step back, giving the three of you room to enter. He wears that damned silk leopard print shirt again, this time tucked into tight black slacks, and you smirk to yourself remembering the conversation you had at Paradise; the sweet boy took your teasing to heart.
You wear a simple black short-sleeve a-line mini dress that stops mid-thigh, with a heavy Cuban link necklace encrusted in diamonds, and your hair pulled back tight. Although your makeup application skills pale in comparison to Jimin's, you managed to paint a smoky look to your eyelids and allowed Yoongi to pick out a bright red for your lips. Yoongi and Namjoon wear black tucked into black, with several buttons undone, revealing skin and silver chains.
As you step into Taehyung's home and out of your heels, Jeongguk walks ahead through the living room, off to the right. Taehyung's home takes you by surprise. His furniture is extravagant and mismatched, gaudy floral velvets and curving, carved woods. Art pieces litter walls and surfaces, from landscapes to portraits and strange carvings that may be human bodies but could be amorphous blobs.
As you walk through the space, Yoongi takes your hand and tugs you slightly back, causing you to bump into him. "You can rile Jeonggukie up if you'd like to," he mutters in your ear. "Tease him a little."
Heat licks at your senses as you remember the discussion you had with Jeongguk. Nothing could happen without the others present, and here you are, under one roof with everyone at once. Your heart soars with hopeful anticipation, and you twist to send Yoongi a wink, making him chuckle.
As you round the dividing wall into the dining area, you find a long, sprawling table adorned with dishes and covered pots of food. Past that is a black marble island against which Taehyung stands, frowning while swirling a glass of deep red wine. He wears a burgundy shirt that nearly matches his beverage, tucked into dark brown slacks, and at the sight of him, you smile widely.
"Thanks for the invite," you beam, pleased when Taehyung does not miss a beat, grumbling, "Thanks for finally fucking showing up."
"Sorry, Taehyungah," Yoongi says as he slots an arm around your waist, kicking butterflies up in your tummy. "I've been away from these two for too long…I couldn't keep my hands to myself."
With a hum, Taehyung kicks from the island and says, "I suppose it was my fault for only giving you two hours." Adding, with a dismissive wave, "All is forgiven."
"How gracious," you mutter under your breath as Jeongguk brings a final dish to the table and Taehyung urges everyone to sit.
Yoongi surprises you by taking a seat beside Jeongguk, and Namjoon pulls out the chair in front of Jeongguk's for you, so you sit and scoot in while Namjoon sits across from Yoongi, to your left, and Taehyung places himself at the head, to your right. Taehyung lifts lids from dishes, revealing pan-seared steaks and sides of potatoes, steamed and pickled vegetables, and an inviting pile of glass noodles.
"Holy shit," you mutter as your mouth waters, and Namjoon grabs your plate, asking softly what you would like and how much of each serving.
Yoongi and Jeongguk serve themselves, discussing something lowly and impossible to hear while Taehyung fills your glass with red wine. Once everyone is settled with their plates in front of them, Jeongguk raises a toast.
"To Yoongi-hyung staying happy and healthy," he beams, turning to face Yoongi, whose cheeks flush as he smiles wide, showing off his gums. "Whatever it is you're going through, you're never alone, okay, hyung? I mean that. You have a lot of support."
"Alright, enough," Yoongi grumbles, shoving his wine glass forward for the rest of you to tap yours against. Although he is doing his best to appear as grumpy and impassive as possible, the joyful glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable.
Everyone drinks and then begins to eat, and you take a deep, calming exhale before digging in, bracing yourself for a delicious meal. The food is fantastic, and you fall back in your chair after only a few bites, almost frustrated by how well Jeongguk can cook.
Namjoon chuckles from your left, and you turn to find him watching you with a smile. "That good, huh?" he asks, knowing full well the physical and emotional anguish you are experiencing.
"It's ridiculous," you complain as you sit forward and continue to eat, and when you glance at Jeongguk, he is smiling around a bite of food.
"How are you liking the new position at Paradise?" Yoongi asks as everyone begins to slow down mid-meal.
"It's fun," Jeongguk responds happily, having a sip of wine.
This feels like a good time to rile Jeongguk up, and you take a sip of your wine and prepare yourself with a deep breath for impending foolery. Tentatively, slowly, you stretch your leg forward, searching with your toes for an ankle or a calf. When the side of your foot brushes against the side of a leg, you lock eyes with Jeongguk, who gazes curiously at you over his glass.
"Jimin says you've been really enjoying it there, and that everyone is warming up to you quickly," Yoongi continues, using a knife to cut off a section of his steak.
Jeongguk clears his throat, and you drop your leg away only enough to recalibrate your aim and try again. This time, you find the inside of a calf rather than the outside, and you very delicately rub your toes against him, feeling the soft material of his slacks gather and fall away.
"Y-yeah," Jeongguk stammers, repositioning himself in his seat so that his legs are even closer—easier for you to access. "I like it there a lot, and Jimin-hyung says I'm learning the ropes pretty fast.”
You push your leg up, grazing along Jeongguk's knee as you ask, "Is there anything our Jeonggukie can't do well?"
Jeongguk's eyes widen, and he clears his throat, failing to hide the effect you have on him from even a small touch. You glance at Yoongi to find his eyes flitting briefly down at the foot between Jeongguk's legs as he bites back a smile.
"Word on the street is you're little miss popular at Paradise, too," Taehyung says, turning your attention to him. He raises an eyebrow as if studying you, and suddenly you feel nervous, like a child caught misbehaving by their teacher. You wonder if there is any way he could know what you are up to.
You clear your throat and continue to lift and press your foot forward rubbing your toes against Jeongguk's inner thigh, and from the corner of your eye, you can see him jolting slightly before slouching himself a little closer.
"Jeonggukie," Taehyung says before you have a chance to respond to his earlier inquiry, cocking his head curiously. "Care to share with the class what seems to be the matter with you?"
Rather than letting up, you rub your foot back and forward, inching slowly closer to his crotch and making him shiver as he responds, "No-nothing. Why?"
Taehyung is fast on his feet, standing and rounding the table before you can move your foot away, but you still sit up quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as Taehyung looks at Jeongguk, then looks at you.
"Playing footsie, I see," Taehyung says as he approaches Jeongguk's chair, places two hands on the tall wooden backrest, and leans close. "And without my permission."
"S-sorry, sir," Jeongguk says as his eyes fall to his plate. His entire demeanor shifts, making him seem small and weak compared to a moment ago.
"Hyung, what should we do to punish these two?"
Yoongi's smirk is sharp and knowing, and you begin to wonder whether this was his plan, all along. You wonder if he knew that encouraging you to rile up Jeongguk would get this kind of reaction from Taehyung. What if the two of them planned this ahead of time?
"Up to you, Taehyungah," Yoongi responds, sending a chill along your spine.
"I think Jeonggukie should get under the table and give our dollface here a taste of her own medicine," Taehyung suggests.
"Darling?" Yoongi asks, "Do you consent to this?"
"Yes," you respond softly, feeling somewhat dazed as your eyes trail from Yoongi's grin to Jeongguk's shocked expression and finally to a smirking Taehyung.
"You heard her, Jeongguk," Taehyung says firmly with a hint of impatience.
Without needing further instruction, Jeongguk pushes his chair back and sinks to his knees. "Yes, sir," he mutters before his head disappears under the table.
Your heart pounds, and you watch Yoongi, who sits and stares at you with his wine glass cradled between his fingers. The feeling of two warm hands spreading your legs makes you gasp and shudder, and you comply with allowing Jeongguk access, sinking further in your chair until your ass is right on its edge.
"I don't want to hear a sound from you, doll," Taehyung instructs, ripping your gaze from Yoongi to him. "If you so much as whimper, I won't let you fuck him. Understand?"
"Y-yes," you respond in time for the featherlight brush of fingers over your clothed heat, intaking a deep, quiet breath.
"Yes, sir," Taehyung instructs, and you nod emphatically as you correct yourself, saying, "Y-yes, sir."
Warm breath wafts between your legs, and you swallow thickly, glancing between Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon, who all carry on as if nothing is happening. Taehyung takes Jeongguk's seat, and the three men discuss bringing The Tigers on to take care of Jeongguk's former responsibilities, and how things have been going while Yoongi has been away. It seems Namjoon has been the family point person in Yoongi's absence, but you cannot bring yourself to listen closely to their conversation because the feeling of lips dragging over your pussy shuts out all sound around you.
With a sigh that is as silent as you can manage, you let your head fall back against the wooden chair. Warmth laps over the mesh layer covering you, and you shiver as your pelvis angles upward, chasing the sensation. You want to beg Jeongguk to move your panties aside and touch you properly, and you bite your bottom lip to keep any sound from spilling.
Namjoon is the picture of nonchalance as he leans forward and reaches for a bottle of wine to fill his empty glass. When he turns to you and reaches for yours, which is still half full, his voice is so sweet and soft, asking, "Don't care for the wine, sweetheart?"
As if determined to spoil any chance of fucking you, Jeongguk chooses this moment to tug your panties away and press the pads of his fingers against you, spreading your lips slowly and firmly. Your eyes roll back as he rubs over your clit, and you shake your head, doing your best to stay present as you say, "It's good," breathy and clearly on the brink of losing it. "It's a good wine."
"Well, then drink up, darling," Yoongi suggests, raising an eyebrow as your chest heaves. "There's plenty more wine; don't be shy."
You tremble as you lean forward and reach for your glass, gripping the stem tightly to lift it to your lips. Jeongguk's tongue flicks against you in quick, teasing tastes, and you chug back a large gulp, gasping for air once it is swallowed down as pleasure mixes with hints of a buzz.
Jeongguk wastes no more time, licking and sucking your pussy with skill and vigor. He hums between your legs, making loud wet sounds with his mouth as if you are just another course in his expertly prepared meal. You wonder if he does it to taunt the men at the table, what with how loud he is.
Arousal builds quickly, flooding you hot and fast, making you scrape your fingernails into the arms of the wooden chair as you hold your lips taut between your teeth, desperate to stay silent. It feels good. So good that you have to puff out your cheeks in order to hold back from making any sound. So good that whenever one of the men attempts to speak to you, you respond in nods or a shake of the head, all the while keeping your eyes squeezed shut.
"Do you think we are too mean to her?" Taehyung teases, and you open your eyes to find the three men watching you with hungry, dark expressions. "Perhaps asking her not to make a sound was uncalled for. After all, Jeongguk loves eating pussy, and I imagine he is giving his all to our sweet doll."
"She is quite vocal," Yoongi says with a pout as if taking pity on you.
"And she does make the sweetest sounds," Namjoon adds with a grin.
Jeongguk slips a finger into your heat, forcing your entire body to simultaneously attempt to tense and relax. Although it is not much of a stretch, the angle forces him to press against your erogenous zone, and you tremble into the feeling.
"Dollface?" Taehyung asks, and you turn your attention to him with wide, eager eyes. "Do you think my punishment is too harsh?"
You look around to all three men, attempting to gauge their expressions, which are all somewhere between curious and stern. Although Taehyung seems to be offering you a lifeline, you worry that outright agreeing might be more dangerous in the long run.
"N-no, sir," you respond, sinking a little further into bliss as Jeongguk finger-fucks and eats you out. "Ah-I was naughty and deserve to be punished."
Taehyung seems pleased, eyes widening as he says, "My, what an obedient girl. You two must have a lot of fun with her, don't you?"
Namjoon leans and drapes an arm over your shoulders, and the weight of it paired with his light, distinguishing musk and delicate cologne does nothing to stave the many tumultuous sensations eager to pour from you. Already, you climb closer to orgasm; all Jeongguk would have to do is slip a second finger inside, and you would burst in seconds.
"We sure do," Namjoon groans beside you, and the sound of his voice is too much, causing your eyes to roll back once more as you bite your lips closed.
"Since you're so desperate to be good," Taehyung says almost sardonically, "I will let you make all the sounds you need to. But only after you have been granted permission to cum, which you have to beg for."
The men in this so-called family are infuriating with their need to make you beg, and you open your mouth, letting out a quiet shuttering sigh, then lift your gaze to your devious, gracious host and ask, "Please, sir. Please, may I cum?"
"Already?" Taehyung asks, cocking his head with surprise.
"She is extremely easy to please," Yoongi says, filling you with red-hot embarrassment.
"Especially since we already made her nice and sensitive earlier," Namjoon adds. "I bet she will become overstimulated fast."
"I'm close," you say, voice coming out a little too broken—too close to a whimper. "Sir, please. I'll never misbehave again, please, please."
The squelch of Jeongguk's finger fucking into you becomes audible, and Namjoon shifts beside you as he asks, "Are you using two fingers, Gguk?"
Frantically, you shake your head, eager to tell Namjoon, No, please, don't encourage him. But Jeongguk is obedient as can be, and he slides his finger out only to press two deep inside. The stretch makes your mouth fall agape, and you huff out silent vowels, holding back so much you practically choke on air.
"Please," you try again, staring ahead at Taehyung while doing your best to school your features. Pleasure tugs at every inch of you, knitting your brows and forcing your mouth open to hang wide, and you croak around each syllable, muttering like a prayer, "Please, please, please."
"Ggukie," Taehyung calls, "is she close, baby?"
Jeongguk licks a long, slow stripe over you, then calls, "Her muscles keep tensing and relaxing; she feels very close," before getting back to work, making your head absolutely spin.
"I am close," you mutter just above a whisper, desperate. "I'm so close. Please, sir. Please let me cum."
"Are you sure you deserve to?" Taehyung asks.
Petulance rises, and you rotate to glance between Yoongi and Namjoon with a look of sheer desperation that the two of them all but ignore. You confessed your love to these two monsters, and this is the way they treat you in a time of mental and emotional collapse; unbelievable!
"Please," you turn your attention back to Taehyung. You are so close to the edge, every fiber of your being trembles under the pressure of tightening your muscles and staving off release, but you are not sure you can hold on much longer. Orgasm denial is not something you are used to; pretty soon, your body will give into Jeongguk's very talented mouth and fingers and do what it wants to, permission be damned.
Yoongi stands slowly, scraping his chair legs against the wooden floor, then he rounds the table with a look of hunger, slowly stalking. Although you attempt to follow his movements, just having him nearer makes it more and more difficult to hold back. Clearly, these men are determined to torture you.
Yoongi grabs your chairback with both hands, which you see from the corners of your eyes, then he leans close, filling your senses with his musk, asking, "Is our Jeonggukie making you feel good, darling?"
You nod emphatically, biting your lips closed for fear of moaning if you attempt to speak. Jeongguk's fingers press over the sweet spot that makes you crumble so easily, and you squeeze your eyes closed in an attempt to hold your composure.
"Use your words, sweetheart," Namjoon instructs.
"Ye—" you huff and sigh, eyes widening as Jeongguk's tongue laves and twirls, sloppy and wet. "Y-yes, sir," you practically moan, jaw trembling around each syllable.
"Poor thing," Taehyung teases, "just look at her fall apart."
"Please, sir," you mutter, closing your eyes. "Please, please, please."
With each push and pull of Jeongguk's fingers, you lose the ability to hold on any longer. Your body quakes from the storm that rages inside you, and heat pools and pools, ebbing but never flowing.
"Please," you beg more desperately. "Sir, please!"
"Can't hold on any longer, can you?" Yoongi asks, and you shake your head, muttering, "No, sir; I can't."
With a sigh, almost as if he is annoyed, Taehyung sits forward with both elbows against the table and says, "Alright, pretty doll. Cum for us."
The moment you relax, orgasm rushes through you, dragging you straight to the depths of hell. You practically scream, "Oh, god!" as Jeongguk plunges his fingers deep, sucking at your clit gently in a rhythm that pulls pleasure from every inch of you.
You grip the chair tightly and squeeze your eyes closed, gasping and panting while you cum on Jeongguk's fingers and tongue, coating him in a release that pours from you, hitting your thighs in droplets. Yoongi's arms wrap around you, one splayed hand on your chest while the other loosely grips onto your throat, holding you firmly in place.
Overstimulation hits just as fast as your orgasm had, and you sob and begin to pull your hips back, eager to force Jeongguk to stop but unwilling to call a safe word or command him to. Jeongguk's mouth feels good—different from the ways Yoongi and Namjoon pleasure you, though you are incapable of determining how. Heat fills your cheeks at the thought of Jeongguk wanting this for as long as you have, and you begin to pull away with more intention, this time.
"Too much," you beg. "Please, I can't—"
Jeongguk's lips and fingers fall away instantly, leaving you drenched and shivering as the air hits your exposed pussy. Yoongi lets up on his hold around you, and you catch your breath, heaving each exhale through your lungs as if you had just been drowning.
"Magnificent," Taehyung praises with a smile. "Namjoon is right, you really do make pretty sounds, doll."
"Th-thank you, sir," you gasp, feeling equal parts thrilled and humiliated to cum with Taehyung watching you.
"Can you take more?" Taehyung asks with a raise of an eyebrow. He scoots his chair back and Jeongguk crawls between his legs, resting his head on Taehyung's lap with a dopey, wet smile that you can just barely see past the table. Taehyung rakes his fingers through Jeongguk's hair, keeping his eyes on you. "I can restrain this pretty boy and let you have your way with him, if you would like."
Using Jeongguk for your own pleasure sounds like a fantastic idea, and although you are overstimulated, you nod, slowing your breathing as you say, "I would like that, sir."
"Wonderful!" Taehyung beams, giving Jeongguk a soft pat on the head. "Get a head start, baby. I want to find you in the throne room, naked, in the center of the bed, understand?"
Jeongguk sits high on his knees, tilting his head up to Taehyung with an expression that pours over with affection. "Yes, sir," he says as Taehyung leans down and presses their lips together. Then he stands, and you notice the drool and cum that coats his chin and chest, shimmering in the light. Your gaze flickers to Taehyung just in time to notice him licking his lips, and you burn with the knowledge that he can also taste you.
Jeongguk leaves the room, and you take the opportunity to reach for your refilled wine glass and chug its contents back, gasping on your next breath while your hands tremble. Taehyung stands and returns to his seat, to the right of you, leaning against the top of the backrest.
"How are you feeling?" he asks in a tone sweet enough to take you by surprise.
"Good," you respond truthfully, sitting up and squeezing your thighs tight.
"It goes without saying, but you absolutely do not have to keep going if you need to stop," he assures you, and you smile, giving a slight nod and muttering, "I'm good. I'm enjoying myself."
"Yoongi-hyung? Namjoon-hyung?" Taehyung asks.
"Perfect," Namjoon responds as Yoongi says, "I'm having a great time."
"Good," Taehyung says, clapping his hands together once. "I was prepared to have more of a conversation, but none of that seems necessary, so let's dive right in. Jeongguk and I use the stoplight safeword system, do you know what that is?"
You clear your throat and nod, having learned about this from your days in sex work. "Green for continue, red for stop," you say, unsure what their use of yellow might be, as sometimes it can vary.
"Exactly," Taehyung praises as he walks over and leaves a gentle pat against your head. "Yellow means slow down or let up, depending on what you are doing. You can check in and demand a color, but he is good about calling when he needs to. As for you—" he raises an eyebrow with his hands on his hips, "—Jeongguk and I have agreed that you can fuck him as long as I get to tell you what to do. Yoongi and Namjoon are also welcome to command you. Of course, if there is something you do not enjoy, you get the final say and can call a color, or simply tell us no. We want you to enjoy this experience to the fullest and will never demand anything you dislike. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," you mutter while wrapping your head around everything, feeling equally eager and nervous.
"Perfect," Taehyung says. "I just need ten minutes to get him ready for you…we're in the first door on the right."
As Taehyung begins to walk in the direction Jeongguk went, you sit up with a start. "Wait," you say, feeling nervous to voice your concern. "I…I've never been…dominant, before. Is there anything I should know? Or do?"
With a grin, Taehyung turns his attention back to you, raking his eyes over you before he shrugs and says, "Just have fun. Jeongguk gets very sensitive if you tease him long enough…so you can lean into that if it's something you enjoy. That is, as long as you are being obedient to our orders."
You nod and say, "Understood," and Taehyung turns away and begins to exit the room.
"These heathens left a mess behind," Yoongi grumbles as he gets to work covering pots of food and moving them to the stove before opening the cabinets to find storage containers. Namjoon follows suit, collecting plates and wine glasses to rinse and stack in the sink, and you sit in your chair in a bit of a daze, staring around the room, half-noticing the curved shapes of wood carvings on the chairs and the faint shapes of houseplants that you are not able to fully perceive.
Once the table is clear, Yoongi pulls back a sleeve and checks his watch. "It's been about ten minutes," he says. "Shall we?"
"Best not to make Taehyung wait twice," Namjoon teases as he approaches and reaches a hand for you to take.
Everything feels hazy and dream-like as the two of them lead you through Taehyung's house to the stairs near the front foyer. Each step creeks gently underfoot, and the closer you climb to the second level, the more frenzied your heart becomes. Your panties are soaked, askew, and uncomfortable, and your hand prickles with sweat in Namjoon's firm hold, which you grip a little tighter once you get to the upper landing.
"Ready?" Namjoon asks sweetly, and you nod, muttering, "Yes, daddy," earning your palm a squeeze.
As soon as you turn to enter the hallway, and turn again to the first room on the right, it becomes evident that this is not the master suite but a room they have specifically for sex. To the left in this large room is a king-sized four-poster bed covered in black satin with black mesh hanging down over and tied neatly to each post. Rigged between the two posts at the head of the bed is some metal bar contraption that Jeongguk is attached to, and it takes a few moments of staring at him for the scene to fully settle in.
Jeongguk is nude with his hands over his head, arms extended long, with his wrists restrained high enough that he has to sit tall on his legs. Except his thighs have leather straps around them, connected to leather straps around his ankles, suspending him in a somewhat strange position, as he does not seem able to fully sit tall or relax all the way down.
"Breathtaking, isn't he?" Taehyung asks from a large black and gold throne to the right, overlooking the scene. He sits slouched against one arm of the square, wooden seat with a leg slung over the other arm, lounged and looking bored.
You nod and mutter, "Yes, sir," as you turn your attention back to Jeongguk, whose head hangs slightly forward, short dark hair messy and covering his eyes.
And he really is breathtaking. The way he sits has so many muscles taut and strained, covering his body in beautiful topography. His pierced nipples glimmer in the golden light of the room, and there is a perfectly inviting trail of dark hairs that travel from his cute, round navel down to the cock that hangs heavy and semi-soft between his legs.
"Jeonggukie," Taehyung calls, voice magnanimous yet sharp, "eyes up, baby."
Jeongguk lifts his head, and already his eyes look glazed over and a little lost, as if the simple act of being restrained is enough to give him immense pleasure. When his gaze lands on you, a dopey smile tugs at his lips, which he wets with his tongue, dragging the inviting pink muscle slowly as if to tell you that he can still taste you—or, perhaps, that he wants to taste you again.
"Dollface," Taehyung calls, and you turn to look at him with wide, eager eyes, feeling somewhat intoxicated by this entire scene and still reeling from what happened downstairs.
"Yes, sir?" you ask sweetly.
"Unless we say so, from now on, keep your eyes on Jeongguk, understand?"
"Yes, sir," you respond, turning your attention back to Jeongguk.
"I imagine this setup is a bit overwhelming for you," Taehyung continues. "What is your color, pretty?"
This setup is overwhelming, but you are incredibly intrigued and find this submissive side of Jeongguk rather promising. "Green, sir."
"Good," Taehyung says as Namjoon's palm slides away from your hold and both men walk toward Taehyung, leaving you alone. "I want you to strip, right where you stand, keeping your eyes on Jeongguk. Can you do that for us?"
With a nod, you swallow a lump of nervousness and respond, "Yes, sir."
The dress zips in the back, and you reach with your right hand, fumbling with the material before reaching with your left hand to grip onto the dress and slide the zipper down. You only make it a few inches and have to bunch the dress up even more, feeling grateful this the material is actually loose and that you are not stuck having to contort yourself uselessly for an audience. It takes time, though—bunching, unzipping, bunching some more, unzipping some more—until finally, you are able to reach back with your arms lowered and get ahold of the zipper, tugging it down to your waist.
Jeongguk watches intently as you slide the black dress down, away from your chest. You wear a thin, mesh black bra and matching panties, and you feel your nipples begin to harden beneath the material as the air hits your exposed skin, causing a very slight shiver to work its way along your back.
When the dress falls past your hips, down to the floor, all that covers you are thin, small swathes of black material, and you fight the urge to lift your arms to shield yourself, holding your arms stiffly to your sides while you stare at Jeongguk, who stares back.
"Strip all the way down, darling," Yoongi instructs, and you mutter, "Yes, sir," as you reach back and unclasp the bra.
Jeongguk's gaze widens and softens as the material falls away to the floor in a heap in front of you, and his eyes follow the path of your hands, down to where your thumbs hook under your panties and push-pull them away.
"Jeonggukie," Taehyung calls, "how is she?"
"Beautiful," Jeongguk responds in a dreamy, faraway tone. "She's perfect."
"Dollface, join our sweet boy on the bed, please," Taehyung instructs.
"Yes, sir," you say as you force your feet to step from the pile of clothing and move forward. The bed is tall enough that you need to place your hands down and swing one knee up, hoisting yourself forward. You crawl to Jeongguk, and then sit tall on your knees before him. From this close, he is a work of art—a perfect blend of soft and firm lines that appear handcrafted with utmost care.
"Dollface, I want you to tease our sweet Jeonggukie. You are not allowed to touch his cock or asshole unless given permission, but everything else is fair game. Rile him up, make him whine, make him beg. He likes it a little rough so don't be afraid to pinch, slap, scratch, bite…whatever it takes to drive him crazy. Does all this sound good?"
"Yes sir," you respond, unmoving as you decide where to start. It feels like you have been given too many choices, and suddenly, you feel overwhelmed. "Can I kiss him, sir?" you ask, inching closer on your knees.
"Of course, doll," Taehyung calls happily, and you continue to inch closer.
Sitting high on your knees, you reach up and drag the backs of your fingernails over Jeongguk's cheeks, causing him to tremble and take in a deep, slow breath. His eyelids flutter, but he keeps his gaze on you, lips lifting and moving slightly, as if he has something to say. As your right hand continues to work its way up, over a scratchy shaved undercut and into thick, straight hair, your left thumb drags down, over his bottom lip, pulling it past his teeth until it stretches to its limit and pops back into place.
"So pretty," you whisper, watching Jeongguk's eyes widen. He must not be allowed to speak unless spoken to, but you have been given no such instruction. "I've never done something like this before. You're my first."
Jeongguk's mouth twitches around a syllable left unvoiced, and you lean forward and suck his bottom lip between your teeth, soft at first, then a little harder, making Jeongguk gasp, tasting skin and metal. You dart your tongue out to soothe over the scrape of your teeth, unable to hold in a whimper when Jeongguk's tongue meets yours, and you take the sides of his face in both hands to deepen the kiss, shoving your tongue into his mouth, forcing him to open around you while he moans, soft and inviting.
You lick hints of your own arousal from his mouth, then smile against his lips as you say, "You taste like me…so sweet," watching with delight as he holds back from responding, brows knitting as if pained.
This time, when you kiss him, you take his hair in both hands and grip. Jeongguk groans as his head is yanked backward, and you suck and nip at his bottom lip, making him whimper uselessly, darting his tongue out as if in search of a deeper kiss—desperate.
"So pretty," you say again while nipping at his jaw, holding his hair tight in your grip and letting your teeth snag and tease the skin all the way to his ear.
Jeongguk trembles in your hold, and when you reach his ear, taking it gently in your teeth, he lets out a sweet little song of, "Ah-ah-ah," shivering madly in your grasp while his back arches.
"Oh you are sensitive," you tease before taking his earlobe between your teeth again, a little more roughly, until he cries out a pitchy little yelp.
"Color, baby?" you ask, to which Jeongguk quickly responds, "Green, noona."
Hearing Jeongguk call you noona should not excite you so much, but arousal builds between your legs, and you feel the urge to keep pushing him for more. You nibble down the long, salty-sweet expanse of Jeongguk's neck, savoring the taste of his sweat, dragging your fingernails from his hair, to the back of his neck, over to his shoulders, and down along his spine. Jeongguk responds in jerks and gasps, and you continue down, down, until your mouth reaches one of his pierced nipples.
With a flick of your tongue, Jeongguk responds as if he has been shocked, back bowing as his body shakes. His pebbled, pierced skin is inviting, and you lick again, this time slowly dragging your tongue over him, feeling every tiny curve, tasting hints of titanium.
You scrape your fingernails down Jeongguk's ribs while you suck his pierced nipple into your mouth, reveling in the sweet, broken sounds he makes. He seems to be holding back, and you feel determined to make him sob. Although you two are becoming closer as friends, he was a bit of a prick to you for months, and you intend to let him know that you have not forgotten.
"Color?" you ask, knowing it'll be green, just to make him speak.
"Green, noona," Jeongguk responds almost robotically—not good enough.
Once more, you sit up tall, taking his hair in one hand and his jaw in the other. Your hand trembles as you pull it back and crash your fingertips against his cheek, gasping in tandem as Jeongguk's eyes widen, difficult to read.
"Color?" you ask, receiving, "Green, noona," instantly.
You slap again, this time a little harder, and Jeongguk gasps but holds his composure nicely. So you tug his hair harder, just enough to pull his head back, before you slap again. The skin of his cheek begins to redden, and you give it quick, softer taps, moving your fingertips little by little, covering the expanse of his cheek.
"Color?"
"Green, noona."
This time, when you slap, it stings your fingertips, and Jeongguk groans. His cheeks seem to be the wrong place to tease, however, so you sit back, releasing his hair and rethinking your plan.
"Darling," Yoongi calls, and you nearly turn to look at him but correct yourself, staring Jeongguk in the eyes as you say, "Yes, sir?"
"The way he's suspended is really taxing on the legs. If you're trying to hurt the poor boy, I recommend the thighs."
Jeongguk's eyes widen further, and you smirk as you say, "Yes, sir."
From across the room, you hear Taehyung gleefully say, "Hyung you are evil."
Slowly, you drag your fingernails from Jeongguk's shoulders, along the curves of his pecs, down his ribs. Finally, at his hips, you allow yourself to look down and find a very inviting semi-erect cock hanging between his legs. Of course, Jeongguk is perfect in every way, and you bite your lip as you attempt to pull your vision away, to his thighs instead.
With both hands splayed open, you lift and crash your palms down onto Jeongguk's thighs, and he cries out, sobbing on the end of the sound. A thrill quakes through you, and you rub your hands over his thighs, lift both, and slam your left one down hard.
"Fu—ahh!" Jeongguk screams.
"Color, baby?" you ask sweetly.
You glance up and catch him hesitating before saying, "Green, noona."
Without giving him a chance to relax, you slap your right hand down, followed by your left, watching his face as it contorts in pleasured pain while he bleats pathetically.
"Color?"
"G-green, noona."
Again and again, you slap, moving your hands over to the sides of his thighs, rubbing your palms and alternating which side slaps, never in a discernable pattern, always to catch him off guard.
Finally, you ask, "Color, pretty," impressed when he gasps, "Yellow, noona!"
Gently, you rub your hands over his thighs and sink down low, rubbing your cheek and lips over his left thigh, smiling sweetly against him. From here, there is a gentle, inviting musk coming from his lap that is difficult to resist. You lick your lips at the thought of swallowing him whole, then turn your face away, kissing the sore, warm skin of his leg while breathing through the arousal that licks at you, urging you to be selfish and take.
"Sweetheart," Namjoon calls, and you sit up, eyes on Jeongguk as you say, "Yes, daddy?"
Curiosity flashes in Jeongguk's eyes, and you wonder if he is attempting to calculate the various dynamics of your relationship. Using the term daddy with an audience is slightly embarrassing, and you shift in place, waiting for his response.
"I don't think Jeongguk got a good enough look at you under that table. You should sit back and touch yourself for him…show him how wet he made you."
The edges of Jeongguk's lips curve, and you hesitate. It is not that you don't want to touch yourself with an audience, but it does add to the humiliation to have your two partners and one of their best friends sitting on the sidelines, watching you.
"Color, doll?" Taehyung asks.
Somehow, the concern in his voice grounds you, and you say, "Green, sir," adding, "Thank you for the advice, daddy," so that Namjoon does not feel left out.
"Such a good girl," Namjoon praises as you sit back and scoot enough to spread your thighs around Jeongguk.
There is more than enough room on the large bed to sprawl out, but you stay close, sweeping one of your feet against the outside of Jeongguk's restrained leg as you reach your hand between your legs and slowly drag your fingers over yourself, spreading and teasing your folds.
Desire burns through you as you touch yourself while Jeongguk watches, eyes wide and hungry, trailing from your pussy, over your body, and back down. Slowly, you sink your middle finger inside, and although the size is nowhere near enough to stretch, a thrill quakes through you, making you moan as you gather release from your earlier orgasm and pull your finger out.
Jeongguk licks his lips, intently watching as you use your slick finger to spread yourself and swirl over your clit. It feels good, a simmering pleasure that covers you in warmth, and you loll your head back, hesitant to let go enough to moan, whimpering more softly than usual.
"Be vocal, darling," Yoongi calls, and you squeeze your eyes closed for a second as you say, "Yes, sir," frustrated that absolutely nothing can get past these men, but also grateful for the push.
You still hesitate as you open your mouth to moan, but with each sound you make, Jeongguk appears to lose his composure more and more. With a nibble on your lower lip, you circle over your clit, then rub down to your hole, up and down, gathering more and more release, becoming wetter and wetter, all for him.
"Do you like what you see?" you ask, eager to tease despite the tremble in your voice.
"Yes, noona," Jeongguk gasps, swallowing thickly before his mouth falls wide.
"So wet for you, Jeonggukie," you moan, using your other hand to rub and pinch at your breasts. "Too bad you can't fuck me."
Jeongguk whimpers and shakes in his restraints, legs straining and arms moving. His distress urges you on, and you rub over your breasts more, gathering and squeezing the soft skin between your fingers while dipping two fingers into your pussy.
"I want you so bad," you pout, watching as Jeongguk crumbles. "My fingers aren't big enough…but you are."
"Please," Jeongguk mutters, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Please, sir. Please."
"Begging already?" Taehyung teases and Jeongguk nods emphatically.
Jeongguk's voice sounds dreamy, and he licks his lips again. "Please, sir. I've been good."
You can hear Taehyung stand and begin to approach before he comes into view, climbing onto the bed, on his knees, reaching up to drag his fingertips up and down the length of Jeongguk's arms. At first, you feel shy to be on display for him, but Taehyung does not regard you, keeping his eyes on Jeongguk.
"You really have been very good," Taehyung praises as he nuzzles against Jeongguk's neck. Jeongguk leans into the touch, doing his best to keep his eyes on you as Taehyung continues. "You cooked an excellent meal, and you were very obedient when I told you to make our doll cum."
"I've been good, sir," Jeongguk whimpers as if stuck on repeat. "Please, sir. I've been good."
Without another word, Taehyung reaches up and begins to undo Jeongguk's wrist restraints, slowly lowering his arms one by one and rubbing his palms from Jeongguk's shoulders to his hands. With a sigh that sounds like relief, Jeongguk sits back on his heels.
"I'll undo your legs too, but you have to behave," Taehyung says as he begins to unhook one of the thigh restraints. "You are only allowed to do as you are told and nothing more, understood?"
"Yes, sir," Jeongguk responds with a sharp smile, eyes focused on you.
Although your moments have slowed, you continue to tease yourself with your fingers, watching as Taehyung crawls around Jeongguk's back to free his other thigh. Taehyung crawls backward, then stands beside the bed, out of your direct line of vision.
"Sit back," he commands, patting the bed, and Jeongguk does as he is told, sliding back and extending his legs in front of him, settling against the tall wooden headboard.
"Dollface," Taehyung calls, and you keep your eyes on Jeongguk but instinctively begin to sit up as you respond, "Yes, sir?"
"He's all yours," Taehyung says as his voice travels back to where the throne sits. "Have fun."
"Thank you, sir," you respond as you sit forward, getting swiftly onto your hands and knees.
With the possibilities suddenly seemingly endless, you feel overwhelmed, but you crawl forward and cage Jeongguk's reddened thighs, hovering close to his leaking cock, which sits pretty and thick against his tummy.
"Is Jeongguk an impatient man, sir?" you ask, watching as Jeongguk fails to keep his expressions schooled, eyes sharpening and widening.
"Extremely impatient," Taehyung responds, making Jeongguk huff a sigh. "If you decide to go slow it might drive him insane."
With a smirk, you mutter, "Noted, sir," then lean forward, touching the very tip of your tongue to the very bottom of Jeongguk's shaft and dragging up slow, slow, slow. His skin is velvet-soft, and you drool as you lift your head just below the crown, humming as Jeongguk trembles and gasps.
You kiss over the crown, right where the skin is softest, pressing your lips nice and wide before sucking and lapping at the skin in slow, gentle movements. Jeongguk groans, sounding almost pained, and you continue to lick languidly, teasing the skin, giving him just enough pressure to feel something but not enough to satiate any hunger.
"Please," Jeongguk whispers, and you glance up, tongue outstretched against him, to find a look of desperation tugging at the corners of his eyes. You hesitate to respond for a fraction of a second, feeling momentarily astounded that this is happening.
"Please, what?" you urge, watching as his jaw trembles.
"Please, noona. Please touch me more."
Teasing Jeongguk is a thrill, but you are quickly losing your composure, and as much as you want to listen to him beg and beg, you are also too eager to continue holding back. In a swift movement, you tilt your head forward and swallow Jeongguk's cock, taking him only halfway while sucking on the tip.
Jeongguk moans loud and eager, music to your ears. You hear Taehyung say, "Hands at your sides," and imagine Jeongguk must have been moments away from taking your head in his hands, sending a thrill down your spine.
With a pleased groan, you lift your head and settle a little higher on your knees between Jeongguk's spread legs. At this angle, you can take him into your mouth much more easily, and you sink down until he nearly hits your throat, feeling the tight squeeze of your lips accommodate his girth.
"Fuck," Jeongguk mutters, "you feel so good."
Jeongguk's words of encouragement spur you on, and you hum happily as you bob your head slow but steady, lodging his cock into your throat just enough that it nearly makes you gag before coming back for air. You can hear the sound of his fists gripping the sheet below, soft material scratching against blunt fingernails—a quiet, tactile cry of desperation.
As you lift your head, you swirl your tongue over his shaft, then release, opening your eyes and looking upward, watching as Jeongguk melts from the sight of you holding your mouth wide, saliva falling like garland hung between your tongue and his cock.
"You taste good, Ggukie," you say as the spit breaks and falls against your chin and chest, some dripping onto your knees. Eager to tease but nervous to dirty talk, you swallow thickly and do your best to sound confident as you crawl high onto your knees and begin to straddle his lap. "I could do this all day…but I want to feel you so badly."
"God, yes," Jeongguk groans, gripping tightly to the comforter at his sides. "Please, noona."
"What a shame you can't touch me," you pout while wrapping your arms around his shoulders, sitting high on your knees. "I bet you could make me feel so good."
You tilt your hips low, dragging yourself over Jeongguk's length, coating him in your arousal. Jeongguk whimpers and it sounds so sweet and so needy, you bite your lip and smile. Slowly, you push your chest out, dragging your breasts over his clavicle and pecs, and Jeongguk looks pained from how little you are giving him.
You lean close and mutter, "Kiss me. Show me how badly you want me."
With a groan, Jeongguk tilts his mouth to yours and eagerly sucks at your bottom lip before prising your mouth open, making way for his tongue. You hold him steady, keeping his head close, but still, he leans his face into yours, groaning desperately, rough in the way his forehead and nose press against yours, desperate in the way his teeth gnash and nip between wide, ravenous licks.
You part from the kiss and grip onto Jeongguk's chin, smirking as you angle your hips forward, surprising yourself with how easily you snag Jeongguk's cock on your entrance and begin to lower yourself on him. Jeongguk's eyes widen then roll back as you lower and lift your hips just enough to tease his tip, sighing through the stretch.
"Please," Jeongguk mutters, eyes and mouth fluttering and trembling so pretty and so wrecked. "Noona, please fuck me. Please, please, please."
"Awe, baby," you tease, lowering yourself further, gasping a silent sob from how incredible he feels. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
"She caved so quickly," Taehyung grumbles, reminding you that you have an audience, causing your cheeks to warm with humiliation.
Yoongi chuckles as he mutters, "I'm actually shocked by how long she held out."
You roll your eyes despite Yoongi being correct about your impatience. Holding back for as long as you have has not been easy, and truthfully, you deserve to be praised for your efforts.
"Typically, she's begging us in an instant," Namjoon adds, and you bite back an indignant smile.
You would absolutely run your mouth if you thought the three doms chiding you would let you away with it, but you are not eager to test them—not with Taehyung, who seems to have the firmest willpower and most sadistic tendencies, present. You finally have Jeongguk nestled deep inside you, and you are not willing to fuck this up for either of you.
The unraveled straps of the restraints that were wrapped around Jeongguk's wrists hang low, about a foot above his shoulders, and you reach up, gripping onto the leather. You hold on tight and moan as you lift and swivel your hips, teasing Jeongguk's tip and pulling a soft, impatient huff from his chest.
Jeongguk's eyes rove over your body, up to your face, as he cranes his head back. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and you tilt your head to the side to ask, "What is it? Speak, boy."
"Beautiful," Jeongguk mutters sweetly, and you feel your heart skip a beat. You smile, then bite it back, trying to be a tease, not feel fluffy.
"Shut up," you grumble quietly, lowering your hips just enough to make Jeongguk croak out a soft moan before lifting. With the help of the straps, you find a good angle for your back to arch, allowing you to bounce your ass just enough to tease his tip.
Jeongguk whines and huffs, squeezing the sheet below him, causing peaks of material to form—mountains of tested patience reaching a breaking point. And although it feels good to stretch yourself around just the end of him, you want the rest, so you release one strap and then the other, settling with your hands on his shoulders and sinking down deep with a moan and pleasure flows through you in waves.
"Fuck," Jeongguk whimpers, dragging the word out long.
The stretch is enough to make you quake, but you do not have the ability to keep teasing yourself, even if it means finally caving in and giving Jeongguk what he wants. You lift your hips and drop them, choking on a sob that is punctuated by a deep moan. Pleasure bursts and settles into your limbs, tingling through you like electricity, and you wrap your arms tight around his shoulder and neck and begin to fuck yourself on his length.
"Feels so good," you moan, eyes shut and head tilted back, using Jeongguk to chase your high, eager to cum all over him and make a fucking mess.
Jeongguk's lips drag over your neck and shoulder, huffing hot breath that turns your skin sticky, and you do your best to keep a steady rhythm, climbing closer and closer to bliss, reaching the precipice little by little.
"God, look at her," Namjoon groans, making you shiver. You shouldn't be so greedy, but you do wish Namjoon could climb onto this bed and help you use Jeongguk.
"Stunning, always," Yoongi responds, and your heart and soul yearn for him, desperate to feel Yoongi once more, even if it has only been hours since the last time.
"Our poor Gguk is going to rip holes in this sheet by the time I allow him to touch her," Taehyung teases. "I haven't seen him this wound up in ages."
Jeongguk sighs and groans, then leans slightly back as his head lolls from side to side. He looks like he is about to burst, and you slow your hips, watching intently as he shakes his head and frowns, muttering, "Please, noona, please don't stop."
Rather than listen to his pleas, you lift your hips all the way, sending his cock to hit his tummy in a wet splat. Jeongguk grumbles, and you lean in to nibble at his chin and jaw until he shivers, then you back away from his lap and spin around.
As soon as you turn away from Jeongguk and lift your head, you are met with your own reflection, staring back from a floor-to-ceiling mirror that runs from the door to the conjoining wall. You gasp as you take in the sight of yourself on your hands and knees covered in a sheen of sweat, with Jeongguk sitting high on his knees behind you.
Jeongguk watches the mirror, smiling as you regain your composure and back up on your knees, grabbing for his cock with one hand while lowering yourself down. As soon as you are partially seated on his erection, you use both hands to spread your ass, arching your back as you lower yourself, eyes on the mirror to see Jeongguk staring down, moaning with his mouth hung wide.
"Like what you see, baby?" you ask as you begin to raise and lower your hips.
Jeongguk's eyes snap to the mirror, and he appears dazed as he says, "Yes, noona."
You sit up high on your knees and anchor your hands against your thighs as you begin to ride Jeongguk, finding a steady rhythm that sends your pleasure building once more. At this angle, his tip rubs over your erogenous zone, and you tilt your head back, moaning and gasping with each delicious drag.
With one hand gripping to your thigh, you reach the other between your legs, rubbing over your clit, desperate to cum. Your hope is that once you orgasm, you can barter with the doms to allow Jeongguk to touch you; you want his hands on you, groping, squeezing, and holding you down. Just the thought alone has you speeding toward bliss, and you press your fingertips just a little more firmly against your clit and slam your hips down so hard it stings.
"Fuck," you whimper, chasing your high faster and faster, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum."
The sound of one of the men clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth makes you jolt, and you begin to fear the worst. Sure enough, Taehyung asks, "Did we say you could cum, pretty?" and you begin to feel frantic, though you do not slow your movements.
"N-no," you mutter weakly, "but, I thought—"
"I'm just toying with you, pretty," Taehyung interrupts with a chuckle, filling you with relief.
"If I cum, will you let him touch me, sir?" you ask, watching Jeongguk's lips twitch through the mirror.
"I suppose I could allow that," Taehyung responds. "Since you've been so obedient."
"Yes," you whimper, lifting and slamming your hips, so close to the edge. "Thank you, sir."
"Fucking squeezing me," Jeongguk groans behind you, and you glance into the mirror to find him sitting tense, staring down at your ass.
Jeongguk looks fucked out and on the brink of collapse with sweat dripping down his neck and his face screwed up in both pleasure and impatience. You imagine him holding you down against the mattress to use you just as you have used him, and that thought is exactly what you need to plummet into euphoria.
"Fuck," you whimper, "I'm gonna—"
Your orgasm crashes through you, snapped suddenly with a burst of energy that throws you forward as you quake and sob, gripping onto the black satin sheet with both hands while you desperately move your hips, chasing more and more until you are no longer able to move, moaning and sobbing as your muscles tense and release around Jeongguk. You squeeze around him, eager to chase more bliss, but your body feels tired, and your legs quake.
"Sir, please," you whimper as your hips slow and you become too overcome to keep a steady rhythm, "please let him touch me."
"Jeongguk really has excellent stamina," Taehyung says, sending a chill through you as he adds, "if we allow him to fuck her, he might just break her in half."
"She can take it," Yoongi insists in a tone that is familiar and dangerous. "She can handle the two of us, after all."
After a short pause, Taehyung calls, "Jeonggukie," and you glance into the mirror, watching as Jeongguk's mouth twists into a sharp, dangerous smirk.
"Yes, sir?" he responds, eyes on your reflection.
"You have permission to touch and to speak," Taehyung says, and you watch as Jeongguk releases the poor sheet from his grip, stretching and squeezing his palms at his sides. "The hyungs say she cums really easily…but I bet you can't give her three more orgasms by the time you're finished."
It should be terrifying the way Jeongguk looks down at you suddenly as if you are a piece of meat, licking at his teeth while dragging his hands from your hips to your shoulders, and back down. Jeongguk adjusts behind you, still buried deep, and he settles with one hand on your hip and the other gripping the back of your neck.
"Stay on your hands and knees," Jeongguk instructs firmly, making you shiver. "And keep your eyes on me."
You barely have a chance to mutter, "Yes, sir," before he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, spearing you on his length far deeper than when you were riding him. The pleasure-pain is incredible, and the moan that falls from your lips is broken, no more than rough a burst of air. Jeongguk wastes no time digging his fingertips into your soft skin and setting a pace that is brutal enough to make you scream.
It feels impossible to keep your eyes open and on Jeongguk's reflection, but you do your best, only allowing your eyelids to flutter closed momentarily. Jeongguk is very clearly punishing you for teasing him so much, and you do your best to take everything he gives you, moaning and sobbing with each deep thrust.
"Fuck, you feel so good, doll," Jeongguk groans, digging his fingertips deeper. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my fucking hands off you?"
The hand around your neck moves up to your face, and Jeongguk slides two fingers into the side of your mouth, gently tugging as he holds your head up, keeping your back bowed and ass held high.
"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he groans, lifting the hand on your hip to smack your ass, making you squeal around his fingers from the tingle of pain. "So fucking wet."
Jeongguk's praises make your head spin, and it takes no time at all to chase another high. Your reflection is absolutely debauched, and you stare ahead at yourself and at Jeongguk, still unable to shake the surprise that this is actually, finally happening. Jeongguk is absolutely ruthless with his thrusts, and you squeeze around him in a rhythm that matches his, building and building your next orgasm, quaking uncontrollably as it begins to roll through you like a hurricane.
"You're fucking cuming again, aren't you?" Jeongguk groans as your muscles flutter around him.
"Yes," you mutter, attempting to nod with your head stuck in place. "Yes, please, please make me cum again."
Jeongguk slides the hand from your mouth, down to your shoulder, and fucks into you, moaning to match your sounds as your orgasm reaches its peak and causes you to sob and slip forward, unable to hold yourself up. Although you are disobeying his rule to stay on your hands, Jeongguk seems unphased, and he rubs his hands over your back and then presses your shoulders down into the soft sheet while his hips stay just as steady.
"She really is fucking easy," Jeongguk teases as he leans forward, pressing his weight into you.
You turn your head to the side and lock eyes with Namjoon, who sits on one wide, wooden arm of the throne with his legs spread wide, watching you with a fire burning in his gaze.
"Incredible, isn't she?" Yoongi asks, and you move your focus to him, on the other arm of the wooden throne, leaning forward with one elbow on his knee.
Jeongguk pulls out, and you sob, clenching around nothing while his hands move down the expanse of your back, to your ass. He spreads you wide with both palms while bending lowly then licks from your clit all the way to your asshole, and you gasp then whimper, sinking deeper forward while arching your back to present yourself as best as you can.
The sloppy, hungry way he laps over your cunt is intoxicating, and when he curves up to your ass to dig his tongue into your tight rim, you grip roughly at the satin sheet, babbling nonsense at the sensation. Two fingers slide into your pussy, and Jeongguk slurps at your ass while his fingers stroke your erogenous zone, humming and groaning loudly.
"Oh my god," you whimper as Jeongguk's ministrations intensify. There is no way you are going to last long like this, and you do your best to relax despite how taut you feel pulled from every delicious movement. You knew Jeongguk would be good, but this is practically soul-crushing with the way your pleasure builds and builds.
Jeongguk's fingers squelch inside you, and you feel the spray of your arousal hit your thighs while his tongue slurps and prods, breaching your hole and making a sloppy fucking mess.
"Please, Jeongguk," you whimper like a prayer into the sheet, which is sticky-warm with drool. "Please don't stop. Please, please, please."
Jeongguk groans into you, plunging his tongue and fingers in deep, pulling you apart at the threads. Orgasm hits like a freight train—fast and sudden and unforgiving, a crash without casualties. You scream and claw at the blanket as your release squirts from you, coating your thighs, sloppy and loud.
You quake and sob uncontrollably, lips dragging against satin as Jeongguk pulls his fingers from you and sinks low enough to lick over your cunt in firm, broad strokes. He hums as he devours you, squeezing at the backs of your thighs and filling you to the brim with oversensitivity.
"Two down, one to go," Jeongguk gasps as he sits back and releases you from his hold.
He pushes against your hip, sending you crashing into the mattress, and you mutter equal parts indignant and incoherent as he begins to turn you onto your back in a haphazard twist of heavy limbs. You feel exhausted, but you do your best, digging your head into the bed while settling onto your back.
Jeongguk towers over you tall and pretty like a demon of pleasure, glistening and muscular and so fucking handsome. You attempt to smile, panting around each breath, and Jeongguk crawls between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder while spreading the other wide.
"You look fucking wrecked, doll," he teases as he leans forward and rubs beneath your eyes, undoubtedly to clean up a mess of mascara that has smeared. You pout, and he chuckles, adding, "Still gorgeous though. Perfect, even. I would have been gunning for this pussy long ago if I had known how much fun you are."
"Shut the fuck up," you mutter breathlessly, making Jeongguk chuckle.
"Never made someone squirt before," he continues, lining his cock up with your aching entrance. "You've done wonders to inflate my ego, doll."
"Great," you mutter, attempting to roll your eyes indignantly, instead rolling them involuntarily as he slides in deep, filling you in one swift thrust.
You moan as your body responds, pelvis lifting and arousal crashing. Jeongguk begins to roll his hips in a dizzying, tantalizing motion, and you do your best to relax despite the turmoil that already builds, threatening to tear you asunder. You are dangerously close to overstimulation, but you do not want to call your safe word. Jeongguk still has not cum, and you desperately want him to.
"She's a goner," Namjoon chuckles, and you hate how well he can read you. "This will be her last orgasm before she becomes too overwhelmed, Gguk, so make sure you cum."
Jeongguk feigns a pout, reaching down to press two fingers between your lips, smiling softly when you do your best to suck around them. His hips are steady and much slower, dragging in a way that lets you feel every perfect inch of him along your swollen walls.
"I won't be able to last much longer," Jeongguk assures, voice dipped low and sweet. "Taehyung bragged about my stamina, but you got me so fucking worked up. You can call your safe word if you need to, though. Yoongi told me it's sakura."
You suck on Jeongguk's fingers and allow your eyes to close momentarily, drifting into a state of full-body bliss. Despite how heavy your limbs feel, you are floaty and weightless. Euphoric.
"How do you stay so fucking tight?" Jeongguk groans as his hips pick up a quicker pace, skin slapping against skin. "How are you so fucking wet?"
You want to complain and tell Jeongguk to shut up, but the thought of speaking feels like too much, so you continue to suck mindlessly while Jeongguk uses you. He needs to finish before you lose your grasp on reality, and you are teetering dangerously close to that edge, lulled by the rhythmic thrust of his cock.
Jeongguk moans and sighs, becoming louder the harder he fucks you. His voice is sweet when lilted high and pitchy, and inviting when it is deep and dulcet. You could drown in him, really—in fact, you think you just might.
Time and space slip—float away like vapor in the air. You lay pliant and malleable as Jeongguk bends forward and leans back, changing angles, spearing you deep, rubbing places inside you that are carved wide just for him. When he finally pulls his fingers from your mouth to press them against your clit, you feel like you are dreaming.
"One last orgasm," he pleads gently, twirling over you in incorrigible movements. "I won't last much longer."
You pull your arms over your head and stretch your back, arching into Jeongguk's steady, determined thrusts. With the final ounce of energy you have left, you tense and relax around his length, working your muscles to a rhythm that will help you cum. Not that you need to help him; Jeongguk's fingers work over your bud, pulling you closer and closer with each swipe of skin against skin.
"Close," you whimper, feeling pleasure build.
Jeongguk must take your affirmation as incentive to fuck harder, deeper, faster. Your eyes roll back as his pace reaches heights you have come to expect, and you grip at the satin sheet above your head as you stare into oblivion.
And then, you drop. All at once, without warning, your arousal reaches its breaking point and bursts.
"Fuck," you squeak through a sob, mouth frozen in bliss, desperately forming broken syllables until you are finally able to create words. "Oh fuck, I'm cuming. Jeongguk!"
Jeongguk leans forward, dropping your leg from his shoulder to the mattress and placing both hands beside your head. His pace falters as he leans close and slots his lips against yours, moaning and whimpering into your open mouth while he licks and sucks at your lips and tongue.
"Feels so good," Jeongguk groans into your mouth. "I'm gonna cum, holy shit."
Jeongguk trembles, body lurching forward before he is up on his knees, pulling out and spraying his release onto your tummy, warm and viscous, quickly turning cold. You giggle, though you are unsure what is funny; you feel absolutely fucking broken.
One of the men begins to clap—you assume Taehyung—and then the others join in. You drag your arms down, over your face, cringing as you attempt to roll into a ball and disappear. "Please don't make this weird," you grumble as you turn to your side, only slightly bothered by the trickle of cum that runs along your tummy, down to the sheet.
Jeongguk hovers close, chuckling and pulling on your shoulder to get you to return to your back, and you resist, sleepy and no longer in the mood for any of these men; fucked past your limit and reeling from everything that has transpired.
"Let's get you into a bath," Jeongguk offers, and you loosen your limbs a little, willing to tolerate them a little more if it means a nice hot bath. "Hyung has a huge jacuzzi in his room, and I bet he would be more than happy to turn it on and get it nice and warm for us."
"It would be my pleasure," Taehyung responds, and you hear the sound of wood creaking as he stands and walks out of the room, footsteps quieting the further he gets.
Behind you, the bed dips, and you roll onto your back, eager to find out whether Yoongi and Namjoon are here to bother you—pleased to see that it is both of them.
"Darling," Yoongi says with a grin, dancing fingertips over your leg, which is bent at the knee. His touch tickles, and you shiver but do nothing to make him stop. "How do you feel?"
"Great," you mutter without thinking, voice wrecked and rasped from screaming.
"That was quite the performance," Namjoon adds, sitting beside your head and wiping his hand over your forehead. "I'm surprised you had no issue with letting all of us watch that."
You shrug, still not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. "We're all friends," you mutter, making Yoongi chuckle.
Taehyung returns, and you grin widely, appreciative of him for letting you fuck Jeongguk. And sure, you are aware that your thought process is a bit ridiculous, but you feel drunk from this scenario—far more intoxicated than the two glasses of red wine could have made you.
To your surprise, Taehyung holds his arms out and asks, "May I?"
Your assumption is that he either wants to hug you, or that he plans to carry you off to the jacuzzi, and both options sound nice, so you roll onto your side and then to your knees and crawl haphazardly into his open arms.
"Do you always turn into such a little baby after getting fucked?" Taehyung asks, to which Yoongi and Namjoon say, "Yes," in tandem.
"Sometimes," you respond dreamily as Taehyung scoops you up bridal style, holding you close to his chest while whisking you away.
"It's cute," he responds, dulcet voice soft and pleasant.
"You're cute," you grumble as you reach your arms to lazily hang around Taehyung's neck, burying your face into his chest. He wears a cologne that is earthy and a little spicy; unique.
Taehyung chuckles, chest rattling softly against your cheek, and you close your eyes and hum into the feeling.
"I'm glad you had fun," Taehyung says as his slippered feet softly patter while he carries you down the hallway. "If you come to have any regrets or complaints later, we can all sit down and talk. I want you to feel comfortable with us; relationships are built on trust."
"I won't," you say, certain that there is nothing to regret. "I love you guys."
"We'll see how you're feeling in a few days, but it makes me happy to know that you feel good about everything now."
The sounds of Taehyung's footfalls change, and you open your eyes to find that you are in a room with wainscotted walls of what you imagine to be mahogany, though you are not certain. Then he turns once more, and you are in a bathroom that is a lot like Yoongi's, but everything is white and gold instead of black.
"Jeongguk has my permission to see you without my presence required. So as long as the hyungs are okay with it, the two of you can do anything you want. Personally, I don't care who sees you. Fuck on the stage at Paradise if you'd like."
"Now, now," Yoongi says, causing you to peek over Taehyung's shoulder, smiling when you see him entering the room and unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's not encourage them to fuck in public. Jeongguk might actually take it as a challenge, and we don't need rumors flying that Boss Min is a cuckold."
"For once, the rumors would be true, hyung," Jeongguk says gleefully as he sidles up to Yoongi, still fully naked and covered in sweat, slinging an arm over his shoulder.
Jeongguk winks at you, flashing a wide grin, and you bury your face against Taehyung's shoulder, feeling shy.
"Are you getting in too, hyung?" Jeongguk asks as Taehyung begins to set you down, lowering your legs until your toes touch a soft rug.
With reluctance, you release Taehyung, and he keeps an arm around your waist, holding his other arm out for you to grab onto while you step one leg over the side of the large, white jacuzzi tub. The water is warm enough that you hiss and nearly retract your leg, but you quickly acclimate and lean in, finding the seat with your foot and standing on it.
"Of course I'm getting in," Yoongi says, and you can hear the sounds of clothing being removed behind you. "Can't let our pretty darling have all the fun."
Taehyung sighs and mutters, "No fucking in the hot tub, hyung," making Yoongi chuckle.
It takes a lot of concentration to make your limbs cooperate, but you manage to get both feet into the jacuzzi and lower yourself enough to step into the center and wade over to the far seat. The warmth is soothing, and you sink down until only your head remains above water, watching through squinted eyes as Yoongi and Namjoon get undressed to their briefs.
Jeongguk is turned around, rubbing his hands over Taehyung's chest, muttering lowly, and you enjoy a glance at his round, muscular ass before closing your eyes, smiling to yourself.
The water sloshes gently as bodies enter the tub, and you do not need to open your eyes to know that the arm wrapping over your shoulder from the right belongs to Yoongi; his musk greets you, followed by the familiar weight of so many hugs. You sit up slightly and lean into Yoongi while familiar hands lift your feet onto familiar thighs and begin to massage thumbs into your tired arches.
"I had fun spending time with everyone at Paradise, but the real paradise is here with you," you mutter somewhat sleepily, feeling Yoongi laugh against your cheek.
"Corny," Yoongi teases with a squeeze of his arms around you, and more bodies enter the tub, shifting the water around to your left.
You want to open your eyes and take in the bright, happy smiles of the men around you. You want to thank them all for the fun and show your gratitude for the affection they have given you. Taehyung is a wonderful host, Jeongguk is an excellent cook, and both Yoongi and Namjoon have shown a great deal of trust in you for encouraging you and Jeongguk to enjoy each other; Taehyung, as well.
Your heart feels so full of joy, and your sore, aching body is soothed so perfectly in the warm tub. But your eyelids are heavy, and the warmth pulls you in. You hug Yoongi while the men chatter about things you are unable to keep track of, doing your best not to drift to sleep.
At least you know that you are not at risk of drowning. With Yoongi at your side, it is impossible not to feel safe.
Just look at me, baby, day and night
Don't make me bad, make me bad, I'm addicted to you
이미 길들여진 내 맘을 자극해
Don't make me bad, bad, addicted to you
시작해 버린 이상 내 게 아님 안 돼
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this chapter was more or less an oasis, but the rest of the desert is to come. i cannot stress enough how shit is really about to spiral in the final arc.
thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go ‘round, and likes are nice too!!! i love you, stay hydrated!!!
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