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katiexpunk · 7 months

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Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice | Pairing Neighbor!Joel Miller & Fem!Reader

Summary: Part 3 of @sydneyinacoma's Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice series. Joel is your new hot neighbor and after a sexy night alone with him on Halloween (where he literally makes you squirt (!!) on his couch, you run into him after a long week at work and you two finally go on a proper date. You two eat burgers; go to a fair, and then he fucks you like it's his last day on earth. Yep <3

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.7K Warnings: Pining, flirting, 2000s style (needs a TW lol), Joel is a little rough/bossy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), creampie, blowjob, pet names, praise kink, Joel spits in readers mouth, fair date, eating, did I already say flirting, bobbing for apples. Listen, these two are just down so bad for each other. There are no descriptions of reader except for clothing & wet, curly hair. Authors Note: I legitimately feel so honored to have been part of this chapter with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma -- writing this version of Joel has me creaming, and I wish I could scream it from the rooftops how much I want everyone to read this fic. This version of Joel is all her brainchild and I could cry at being part of it. Pls go follow Syd, she's seriously such a gem and probably the best Moot and friend a girl could ask for. ILY, bb. Sydney's Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.7K Warnings: Pining, flirting, 2000s style (needs a TW lol), Joel is a little rough/bossy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), creampie, blowjob, pet names, praise kink, Joel spits in readers mouth, fair date, eating, did I already say flirting, bobbing for apples. Listen, these two are just down so bad for each other. There are no descriptions of reader except for clothing & wet, curly hair. Authors Note: I legitimately feel so honored to have been part of this chapter with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma -- writing this version of Joel has me creaming, and I wish I could scream it from the rooftops how much I want everyone to read this fic. This version of Joel is all her brainchild and I could cry at being part of it. Pls go follow Syd, she's seriously such a gem and probably the best Moot and friend a girl could ask for. ILY, bb. Sydney's Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

NOV 2005

You can’t stop thinking about that night at Joel’s a week ago. The way he touched you, pleasured you in a way that you've never experienced before. The way he kissed you, fervently yet soft. You could kiss him for hours and never tire.

Not only are you craving his touch, but you also find yourself wanting to learn more about him. You want to know him. The things you’ve learned about him through Sarah and what you’ve picked up on are tiny crumbs, leaving you starving for more.

You hope he feels the same.

You haven’t had a chance to talk to Joel since that night, as you’ve been drowning at work. You started working for this publishing firm in college, first, as an intern, and now that you’ve finished school, you’re an editor. You agreed to take on extra responsibilities due to your coworker being out on maternity leave, which has exponentially increased your workload, on top of your boss being a micromanaging asshole. Joel’s been burning the candle at both ends. He’s working against a tight deadline on a big project for a persnickety client and Sarah’s soccer team is in the playoffs for the district championship; he’s incredibly proud but attending her neverending roster of games has left him a bit preoccupied. He never thought he would end up being a soccer dad, but life has a funny way of keeping him on his toes.

Much like you, he’s replayed you squirting on his leather couch in his mind over and over, a never-ending lascivious reel that plays in his head as he fucks his cock at night. Joel longs to hear those saccharine sounds you make while you ride his cock, your tits bouncing in tandem with your movements. He’s kicking himself for not getting his hands, or mouth, on your pillowy breasts. The cheekiness of forgoing a bra in your bunny costume revealed a side of you that he wants to unleash.

He wants to know everything; what keeps you up at night, what makes you double over in laughter, your ticklish spots, which movies make you cry without fail, all of your little quirks. Hell, he even wants to know if you believe in aliens.

+++

You pull into your driveway after a long, grueling day at work. Your brain is so fried you didn’t even turn the music on for the drive home; a rarity for you since you always have music playing in your car, whether it be the FM radio or one of the various CDs you’ve collected over the years. A true indicator of your current state of being. You can’t wait to veg out on the couch, rid your mind of this shitty week, and huddle into an antisocial ball.

After a few moments of idly sitting in your car, you peel yourself from the driver’s seat and go to retrieve your work tote from your trunk when you hear a deep voice calling out to you, one you’d recognize anywhere. You turn in the direction of the sound and find Joel. He’s clearly working on a renovation project; a miter saw, lumber and a plethora of other tools are set up in his front yard. There’s another man with him, bearing a slight resemblance to Joel. Brothers, maybe?

“Hey, neighbor!” Joel immediately regrets his word choice, finding it oddly stiff — considering he’s had his face between your thighs.

“Hey Joel!” You manage to shout back, despite your energy battery being crucially depleted.

He waves for you to come over. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you’re unable to resist him. Not when he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, hair tousled, and coaxing you across the street.

Though you feel drained, being in close proximity to Joel makes your body thrum in nerves. You’re being energized by anxious attraction.

Joel and the mystery man greet you at the edge of the yard.

“This is my brother Tommy. Tommy, this is my neighbor.”

“So, this is the pretty neighbor you were tellin’ me about,” Tommy says, his southern drawl identical to Joel’s.

Joel glares at Tommy. If looks could kill.

Tommy holds out his hand, you tell him your name and give him your hand for a brief shake; much like Joel’s does, his palm size is large in comparison to yours and envelops your full hand. You survey the man in front of you; handsome, dark curly hair like Joel, slightly longer and free of the grays his brother sports, deep brown eyes, similar to Joel’s. The Miller genes are super fucking strong.

“Nice to meet ya, sweetheart,” he says, nodding his head in acknowledgment, his eyes dragging over your figure just a second too long.

“I’m gonna start packin’ these tools up,” Tommy announces to Joel and then shoots him a wink. It’s obvious he wasn’t aiming for subtlety, clearly wanting to give you and his brother a moment alone.

Joel shifts his broad frame to face you directly. You wish you didn’t feel so bashful in his presence, but it’s hard to breathe evenly when he is standing so close you can smell him - earthy and a hint of his deodorant wearing off. It should be gross to you, but you want to put his scent in a candle. You’re fucking deranged.

“Sorry, ‘m all sweaty…” Joel apologizes, looking down at himself, remembering that he probably reeks like a locker room.

You wave off his apology, giggling at his self-awareness.

“I wanted to ask you somethin’,'' Joel says, gently wrapping his hand around your arm right above your elbow. Goosebumps erupt on your skin at the touch of his calloused fingers.

“Okay…”

“I was wonderin’...” Joel pauses, his fingers now grazing over the soft skin of your arm.

You gulp in anticipation. “Yes, Joel?”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d like to go on a date with me,'' he asks, his eyes dropping to his boots for a second before coming back up to meet yours, “a proper one.”

You’re so giddy at his proposition you think you might burst.

“Well, you know…I’ve gotta check my calendar,” you say, a big grin plastered on your face. You see his face drop, but before he can sulk too much you wink at him and say, “yeah, I’d love to,” you exhale and try to keep your voice level, not wanting to give away how excited you actually are. A date. With Joel Miller.

“You free tomorrow?” he asks, beaming, revealing the dimpled smile you’re so fond of.

“Lucky for you, I am,” you say, feeling your skin warm.

“Pick you up at 7?” he asks, dipping his face closer to yours, his hand now on your waist pulling you into him.

“Works for me,” you confirm while planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, “see you then, neighbor!” you conclude, being sure to emphasize the neighbor in your words, and before he can convince you to stay, you’re sauntering across the street back to your house.

+++

It’s finally here. Your big date with Joel.

The day went by torturously slow, anticipation pulsing through your entire body. You spent almost two hours getting ready, the majority of the time trying to pick an outfit. You probably changed 30 times, trying to find the outfit that conveyed the perfect balance of sexy, yet subdued.

You decide on a pair of dark wash flares and a lacy top, both accentuating your figure heavenly. You spritz on a little perfume you save for special occasions. If this ain’t a hell of an occasion.

Joel, with impeccable timing, rings the doorbell right as you tug your black cowboy boots on. It’s sill relatively warm in Austin, so you decide to forgo a jacket.

Opening the door, you and Joel take a moment to check the other out, neither of you trying to hide it whatsoever. Joel’s wearing his signature jeans and a green flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing his veiny, strong forearms. You’d hump his arms given the opportunity.

“Absolutely stunnin’, sweetheart,” he licks his bottom lip while his brown irises roam over your entire body, paying special attention to your waist and tits. You’re mentally patting yourself on the back for your outfit choice.

“One could say the same for you, cowboy,” you quip back, a smug grin plastered across your face.

Your smile shoots blood straight to Joel’s cock.

He swallows as he realizes the night is just beginning.

+++

Joel takes you to a quaint diner for your date. From the outside, it’s unassuming; an older building in urgent need of a pressure wash, adjacent to a virtually empty shopping center. A true hole-in-the-wall in the middle of downtown Austin.

“It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but I promise ya, they got the best damn burgers in town,” he assures, seeing the questioning look on your face when he pulls into the parking lot.

You and Joel slide into a booth in the far corner, Joel insisting that booth seating is part of the experience. You both order burgers, per his recommendation and boy, it does not disappoint.

Between bites of food, you and Joel learn more about each other. The conversation flows easily, both hanging onto each other’s every word; no awkwardness or feigning interest. You both share parts of your childhoods and you share stories from your college days. Joel recounts the mischief he and Tommy got into when they were younger, earning several belly laughs from you.

Joel loves the way you laugh; candidly, throwing your head back, your shoulders jerking uncontrollably as you try to catch a breath.

You’re pleased to learn that both you and Joel have a fondness for 80’s action movies, especially the over-the-top-borderline-cheesy ones, and 70’s artists like Fleetwood Mac and Electric Light Orchestra.

Joel asks about your job as an editor. You tell him the different types of manuscripts you have to read; some you drudge through, others you enjoy. “I love seeing how the story progresses from the first rough draft up until the final copy,” you tell him,” a lot of authors are really full of themselves, so you have to boil down a lot of the flowery language and hubris.”

In return, he tells you about how he got started as a contractor, hard work rewarded him with promotions until he opened up his own contracting business six years ago. “It’s priceless gettin’ to be your own boss,” he says, “not havin’ to answer to anyone, can be more selective in projects you wanna take on,” he continues, and you swear you’re listening but you’re secretly caught up in the sound of his voice and the way his lips move when he’s talking; hypnotizing you with every word.

Joel opens up about when Sarah came into this world; the happiest day of his life while simultaneously being scared shitless — he was wild and ungovernable, definitely not ready for fatherhood.

Through the years he’s found his rhythm. He doesn’t talk about her mother and you don’t ask; you’re not looking to dig into that lore on the first date. He tells you what Sarah was like as a baby and the subsequent years. Your heart melts at the adoration and pride that glow in his eyes when he talks about his daughter.

You both sit in the overused booth, totally absentminded to the world around you. You’re both locked into one another, afraid of missing even the faintest shift in facial expressions. You might as well be the only two people here.

Taking the final bite of your burger, you tell Joel that you’re inclined to agree that these are the best burgers in town.

He mumbles something to the effect of “told ya,” before finishing his last bite.

On the ride home from the diner, you spot an illuminated Ferris wheel, glowing in the distance of the Austin night.

“Oh, I didn’t know the fair was still in town. I haven’t been in years!” exclaiming a little loudly for a woman your age, “can we…..?”

Joel can’t say no to you, not when you’re giving him a pleading, pouty look.

+++

Once inside the fairgrounds, you both walk through the selection of vendors, and it doesn’t take long for the funnel cake sign to catch your eye; Joel purchases you one and you continue on your adventure together.

“Here,” he says, offering you a paper napkin.

You gently shake your head, shoving another bite of funnel cake into your mouth, “don’t need one.”

He laughs. You look like a stubborn child learning what sugar is for the first time, “you’re gonna get all sticky,” he says, a big grin enveloping his face, your eagerness for the sweetness of the battered dough reminds him of Sarah’s sweet tooth. God, you’re cute – it makes him wish she was with you both tonight.

Well, that is until he notices it. It’s subtle, but it’s there – a sprinkling of powdered sugar on your cheek and exposed chest.

He knows this is a family event, but he wants to do anything but PG-rated things with you right now.

He stares at the white dust on your skin until your voice catches his attention again.

“Maybe I want to be sticky,” you reply, “gives you more to lick off of me later.”

And fuck, if that doesn’t turn him on.

The thought of his tongue on you sends a flood of impure thoughts to his brain; much like the ones he had when you first showed up at his door, covered in remnants of flour, all sugar and sweetness.

He knows now.

You may be sugar, but fuck, if you haven’t got some spice in you, too.

+++

As you stroll, your eyes grow wide when you see it; a yellow wooden sign with the words “bobbing for apples” in Comic Sans engraved into it.

“Ah! Joel! Bobbing for apples! I haven’t done that since I was a kid – we have to do it!” you say, your voice is a little too eager and a little too high-pitched, but the childlike wonder on your face is all the convincing that Joel needs. He might not admit it, but he’d give you anything you want. You reach out for his hand, and he takes it, letting you lead the way.

You and Joel make your way up to the station, and a fair worker in an apron and a straw hat shouts to the crowd, “Come one, come all! Test your skills at an apple grab; the winner gets a prize,” his voice is low in octave but loud enough like he’s speaking through a megaphone.

A line of fair-goers of all ages quickly forms around the barrels filled with water and apples, and you look at Joel with eager eyes as you step up to yours.

The rules of the game were explained by the worker with a chuckle, “Alright, folks, no hands, just your teeth. Lean in, and bob for an apple, and what you catch is yours to keep plus a prize from the booth to the right.”

“You sure about this, sweetheart? You’re gonna get all wet,” Joel asks, probably just a smidge too concerned about your well-being considering it’s just bobbing for apples.

“You gonna act like you don’t know that I’ve been wet this entire night?” you say, not waiting to hear his response as the worker calls out a loud “GO!”

Giggles and cheers fill the air as you and your fellow participants lean over the barrel. Your face disappears into the water; your competitiveness in overdrive – edging yourself deeper and deeper into the water; so far that your shirt gets soaked. You don’t care, though, and you gleam from satisfaction as you resurface with a gleaming red apple held triumphantly between your teeth.

The crowd erupts in applause at your efforts, and Joel stands watching you with his hands on his hips, a smile plastered on his face. As his gaze drops from the apple in your mouth, he notices the wetness of your shirt and shit, you’re positively drenched.

It takes Joel all of .0002 seconds to notice the silhouette of your nipples peeking out from your shirt, the goosebumps littering your skin, and the tail ends of your hair wet and starting to curl under the weight of the water.

You drop the apple from your teeth and catch it in your palm. “Well, well…looks like you’re on a date with a prize-winnin’ apple picker. Feeling lucky yet?” you tort, attempting to flirt through the uncomfortable press of the damp fabric on your skin.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen that mouth in action, I already knew you were going to win,” he says, “but you know I’d never thought I’d see the day…” he trails off.

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly confused.

“Never thought I’d see the day that I was jealous of a fuckin’ Red Delicious apple,” he says, humor behind his voice, “s’ashame I wasn’t the one you were bobbin’ for in that barrel.”

“Listen, if you want to get wet and let me put you in my mouth, I am more than happy to accommodate,” you reply back, your voice flirty and suggestive.

Joel doesn’t respond, but you see him palm himself through the denim of his jeans at your suggestion, interjecting his thoughts.

You can’t hide the shivers that take over your body from the chill of the night air and the wetness of your clothing.

“C’mere, baby, you’re freezin’,” he says, brow furrowed, and arms wide open stretched out to you, beckoning you into his large arms. You take a step forward and step into his brace, letting yourself melt into the warmth of his arms and the aroma of his natural scent.

You stand there, wet in more ways than one, and let him hold you. Your arms wrap around his thick middle, and he rubs up and down your back with both palms in an attempt to warm you up. He releases you momentarily before saying, “Here, take this.”

You step away from him for a second, giving him space to slip off the flannel he’s wearing, revealing nothing but a white t-shirt underneath; the little tufts of hair peeking out through the collar of his shirt almost send you into a tailspin.

He holds the flannel open by the collar to face you, encouraging you to put it on. You turn your back to him, allowing him the privilege of holding it as you slip your arms into the sleeves. The fabric of the shirt is warm from his skin, and the moment you put it on you’re flooded with the smell embedded deep within the fibers; all musk, whiskey, cinnamon, wood, and Joel.

“Come on, now, you little bobbin’ minx, let’s go get you your prize,” he says, tilting his head to the prize booth. You grab his hand and let him lead the way this time.

You and Joel make your way to the prize booth, the smell of kettle corn invades your senses; sure, you were already stuffed with funnel cake and your dinner, but the sweet aroma makes your mouth water. Or maybe it’s just Joel, you’re not quite sure, but you don’t really care.

In the small structure of the prize booth, the shelves were adorned with a colorful array of stuffed animals of all sizes, trinkets, and games. You carefully assess your prize options while the attendant tries to convince you that of all of the random assortment of prizes, you absolutely need the goldfish. Right.

You look over the options in front of you for what feels like a good ten minutes before the attendant not so subtly grows tired of your indecision. You sigh. You decide on a small puppy dog with beady plastic brown eyes, and you nod in thanks as he hands it to you, and you and Joel walk away from the booth.

“Had a tough time decidin’ there, didn’t ya, sweetheart?” Joel asks, not really questioning.

“Well, to be honest, none of the prizes were really appealing to me,” you respond, playing with the fluffy ears of the stuffed plush in your hands. “I only picked this one because I thought Sarah might like it,” you say. Your consideration for Sarah, and your accepting demeanor to her, warms Joel’s heart.

“But I can think of one I’d really like to claim,” you say, catching his gaze. You see his jaw clench at your words.

“Oh yeah? And that would be..?”

“You,” the word comes out breathy.

You both stop walking and the crunch of the dirt under his boots and the distant sounds of the fair in the background all but freeze as you stand there, seemingly paused in your own little private moment.

“Take me home, Joel,” you say, planting your palm on his broad chest and stepping closer to him, your chest nearly flush against his. His hands skate down to your waist, and he closes the gap between your bodies, holding you close enough that you feel the growing bulge between his thighs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, leaning down, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

And it’s sweet.

Just like the funnel cake.

And just like he thinks you are.

But you have other plans for him tonight.

And he has the same for you.

+++

You and Joel make your way out of the fairgrounds and to the lot where Joel parked his truck.

Still wearing his flannel, the stuffed puppy dog intertwined between your crossed arms, you wait for him to open the passenger side door. You all but eye fuck him as he reaches into the depth of the front pocket of his jeans and grabs his keys. He unlocks the door, and opens it for you; offering you a hand to help guide you in.

“Always such a gentleman,” you say, placing your hand in his, accepting his offer, using the strength of his arm to help lift yourself into the bed of the truck.

Joel rounds around the front of the vehicle, unlocks the driver’s side door, and slides in. He turns the key in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life and the radio turns on, “Come a Little Closer” by Dierks Bentley plays over the speakers.

Deciding to take a note from the lyrics, you don’t bother to buckle yourself into the passenger seat, and instead slide over into the middle seat of the truck, positioning yourself tightly against Joel’s side. You lace your arm through the underside of his and interlock them, your hand curls around his firm bicep. You lean your head into his shoulder, and close your eyes, taking a moment to bask in the solitude of the strong man beneath you.

He looks down at you for a moment – god, he could get used to this. He dwells on the thought for a moment longer and then begins to drive away.

You’re clinging to him and you both ride like that in an easy silence, apart from the faint music and the hum of his truck. It has been so long since you felt so content, so at peace with the moment and yourself; not worried about work or life, or anything. It was just you and Joel, and you like it that way.

Nearly back to your house, and your shared neighborhood, you let your left hand wander on the expanse of his thigh. The time for sweetness is over. The events of the night, your combined obvious want, and the flirtatious taunts catch up with you.

Joel keeps his eyes on the road, but you don’t miss the way his grip on the steering wheel tightens as your hand makes its way closer to his belt buckle. You begin to toy with the cool metal there, and his large palm comes down to cup yours.

“We’re almost home,” he says, holding your hand tight against his stiffening cock, not letting you move. “But I want to feel you now,” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know you wanna get your hands on this cock, and I would like nothing more,” he says, “but you’re gonna have to be patient, we only have a few more minutes until we’re there.”

“And why do I have to be patient, neighbor?” you ask, pulling your hand away, slightly keyed up. Greedy. Horny.

“Because I wanna give that needy little pussy the attention she deserves,” he says, “and because once I get started, I know ‘m not gonna be able to stop.”

“And neighbor ain’t gonna be what you’ll be calling me,” he says roughly, “I’ll fuckin’ make sure of that, sweetheart.”

He takes a turn and pulls into your neighborhood. You catch a glimpse of Mrs. Morrison taking out her trash. She glares at you in disapproval as you drive past in Joel’s truck.

You sometimes wonder what your neighbors might think; a pretty little young thing like you, the youngest daughter of their good friends, a.k.a your parents, hanging out with the older, single-father neighbor across the way.

But truthfully, you don’t really give a fuck.

+++

Joel pulls up into your driveway, the engine purrs softly before falling silent. You both pause in silence.

Joel turns to you, a smirk on his lips “We’re here,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of invite me in behind his voice.

You glance out the window, your house bathed in the soft glow of your porch light. You turn back to Joel and say “Thank you for tonight, I really had a fun time. But to be honest, I just realized I never got to thank you properly…”

Joel looks at you and something dark flickers in his gaze. “And what would you need to be thankin’ me for, sweetheart?” As if he didn’t know.

“For the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Come in and I’ll return the favor,” you say, conjuring your sultriest voice, knowing he doesn’t need an invitation.

You step out of the truck, and the night air is cool, a gentle breeze whispers through your hair; your features are illuminated by the street lights in your neighborhood, and the warm glow casts an inviting aura around you. Joel appears at your side of the truck and helps you exit.

The gravel under your feet crunches as you walk toward the front porch; the air is charged with electricity, a livewire, a magnetic pull drawing your bodies together.

The porch light by your door casts a warm yellow glow on your faces. You pause at the front of the step and reach for your house keys in your purse. Your porch swing sways gently in the breeze, its rhythmic creaking adding to the undertone of the moment.

You insert the key into the lock, but before you can fully turn the doorknob to open the door, Joel already has his large palm on yours, opening the door, pushing you through the door frame and into your house, his hands cradling your face before he crashes his plush lips into yours.

The second you’re both fully in your house, Joel's hands are on the hem of your shirt, silently begging for you to take it off. You let him work on getting you topless, meanwhile, your hands are hastily working to undo his belt buckle, the excitement of finally being able to touch him and him not being able to stop touching you has you worked up. Joel presses his thighs together against yours, drawing little moans from you while he nips at your neck.

As much as he is trying to distract you, he’s no match for your determination. In record-breaking time you have his buckle undone and the zipper of his jeans is down; you gracefully fall to your knees before him, tugging his pants and his boxers down with you to the floor. Joel’s cock releases from the confines of his clothing and slaps against his tummy, leaving a little trail of pre-cum in its wake. You already knew he was big, but having him in full view makes you realize just how big he really is.

You lick your lips and reach out to grab his thick cock, affectionately kissing the tip of it; you run your tongue through the slit, lapping up the salty pre-cum that drips out before you circle your tongue along the underside of his head. You let your jaw go slack, and you begin to dip down on his length; a gurgling sound escapes your lips as you pull back up again. You do this a few times before letting his hard cock fall from your lips, now puffy and coated in saliva, some of it dribbling past your chin.

You pull off momentarily and smile up at Joel. He thinks you look far too sweet and innocent for someone who is absolutely taking his cock deep in your throat like a champ. He intertwines his fingers through your hair and groans, before gently urging you back down onto his length.

“Fuck, sweetheart – can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about having that pretty little mouth of yours on my cock,” he says slightly breathless.

The thought of him thinking about you goes straight to your core and makes you want to mouth fuck him harder.

You wrap your lips around him again, and he thrusts his hips to glide himself inside of your mouth to the back of your throat.

He begins to pick up his pace, holding your head steady by your hair as he fucks into your throat, pressing deeper and deeper until spit pools at the corners of your mouth and slight tears form in the creases of your eyes. He presses you down onto him until your lips are wrapped around the base of him and the course hairs that reside there. You’re drowning in the taste of him, hardly able to breathe, but you don’t care; you want him to chase his high, to use your mouth for his own pleasure. He made you come harder than anyone ever has before; this was the least you could do for him.

“Jesus – look at you, pretty girl, fuck you feel so good wrapped around me,” he grits out, “takin’ it so well, baby.”

His words go straight to your cunt, the ache now insufferable.

You begin to work him harder with your tongue, struggling for air, and he inches closer to the back of your throat and you begin to gag. Joel pulls out, not wanting to hurt you, and a strand of saliva trails between your lips and his cock. You blink back tears and look up at him, your mascara now a mess on your face, and your eyes glossy.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

You swallow, and reach up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You are okay. More than okay. “Peachy. I'm relieved I finally got to return the favor,” you hum, standing to rise to meet his face.

He wraps his hands around your waist, and pulls you tight against the front of his body; you feel the warmth of his tummy, the hardness of his cock, and the strength of his back behind your grip and it makes your legs turn to Jell-O. Fuck, you need him.

Joel kisses you for a moment, before pulling away and bringing his lips to your ear “Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl.”

You feel your stomach swoop and your folds tingle; you have thought about this moment for so long and you yearn for the stretch of him; to know what it’s like to be filled to the brim with Joel fucking Miller.

He kicks off his boots, steps out of the clothing bunched around his ankles, and takes your hand to follow you down the hallway into your bedroom.

Part of him wants to take his time; to make you feel good, to taste you again, and feel you come and come on his fingers. Part of him wants to shuck down your jeans and put your pretty pussy in his face.

Joel doesn’t particularly think of himself as a selfish man, but he has waited patiently, and he needs you. Now.

As much as he wants the taste of you on his lips, the part of him that wants to shove himself into your addictive cunt until you forget your name until you forget every other name except for his is the dominant one right now.

Once in the bedroom, he crowds you back until the back of your calves meet the edge of your mattress. He grabs both of your hips in a bruising grip and pulls you tight against his chest, his hips grinding into yours, and you lean your face up to kiss him. You think he might kiss you, but instead, he ghosts your lips and leans forward until your back meets the soft fabric of the mattress with an oof, and he’s on top of you.

He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. His grip on you is firm, yet gentle. You’ve seen his brute strength in action and the fact that he could overpower you sends a shiver to your clit.

“So beautiful, darlin’ – you know that?” he kisses your nose and trails a slew of them down your cheek, jaw, chin, and neck. Once at the nape of your neck, he nibbles on your earlobe and whispers “You ready for me, sweetheart?” his breath is heavy in your ear.

You can’t nod fast enough in agreement.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he practically purrs the question.

You want nothing more than to be a good girl for Joel. You nod almost aggressively to make up for the fact that you’re unable to construct a single sentence right now.

He lets out a satisfied moan and drops his grip on your wrists, and drags his heavy hands down your body to the center of your jeans and undoes the button of your pants, and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of both your jeans and your panties and pulls them down in one fell swoop.

He dips down to place a delicate kiss to your tummy and lets the weight of his head rest on the softness of you. He inhales deeply, the aroma of your perfume comforts him, and he fights the urge to dip his face lower and bury himself in your pussy.

You drop both of your hands and grab his head, your fingers carding through his hair, and he groans.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” he says, not really questioning.

“I am being a good girl,” you respond back, not really sure what prompted his statement.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough the first time. When I put you in a position, I want you to stay there, until I say you can move. Got it?”

And holy fuck, bossy Joel turns you on.

You only hum in response.

“Need you to use your words, sweet girl. Answer me, or I’ll make you,” he says, voice low, his head closer to your center now, almost to exactly where you need him but not quite.

“Ye - ah, yes, fuck I understand,” sending all of your energy to string the words together.

He hums in acknowledgment and pushes your hands back up overhead, telling you to keep them there, and only to touch him when he says you can. When he releases your hands and sees that your arms stay put, he rasps out a “good girl.”

He then reaches down and notches his tip at your entrance, and drags the weight of his thick cock through your glistening folds.

“Mmmm so fuckin’ wet, this all for me?”

“All for you, J-oel,” you’re trembling, desperate to feel him deep inside you.

He pauses momentarily, only the tip of him inside you, and god, it’s such a tease.

You know it’ll sting, but you want him to just fucking bury every inch of himself inside of you. You don’t care about the pain; you crave the stretch of him.

“Joel – ah, need more,” you moan, “need all of you.”

“You sure, sweetheart? I ‘don wanna hurt you,” he says, once again concerned about you.

“Joel, I want you to fucking wreck me. Need you to move, please.”

After your plea, he obliges. You feel every inch of him, the way he throbs inside of you, and the tip of his head drags against the spongey spot inside of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to move in and out of you, he feels so fucking good, and you’re so perfectly full.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and gruff, still continuing to saw in and out of you. ‘’Want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And his words are like music to your fucking ears. He’s the perfect balance of gentleman and fucking filth.

He brings a hand down to circle your clit, and with the added sensation you’re not far off from your orgasm. You can feel it growing in your stomach with every circle of his thumb and every thrust of his cock. You open your mouth, your jaw slack, and you begin to moan.

“Fuck, baby – you shouldn’t open your mouth like that,” he moans.

“And – fuckkkk, why not?” You respond back, breathless from each of his thrusts.

“Just a reminder of another hole I need to use,” he responds, and then gruffly says “Open,” while pressing his thumb and index finger into your jaw, holding you in place.

You do as he says, and he spits into your mouth. Your eyes wide as saucers. It’s hot, dirty, filthy.

“Taste how perfect we are together, baby” he says, still pounding into you and circling your clit.

His words send you into fucking oblivion, and you’re gone. Your vision goes white, and despite his order to keep your eyes open, your eyes fall closed and he fucks you through your orgasm.

Your tight, slick walls pulse and squeeze around him. His hands squeeze your hips, his fingertips bruising your skin as he rocks your limp and shaky body against his cock, chasing his own orgasm.

Not long after you’ve come, he’s finishing too. He fucks into you at an erratic pace and then shoots his seed deep into your cunt.

“Fuckkk, baby” – he trails off, letting the final spurts of his cum paint your walls.

You let out a sigh, and once again drop your hands to his head, intertwining your hands with the hair behind his head.

You both lay there in your fucked out bliss and then he pulls out of you, taking a dribble of his cum with him, a glob of it landing on your thigh.

You’ve never felt so satisfied, to be laying there, content and full of Joel Miller.

He rolls over onto his side and puts his hand on his chest.

“Shit, baby. You’re perfect,” he says. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of you.”

You hum in delight and roll over onto his chest, melting into him.

“You in the mood for some cookies?” you ask, and he grins in response.

He hit the fucking lottery with you.

END

Tagging some Joel-lovers: @endlessthxxghts @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @joelmillersblog @joelsgreys @dins-riduur-anthe @joelmillers-whore @pedroswife69 @hearteyesforjoel

As always, feel free to let me know if do or don’t want to be tagged!xx

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal character #collaboration fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series

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itsbeeble · 5 months

Text

Gorgeous

SUMMARY: Minghao was the black sheep, though you'd never understood why. Maybe it's time you figure it out.

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst (MAJOR ANGST)

PAIRING: Xu Minghao x afab!reader

WC: 5.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

SERIES TAGLIST: @captain-brie @nobraincellmode

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: this is actually really dark, infidelity, rich people core, p in v sex, exhibitionism (yn gets fingered in the back of her car while on the phone), minghao is possessive, stalker themes, criminal, mentions of blood, reader gets injured, a lot goes on actually i've never written something like this el oh el

A/N: this was NOT supposed to end up like it did, but I decided on a whim to do this. Thank you to @sungbeam and @mosviqu for beta reading this (even if some of it was very last minute). I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did teehee

“Who is that?” You tilt your head, eyes trained in the direction of someone you’d never seen before at these functions. Your friend, Jang Gyuri, follows your eyes and kisses her teeth.

“Xu Minghao,” she brings her lips close to your ear so only you can hear her. No need for prying eyes and ears to hear what she has to say and spread unwanted rumors. “I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

“Why?”

Many people would have described you as innocent. You came from “new money” as they would call it. Your father practically struck gold when he decided in his early thirties to start a business. The company grew quickly, the products being released becoming popular all over South Korea and, eventually, internationally. You knew that you should pay more attention to his work, as you’d likely inherit it one day, but you can’t find it in you to care. With this recent rise to power, you’d been taking advantage of your seemingly neverending access to parties of all kinds. Galas, clubs, birthday parties for the spoiled brats that had been born into this life. You were a free spirit, never one to avoid cameras, and that made you dangerous in the eyes of many in this country. Gyuri told you that, though old money was never afraid of new money, new money had the power of intimidation.

She’d told you many names as examples: Wen Junhui, Choi Yeonjun, Lee Chan, Han Jisung, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Chwe Hansol. Though their families weren’t necessarily liked, they held status among the wealthy children for varying reasons— proving their worth being the main reason, intimidation being another.

Xu Minghao, however, was never a name you had heard in these recent months. Maybe there was a reason for that, you note when your eyes meet his lidded ones and he flashes you a lazy smirk. Your cheeks heat up, and you turn your gaze back to Gyuri. She’s giving you a dirty look, her painted red lips pursed and her eyebrows knit together.

“He’s bad news, Y/N,” she warns. “Seungcheol will tell you about it, and he’d want you to be careful around him.”

“Seungcheol,” your voice is laced with venom, “is in the bathroom with Seo Yookyung. I don’t think he cares what I do, so long as I don’t ruin his reputation.”

“That’s not exactly what I would call a healthy relationship.”

Both you and Gyuri flinch, startled by the interruption, and turn to scold whoever jumped into a private conversation.

You fall short, however, your mouth partially hanging open with shock and, honestly, awe.

From afar, you could tell that he was attractive but now that he’s up close? You feel like you could sink and drown in him. Long dark hair, thin and pointed face, scrutinizing eyes. He was intimidating to most, this you could tell. But to you?

He was the most gorgeous person you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on.

“Xu Minghao,” Gyuri’s tone is cold and she shuffles to stand just slightly in front of you, something both you and Minghao notice.

“Jang Gyuri,” Minghao mocks, sticking one of his hands into a pocket in his slacks.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know by now that you aren’t welcome?” Her words are sharp, and it almost scares you. Gyuri, despite her reputation for being cruel, had always been kind to you. She’d been a sort of mentor to you, teaching you the rights and wrongs in terms of “rich behavior”. She taught you the right people to associate with, and the wrong people to associate with. However, she had never once raised her voice or made you feel unwelcome. Quite unlike how she talks to Minghao.

“I go wherever I please, Jang Gyuri.” Minghao sighs, a puff of air that makes a few loose strands of hair flutter out of his face. Then his eyes return to you, scanning your body but not in a seductive manner. No, he’s curious. You can see it in his eyes, behind the cold front he puts up. “And…who might you be?”

“None of your business—”

“L/N Y/N—”

You and Gyuri speak at the same time, and you shut your mouth quickly when she shoots you another nasty look. Minghao, however, is amused. One side of his mouth quirks up in a mild show of this, the corners of his lips picking up.

“So, which is it?” He inquires. “None of your business or Y/N L/N? I’m not a betting man, but I’d wager that it’s the latter.”

You poorly stifle a laugh, covering it with a cough.

“What do you want?” Gyuri hisses out, tapping a heel on the marble floor impatiently. Minghao presses his lips together, loosely shrugging his shoulders.

“Just wanted to see if I could buy your lovely friend here a drink.”

“She’s taken.”

“She,” you finally interrupt Gyuri and place a hand on her collarbone to gently push her back. “Can speak for herself. And she will need a few more drinks to make it through the night.”

Gyuri sputters out an argument, trying to get you to stop, but Minghao grins down at you and offers his arm. You gladly take it, giving Gyuri one more warning look before you’re tugged away through the crowd.

“You’re new money.” Minghao leans against the counter next to you while you sit on one of the few open stools left. There’s a martini in front of you, one that’s barely been touched since you received it a few minutes ago.

“Is it that obvious?” You tilt your head and Minghao smiles, his head dipping down a bit.

“Not entirely,” he looks back up and shifts his weight. “Only if you know what to look for.”

“And what, exactly,” you lean toward him, resting your chin on the back of your hand, “are you looking for?”

His tongue runs over his lip, eyebrows furrowing in thought.

“You’re interesting, Y/N L/N.” Evading the question.

“Oh?” You finally bring your martini glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the alcoholic beverage. “Why is that, Xu Minghao?”

“You don’t…you don’t know who I am, do you?” Your lips quirk into a small smile.

“No, I don’t. Is it something important?”

For the first time since you’d begun talking to him, he falls quiet in a way that shows discomfort. Your smile drops, and you lean back on your stool.

“Minghao,” you start. “Is there something I should know?”

You see a muscle in his jaw feather, see his eyes dance around you to see who was around. One of your hands falls to your lap, playing with the expensive fabric of your dress. Now he’s avoiding your questions.

“I’m…” he huffs out a breath, tilting his head back and scoffing out a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to someone I just met, but…there’s something about you that I just can’t place.”

“I’ve been told that by many people.” Minghao shifts closer to you, his arm resting on the back of your chair.

“What else have they told you?”

“That I can be a bit…straightforward.” His other hand is on the counter, and your fingers dance just a bit closer to his, the tips brushing together slightly. “That when I get nervous, I either talk too much or not at all.”

“And…?” He leans his head down a bit.

“That you’re bad,” your voice lowers, your lips curling into a smirk. “That I should stay away from you.”

“And I take it you don’t listen to these people, do you?” Minghao asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s tension around you, something so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Not at all.”

“What would they do if I asked you to leave with me?” His fingers finally lace with yours and you hum, pretending to think.

“Seungcheol might not like that very much.”

Minghao scoffs. “You know damn well that he left a long time ago.”

“But still…” you sigh and shake your head. “Someone has to be loyal.”

A nod from the man in front of you, and a sly smile.

“I understand, and I won’t make you do anything.” He squeezes your hand once, and you feel him slide a piece of paper into your palm. He waits for your fingers to close around the paper before he pulls his hand away. “You’ll know where to find me when you change your mind and drop him. And, when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

When he leaves the building, you feel like you can finally breathe. Your shoulders relax, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You’re in the middle of trying to get your body under control when Gyuri stomps back over to you.

“What the hell were you thinking, talking to a man like him?” Her nails dig into your upper arm, scraping into your skin and causing you to suck in a sharp breath. “Are you stupid?”

“I don’t see what your problem is,” you sigh and finish off your martini before sliding off your barstool. Your feet are aching at this point, and you’re just itching to get out of this dress. “He isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

“Xu Minghao isn’t the man he’s seemed to convince you he is.” Gyuri warns you. “He’s a liar, just like his father is. He’ll hurt you, Y/N, and don’t come crying to me when he does. I’ll just tell you that I warned you and tried to stop you. I won’t help you if you get yourself tangled up with him.”

“It’s a good thing I won’t need your help then, isn’t it?” You retort, tearing your arm out of her grip and straightening your posture. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Gyuri, and I won’t let you or Seungcheol stop me anymore.”

“Gyuri tells me you’ve been talking to Xu Minghao.” Seungcheol looks at you in the mirror as he tightens the tie around his throat. You’re in the middle of sliding on another pair of uncomfortable shoes that will have your toes bleeding by the end of the night, and raise your gaze to look at him.

“I have. Only once, though.” Your eyes return to the ground to grab the second heel. For two weeks you had been talking to this…mystery man. You’d learned more about him every day, of his father’s scandals that would have left his family bankrupt had Minghao not come out and saved the company. You found it admirable but most chose to despise him, refusing partnerships and refusing to admit the good he’s done for his company and family as someone so young.

And, of course, you had only done this with a little bit of research and a quick phone call to the number he slipped into your hand. You’re sure Seungcheol knows this, knows that you’re too curious for your own good. This is something the two of you had argued about far too many times to count, and he’s since given up on trying to stop you.

“I’m sure that you’re aware of everything, then?”

“Aware of Minghao’s father or of your infidelity?” You rise to your feet, and Seungcheol freezes for just a moment before carrying on.

“Ah.”

“If you’re going to whore yourself out,” Your hand brushes against your boyfriend’s shoulder and you spin him around so you can tie the fabric around his neck. “At least do it where no one will see you.” Your lips are drawn into a tight smile and you rest your hand on his chest. “At least do it where no one will see you, my love.”

“I take it…” Seungcheol watches you walk away and listens to the clicking of your heels on the ground. “...that the engagement is off, then?”

“Correct.”

“What will you do?” You turn to look at the man you once tolerated, now finding him disgusting.

“I think that I’ll be just fine. I have an apartment, I have a family that loves me, and a thriving company that I need to learn to lead. You, however, should worry about your status once news of your actions hits the papers come Monday.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, his tongue digging into his cheek.

“I have a ride to the gala,” you make your way for the bedroom door, lips drawn into a thin line. “I will have someone collect my things tomorrow morning, so make sure everything is exactly as it is now because they will have a list and I will come for everything you have if your toy for the night has the gall to take my belongings again.”

Seungcheol looks at you for a long moment, watching you leave the room before choosing to follow you.

“And what of the deal your father made with my company?”

“Find someone else,” you shrug. “My father just wanted to make connections and you happened to give him the perfect opportunity to benefit both companies.”

“I could tell people, you know.” Seungcheol places his hand on the front door, stopping you from leaving. You turn to face him, your eyes narrowed. He doesn’t appear angry, yet he isn’t looking too pleased either. “That you had an affair. They would believe me. They would never believe someone like you.”

An easy smile passes over your lips, and you place a hand on his chest. “I don’t need them to believe me. Gyuri, on the other hand…” you kiss your teeth. “She can be quite the devil, no?”

“Gyuri trusts him?” Seungcheol asks and you can practically taste the disbelief.

“No, she doesn’t,” your lips draw into a thin line. “She does, however, trust me.”

A silent type of anger radiates off Seungcheol as you turn away from him again. This time, when the door shuts, he doesn’t follow you. You’re glad he doesn’t. It makes it much easier to steady your breathing and the shaking in your hands.

You arrive at the party alone this time. There is no Gyuri and no Seungcheol to protect you from the cameras, from the invasive questions, and the microphones shoved into your face. It startles you and before you can get one foot out of the door, your body freezes up. One of the guards your father hired yells something, and then there’s someone sliding into your car and pushing you back.

“Take a breath,” a soft, silky voice pushes through the yells outside the car. A hand cradles the back of your head, tangling in your long strands of hair, pulling you closer and tucking you into the crook of his neck. “Just breathe, love.”

Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it’s the freedom you now know you have, but suddenly you’re laughing and pulling away from Minghao. He looks just as stunning as the last time you saw him. Dark hair, narrowed eyes, lips drawn into a thin line. He’s wearing a suit similar to last time— all black, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone.

“Are you alright?” His hand comes to your cheek, letting you nestle into his gentle hold. “Talk to me, love. Are you alright?”

But you just keep laughing, and then you’re clutching at his collar and yanking him toward you for a furious kiss. He freezes against you, one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist. It takes him a moment to reciprocate, to get over the initial shock and sink into you. His lips move softly against yours, forcing you to calm down and actually breathe like he’d requested.

After a few moments, you pull away and lean your forehead against his.

“So that’s what this is about?” Minghao murmurs. “You just wanted my attention, is that it?”

“Not necessarily,” you pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you go very far. His hand is just around the curve of your waist, holding you near to him. “I have other reasons.”

“And what would they be?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach like a teenager in love.

“I like you, Xu Minghao.” God, you sound like one as well. “Very much.”

“I like you too, Y/N L/N.” Another kiss, this time tilting your head to reach the corner of your jaw. The car starts moving again, and Minghao calls out an address. His address, you assume.

“You’re gorgeous, Minghao,” He laughs against your skin, trailing his lips down your neck slowly. “It makes it hard, you know.”

“Makes what hard, my flower.”

“To focus. To talk to you. You make me so nervous, it’s infuriating.” Your breath hitches as he sucks gently at the skin above a vein. Your hand curls around his neck, tangling in his long strands of hair.

Minghao doesn’t respond, but you don’t mind. Not when he drags you into his lap, the fabric around your body now splayed across the backseat of your car. You can hear your phone ringing, but you ignore it until the sound disappears. You focus on Minghao, focus on the feel of his lips on your skin and his hands all over your body. You focus on swiping your tongue over his lip, on pressing forward until his back is digging into the door, the armrest uncomfortable against his spine but neither of you cares.

Your phone rings again and, this time, Minghao pulls away from you, tilting your chin up and handing you the slim device.

“It’s your father, I think.” His lips press against your jaw, and you exhale shakily. “Shouldn’t worry him too much.”

“Minghao—”

“Answer him.” His hand replaces his lips, giving your jaw a slight squeeze. “Or I will.”

The third ring comes, and you swallow hard. Minghao smiles, his lips curling up as he takes the phone from your hand and swipes on the green button.

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice is steady, and you can hear the exasperation. “What is this I’m hearing from Choi Seungcheol that the engagement is off?”

Minghao’s lips touch your neck again, his fingers sliding under the fabric of your gown to trace up your thigh. It takes all the power in your body to not gasp into the microphone, your eyes fluttering as he touches you.

“He— what did he say?” You briefly stumble over your words, trying desperately to keep a firm grip on your phone and nearly failing when Minghao’s hand dips past your lacy underwear. Two fingers prod at your core and your breath hitches. Your free hand drops down and grips Minghao’s wrist tightly. He shoots you a playful smirk, lips puffy from kissing you and from sucking at your neck. You let him go.

“That you’ve left him. That you had an affair with…” you hear shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a loud sigh. “Xu Minghao?”

“That would be a lie, father.” You inform the older man, and Minghao’s fingers sink deep into you. It’s a wonder you haven’t moaned into your phone yet but with the way his skillful hand pumps in and out of you, soon you very well might. His thumb pushes at your clit, and you let your head drop into his neck, begging silently for him to have mercy on your poor mind and body.

“Is that so?”

“Seungcheol had an affair. Well, several affairs. Minghao simply helped me realize that I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks as a little whimper almost makes its way out of your mouth. Minghao leans his head against yours and you can feel his cheeks stretching into a smile as he continues to drag his fingers in and out of your sopping-wet walls. He scissors them a bit, and then you feel a third sink into you. Your legs begin to shake and try to close, and with his free hand Minghao grabs onto one of your thighs to hold them open. “—wouldn’t be happy if I stayed with him.”

You hope that the shaking in your voice can pass as upset tears.

“I don’t— It doesn’t matter if you end up happy. I want what’s best for you and the business. Marrying Seungcheol would have balanced this.”

“Marrying Seungcheol would lead to a miserable life and the downfall of two companies.” You snap back, and you hear Minghao beginning to whisper praises into your ear. With red cheeks and a swelling heart, your hips begin to roll down on his fingers. “Minghao, at least, will keep me happy and will benefit both companies in many ways.”

Silence on your father’s end, and a knot begins to form in your stomach.

“Don’t cum yet, flower.” Minghao murmurs, licking at the skin under your ear. “Wait until he hangs up.”

I can’t. You want to scream. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his thumb against your clit. It’s all becoming too much for you. It’s incredible you’re able to keep yourself together while on the phone.

“Is this what you really want?” Your father asks, and your whole body shudders against Minghao.

“It— it is.” You gasp. Another pregnant pause. Fuck, it’s like your father wants you to suffer.

“Have him come by my office tomorrow for lunch. We’ll all talk then.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before he’s hanging up the phone and the car is rolling to a stop. Minghao rips his fingers out of you, effectively ruining the high you’d been approaching.

“You’re— you’re horrible.” You whine, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“You love it, though.” He grins and slides you off his lap so he can get the door. Your body feels like jelly, your mind in a haze. You hardly notice Minghao tugging you by the hand, guiding you out of the car and to the front door of a beautiful house— so beautiful that it nearly takes your breath away.

Minghao’s arm is placed delicately on the small of your back, and you let him guide you into the house and up a grand marble staircase. You can’t begin to express the awe you feel. You can’t help the giddy feeling in your bones when you reach the top of the staircase and Minghao takes your hand. It appears, however, that he is feeling just about the same as you when he smiles so wide that you fear his lips would become stuck like that, and he drags you quickly toward a bedroom.

You let him press you down on the bed and let him kiss his way from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, and begin to peel the straps of your gown down your body so he can expose more and more skin. You feel like you’re burning up, feel like your body is being set ablaze wherever he touches your body. The zipper along the side of the dress is tugged town, and you raise your hips so Minghao can peel it down the rest of the way and throw the fabric somewhere across the room.

“I should be mad at you for that,” you say to him, although you relish in the feeling of his lips trailing down the valley of your breasts. “That dress was a very expensive gift.”

“Oh?” Minghao’s voice is muffled, and he tugs your panties down your legs as he speaks. “From who?”

You watch as he begins to rid himself of his clothing, watch as he reveals every gorgeous inch of his skin to you.

“Seungcheol.” His gaze hardens when he sees you smirk.

“Then I should burn it, I think. Replace it with something newer, prettier, pricier.” He hovers his body over yours, lacing the fingers of one hand through your own and using his free hand to align himself with you. A pleased sigh is emitted from your lips as he sinks in, back arching as he begins to stretch you out.

“Is that so?” You breathe out. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer until you can kiss him.

“Mmm.” Minghao hums against you, beginning to roll his hips slowly into yours. “I should burn everything that he has ever given you, I think.”

You can barely respond, your voice seemingly broken and replaced by gasps for air as he begins to thrust into you harder and faster and you can’t seem to get control of your body. He doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t care that you can only roll your hips into his, can only bite into his skin, and leave dark marks that he won’t be able to hide (not that he would want to). Knowing that you’re enjoying this, fucked too dumb to speak even though he’d only been inside of you for barely a few minutes, it’s all enough for him. It’s more than enough.

“What would he say if he saw us like this?” Minghao continues, his hands sliding down your legs and gently pushing them farther apart. “Hm? Would he stop me? Would he try to fight for you?”

You try to tell him he wouldn’t, but all that comes out of you is helpless babbles.

“I would,” he hisses, and the knot in your stomach returns. It builds and builds, growing tighter and tighter with each passing moment. “He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve to touch you, to feel you.”

“And—” you finally manage to choke out a few words. “And what— what m-makes you—oh god, Minghao please— think that— that you do?”

“You already know why, my flower.” Minghao’s hips are slapping against yours at a pace— at a furosity— that you can’t keep up with, “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

The knot in your stomach snaps, your walls fluttering around him but he’s relentless. He pounds into you as your body convulses underneath him, your pathetic whines and moans turning into desperate wails.

“I’m better than him in every way,” Minghao grits out, desperately fighting off his own orgasm. “Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you? How long I’ve wanted to take you from him? You have no idea how hard it was to not take you into the bathroom that night and fuck you the way you deserved. I wanted so badly for you to be mine.”

Overstimulation begins to wash over you, becoming a pleasurable sting that you don’t want to go away. His cock twitches inside of you and his breathing becomes heavier. You can see him trying to say something more, but all that comes out of him is a heavy groan, and then his hips are stuttering against yours. Warm cum spills into you, mixing with your own, and spilling out onto the sheets beneath you. Your legs thrash in Minghao’s grip, but he pins you down as his hips slow. His hair is messy, his forehead tinged with sweat. You can see his mouth hanging open a bit, heavy breaths rolling out of him.

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

The sentence replays over and over in your mind amidst the scattered post-sex thoughts.

How long I’ve wanted to take you from him?

Minghao rolls to the side, laying beside you on his large bed.

He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him.

It was pure silence. A silence that allowed for clear thoughts.

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

The drive to your father’s company the next day is…quiet to say the least. There’s an air of discomfort around the two of you and you’re unsure of whether it’s due to him having to meet your father or the conversation that will follow. Minghao, much like the night the two of you met and you’d asked about why everyone seemed to disapprove of him, was tense. His hands were set on his knees, squeezing tightly to the point of his knuckles turning white. His head is turned away from you, keeping his gaze on the city as you drive. It makes you nervous. Had you done something wrong? Was he regretting everything?

You swallow hard, mimicking his position and turning to look out the window.

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

There had been something so off about the way he said that. You still couldn’t quite figure out what it was, and it had your stomach churning uncomfortably.

The feeling only worsens when you pull up in front of your father’s building and Gyuri is standing with Seungcheol. Both look upset, standing straight with their arms folded behind their backs.

“What is this?” Minghao murmurs, thanking the driver quietly when his door opens. You slide out behind him, taking his hand in your own as he helps you stand.

“I’m…I’m not sure what this is.” You admit, your eyebrows knitting together as Gyuri approaches you. “Gyuri, what’s happening?”

“You need to come with me,” she tugs at your arm, attempting to pull you away from your new lover.

“What?” Your hand tightens in Minghao’s, your feet gluing into place. “What— what are you talking about? Gyuri, what’s going on? What is Seungcheol doing here?”

“Y/N,” Seungcheol steps toward you, but Minghao is faster and pushes you behind him. Your hand dislodges from his, and you yelp as Gyuri practically rips you away from him. Your knees hit the ground, skin scraping against pavement. The door of the company building practically flies open, a few police officers filing out with your father taking up the rear.

“Father?” Your throat is closing up, too many emotions pulsing through your body.

“What is this?” Minghao is yelling. People are stopping on the streets to stare. Gyuri and Seungcheol pull you to your fight, and you don’t think you have the strength to stop them. “Y/N, WHAT IS THIS?”

For a moment, you’re afraid. He lunges for you, and two officers grab at him. He looks rabid, his eyes crazed and teeth bared like some animal as he yells and screams and kicks against the people holding him. Your father approaches you, relief replacing the typical stone-cold gaze he gives you.

“What’s happening?” You’re sobbing now, blood washing down your legs. Gyuri is crying with you, and Seungcheol’s hands are shaking.

“Are you alright?” Your father asks. “Did he do anything to you?”

“I— what—” you can’t breathe.

“Xu Minghao,” an officer speaks over the commotion. “You are under arrest for the crimes of criminal harassment, assault and battery, and extortion. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney—”

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME—” Minghao’s hand flies out, nearly clipping the officer in the jaw as he finishes speaking.

He yells obscenities, yells for you, at you, at the people around him. He curses wildly, using every name under the sun, threatens death upon everyone.

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

“I’m sorry.”

Gyuri is sitting on the chair beside you as you get your knees treated. You stare blankly ahead of you, and she turns her head to Seungcheol, silently pleading for help.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, “do you understand what’s happening?”

No response.

“Minghao…we told you he was not the man you thought he was. You fell too hard, too fast, didn’t give us time to tell you everything.”

Silence. Gyuri starts talking again, not knowing if you heard anything they were saying.

“He’s…he was planning on using you, Y/N. Using you to get…to get your father’s company, just like he did with his own father. It…it was all fake. Everything you learned about him, everything we all thought we knew about him…it was all lies. It was in the small details.”

People always said you were innocent. People always called you naive. You trusted too easily, loved even easier. It made it easy to use you, to take everything you had and throw you to the side. Some people of new money were able to gain the respect of those of old money, but you?

No one would ever respect you.

Not after you fell for the gorgeous man, fell for his gorgeous lies and fantasies.

Thinking about him here in this hospital room…

Something about it makes you want to sink and drown and die. Maybe that would be easier.

“Can… can I leave?” you look up at Seungcheol, tears welling in your eyes. He looks heartbroken. “I want— I want to leave, Seungcheol. Can we leave?”

Heartbroken. That’s the look in his eye that you couldn’t recognize last night. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t the realization that he had lost you.

“We can go. It’s over now.”

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suga-kookiemonster · 1 year

Text

satisfy 05

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 15.9k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ 😇😇😇😇 *chin hands sweetly* STRAP IN, FOLKS!!: GANGBANG. this chapter will include three brothers having sex with the reader at the same time (but not with each other). if this bothers you, please feel free to skip!, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (f+m giving/receiving), fingering, face fucking, exhibitionism, voyuerism, da booty getting ate like groceries, assplay, name calling, daddy kink, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, marking, spitroasting, cumplay, bukakke 😭, honestly this is a hot ass MESS and i should be sorry but i’m not 🤷🏽‍♀️ a/n⇢ well, hello~ long time no see!!!! i'm super pumped about this chapter because it has literally been in the works since i planned this whole fic out years ago 😭 a lot of planning and struggling later, and WE FINALLY HERE 🙌🏾 🙌🏾 i am so relieved that this finally exists in the world and not just in my head lmao. thank you all for hanging with me for this long and being so patient. i hope this chapter lives up to your expectations 😈 only the epilogue left! 😮‍💨👀 mood for this chapter is this song~ hope everyone enjoys!

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Days quickly morphed into weeks, time continuing to flow even without you consciously noticing it pass you by. You were just so busy, both your schoolwork and your unconventional part-time job a whirlwind of activity that left you too preoccupied to do much else. Your already scant social life was starting to suffer, but honestly? You were completely fine with that—a neverending schedule of sex, sleep, and studying was more than enough, and it was highly unlikely you would be able to fit anything else onto your overflowing plate anyway.

It was expected for you to not have that much free time, anyway. Jimin’s was waning too, as the further the two of you got into your studies, the busier you both became. You still texted often to make sure each other was alive, but with your differing schedules, the new normal became not getting to see him in person for weeks on end.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t losing steam. Burning the candle at both ends was finally starting to catch up with you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it other than focusing on powering through it. This was the career path you chose—your dream—and so you simply just had to bear everything that came along with it. You were willing to put the work in to reach your goals, and you just kept reminding yourself that how you were living now was just a means to an end.

Not that you at all only found the Kims to be a means to an end. Yes, they were paying your way through school, but you still really enjoyed the time you spent with each of them. They were all great company in different ways, and at this point, the only time you were freed from the library’s clutches was when one of them wanted to take you somewhere, so you found them to be more of a welcome distraction than anything else.

Unfortunately, that still didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, you were bone tired.

You had always been good at compartmentalizing. But though you tried your best to not let your slowly-building fatigue show, even your new employers could tell that you were being ran a bit ragged. Namjoon came to pick you up for a date one day, and all it took was one long look at you while you were trying to buckle your seatbelt for him to put the car in park and hustle you back upstairs instead, despite your protests. You thought that maybe he decided to forgo your movie plans for much more carnal activities, but once you were back inside your apartment, he sprawled himself onto your couch and reached for you. You were confused, but when you reflexively took his hand, he simply pulled you down with him and easily folded you into his body.

God, he smelled good. And was comfortable and warm, so it didn’t take long for you to nod off, despite only being fifteen minutes into whatever Netflix movie he had put on. Namjoon spent his scheduled date letting you snore into his chest, and when you woke up hours later, groggy and discombobulated, you found him already gone and a blanket thrown over you.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he must have said something to his brothers. The next day, seemingly out of the blue, you got an email notification that Wendy, Seokjin’s assistant, had canceled an upcoming work lunch that had been on the calendar for weeks. (You highly doubted the lunch itself was canceled—just that Jin had decided to go alone.) And you were so used to Taehyung’s frequent visits that when he didn’t stop by for four days in a row, it became blatantly obvious that something was amiss.

They were giving you space.

But if you were honest, though you appreciated the sudden breathing room in your schedule, all of them suddenly pulling out of the arrangement was making you uneasy. This was a job, after all, and you weren’t fully holding up your end of the bargain. Hell, the week before had been your period, so you hadn’t slept with any of them then, either. And, considering the fact that all three Kims were set to go on an overseas business trip soon, the amount of leave you were inadvertently taking was quickly adding up.

You needed this money. You needed this money, this was not what they agreed to, and you were nervous you were starting to frustrate them.

To their credit, none of them ever seemed to be. Early on, when your period made its first appearance as the perpetual wrench in your plans, Seokjin had casually informed you that he was totally fine with just putting a towel down. However, when he saw you weren’t nearly as enthused with the idea, he simply gave you an easy shrug and said, “Then take whatever time you need.” His brothers had been equally as accommodating, and have been ever since (though Taehyung sometimes still liked to playfully pout at you when you told him Aunt Flo was in town).

But the fact was, you ultimately weren’t holding up your end of the bargain, and that knowledge was constantly hovering in the back of your mind and making you a bit anxious. That was why, days before he was scheduled to leave for his three week business trip, you took initiative and asked Taehyung if he wanted to come over.

Both Seokjin and Namjoon had already graciously canceled their standing appointments with you for the second week in a row, but Taehyung had never had a standing appointment. He was always much more spontaneous than his brothers, and that personality trait was no different when it came to you, so that’s what you were counting on.

[1:32] Hey! Did you want to come over tomorrow? [1:32] Or later today, I guess

Despite it being so late, Tae apparently hadn’t gone to bed yet. He was a bit of a night owl, like you.

Taehyung [1:34] Well hello~ Taehyung [1:34] So nice to hear from you, sweetcheeks. How’s it been going? [1:35] Sweetcheeks, Taehyung? Really? Taehyung [1:35] What? They’ve always looked pretty sweet to me 😌👀

You scoffed, amused and fond. Always an incorrigible flirt, that one.

[1:35] Yeah, okay lol [1:36] So if they’re so sweet, what are you gonna do about it?

A pause, one slightly too long for someone whose phone was in their hand and had been actively responding to you only moments before. You knew you had him even before his reply finally came through.

Taehyung [1:37] What time?

The next day, you focused on getting as much of your work done as you could before the hard stop of when you knew you had to start getting ready. You took a long shower, letting the hot water relax your stiff muscles before carefully maneuvering into the lingerie that was still prettily packaged in the bag from the boutique you got it from, untouched on the floor of your closet since you bought it.

You hadn’t seen him a while, so it only made sense to you to make things a little more exciting than usual. Spice it up. Honestly, sex with Taehyung was always anything with boring, but the thigh-highs you slipped into were just as much for you as him. You had been so focused on your studies that you couldn’t remember the last time you wore anything other than court-approved suits, sweatpants, or pajamas. It would be nice to feel something other than just tired again. To feel desired. Sexy.

And even you could admit the outfit you had chosen was sexy. A crimson, lacy bodysuit thing that did little to obscure the dusk of your nipples and disappeared between your asscheeks. The matching thigh-highs, joined with garters. You even had a pair of heels that you planned to wear—ones that made your legs look a mile long, but hurt like a bitch every time you attempted to wear them out. Despite their shortcomings, you were willing to slip on the deathtraps because luckily, for this particular occasion, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere in them, nor would they stay on you for very long.

You were even planning on putting on a little makeup, on properly doing your hair for the first time in weeks and giving the bun you had been sporting a rest. However, all it took was a knock on your door to put an end to all those extras.

You frowned at the sound and padded over to your front door, happy you had already thrown on one of your law school hoodies to keep yourself warm until the festivities properly started. The sight of a familiar man through the peephole, hands resting comfortably in his slacks, threw you off.

Automatically, your hands were disengaging all the locks, were swinging the door open. “You’re early—”

Whatever words you had next immediately dissipated on your tongue. Taehyung was there, but he apparently came with company. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason for why all three Kim brothers were at your doorstep right now.

“Your hair,” you blurted, your scrambled brain latching onto the easiest subject first.

“Hmm?” Taehyung ruffled his newly dyed locks, the onyx hue a stark difference from the silver you were used to. “Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you all week. My dad wanted me to dye it to a more ‘appropriate’ color before the conference. But whatever—it was time for a change, anyway. And this will be much easier to upkeep.”

You could only continue to stare at him as he spoke, your eyes naturally drifting over his shoulder at your additional visitors.

All three of them were dressed pretty casually, which was normal for Taehyung and Namjoon, but less so for Seokjin when not in the comfort of his own home. The soft pink of his sweatsuit was a stark contrast to the sharp intelligence of his eyes, and he met your gaze for only a few seconds before he was turning to meet Namjoon’s instead, a pinch in his brow.

Taehyung spoke again before either of them could say anything. “You gonna keep us out here?” he teased, casually leaning against the doorframe.

That finally jumpstarted you out of your haze, scrambling to move out of the way and gesture them inside. “Yes, of course. Come in!” Before your nosy neighbor caught them and assumed you were slutting it up.

(She would technically be right, but still. It was the principle. Your life was none of that judgy old shrew’s business.)

Tae strolled in like he always did—like he owned the place—but you noticed his brothers’ strides seemed a bit more hesitant than the confidence you were usually witness to. Namjoon’s mouth was slightly pursed in the way you’d long learned meant he was thinking. Why did they seem as confused as you did?

“Hi,” you hedged anyway, a small, puzzled smile on your lips. “It’s been a while. Sorry if I’m acting weird—I just wasn’t expecting you, so I’m a little thrown off.”

Understanding immediately crossed Seokjin’s features, but you only got a second to see it before he was whipping towards his youngest brother, appalled.

Namjoon was looking at him too, clearly irritated. “Are you serious, Taehyung?”

“What?” you asked, gaze flitting between the three of them in hope of finding some sort of clarity.

“You never asked her?” Seokjin snapped.

“You know that’s not cool, man,” Namjoon sighed, an agitated hand running though blond locks.

Why were they standing in your hallway and having whole conversations in front of you like you weren’t even there? “Never asked me what?” you cut in bemusedly, a little louder than you intended. It worked, at least, all three men immediately turning back to you.

Taehyung, for his part, looked properly contrite, cringing a little at the exasperation in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he told the room before placing his attention solidly back on you. His eyes were soft and sincere. “It truly slipped my mind, and I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t think.”

“When do you ever?” Seokjin snarked, but you ignored him, focused solely on Taehyung.

“What, Tae?” you encouraged gently. “What are you sorry for?”

It was clear from the hunch of his shoulders that he felt bad. “Um…”

“He invited us to come with him to meet you today,” Namjoon supplied. He gave his little brother a disappointed shake of his head. “But that’s not a decision for him to make. Is it, Tae.”

“I just knew that none of us have seen her in a while,” Tae whined. “And _____, when you reached out yesterday, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity since we’re about to leave the country for a few weeks.”

“I should have known better,” Seokjin muttered below his breath, looking heavenward in his annoyance. “I’m really sorry about this, _____. You never marked group activities as a no and I assumed Taehyung actually asked you like an adult, so I thought you were on board. I can leave.”

You blinked, still trying to grasp what was going on. “You were…trying to share your time?” you asked Taehyung slowly.

He nodded meekly. “I don’t mind sharing,” came his honest answer.

“But does she,” Seokjin scoffed, rubbing his temples in irritation. “That’s the only thing that matters. And to think otherwise is just selfish, Taehyung.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The words left your lips before your brain could even register them, likely spurred on by how the increasingly chastened expression on Taehyung’s face. The three of them looked at you in surprise.

“It’s okay?” Namjoon parroted, an eyebrow raised in question.

You swallowed, mind racing to actually consider the consequences of what your mouth had just offered. But your nod of confirmation came almost immediately, because you knew Taehyung had never been trying to trap you. One of the qualities that simply made him him was his spontaneity, and while that made him fun and interesting to be around, it also was a double-edged sword that could easily make you end up in situations like this.

Tae knew none of them had seen you in a while, he knew they were soon going to jet out of the country, and had simply been trying to be nice in inviting his brothers along. He didn’t mean any harm.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, giving him a reassuring smile that visibly loosened some of the tension in his body. “You can all stay.”

The words settled between the four of you, heavy in the resulting quiet. Teeming with implication. You still weren’t completely sure what you were agreeing to, but what you did know was that you were going to need something to help stave off the nerves slowly bubbling beneath your skin. You cleared your throat, turning to make your way to the kitchen. “I think I need a drink.”

You didn’t glance back at them, but you could still feel them trailing you. Feel the heat of their gaze, and even the distinct heat of a body against your back, only a whisper away. Instead, you busied yourself with rooting around in your pantry and pulling out a handle of tequila.

“This for me?” hummed a familiar velvety voice, close enough for you to easily deduce who had invited himself into your space so intimately. Taehyung.

You looked over your shoulder at him, immediately frozen with what you saw. His eyes were blatantly trailing your figure, undeterred by the obstacle of your sweatshirt and easily roving your stockinged legs and feet. A dangerous smirk crawled across his face that had a delighted shiver racing down your spine in anticipation. “What?” came your stupefied reply.

“This.” His gaze lingered on your toes, but quickly rose so he could playfully flick the zipper of your sweatshirt. “Whatever you’ve got on under there. Is it for me?”

Heat licked between your thighs at his deceptively light tone. At the way he was looking at you. “No,” you sniffed. Not wanting to give in just yet. “Just something I wear around the house.”

“Well, it’s nice,” came another voice, and you were instantly reminded of your other guests. Namjoon was leaning against an adjacent counter, eyes dark. “You never wear stuff like this for me—Taehyung must be your favorite.”

Startled despite his teasing tone, your hands flew up in protest. “N-No, it’s not that—”

“Of course I’m the favorite,” Tae sassed, throwing you a wink. “It’s okay to admit it, _____. We all know!”

There was an almost immediate snort from behind you. Technically quiet enough to go unnoticed, but full of just enough derision that Taehyung’s proverbial hackles raised at the very sound of it. His head whipped to the source.

Jin looked deceptively bored, meeting his youngest brother’s glower with a flat stare. A single lifted eyebrow said everything his mouth deigned not worth the effort. What?

Tae scowled at his brother’s obvious disdain, but then, after a few moments, he simply shot an exhale from his nose and shook his head. “You’re clearly goading me,” he chuckled. “But you know what? It’s not gonna work this time. If you’re gonna be a jackass, you can just go.”

“I think you’re vastly overestimating your importance in this situation,” Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But what else is new.”

“Guys,” Namjoon sighed, holding up pacifying hands in an attempt to ward off the rising tension.

You observed the whole exchange silently, still too off-kilter from the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in to do much more than look from brother to brother as if you were watching a tennis match.

This was only the second time the four of you had all been in the same room—with the first being your original meeting discussing the contract. Well, technically third, if you counted that party Taehyung took you to so many months ago—the one that rerouted your life onto this much more interesting path. But the three of them hadn’t really mingled then, so you had been left to speculate their group dynamic.

Now, though, you were starting to suspect your inklings were true.

Seokjin, the oldest, with lots of responsibility and expectations always set on him. Taehyung, the spoiled youngest who grew up without any of the same restraints, but also without any of the same parental attention. And Namjoon, the calm, stereotypical middle child, the glue who held it all together. The forced peacemaker who made sure that any of his brothers’ unspoken resentment for each other never got too far out of line.

“The only person who can tell me to leave is _____,” Seokjin continued, the sound of your name immediately throwing you out of your thoughts. You straightened, unprepared to suddenly find yourself locking eyes with him and surprised at the intensity you found there. “And is that what you want, _____? Do you want me to leave?”

“No, of course not,” you blurted. You didn’t miss the smug look Jin threw his brother, nor the way Tae’s lips pursed in irritation, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care about any of that right now. With a steadying breath, you focused instead on shuffling over to another cabinet and pulling out a glass.

It was starting to hit you. You weren’t sure what in the hell was going on, what exactly it was you agreed to, but whatever it was, you now had all three of your lovers in your apartment at the same time. Respectful of you and your space, but still obviously ogling you—ravenous predators slowly and eagerly circling their next meal.

It all made your skin prickle in anticipation, the thrill of the unknown buzzing in your veins.

“Choo choo,” you muttered to yourself sarcastically, pouring a healthy amount of tequila into your cup.

Namjoon raised a brow. “What?”

“What?” you parroted immediately, startled that he had heard you.

“I just…nevermind, I thought you said something.”

“Oh. Uh, I was just wondering if any of you wanted any.”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll take some,” Tae piped up brightly, moving into your space before you could blink. Body a breath away as he reached over to you to pull his own cup from the cabinet. You froze at his proximity, unable to look away as he smirked down at you. “Choo choo,” he murmured with a wink.

Before you could react with anything more than a sharp gasp, he was pulling away again, reaching for the tequila bottle.

Jesus.

With a slightly unsteady hand, heart pumping furiously in your chest, you welcomed the burning liquid down your throat, sticking your cup out for Tae to pour you more once it was empty.

“So how have you all been?” you babbled, tone a little too high and strained to be casual. “It’s been so long, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Or that you’d made other arrangements or something. I don’t think I’ve ever been paid to be stood up before, that’s kind of embarrassing—” A hand, warm and gentle, rested on your arm, and immediately, all coherent thought escaped your electrified body.

It was Seokjin, slowly rubbing what he likely thought were calming assurances, but only amping you up more. “She rambles when she’s nervous,” he informed his brothers, the small smile on his lips betraying his endearment.

“Aw, don’t be nervous, babe. I’ll take good care of you,” Taehyung cooed, effortlessly draining his glass and motioning towards yours. “Want another one?”

No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. The last thing you needed was something that could lower your gag reflex even more. Vomming all over them would certainly make for an interesting going away gift, but then they would most certainly ghost you for real.

You shook your head of the negative thoughts, timidly swiping a tongue over your suddenly very dry lips. “So how exactly is this going to work?”

“The way it’s always worked,” Tae reassured you with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just you and me. The only difference is that they’re here too—but you don’t have to worry about that. I told them they could only watch.”

It took you a few moments to process that, your eyes silently roving over each of them and finding them all watching you right back. Ready, but waiting.

Look, don’t touch. Another interesting twist to a night that was already looking to be interesting.

“Is that okay?” Seokjin asked, clearly intending to follow your lead. Leaving the ball in your court. And another glance at the other two showed they obviously shared their older brother’s sentiments.

A memory flickered teasingly in the corner of your mind—the trepidation of being fucked in front of a window where anyone could see. The undeniable thrill that followed the thought of being watched.

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you finally replied. “If…you want to.”

“Do you want us to?” Namjoon pressed sternly, refusing to let go of your gaze. Communication, he always insisted. Solid consent, or no consent at all. Yes or no.

All three stared at you. You shifted under their attention, a bit out of your element, but ultimately sure. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Okay,” Namjoon simply replied with an approving nod. With a pleased smile that brought forth dimpled cheeks. But then he shifted towards you more, and the slight change in his stance seemed to completely change his demeanor. His intention. “What’s your safeword?”

You knew he knew it; knew he knew you did as well. The two of you had been together enough times for a rhythm to between you to form, so this repeating of superfluous information was likely solely for his brothers’ benefits.

“Cinnamon.”

“And if you can’t say it?”

“Tap you 3 times.”

“Good.”

“Safeword?” Taehyung chuckled incredulously, eyes a little wide in surprise. “Well shit.”

“Yeah, and I know how to use it too, if you get out of line,” you teased, but your mind was already elsewhere. It didn’t matter that Tae was the one who would be actively playing with you today—you had spent enough time with Namjoon that you had apparently been conditioned. The blond had asked you your safeword, you repeated it to him, and so the scene had officially started. All of your previous unease ebbed away as you couldn’t help but focus instead on what you were all here for.

Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter and moved to exit the kitchen, brushing against Taehyung on your way out and shooting a pointed look at him over your shoulder. “You ready?”

“Baby, you know I’m always ready,” he purred, jolted into action and eagerly trailing down the hallway after you. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”

You didn’t bother to turn to see if the others were following you. You knew they were, their very presence somehow making the hallway feel like it was shrinking, overstuffed. Still, you tried not to let that unnerve you, continuing on with purpose until you made it to your destination and were hovering awkwardly next to your bed.

They all filed into the room, one by one, and you bit your lip, fully out of your element. Three handsome men had allowed you to lure them here, but now that they were? You had no idea what your next move was supposed to be.

Luckily for you, Tae was more than happy to take initiative, immediately slinking up to your side and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The gesture was so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but snort, and he simply grinned, pleased with himself for lessening your nerves, even if only a little. He reached for you without a second thought and you let him, eager to fall into more familiar territory.

Taehyung’s large hands smoothed over your hips, your ass with clear familiarity. A finger curled under the top of your thigh highs, lightly snapping the elastic against your skin. “You really did this is for me, huh?”

The dark look in his eye had the breath catching in your throat. “Shut up,” you scoffed unconvincingly.

He tsked, the wicked curl of his lips ruining any illusion of disappointment. “You know I like it when you’re mean to me.”

You could only blink in response. You hadn’t known that. Was he serious? Was this another level to his subjugation, or was he just pulling your leg?

Before your brain had the opportunity to come up with a proper retort, Tae was reaching out a finger to tap the zipper of your sweatshirt, gaze focused on its slow, teasing sway. “So.”

Your brow lifted, an unspoken prompting.

The swinging zipper almost slowed to a stop, and when he reached out this time, it was to lightly run his thumb over the metal, to slowly roll it between his fingers. You swallowed, the anticipation of what you knew to be coming only adding to the charged silence between you. Distractedly, the tip of his tongue swiped across his lips, drawing your gaze. “You invited me to play,” he finally continued, voice honeyed amber. Crushed velvet.

As if he hadn’t been playing with you from the moment he entered your apartment. You tilted your head anyway—an invitation and a challenge. “Then let’s play.”

A small smile touched his lips, clearly pleased that his teasing invoked yours. But he didn’t say anything else, his response simply to finally guide the zipper down its track. Leisurely, unwrapping you like a present and delighting in the underneath.

And you had technically dressed yourself to be one, so you let him. Let him take his time so he could fully appreciate the swell of your breasts, the purposeful, flirty peek of your nipples through the scarlet lace. You wished you had had the time to properly do your hair and makeup and slip on the heels you had set aside just for the occasion so he could get your full intended effect, but your less than perfect appearance didn’t seem to dissuade Taehyung at all. No, he simply slid his hands under the fabric when he finally got impatient enough—fingers light and palms warm—and pushed the sweatshirt off your shoulders with eyes that were all pupil. His hungry gaze carefully roved your form, a lingering path from head to toe that made your skin tingle in its wake.

His lips parted, tongue giving them another distracted swipe, and then he finally moved again, making his way to your dresser. Now that his broad form wasn’t blocking your view of the rest of the room, you were quickly reminded of the room’s other occupants. Seokjin and Namjoon still hovered near the doorway, quiet, but obviously also drinking in the sight of you now that they could see you properly. Your breath caught, not used to having so much obvious desire directed at you, the air so thick with it you could practically taste it, heady and syrupy.

A light scraping sound regained your attention, and when you turned your head, you realized Taehyung had pulled open a particular drawer—one that he had quickly became familiar with since the start of your arrangement. He pulled out the lube he was looking for, but was much more interested in something else in there, if the mischievous look on his face was any indicator. “What’s this?” he asked, mouth a delighted box, and before you could chastise him about going through your things without permission, he was already pulling out your wand vibrator. “You got a new toy?”

“It’s not new,” you huffed, slightly embarrassed despite everything. “I just usually keep it in the shower.”

You saw his Adam’s apple dip at that information. Saw the wheels turning behind his eyes before he was quickly shutting the drawer and headed towards the bed with his loot in hand. He sat on the edge and eagerly motioned for you to follow.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at the vibrator he had neglected to put away, but Taehyung just reached for your hand and gently pulled you towards him until you were close enough for him to properly guide onto his lap. “Don’t be like that,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath against the skin inciting a shiver to run through you. “Gotta prep you for the show.”

Ah yes, the show. He had faced you away from him, so now it was impossible for you to forget your captive audience. At some point, Seokjin had pulled your office chair away from your desk, and now he was lounging across the room, in direct view of the bed. His legs were comfortably spread, almost as if it was an open invitation for you to crawl onto his lap instead. Namjoon, on the other hand, was casually leaning against the desk, arms crossed. Eyes dark.

Lips trailed up your neck, quickly regaining your attention. Taehyung pressed slow kisses into the sensitive skin, humming contentedly when you tilted your head to give him better access. His hands dragged up and down your stockinged legs, his exploration only pausing to playfully snap the garter at your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, heat thrumming through your veins at the action. You felt him smirk, and then he was tactfully lifting your legs by the knees and hooking them around his own one by one. Easily spreading your thighs by widening his own.

Easily revealing to your unsuspecting employers that your lingerie was crotchless.

The sudden display of your pussy had an immediate effect on the room, though no one said a word. The air was so charged with crackling energy that you shivered, almost breaking out in goosebumps at the onslaught of blatant desire. This close, it was quite easy for you to hear how Tae’s breath hitched, quite easy to interpret the excitement of his fingers, still compulsively tracing over the pattern of your stockings like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Inexplicably, you still found yourself feeling a bit shy at the salacious attention you intentionally brought upon yourself, gaze darting to the floor for a few seconds before you finally chanced a look at the other two from beneath your lashes. Seokjin was busy unabashedly staring at your spread pussy, Adam’s apple bobbing, but Namjoon was unabashedly staring at you, your heart pounding when you locked eyes.

The spell was only broken when an impatient hand guided your head to the side, Taehyung demanding your full attention. After lapping against your pulse one last time, his mouth promptly switched course to your own, the kiss sweet, but decidedly sloppy due to the angle. In any case, it was easy to quickly lose yourself in the warmth of his lips—at this point, it was all practically reflex—and you were so engrossed in the ebb of his tongue that you completely missed the rather foreboding buzzing in the room until something was being purposefully pressed against the most sensitive part of you.

“Shit,” you gasped, jerking in his hold. But it didn’t matter, because Tae’s other hand was gripping tight at your thigh, ensuring you could do nothing but squirm in his lap, breath quickening in anticipation.

“Hm?” came his casual response. You knew from experience that he only had your vibrator on the first or second level, but the way his restless fingers still plucked at your stockings told you he was nowhere near done with you. Let’s play you had teased, and he clearly intended to do just that.

Before your thoughts could linger too long on how intense this night was likely going to be, the vibrator was shifted slightly to the side, resting momentarily on your thigh so Taehyung could reach for the bottle of lube and give it a generous squeeze.

“What’s your plan?” you breathed, the question inane even to your own ears. But the words escaped you before you could even properly process them, needing to say something in an effort to distract yourself from the muted vibrations that were still trickling up your leg to your core.

Tae let out an amused exhale, clearly not fooled by your feigned nonchalance. He humored you anyway, despite your very obvious failings to suppress a shiver. “Gotta prep you,” he answered huskily, busy warming the lube with his fingers and making them visibly slick in the process.

You only had one moment—two—before you felt him sliding a finger across the seam of you. Slowly dragging the digit up from your entrance to your clit, ghosting over the bundle of nerves just enough to make your breath catch, then drifting his way back down again.

“Don’t tease,” you murmured.

That earned you a chuckle in response. “Don’t you think you’re the one being the tease here? Texting out of the blue and wearing this—”another snap of your garter against your thigh, to punctuate his point—“when you knew damn well it would drive me crazy?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like I was being pretty direct to me.”

Another chuckle. “Fair.” And without further preamble, he slipped a finger in you, your relief leaving you in a shuddery exhale. “That better?”

“M-Much.”

“How about this?”

Another finger, plunging into your willing heat and making another relieved sigh escape you at the stretch. “We’re getting there.”

You didn’t have to be able to see him to know he was grinning, always one to be entertained by the easy banter between you. Tae didn't say anything, his response better communicated by a scrape of his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck, settling to suck on your pulse point.

You didn’t bother hiding your shiver this time, unconsciously slumping further against him, hips reflexively jerking forward to pull him in deeper.

Taehyung added a third finger, snapping and scissoring and pressing and curling. Seducing your body’s natural resistance until you really started to betray your need, hips canting greedily towards his thrusts, whines erupting from your throat.

“You’re enjoying this already, baby?” Tae cooed, delighted by how responsive you were being. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You just nodded distractedly, the familiar warmth that was building in your core and creeping down your legs making it hard to think about anything else. Still, you couldn’t help your gaze being drawn to the other occupants of the room, who seemed to be frozen in time, dutifully having not moved from their posts. Completely enraptured by the way their brother meticulously worked you open.

Tae breathed hot into the shell of your ear. “You like it when they watch you?” came his knowing whisper, a nip against the cartilage punctuating his point. “Like for them to see how good I make you feel? Hmmm? What if we show them how good you take this dick?”

Your pussy fluttered. Tae cussed under his breath, teased with the wet, pulsing grip of you and falling deeper into his own fantasy. “Fuckkk, you’re dripping all over my hand, baby. I would probably just slide right in, wouldn’t I?”

“Yesss,” you moaned. “I can take it, baby.”

“I know you can. With this perfect fucking pussy. But what if we played some more? Got you nice and juicy for me?”

“I’m always juicy,” you sassed back, but any more retorts died on your tongue when you saw him reach again for the momentarily forgotten vibrator.

Tae’s arms circled around you, his chin slotting into the crook of your neck so he could get a better look of what he intended to do. The vibrator was turned up from its low rumble and pressed unceremoniously against you, and you yelped, jolting in his hold. It was too much, and you couldn’t help but writhe against him. Still, you welcomed the sudden intensity, desperate whines freely escaping you as you hurtled toward your peak. Tae only fingered you faster in response, the undoubtedly sloppy sounds drowned out by the vibrator. “I could slide right in, but I won’t cause it’s much more fun this way. Especially since we haven’t seen each other in a while. More fun for everybody if take our time, right, baby? So how about you cum on my fingers first, and then you can pick everywhere else on me you’d like to cum?”

You could only moan freely, just like how Tae liked. If you weren’t so distracted by the way he was fucking stars behind your eyelids, you would have noticed just how affected your spectators were becoming at your display. The shifting, the subtle rubbing over pants.

But as it were, you were completely preoccupied by your swift descent into madness, your hand desperately scrabbling for purchase before ultimately rooting itself in the hair at Taehyung’s nape to await your rapidly approaching release. Because at this point, your orgasm was inevitable, your thighs quivering with the sheer force of it, every atom of you hyper-focused on achieving that satisfying end goal.

Until the sudden sound of a certain voice knocked you out of your trance.

“Stop.”

You jolted as if touching a live wire, hand immediately wrapping around Taehyung’s wrist like a vice and yanking the vibrator away from you.

For a few moments, the room was silent, save the rumble of the toy and your heavy breathing. But Taehyung was too baffled to let what just happened slide. “What’s the matter?”

You nervously licked your lips, too frozen in Namjoon’s dark stare to answer his younger brother.

“You know better,” came the blond’s low admonishment, Seokjin turning to look at him in bewilderment.

And you did know better—when you were with Namjoon, you were not allowed to cum without his express permission. It was a game the two of you played that you often lost, despite your valiant efforts. It just never occurred to you that you would still be expected to play in Namjoon’s general presence, whether he was the one touching you or not.

Jittery with your aborted orgasm and nervous excitement, you looked away, your eyes automatically averted submissively to the floor in a last effort to assuage him. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you replied softly.

“Daddy?” Taehyung repeated incredulously. “What the fuck?” In his confusion, his hold on you slackened, and, nervous he wouldn’t take the hint otherwise, you used the opportunity to shift his fingers out of you and stumble forward on wobbly legs.

“Take your clothes off,” was your reply, breath labored and skin already veiled in a light sheen of sweat. You needed to distract him from asking too many questions right now. Needed to distract yourself from just how strongly your body was begging to fall apart.

Tae was still confused, but he didn’t need to be told twice. Off came his button-down shirt, each button popped open just roughly enough that you were surprised none of them ended up scattered across the floor in his haste. Off came his slacks, unzipped and then easily slipped down his slim hips. He paused when reaching for his underwear though, eyes narrowing at something behind you.

You didn’t even get the chance to turn around to investigate what had caught his attention before you felt it—the distinct feeling of someone hovering in your space, close enough you could feel his body heat radiating against you.

“Hey sweetheart,” came a familiar husky voice, goosebumps rippling across your body at the feel of Seokjin’s hot breath ghosting up your neck. “Can I touch you?”

“Hey,” Tae scowled.

“_____?” Jin interrupted, still only millimeters away. A whisper away, but never touching, waiting for the only permission he truly needed—yours. Not Taehyung’s.

Without a second thought, you leaned back against him, delighting in the feel of his body slotting so naturally into yours. “Yes,” you breathed, pressing your ass further into what could only be the hard jut of his cock.

Soft, plush lips trailed up your neck instantly, large hands sliding over your hips and around your waist. You immediately melted into him, your body well-trained and eager for the pleasure it knew those lips and hands would deliver.

“This wasn’t the deal,” Tae huffed, eyebrows scrunched in irritation as he finally slid off his boxer briefs. Drawn like a magnet, your eyes fell to the bounce of his freed cock, tip already shiny with precum.

Seokjin tutted distractedly, too busy nibbling along your jaw to give his youngest brother much attention. “You need to learn to share, Taehyung. The rest of society learned that concept when we were toddlers.”

“Whatever,” Tae grumbled, clearly not happy with the way the night was turning out. He only allowed his brother a few more seconds to have his way with you before he was reaching for your hands and walking you back towards the bed.

You gasped in surprise when the world was suddenly off-kilter, your hands reflexively scrambling to hold onto Tae for balance, but it was only when the two of you landed on the mattress that you realized he had purposely tipped you into him, your chests flush.

“Really, Taehyung?” you laughed, now conveniently in his embrace instead of Seokjin’s.

Tae just grinned in response, so close that his nose brushed yours. Cheekily, his hands worked the flesh of your behind.

“I’ve been wondering where those have been coming from,” you heard Seokjin say behind you, and your face heated up in realization of what he was talking about, once again shy to be so on display and open for scrutiny. You had forgotten how mottled the skin of your ass still looked, and it was a little embarrassing to be called out on it. Time apart meant the bruises were near the end of their healing stage, but though you no longer sported marks of potentially alarming colors, their faded remnants still branded you in the distinct shape of a hand.

“If you were wondering, why didn’t you ask,” you countered, tucking your face in Tae’s neck to help hide your flustered state.

“Because that’s rude,” Jin answered easily, his own hand reaching over to gently smooth over the discolored skin. “And it’s really none of my business.”

“I think they’re pretty,” Taehyung cut in from below you. This close, you could feel the rumble of his declaration, could feel the heat of his stare. Of his want.

“So do I.”

A different voice, one that made an undeniably eager shiver run through you. Slowly, you lifted your head and turned, and there was Namjoon, still standing across from the bed, eyes all pupil.

The way he was looking at you…desire rippled through your whole body in response, your next words leaving your lips before you could even process them.

“Are you going to touch me too, Daddy?”

The room was quiet, the question marinating long enough that the air became thick and heavy with the resulting tension. Just when you thought you might suffocate, Namjoon finally tilted his head. Slowly—a predator locked in on prey, playing with his meal simply for his own amusement—he stalked closer to the bed. He walked past Seokjin and made it all the way to the foot of the mattress, close enough to touch you if he so pleased.

The burn of his gaze was somehow stronger now that he was closer, a palpable energy that drew you like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help but scramble upright when he was finally right in front of you, clambering to your knees despite Tae’s clear reluctance to let you go.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon asked passively. He looked down at you, seemingly unimpressed by how eagerly you knelt on the mattress, just waiting for him to join you on it. “You already have enough people taking care of you. Are you really that greedy?”

“Yes,” you shivered, the action involuntary but wanting. “Want you too, Daddy.”

“Hm.” The single syllable was dismissive, but your previous time spent with Namjoon had taught you not to take that at face value. That you had to have patience, that if you simply waited him out, you would always eventually get what you wanted.

As if proving your point, Namjoon silently considered you for a few more seconds before his eyebrow finally raised in challenge. “Open,” he demanded.

Your jaw dropped instantly, tongue out, and he smiled, pleased at your obedient response.

You weren’t sure you had the energy to be bratty to him today when his brothers were still in the mix too.

“Good,” Namjoon cooed, all dimples and boy next door. The boy next door who firmly grasped your chin, lifting your head a little and leaning down. But though your eyelashes fluttered in preparation for the slot of his mouth against yours, it never came. Namjoon paused, slanted eyes quietly observing you, then spit in your open mouth instead.

“Jesus,” came Taehyung’s awed reply from behind you, but you were too busy trying not to whimper, thighs squeezing together with sudden want. Namjoon hadn’t told you you could swallow, so you didn’t, drool starting to collect until it overflowed and dribbled down your jaw.

“Very good,” Namjoon murmured, and this time, he did lean down to kiss you, all wet and sloppy. You eagerly pushed further into his space, blood thrumming with your need for more, but he pulled away before you could get too carried away. He cleared his throat, lips pink and spit-slicked. “Gonna keep being a good girl for us today?”

You immediately nodded, a thrill going through you at the way the action rapidly made his expression steel over. He tsked condescendingly. “Now, now, you know better than to not speak when spoken to.”

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Well, that definitely answers the mystery bruises.” It was Seokjin, now behind you. Somehow you hadn’t noticed him discard his shirt and climb onto the bed, too caught in Namjoon’s spell. You felt his hands drifting across your waist again, roaming up to cup your breasts and lightly pinch at your nipples through the lace. You whimpered, arching eagerly into his touch.

“Oh come on,” Taehyung whined. A turn of your head produced him, naked and sulking in the middle of the bed. “It was supposed to be my turn.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cute pout, dutifully extracting yourself from Jin’s hold to crawl your way towards the youngest brother. “Don’t worry, baby. I know how to multitask.”

He greedily grabbed you as soon as you were in reach, holding you tight to his chest and plopping back onto the bed so you were once again on top of him, knees straddling his hips. You giggled again at his antics, flattered by his sudden possessiveness, and Tae playfully nipped at your collarbone in retaliation.

The bed dipped behind you, and then there was Seokjin again, undeterred by Tae’s petulant behavior. “Not only are you bad at sharing, but you’re only thinking about yourself,” he scoffed, grabbing your hips without preamble. “What about _____?”

Taehyung immediately bristled beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure, but before you could properly defend him, you suddenly found yourself face down and ass up, the sudden appearance of a tongue swiping through your slit rendering you shuddery and brain dead. “Fuck. Jin—”

You felt Seokjin’s smirk against you. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said huskily, hot breath ghosting over your most private of parts. “Couldn’t help myself. You dressed my meal up so pretty.”

That was fair, you supposed. That he made proper use of the easy access your lingerie provided, that he gave himself the opportunity to admire the tiny lacy hearts on your garter belt up close. But Seokjin didn’t allow himself to preen for very long, his focus immediately turning back to the task at hand. Laving hot and slow, your whole body tingling down to your toes.

Unconsciously, you pushed back further into his face, and Jin hummed approvingly, massaging your asscheeks, large hands spreading them apart so he could get as close to you as humanly possible. His enthusiasm has always been so fucking sexy, and you knew he wasn’t playing it up for theatrics when the slurping sounds started. You were that turned on, still frustrated from being led to the edge of the proverbial cliff and not allowed to jump, and Seokjin was more than happy to help himself to the honey he was coaxing from between your thighs.

A haze was starting to take over you, completely focused on how good he was eating you out, on how hot you were, sweat and desire prickling your skin. Your hips mindlessly circling while you vaguely tried not to drool on Taehyung’s chest.

Not that Tae seemed to mind much, hands idly roaming whatever stretch of skin he could touch, content to watch how your expression twisted and eyes glazed over as lust easily towed you under.

Seokjin pulled back a bit, chuckling at your whines of protest when he did so. But the familiar click of a top being popped open shut you up, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder to confirm your suspicions. The lube was a bit cold when it hit your asshole, and Jin wasn’t shy with the amount he squeezed out. His eyes were completely blown, enraptured by its slow decent, watching the lube trail through your pubic hair and down your slit. A distracted tongue swept across his lips, completely focused on sliding his fingers through the slick and making everything somehow even more wet.

You shivered at his touch, thighs twitching as his long fingers smoothed the lube over your bundle of nerves in sure, purposeful circles. He leaned in again, tongue blazing a hot, meandering trail up the inside of your thigh and giving the sensitive skin there a playful nip before his fervent licks returned. Tongue slipping down to caress your clit, wandering back up to dip into your throbbing cunt, and dragging back down again.

It was on one of these passes that Seokjin accidentally drifted a bit too high, your undulating hips causing him to lap over your asshole instead. You moaned, loud, and he immediately froze.

It was clear neither of you had been expecting that reaction. But while you could only describe the look on his face as light surprise, you couldn’t help but duck your head in embarrassment.

“What’s the matter?” Taehyung breathed into your hair, wondering what halted the activities.

You weren’t really sure what to say, now embarrassed by your embarrassment. But it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, Seokjin curiously testing the waters by leaning in and placing a chaste kiss against your rim. When you didn’t do anything but suck in a breath, his tongue dipped out again for a tentative lick. You shuddered, ass reflexively bucking towards him instead of pulling away, and that was all the confirmation he needed. His hands palmed your asscheeks again, spreading them open to give himself more room to press his tongue against you more confidently, and you trembled in response.

It was a foreign sensation, but not bad. You technically hadn’t marked this as a no when signing your contract, but it never even crossed your mind that getting your booty ate would be a very real possibility. You weren’t against assplay per se—you simply had never experienced it before. And never in a million years would you have expected it to feel like this.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” you couldn’t help but whimper. Electricity licked up your spine when his sloppy tongue slowly circled around the tight ring of muscle. Unbidden, your hand reached back, gliding through his hair before rooting itself and pulling in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you.

Seokjin hummed approvingly at the your enthusiasm, the sound almost sounding like he was blowing bubbles with the way you were now shoving his face between your asscheeks. Leaning somehow further into it, he ate you out with a vigor that told you he was clearly pleased you were using him to get yourself off. You melted into his ministrations, a whine falling from your lips when he gently slipped his sinful tongue inside you, the foreign feeling making your toes curl in unexpected pleasure.

You were getting worked up. With nothing more than his mouth, Seokjin was easily restoking the blazing fire within you that only minutes before had been forced to embers. You were getting worked up, and the more you moaned and gyrated against him, the more Taehyung’s fingers twitched restlessly against your skin. If you had been in your right mind, you would have noticed his rising agitation and wouldn’t have been surprised when he suddenly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and pulled you away from his brother. Instead, you blinked at him dazedly, pelvises flush after momentum had you inadvertently scooting further up his body.

“I’ve shared enough,” he growled, irritated. “It’s my turn now.” Another pull, and you were back on his lap, his leaking erection grinding pointedly against your slick folds. “C’mere, baby—fucking sit it on it.”

You were dazed, already pretty fucked out even though things were just getting started. The constant influx of pleasure was striking all your coherent thought, unable to understand anything other than finally being able to cross the finish line. And you knew from experience that Taehyung’s massive dick was a great way to get there, so you didn’t mind at all when he continued to maneuver you as he pleased, large hands canting your hips at a proper angle to receive him.

Your breath hitched when he finally sunk into your fervid body. You were so turned on and wet at that point that it didn’t hurt the slightest, but he was so big that the very pressure of him forcing your walls apart caused your eyes to roll back in your head, your nails pressing crescent moons into the caramel of his skin. “Ungh—”

“Shit,” Tae groaned, fingers tightening on your thighs at the wet grip of you. “Feel so fucking good, baby. Always so fucking good.”

He was buried balls deep, too on edge to give you any more than a few seconds to adjust before he was bucking wildly into you, easily scraping against your spongy nerves with every unforgiving stroke. You couldn’t do much more than take it, unfiltered moans readily escaping you. Hot and low, like they were generated deep in your pussy and Taehyung was hard at work fucking them up and out of your mouth.

You were so worked up at this point that you knew you weren’t going to last much longer, your walls tightening more and more by the second, your whole body trembling in preparation of the inevitable.

“_____,” Namjoon snapped.

It took some effort to lift your head from where you had buried it in Tae’s neck, startled into blearily looking up to meet the middle brother’s steely gaze. Your mind raced, flustered and trying to understand how you had somehow forgotten about him. When his lips curled with a whisper of a smirk, it instantly dawned on you that him fading into the background had been entirely by design.

Namjoon had allowed you to be distracted by his brothers. Had allowed them to have all the fun while he quietly watched your slow, uncontrollable descent into carnality. Because he knew that all he had to do was wait, and you would inevitably disobey him.

And then his fun would start.

You had played your part in his little game, cockily swaggered your way right into his trap with thigh highs and a smile. Too naive to notice that the situation had been rigged from the start, and now that everything was in motion, it was far too late to save yourself from your oncoming reckoning.

You were gasping, the pistoning of Taehyung’s cock setting all of your nerves alight and making it hard not to meet him thrust for thrust, trapped in meeting Namjoon’s stare through your wet lashes. He had moved to stand at the foot of the bed, close enough to touch, and he was the only person in the room who was still, bafflingly, fully-dressed.

“Please,” you babbled, too far gone to even know who your begging was directed towards. “Please, I—” Your body spazzed violently, only contained by Tae’s bruising grip as he relentlessly continued to plow into you. “Ohhh godddd! Fuckkk—ah, ahhhh—”

Against your best efforts, your cunt locked down, hard. So hard you forgot to breathe, pleasure and relief finally flooding your veins as you stuffed your face into Tae’s neck to ride it out, bucking and whining and incoherent.

Taehyung made a loud, choked noise, the feeling of you pulsing around him throwing him further into his trance. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, fingers digging into your thighs punishingly. Drilling into you harder, your release heightening his desperation for his own. Biology making him single-minded, manic, even when you started to mewl in oversensitivity. “Squeezing me so tight. Cream me good, baby. Fuck.”

You continued to tremble, nothing more at this point than sparking nerve endings. Tae lifted his head a little to lick into your awaiting mouth, kissing you wet and wild and desperate while still plunging deep inside you.

But even though you did nothing to attempt to control the torrent of whines freely spilling from your tongue, in the back of your mind, you still had the good sense to be nervous. Because even without seeing his face, you already knew Namjoon was pissed.

You had failed.

As if confirming your thoughts, fingers wrapped around your hair and pulled, naturally ripping your lips from Taehyung’s and forcing your head to lift. With nowhere to hide, you were forced to meet the full intensity of Namjoon’s glare.

“What did I say,” he demanded darkly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Your blood pounded excitedly.

“Cut her some slack, Namjoon,” came Jin’s mild reply from behind you. Your eyes widened, not expecting his dismissive tone to go over very well.

Namjoon didn’t acknowledge his older brother, instead focusing his attention on his younger. A carefully controlled tempest that was moments away from unleashing its wrath. “Taehyung. Move.”

The swivel of Tae’s hips slowed, but didn’t stop. He was too on edge, too close to joining you in bliss. “I—g-give me a minute, hyung—”

“Move.”

You could feel just how reluctant Tae was to comply—his rutting finally stopped, but his hips still instinctually twitching in a primal need to keep fucking you. Still, something in his brother’s tone made his protest cut off in his throat, and after a few labored, frustrated breaths, he obediently slipped out of you.

You whimpered at the loss, your toes curling at the resulting friction. Between the cum that had long been leaking from you and dribbling down your thighs and the mess Tae’s cock was making in his excitement, it was hot and sticky where your bodies slotted together, and you couldn’t help the way you senselessly started to grind against him, lashes fluttering at the feeling.

Namjoon scoffed at your clear desperation. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” he snapped, grip still firm in your hair. “For him to cum inside you.”

You shivered at the thought, a little embarrassed that you were so obvious. “Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, releasing a shuttering breath when you felt Tae’s slick cock jump against your stomach at your admission.

“Well you’ve been bad,” Namjoon replied slowly, as you weren’t very bright, “so you don’t get to have what you want.” He took a step forward, legs knocking into the edge of the bed, now only a breath away, and you licked your lips, mentally preparing for what you knew would come.

But before he could get any closer to you—before Taehyung could even slide from beneath you—there were once again hands on your hips.

“Hey!” Tae snapped irritably, but whatever he had to say was drowned out by your surprised, rather pathetic choking when, with a delicious roll of his hips, Seokjin unexpectedly sank inside your pliant body, thoroughly making himself at home exactly where Tae had been forced to vacate. You had been so focused on Namjoon that you somehow missed the weight shifting behind you, the telltale rustling of clothing as he pushed is sweatpants down his hips enough to free his cock so he could stuff you the hilt.

You had been saved by the eldest Kim, at least for now. But for how long would he really be able to delay your punishment?

Since he was still holding you by the hair, you could easily see the emotions flicker across Namjoon’s face at his older brother butting in, but his expression quickly settled into something mirroring cool indifference.

You knew better. Namjoon was a patient man, but you doubted he would let your disobedience slide so easily.

Seemingly uncaring of either of his brothers’ vexation, Seokjin rode your ass, hips rolling forward in constant waves, strokes long and deep and pointed. Clearly wanting to keep you mewling for him.

And as you did just that, you rapidly realized that saving you from Namjoon’s wrath had never been his intention. No, he simply liked you just like this, whiny and shivery and too fucked out to care that you were drooling and desperate.

“You feel it, sweetheart?” he asked, voice melodic and sweet. Leaning over to press plump lips up your spine and sucking on a rather sensitive spot at the back of your neck.

“Yesss,” you whined. You could feel everything, could feel the ripple of your ass every time his hips slammed against it, could feel every ridge of his cock that scraped against your insides. Sparks shot through you after every stroke, your clit forced to drag across Tae’s stomach with the force. “Fuck, you’re so big and deep, fuck, fuck.”

Seokjin just hummed, playing your body like a fiddle and pleased by how it was responding to him. Breath stuttering, toes curling, fingers gripping the sheets.

But despite how good he was making you feel, you weren’t too fucked out to overlook Namjoon this time. No, this time forgetting him was impossible, the middle brother doing nothing to hide his massive presence. He towered over you, intently watching you get railed by his older brother, and the barely suppressed fury you could sense radiating off him was making your cunt throb and head spin.

“I’m sorry, D-Daddy,” you stuttered, everything tingling at the look he fixed you with in response. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Are you?” he asked lowly, a tic in his jaw. He let the question marinate for a few moments, let you simmer beneath his intense stare. Just when you felt the overwhelming compulsion to apologize again, he finally reached for you, a single finger lifting your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze directly. With a patronizing tilt of his head, he popped open the button on his pants. “Then make it up to me.”

You were already pushing yourself to your hands and knees, desperate to please. Taehyung’s hands drifted up your sides to steady you, your body trembling from the way Seokjin still reamed into you, undeterred. You reached out for the band of Namjoon’s pants, trying to get to the important bits, but he simply tutted and smacked your hand away.

“Mouth,” he said simply, the single word full of derision.

So you leaned forward again, this time using the tip of your nose to part his fly and give you proper access to his clothed cock. He was thick and swollen already, straining against the material, and you felt him stir with interest when you mouthed at him through the fabric. Coquettish licks lapping hot against the length of him and making his hips reflexively shift forward, unconsciously chasing the stimulation. You licked and sucked until there was a noticeable wet patch, doing your best to show that your apology was sincere and give him your full attention.

But that was hard to do when his brothers were busy giving you their full attention.

Seokjin was in a trance, fingers sinking into your thighs so he could properly hammer into you. Thrusts steady and coaxing your pussy to leak its praises, your thighs sticky with your essence.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was getting noticeably antsy beneath you, fingers increasingly twitching against your damp skin the longer his brothers got more of your attention. You looked down, and the furrow of his brow and downturn of his lips were your last clues to his growing jealousy before he took action, hand reaching up to drag through the mess you were making before his thumb sought your clit, rolling and pinching. You bucked and squealed, the extra stimulation rocking you to your core and making your walls pulse dangerously enough that you found yourself squirming to escape him, grabbing Tae’s wrist for the second time that night in an act of self-preservation.

He was undeterred, rerouting his focus to your chest instead. With impatient hands, he yanked on the cups of your bodysuit, a concerning ripping noise immediately filling the room at the action. Before you could even say anything, he was already lifting his head to eagerly bite and suckle on your newly freed tits, tongue curling around a pebbled nipple and mumbling “I’ll buy you another one.”

Switching from one erogenous zone to another did nothing to quell your desire, but at least the stimulation wasn’t as intense. This you could safely enjoy, lashes fluttering, chest inadvertently pushing further into his face in silent encouragement.

And encourage you did, Taehyung creating enough suction with his mouth to properly burst capillaries. Contentedly littering your skin with marks you allowed, comfortable in knowing this was a region easily covered by your clothes.

Determined not to lose focus, you leaned forward again to continue giving Namjoon your full attention, trying to strategize the best way to get at him without using your hands. But either Namjoon finally decided to take pity on you or he was getting impatient too, because it was his own hands that reached down, only bothering to disturb his waistband enough to free his already leaking cock.

You didn’t know if it was a conditioned response from your past escapades or simply the extremely sexy sight of him giving himself a few firm, confident pumps. Either way, you felt it when you started to salivate, aching to properly taste him.

Your enthusiasm must have shown on your face, because the blond man simply smirked down at you knowingly, thumb slowly running over a prominent vein and further smearing his own mess around. “Well?” he prompted, almost sounding bored. You knew he wasn’t. That he was rock hard and dribbling precum, that his eyes were hooded yet laser-focused on the way his brothers devoured you—those were clues enough. Still, you couldn’t help the fire his feigned disinterest lit low in your belly, desperate to please him.

You started low, turning your head so you could playfully tongue first at his balls before making the long trek up the massive length of him, taking care not to accidentally involve your teeth from the way Seokjin’s thrusts were rocking you forward. Finally, you took him in your mouth, suckling on the weeping head. Humming contentedly at the salty taste and meeting his blown eyes from beneath your lashes.

Namjoon’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything, hips twitching forward when you pressed your tongue into his slit.

You didn’t notice at first. To be fair, you were plenty preoccupied with everything else going on, with all other sensations. So you didn’t notice Taehyung’s hand drifting over your hip until he was cupping one of your asscheeks, fingers teasing further inward.

Before you could say anything, a finger sunk itself into your cunt, right next to where Jin was still plowing into you. You groaned, eyes rolling back at the added stretch, but the oldest brother wasn’t as pleased by the intrusion.

“Taehyung,” he said gruffly, voice deep with irritation and thinly-veiled hunger. But Tae just pumped the long digit into you a few times and then slowly backtracked, lightly trailing the slick back up the cleft of your ass.

“Relax,” came Tae’s mellow reply, and when he started circling a questioning finger around your rim, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or Seokjin.

Still, you shivered, breath stuttering when you realized where this was going. When the finger did nothing more than circle and lightly press against you, you released Namjoon’s cockhead from between your lips, eyes fluttering. “Yes,” you breathed hot against Namjoon’s crotch, understanding what Tae was wordlessly asking you.

A glance down produced Taehyung, eyes all pupil, tongue lolling thoughtfully in his mouth as he watched you tremble above him, tits rippling and swaying from Seokjin’s force. Finger mindlessly continuing the massaging of your hole. He locked eyes with you, making sure he understood, and then slowly started pressing the slick digit into your asshole.

You whimpered, fighting against your instinct to clamp down on him. Relax. Relax. It didn’t hurt exactly—was just pressure where you weren’t used to having any. And Tae made sure to go at a glacial pace, made sure to keep massaging your insides, to help you acclimate to the intrusion.

Distantly, you felt Jin’s thrusts slow to something much more languid, and you had a feeling the way your body was opening up for his youngest brother was more than a little distracting.

“Good?” Tae asked shakily, sinking into you bit by bit.

“Yes,” you slurred, completely fucked out. Tae’s always had large hands with long, elegant fingers, and right now, when he kept going further and further in, you were becoming privy to just how long they actually were. Your eyes threatened to roll back when his last knuckle finally breached you, and when he gave you a cursory tap after a few seconds, you had to swallow a moan.

Rather affectionately, Namjoon started caressing your face, bringing your attention back to him. Dazed, you put him back in your mouth, continuing to suck him and trying not to think about how Seokjin was revving his pace back up and Taehyung was tapping your insides in tandem. Namjoon just smiled softly down at you, and it was so sweet that you almost don’t see what happened next coming, too preoccupied with everything else that was going on. Gently, his hand drifted up—and gripped you securely by the hair, cock suddenly surging down your throat. You immediately gagged, throat repeatedly convulsing around him, and he grunted appreciatively at the feeling before pulling all the way out. Cheeks still sweetly dimpling at how wrecked you were.

And wrecked was the only way to describe you. You were gasping, jaw glistening with spit. Eyes watering and whole body twitching from all the relentless stimulation.

Namjoon only gave you a few seconds to gain your bearings before a pull of your hair had your head snapping back. Before his cock was pushing back into your panting mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat this time, taking stuttered breaths from your nose when his fucking began in earnest. Tried your best to ignore the way your jaw threatened to lock from trying to accommodate the sheer girth of him.

It was a lot. You were feeling sensations from so many areas at once—ass, tits, mouth, cunt—that your brain was absolutely swirling trying to figure out which brother’s ministrations it should be focusing on. And though the pleasure pumping through you was borderline unbearable, you couldn’t even let that overflow of emotion out, your wails stuck bubbling in your chest because you were too busy lewdly gargling on Namjoon’s cock.

You remembered, all those months ago when you’d first been considering whether you should take this job, how you'd poured yourself another glass of wine and reread the contact for the nth time thinking well, I guess I do have three holes. That’s certainly convenient.

Now that it was happening, however—now that all three of your holes were stuffed and both your mouth and your pussy were dribbling and messy and straining with effort—now, it was nothing short of intense. Nothing hurt, but you were so completely and entirely overwhelmed by all of the feeling that you thought you might just simply burst, your nerve endings crackling free and raining over the room like fireworks.

It’s too much. It was too much, but right when you were starting to consider giving Namjoon two taps on the wrist—a metaphorical yellow—he backed off on his own, easing some of the pressure. And suddenly your mouth was free, a string of saliva still connecting you to his glistening cock before the tension of him stepping back eventually made it snap.

Namjoon had eased some of the pressure, but he couldn’t stop more from surging forward in its place. Your body could only take so much of their tortuous teasing before it succumbed to its baser instincts, and it seemed you had finally reached your boiling point. In a trance, you pressed your hips backwards to meet Seokjin’s next stroke, forcing him deeper inside you and making you both shudder. And that small action was all the encouragement he needed, his primal instincts screaming at him to ruin you.

Drilling into you with new purpose, Jin fucked the remaining breath out of your lungs, staccatoed bursts of ah ah ah pouring from your drooling mouth. Panting like an animal in heat, moaning so wantonly that you would be embarrassed if you weren’t already so completely braindead with pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathed, watching your rapid unraveling in amazement. “You’re so fucking hot. Fuck.”

Before even realizing what was happening, you finally shattered around him, your bones liquifying at the intensity and causing you to collapse on Tae, writhing and choking into his neck.

“There you go,” Jin encouraged, words wobbling as he tried to weather the force of how tightly your walls were squeezing him.

Taehyung was curling his finger within you to lengthen your orgasm, was absently rubbing your back to guide you through it. “So perfect,” he whispered, lips fondly brushing against your temple while you shook.

When it finally ended you were left twitching and sensitive, too dizzy from the sheer force of your climax to register the thunder rolling across Namjoon’s face.

His brothers did, though.

An audible squelch filled the room when, without warning, Seokjin pulled completely out of you. Confused, you looked over your shoulder at him, only to suddenly find yourself lifted and tilted, Taehyung surging upright and taking you with him. Unprepared to catch yourself, your back easily hit the mattress, now finding yourself looking up at the three brothers who hovered over you.

“Hmmm.” Namjoon pretended to think, tone calm but eyes steely. “I could have sworn I specifically told you not to do that.”

“You did,” Jin cut in mildly, looking between the two of you curiously.

Your eyes widened, unprepared for this turn of events. You never would have pegged Jin as such an instigator, but apparently he was very interested in seeing the consequences of your continued disobedience.

Your betrayal must have shown on your face, because Seokjin’s lips pursed in amusement. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “You’ve been so good for me, but we have to be fair. And unlike Taehyung, I know how to share.”

“Am I or am I not sharing right now?” Tae griped, unamused by the dig. But you were no longer paying those two any attention, your focus now fully on Namjoon and the leisurely way he was now stripping out of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hedged, knowing before you even said the words that they would do jack shit to appease him. “It just felt too good…”

Namjoon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, throwing his t-shirt on the floor as if it offended him. “All you keep saying is sorry,” he mused. Down went his pants and underwear, kicked out of his way. His knee hit the mattress, Taehyung shifting to the side so Namjoon could finally stalk over to where you lay, fucked open and wet. Cautiously, you met his stare, the breath halting in your lungs when you recognized the retribution that was undoubtedly about to come.

“But sorry means nothing if you don’t modify your behavior,” he tsked, eyes darkening. “So. I don’t believe you.”

That was all the warning you got before he was crowding into your space, grabbing you by the ankles and hooking them over his shoulders. Caging you in with his body, pressing close enough that his cock easily slid over the mess of your cunt, making you mewl at the sensation.

And that involuntary reaction didn’t seem to help your case with Namjoon. “More?” he scoffed, seemingly displeased, though the way he rocked his length through the seam of you told a different story. “After all that, you still want more?”

You were exhausted, thighs still quivering from your last orgasm. But you couldn’t help the way the weight of his body and the slide of his cock were causing your pussy to pulse. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, angling your hips down so you could deliciously meet him on his upstroke.

“And it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?” he mocked, spearing you to the hilt in one go. You choked at the intrusion, not expecting him to enter you so suddenly. At this point, you were fully prepped enough to take him, but, like his brothers, Namjoon was still a lot to take all at once.

Particularly when he had already made up his mind that the best way to punish you was with his cock.

You quickly gathered his gameplay from the immediate way he started rutting into you, not giving you any time to adjust or catch your breath. Simply railing you into the mattress, your legs over his shoulders ensuring he hit deep enough for you to feel it in your throat.

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, fingers curling in the sheets, biting down on your lip enough to taste metal. “Fuck fuck—”

“What?” he taunted, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Making sure he scraped your g-spot on every thrust. “This is what you wanted, remember? And it’s all about what you want.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You could already feel yourself ready to clamp down again, your extremely sensitive pussy overreactive to any and all stimulation. “I want it, I want it, yesss—”

He pressed impossibly closer, bending you enough that you felt the burning strain in your legs, and that did the trick. Before you could nervously start to ponder whether you were flexible enough for what he wanted to do, you were cumming, hard, back attempting to bow with the force of it but only succeeding in making your whole body lock up and your vision blur.

Namjoon didn’t slow down during your climax, and he certainly didn’t slow down after. He fucked you like a machine, undeterred by how your pulsing walls tried to suck him in and keep him there. Undeterred by how you hopelessly whined and squirmed in overstimulation. And when you suddenly heard a familiar buzzing noise, there was nothing you could do but meet his intense gaze with wide, alarmed eyes.

“What?” he demanded, pressing your long-forgotten wand vibrator right on your clit and making you immediately jerk. The caramel of his skin was already glistening and beading with sweat, but he seemed long from tired. “You think you can cum on everbody’s dick but mine?”

It was too much, the near animalistic pace of his fucking paired with how high he had turned the vibrator making your hands shoot up, scrabbling along his biceps in a panicked response, your body now entirely on autopilot, desperately trying to save itself from its fate.

“Please,” you heard yourself beg, choking at the intensity. Legs jerking uselessly on his shoulders, nails scratching marks down his skin.

But the word that would make him stop never passed your lips. And so he continued to ignore your unsuccessful struggling, fucking you right back to orgasm, this time somehow even stronger than the last and stealing all air from your lungs.

He felt it, of course. Felt exactly how hard you were squeezing him, the tight grip of your pussy evoking the grit of his teeth.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to milk me,” he growled, moving the vibrator away from you just enough for you to suck in a breath. “Come on, take this dick since you want it so bad. Take it!”

And you had no choice but to take it, trying your best not to black out as he forced the coil within you to snap, again and again. You were shrieking, but you couldn’t even perceive your own actions anymore, swept completely by his unforgiving undertow of pain-lined pleasure. Namjoon was fucking you stupid, scrambling your brain as easily as if it were an egg, forcing you to your most primal of reactions, your most basest of self. Thrashing beneath him, desperate tears trickling down your cheeks, spit freely trickling from your wailing mouth.

It felt neverending, this exquisite torture, and just when you were starting to get distressed about how much longer you would be able to take it, Namjoon’s thrusts started to turn sloppy.

“This is all you wanted, right?” he panted, hips stuttering. A welcome warning for what was soon to come. His focus rapidly shifted from your orgasm to his own, and the way he tossed the still buzzing vibrator to the side was nothing short of impatient.

You blinked up blearily at him, the reduction in stimulation helping you slowly return to your body after being stuck the stratosphere.

“Wanted my nut? Agreed to fuck all of us at once just so you could get more of it, isn’t that right, babygirl?”

His intense stare told you he expected an answer, but all you could do was whine in response, hesitant to admit it. Pussy pulsing at the very visual he had conjured up. Warily, you glanced at the other two brothers, nervous at what you might find there, but one look quickly evaporated all uncertainty.

Though they had moved out of the way for Namjoon, they hadn’t moved far—still close enough for you to reach out and touch, still close enough for them to hover over you and get a close view of the action. Still close enough for you to see understanding dawn across Seokjin’s face, to see pure astonishment take over Taehyung’s.

Namjoon spotted your division in attention and was having none of it, a hand guiding your jaw until you were focusing on him again. “You like being a dirty cumslut,” he prompted mildly, your heart racing in response. Slipping a thumb between your plush lips and humming approvingly when you sucked on it, tongue twirling. “Don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned hoarsely, the very admission making your whole body vibrate. The continued hammering of your sensitive core making you want to reflexively squirm away, though Namjoon’s heavy body ensured you had nowhere to go.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I like being a dirty cumslut.”

Taehyung whimpered, and it was easy for you to deduce from the rapid movement you could see from the corner of your eye that he was jacking himself off while watching you. Well and truly done with delaying his own pleasure.

And from the rather manic way Namjoon was looking at you, he was obviously on the same wavelength. “And do you know how much cumsluts love it?” A quick swipe of his tongue over his panting lips. “They want it in them. On them.”

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, nearly sobbing at the strength your want. Your head whipping around, desperately pleading with all three of them. “Please let me have it! I’ve been so good, please—”

“Holy shit,” Tae groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Okay baby, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you it all. You want it all?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes yes yesyesyes—”

Abruptly, Taehyung was pushing forward into your space, hovering more directly over you and treating you to the sight of how those long fingers were furiously pumping his cock. He was panting, a prominent vein in his neck visible because of his efforts, little whines escaping him as he viciously worked his slick length.

There was shifting on your other side, and your focus immediately turned to Seokjin. He looked back at you dazedly, lips parted, chest flushed at your attention.

“Please?” you whimpered, fully aware how pathetic you must have looked but not giving a single shit. So long as you got what you wanted. You needed them to give you what you wanted.

The oldest immediately softened at your pleading, always so willing and eager to please you. “Of course,” he breathed, hand already moving over himself with long, tight strokes. He shivered, hips reflexively jumping forward at the stimulation. “W-Where?”

A shift, and Namjoon was pulling back from you, maneuvering your legs back to the bed and sitting back on his haunches. Despite this new position, he never let his cock leave the comfort of your walls, continuing to hammer into you, jaw locked in concentration, balls smacking into your ass with a lewd slapping sound. Focused only on racing to the finish line.

“Anywhere,” you shuddered. “Everywhere, just…” Your entire body was on fire and you could barely take it, the anticipation of what was about to happen making you writhe over the sheets, whimpering pathetically. Your tongue lolling out your gasping mouth, an eager target.

And then finally—finally—you were given what you asked for. Loud, uncontrolled moans spilled from Taehyung’s lips, swiftly becoming desperate before one last squeeze of his cock had him cumming, his release spraying hot all over your breasts and slowly trailing through your cleavage.

You moaned with him, delight buzzing through your veins at being marked so intimately, and the sound seemed to trigger Namjoon, who immediately pulled out of you, expertly pumped himself a few times, and then ejaculated with a long, drawn-out grunt. After essentially edging himself for most of the night, the amount of cum he gifted you was more than generous, most of it painting your pussy in long ropes, but some of it inevitably ending up on your belly with how aggressively he was jerking himself off.

The sight of it all, the feeling, was so unbearably hot that you almost came untouched, eyes rolling back, pussy pulsing with interest despite how exhausted you were. And your obvious pleasure was what finally set off Jin, teeth digging into his lower lip while his seed spurted white across the lower half of your face and slid down your jaw, some of it delightedly landing on your awaiting tongue.

You hummed contentedly, immediately licking the thick, heady remnants from your lips so you wouldn’t waste a drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands slowly and sensually trailing over your own body. Basking in it all. Purposely smearing their mess over wider stretches of skin—pinching gently at your nipples, dragging your fingers between your tits, gliding over your hips, drawing light, sticky figure eights around your clit before dipping a bit lower and slipping two cum-coated digits inside your hot walls. Your hips twitched, lazily chasing the intrusion on reflex. Simply enjoying being so completely and utterly satisfied.

You were so transfixed and in your own world that you completely forgot about the three other people still in the room, greedily feasting on the undeniably filthy way you savored what they gave you. You weren’t sure how long they let you be, but it was a voice finally breaking the silence that slowly lured back to reality.

“_____?”

The voice was gentle, yet deep, the spell cast over you immediately broken at the sound of it. It was Namjoon, hovering over you again, lips quirking into a small smile as he watched the fog disperse from your eyes. “How do you feel?”

You let out a satisfied sigh, pulling your fingers out of your pussy with hum. “Tired,” you admitted, voice raspy from the activities. “But amazing.”

His smile widened, cheeks dimpling. “I’m glad.”

Suddenly, Taehyung was laying on the bed with you, arms wrapped around your sticky form. Just like always, his sweaty body slotted easily against yours, happily nuzzling his face into your neck and apparently wholly unfazed about the fact that you were completely covered in spunk. “You’re amazing,” he chirped, pressing a flurry of kisses into your skin and making you giggle. “You know, when you told me you liked cum forever ago, I didn’t realize this was what you meant.”

“You never asked,” you shrugged, somehow still timid despite everything that had just happened. “What did you want me to say, exactly? Hey Tae, do you mind doing me a solid and shooting the club up? Or maybe can you give me a nice, relaxing facial?”

The pure bafflement of his expression had you laughing again. “In what world would I ever say no to that?” he demanded incredulously.

Amused by the turn in conversation, Seokjin bent down to press his lips against your forehead in gratitude before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Of course,” you replied, moving to direct him to your bathroom before Namjoon stopped you with a pat on the thigh.

“I’ll show him.”

You couldn’t help but watch their strong, naked forms leave the room, eyes drawn to the musculature of their backs and buttocks.

“Hey.” Tae poked you in the cheek, mirth dancing in his eyes from catching your ogling. “Focus. I’m talking to you.”

“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view?”

He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, though he was undeterred from getting the answers he sought.

“I told you what I wanted,” he reminded you gently, pressing another kiss against your jaw. “You know you could have done the same.”

You shifted in his hold, sheepish. “Tae, all of this isn’t really about me…”

“What, so just because we’re paying you, you’re not supposed to enjoy it too?” he scoffed. “Baby, as we’ve just proven tonight, it’s more fun when we all have fun.”

“I always have fun!” you protested, but you were prevented from elaborating by Namjoon returning with a washcloth. He climbed back on the bed, reaching for your ankles and guiding them apart.

“Open,” he directed, his tone containing none of the dominance it often had when he usually uttered the word. You obediently followed his instruction, a soft sigh escaping your lips when he pressed the warm cloth against your thoroughly battered netherparts and started cleaning you up.

For a little bit, Taehyung watched your makeshift bath in silence, not even saying anything when Namjoon left to rinse off the towel and came back with a freshly damp one, gliding over the stained skin of your face and chest before they started to crust over. In fact, Tae didn’t speak again until your spot bath was finished and Namjoon was clambering back in the bed with the two of you, an arm slinging low over your waist as to not disturb where Tae’s rested. Pulling you against him until your chests were flush.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us on our trip?” You could feel Taehyung’s pout against your skin, displeased at the idea of being away from you for three weeks.

You huffed out a laugh, slinging a leg over Namjoon’s hip to settle more comfortably into your new position as the filling of a TaeJoon sandwich. “I’m positive. I have a lot studying to do and frankly, I’m not completely sure I can walk anymore.”

“Who said you need to walk?” Namjoon cut in sleepily.

“We can pay someone to walk for you,” came Tae’s enthusiastic, yet ridiculous offer. “We’ll be going to meetings, but you can just roam the city if you want. Or relax at the hotel. You can lounge by the pool all day and put all your food and drinks on our tab.”

Though it certainly sounded tempting, you were fully aware what the tradeoff of that makeshift vacation would be, and the absolute last thing you wanted to think about after the crazy intense session you just experienced was sex. So, despite Taehyung’s wheedling, you managed to stand firm in your decision, completely fine with waiting until they were back in the country to even consider spreading your legs for any of them again.

And you were justified when Seokjin finally reappeared, fully clothed, rubbing a towel through his hair, and informing you that his assistant Wendy would be in touch to schedule his next session for sometime after he returned.

chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist

#taehyung smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung fanfic #seokjin fanfic #namjoon fanfic #mine #husband #bae #mr. worldwide #✨kim tag✨#fic: satisfy

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forfluxsake · 5 months

Text

a personal slash solitary blog where i publish my doodles, have hobbies, and do anything typical of the average person

utmv server ad

before i write anything else, i’m promoting my utmv (undertale multiverse) server. JOIN PARTYCHROMA TODAY! FOREVER LINK: https://discord.gg/sATaZ8WZDh

if you aren’t sensitive to bold text, fonts, weird symbols, and eyestrainy gradient rainbow themes, join partychroma. it’s a neverending party for people who’re into undertale or deltarune aus and the like. it’s quiet for the time being, which is why i’m hoping people find this post

we are welcoming of anybody who’s willing to have a good time. the server provides funny roleplay channels, a place to showcase your creations, roles, incredible people, and more. i put effort into it and stuff so that’s great

…a better, less half-hearted advertisement can be found on disboard. hope to see you there!

about me

if you’re wondering who i am, hi

i’m flux.

i am a male and i use he/him/she/her pronouns. that’s all you need to know to respect my existence. if you have any questions direct them to the asks feature i just enabled

what do i like doing? doodling, writing, listening to some funky tunes; learning… i’m not picky about creative activities, but i do tend to procrastinate. my hyperfixations are seasonal and i suffer from being unable to let go of past phases. the list of my interests is infinite. if you care, i enjoy a variety of indie rpgs, object shows, args slash creepypastas, webcomics, and television shows.

cartoon series pique my interest the most.

boundaries

(be my friend)

i’m a minor. this much information is self explanatory as to how you should approach me. obviously don’t interact with me if you are a nsfw age-restricted page, but also don’t attempt to send me weird asks

i don’t talk about politics.

i think being friends with me requires a lot of patience. sure, you may friend me on my discord, o5fo, but understand that i’m terrible at one on one conversation. if you don’t get straight to the point, i will most likely not respond.

preferably keep contact with me through our shared communities or mutual servers and not direct messages.

if i’ve crossed a line, i encourage people to express their discomfort. nothing is gained from radio silence. (it’s not like i’m not anxious as well LOL don’t be shy to contact me [on dis] if it’s important)

what to expect

this blog is sfw, though it’s prone to having violent and dangerous content, mostly because i’ve drawn a fair amount of works with blood or upsetting themes. be wary of who you follow, always, and take steps to protect yourself online. take advantage of the filter tool to block tags that trigger you.

i will occasionally open art requests. but i won’t do too many at a time.

i might touch on some uncomfortable topics while i’m maintaining this nostalgia-seeking blog, especially about past controversies in the communities i was in since i was a child. and depending on the post, i will treat the flaws in said communities seriously or jokingly. please do not take it the wrong way if i redraw those memories.

assume everything i say is light-hearted for the sake of everybody; spare yourself the trouble of thinking i’m trying to invalidate people’s experiences. i never want to come off that way

fanart. expect a handful of art in general. uncolored/whiteboard doodles are abundant. i have ocs- but i’m anything but organized.

that’s a wrap

i wasn’t prepared to end this post

#utmv #undertale #deltarune #sans au #undertale au #undertale multiverse #underverse #filename2 #baldi’s basics #baldis basics #bbieal #multifandom

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lovelywingsart · 23 days

Text

Neverending Forces -- New Beginnings

-- Infinite the Jackal X OC (Trans, He/Him) --

Ah... well, here you go! I already posted it to AO3, but figured I'd post here too. Give y'all something else to read while Metalworks stories are on standby, yeah?

Anyway- It's been a while since I've properly written another canon character that has nothing to do with Resident Evil since that's ALL I've worked on for the past 3 years (no Saren doesn't count, I haven't actually written for him), as well as the first time I've written a canon character after only consuming/playing the game properly once yet loving the character for a while.

They did him dirty and I'm still so angry at both his poor excuse of an 'origin story' and the fact that he doesn't even last until the VERY end of the game because he flopped on the ground like a wet stuffed animal and then fucked off to who knows where. Once again, canon fucked us.

If y'all wanna see more stories for them, this may primarily be a 'ask suggestion only' series, because I'm not entirely sure how much else I'll write... So, I guess let me know, and if you wanna see a specific story interaction feel free to shoot me an ask with an idea and I'll see what I can do!

Sonic fanfiction lessgo as well as a pretty new story cover ayyyy

-----

Warnings?: Severe injury/wound, threats, a hack job of a wound dressing

Summary: Takes place immediately after the events of Sonic Forces -- While scouting the city on a personal patrol to ensure the safety of it's citizens, our secondary hero, only nicknamed 'the rookie' thus far, makes an interesting- and possibly dangerous- discovery. While the fight has ended, a new part of life has begun; and this is only the beginning.

The city was bustling rather quietly, though not in its normal capacity- rebuilding and clearing of debris had begun almost immediately after the robots in the city itself had been destroyed and the hallucinations, the 'clones', had disappeared from the outskirts. Citizens and nearby townsfolk had gathered in attempts to repair what they could before nightfall, working quickly with precautions being taken amongst the masses to prevent more injury. Though while many were on the ground, a lone figure made its way across rooftops, searching for any remnants of the battle beforehand. 'Tie up any loose ends' , he had thought to himself. Of course he stopped if he was needed, though was primarily met with praises. Humbling as it was, he didn't quite fancy the attention- he had only helped save the world, after all. It was the hedgehog that deserved the praise, not him.

The wolf hopped between rooftops with ease, his ears on a constant swivel for any yells for help or crumbling stone- only to pause as a small glint caught his eye. He nearly skid to a stop as his eyes were fully drawn to it, his head cocking to the side in curiosity. Even with all the metallic debris around from buildings and other structures, nothing had caught the sun as brightly as... whatever it was. Perhaps a light signal for help? he thought, suddenly launching forward to a lower rooftop for a better look. Someone who needed it but couldn't call?

He crouched as he landed on the concrete again, huddling to the edge. He could see the object clearer now, a pointed metallic piece on the ground, peeking from around the corner of a darker alleyway already affected by the lowering sun. It's brilliant gleam drew him closer, intriguing him to the point of movement. He jumped down once more, keeping his gaze on the object until he hit the pavement. One look around him reflected that most living souls were near the middle of the city where the most damage was- no one was around, and the sound was distant. Scents were dulled from the muzzle he wore, but his attention was once more brought towards the reflective piece as a familiar one drifted through in that direction. It was a scent that admittedly made the fur on the back of his neck raise, but he couldn't decipher exactly what it was... But it made his stomach turn.

It wasn't until he walked closer, side stepping a few feet away as the object grew larger and noticeably hollow. The shape of it was peculiar, the tip of it pointed and angled up with flattened edges instead of round. Inching closer gave it more detail, and he suddenly froze.

The object was... a mask.

A FAMILLIAR mask…

Infinites mask.

He felt his heartbeat quicken in a sudden rush of panic, his lips pulling back into an involuntary snarl under the muzzle as his eyes darted to and fro. His nostrils flared as he attempted to calm himself down. But... Infinite was dead...

Right...?

The thought crossed his mind quickly, and it eased him- but not by much. He only vaguely remembered the Jackal panicking before he was swallowed into another fight- but surely this meant he was dead.

The wolf took a breath, stepping forward with mild confidence. He neared the mask, picking it up off the ground and inspecting it. The object was surprisingly light, the once polished metal scuffed and the glass of the left eye cracked from when it was inevitably dropped. He turned it in his hands, his claws tapping along the metal. It was surprisingly well made now that he saw it up close...Well. Closer than he already had.

He held it up in front of him, his imagination running. A cold shot of fear ran along his spine once more as he looked directly at it, his vision seeming to flicker back to when he was cornered. Back to when he fought the Jackal face to face, when he met the wild gaze of the creature they had gone against. He dropped the thing once more as if it had burned him with the not so distant memory, his breaths quickening. He flinched as it hit the ground- but his ears suddenly perked as another noise drifted from the alley in response to the clatter. He looked up, the sound registering. It sounded like... pain.

He forced his fear away with a shake of the head as he walked into the darkening area, following the sounds of stifled groaning. He only paused again once another, more metallic scent hit his nose, and one glance at the ground seemingly confirmed his suspicions-

Blood.

And with the amount pooled in one area, whoever it was wouldn't last much longer.

The thought of another innocent losing their life forced him into movement, following the trail and handprints on the wall further down the dark alley. The glimpse of a white tipped tail disappearing behind the corner only urged him into a jog, nearly sliding as he rounded the corner himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught in his throat as his eyes focused on the sight he found in front of him.

The Jackal.

The Jackal who, currently, kneeled and huddled against the wall with wheezing breaths, one hand over his face and the other pressed to the middle of his chest. He was in pain, clearly, but the wolf kept his distance. Eyeing him for a few seconds more revealed the cause of said pain; a large wound under the hand on his chest, staining the cream fur red as he seemingly attempted to apply pressure with his palm. Even from a small distance it almost looked like something had exploded from his chest, bits of torn and ripped flesh visible even under the tufts of soaked fur. It was only then that he remembered the stone that had once been fixed to his chest, and it suddenly clicked.

The Phantom Ruby... the thing that had been the ultimate cause of his 'powers'. The very thing he himself had countered with the duplicate, and the thing who's power he had helped destroy in the end- and destroying it seemed to destroy Infinite as well. Or, at least leave him with a flesh wound in the form of a deep hole in his chest.

He took another cautious step forward. He had a feeling the jackal wouldn't fight now... If he did, it was a death sentence.

Infinites ears swiveled madly as his footsteps grew closer, a single yellow eye darting up to see the wolf approaching. The recognition was instant, and a low snarl ripped through his throat.

" YOU- " he started, only for his voice to catch in his throat as the pain from his chest flared. The wolf stopped in his tracks, listening to the pained wheezes. If the pain didn't stop him, the blood loss would.

He was silent as he watched the jackal struggle, fighting back the sudden rush of anger. The sudden rush of rage he felt towards the jackal and what he had done, what he had helped do, knowing this is what he had become afterwards.

The great Infinite, once so high and mighty before running with his tail between his legs and now dying with a hole in his chest.

His thoughts rushed through his mind, some festering longer than others in such a short time. He could have left him there... he could have walked away. Let him bleed out. This creature was once a threat to the galaxy as they knew it, it was the least he could do…

But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

He wasn't as bad as them.

He resumed his approach, suddenly reaching up to the strap of the muzzle. If the jackal was bare faced, he thought he may as well be, too. They were both new faces, after all.

He could feel Infinites eyes on him, pressing to the wall and growling like a cornered animal as the wolf removed the muzzle, kneeling down in front of him. He saw the jackals eyes move with more frantic confusion with the revealed pale fur, though his own attention was locked onto the hole his hand still covered. Blood seeped through his fingers, turning the dark grey fur a deep crimson, nearly gushing if he moved to shift away. But the wolf stayed silent, his head tilting to the side.

Infinite growled again.

" Get... aw-way... " he managed through bared teeth, but the wolf didn't budge. Instead, he moved closer, now determined to at least put a stop to- or at least slow- the bleeding.

He'd at least give him a chance.

He reached out for the hand on his chest, but the Jackal instead lunged forward and snapped his jaws at his wrist in a defensive snarl.

" D-Don't you DARE touch m- " he started, only for his voice to get cut off as the wolf lunged, himself, letting a small burst of rage take control for the shortest of moments. Whether it was a control tactic or a genuine threat to kill, even he wasn't sure. He moved without thinking.

Infinite found his back shoved against the ground with a pained yelp, scrambling to take hold of the wolf in defense before finding one set of claws around his neck while the other surrounded the wound on his chest. His ears were pinned to the back of his head as he looked at the wolf over him, miscolored eyes widening as he stared at a set of razor sharp teeth shown from a dangerous snarl, like that of a feral animal. This COULDN'T have been the same kid…

The wolf stared down at him, pale lips curled back over his fangs as he fought the anger towards the jackal. Fought the urge to claw more into his chest, to make the already deep wound even larger. But he stopped himself, seeing the realization of overpowerment in the eyes of what had once been the enemy. What might STILL be the enemy if he wasn't careful. His snarling faltered for a few moments as he contemplated, only to finally relax- but only just a bit.

" ... I could hurt you... " he said simply, the calmness of his voice unsettlingly jarring in contrast to the fangs still near the others muzzle, looking as if they were ready to tear in a moments notice. He felt Infinite freeze under him with a pained whine as he dug his claws into his chest, making sure he was fully aware of the truth his words held.

He COULD hurt him... but he wouldn't.

He stayed where he was for a few moments until finally moving his hand from the jackals throat, instead grabbing the stained bandana around his neck. An uncomfortable yip was forced from his throat as the wolf tugged it away, aware of the now burning sensation along the back of his neck from the fabric being yanked against it. Any other thought of moving was thrown out as another sudden pain shot through his system, this time caused by the wolf shoving the harshly folded bandana against the open wound to apply as much pressure as he could.

He pressed it against the jackals chest with force, soaking up blood and preventing more from pooling. His own ears went back at the resulting pained cry, feeling the others claws reach and dig into his arm in feeble attempts to get him away. But he didn't budge, pressing against the fabric and keeping his eyes on it. He waited for the jackals shock to waver, judging by the force of the claws in his arm. Wasn't so invincible now, was he?

A few seconds more was all it took, and he reached to untie his own bandana. The claws on his arm tightened as he shifted, centering it along the jackals chest while pressing it down, as well.

" Y-You- "

"Quiet."

Even Infinite couldn't help but listen, his voice hoarse and vision wavering as the wolf worked. Cloth was pressed to his chest, then his sides just under the arms- one side shoved under his back until he was forcibly rolled onto the same side with another groan, the wolf grabbing his arms and making him apply pressure, himself. He was still as the wolf tied his own bandana around the jackals chest in a tight knot. Only when he was satisfied with his work did he pry himself away, watching the once great Infinite curl into a ball with heavy, wheezing breaths and both hands pressed against his chest as if still trying to keep pressure. But even then he couldn't help but growl, the vibration sending more sparks of pain along his body.

"... I don't... I don't need... your pity..." he managed, his own teeth bared as he now attempted to fight the pain. But the wolf just stared at him, tilting his head.

"Not pity." He said quietly, earning a glance from the jackal.

There was silence between them, the wolf watching carefully. He simply backed away moments later as Infinite shifted, managing to shuffle onto his knees, yet still hunched over; then a moments pause before finally pushing himself up after taking wavering breaths, his body trembling still. The wolf kept his eyes on him, watching carefully. He was still weak, yes, but the fact he could still move now was mildly impressive, all things considered... He was starting to think that the ruby only increased the strength he already had.

He still kept his distance, though let out a huff. This was taking too long…

"You'll die here." He stated simply, and the jackals ears swiveled to pin against his head once more.

"What are you-"

"Come." The wolf said, grabbing the muzzle he wore from his side and bringing it back to his face. "Proper care. Safety."

Infinite growled again, his breaths nothing short of an angry wheeze.

" I don't- "

"Come, or die." The wolf repeated, backing away again. Another statement, as if he knew exactly what the outcome would be. The jackal stared at him, though let out a groaning growl.

He managed to steady his arms enough to lean forward on his knees, taking more pained breaths with every movement as he attempted to stand. He shifted more after each pause, using the wall to hold himself upright as he slowly stood. His legs trembled from the weakness and pain, but he pushed on, nearly stumbling into a trash bin once he tried to take a step from a sudden dizziness. But he steadied himself once more, keeping one hand against the tight bandanas on his chest.

"... Who are you..." he grumbled finally, turning to glance at the wolf who had begun his walk out of the alley.

The wolf paused at the question. It wasn't the first time he had asked, of course... but it was the only time he was willing to answer.

He turned to look over his shoulder, copper eyes burning.

"Rook." He said simply, nodding towards the road. "Come."

The jackal stared as he continued to walk, only looking down as his blood stained hands the farther away he got. He weighed his options quickly, but it was rather clear to him that he had no choice-

He had nothing else to go to, no matter if he wanted to live or not.

With a pained breath and a shuffle forward, he followed the wolf slowly, holding onto the wall and sticking to the shadows with the occasional met gaze to ensure he was still standing.

#I actually very much like this one #welcome to my sonic phase lmao #this is fully intended to be an 'enemies to lovers' slow-burn #oc #Sonic - Neverending Forces #sonic #sonic forces #sonic forces oc #sonic forces avatar #infinite #sonic infinite #sonic forces infinite #infinite the jackal #infinite x oc #infinite x avatar #sonic forces fanfiction #never thought id ever write that tag #lovelywingsocs #lovelywingsart

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ningningsdream · 11 months

Text

✧ nini's library ✧

a/n: making a new recs post because the other was so messy and old, lot of links don't work anymore.

i don't read as much anymore because i don't have a lot of time and would rather write than read lately so i don't know if this is going to be updated frequently.

(reblogs > ningningsdreamisreading)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ✧ scenarios ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ RENJUN

all’s fair (on the silver screen and the red carpet) | @cherryeoniis

pairings; soloist!renjun x actress!reader

genre; strangers to lovers, romantic-comedy, fluff, angst

summary; when you get involved in a paparazzi shitstorm, the last person you expect to save your image is huang renjun.

walls, brawls, & sudden rainfalls | @jishyucks

pairings; renjun x fem!reader

genre; enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, fluff!, slow burn (!), college au

summary; your first impression of huang renjun wasn’t the greatest. in fact, the first two encounters you did have with him were enough for you to conclude that he was just some cold-blooded boy who genuinely didn’t care about anyone else but himself. that was, of course, before the (damn) universe brings you both together to work on the local daycare’s mural.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ HAECHAN

all is fair in love and war | @ahgase55g7

pairings; co-worker!haechan x fem!reader

genre; fluff, college!au, (sort of) coworkers!au

summary; none

the deal. | @cannedapricot

pairings; neighbor!donghyuck x fem!reader

genre; fluff at the end, smidge of angst, slice of life, neighbor!au, high school!au, one sided enemies to lovers, mistaking admiration for love, very romcom movie there's a kiss in the rain scene somewhere in here (mark lee is in the same grade as the 00s for plot purposes)

summary; in which you never wanted to ask your stupid neighbor for help in chasing your dream man - but desperate times call for desperate measures - even if that meant giving lee donghyuck the satisfaction of parking his car in your spot.

free trial wedding style | @liliansun

pairings; fake bf/new neighbor!haechan x fem!reader

genre; fluff, comedy, fake dating au, slice of life (?), wedding au

summary; when a random, cute, guy comes up to you and practically asks for you to follow along, you do so without much thought. that is until you get home and see he’s your new neighbor who just might need your help a little more than you expected.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ JENO

pussy blocked. | @luvdsc

pairings; fuckboy!jeno x fuckgirl!reader

genre; angst, comedy, fluff, college au

summary; y/n’s unofficial guide on how to be a heartbreaker:

1. have fun. 2. never stay the night. 3. always be the first one to leave. 4. never hook up with the same person twice. 5. don’t fall in love with boys like lee jeno.

the perks of having a hot best friend | @jaeyunverse

pairings; bff!jeno x fem!reader

genre; fluff, crack, mild angst, best friends to lovers, college au

summary; having a hot best friend is nice until you start getting butterflies in your stomach every single time you look at them.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ JAEMIN

take the stairs | @rrxnjun

pairings; neurophysiology student!jaemin x fem!literature student! reader

genre; college au, strangers to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive.

summary; after having an unexpected guest witness the neverending quarrels with your roommate, na jaemin starts to practically live at your place— or— where yizhuo’s flegmatic project partner starts to put a suspicious amout of effort into their assignment. [part of simplify romance series]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✧ smaus ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ RENJUN

crush culture | @suhnshinehaos

pairings; renjun x gn!reader

genre; university!au, student council!au, fluff, angst, pining, humor, slice of life

summary; ln which yn has always flirted with huang renjun. but they do that with literally everyone else too, they couldn’t possibly be serious about pursuing him, right? on their final year of university, yn is determined to show that they are. with all the walls that renjun has built around himself, will they be strong enough to succeed in tearing them down?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

↳ HAECHAN

manifesting mayhem | @suhnshinehaos

pairings; haechan x gn!reader

genre; mini smau, university au, mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, humor

summary; the one where all of haechan's friends is in a relationship and yn just happens to know how to manifest romance

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#nct dream scenarios #nct dream fic recs #nct scenarios #nct fic recs #nini's fic recs

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mentallyshattered · 4 months

Text

This is part 22 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

Sam's shop. I've never been there before, but it's about time to change that, I'd say. We need the distraction. Grim is enjoying it fully, probably thinking about the tuna he's sure to get.

And here we are! Admittedly, I'm not sure if we can afford anything that's not on sale, but it's worth a shot, right?

The shelves are stocked high, but not too high- many students are a bit short, so the items are only about two and a half meters off the ground at the highest. Despite that, there are stools along the ends of the rows, magically attached to their paths along the edges of the isles. I don't need them.

"Okay, Grim, can you smell the tuna or anything? I don't know where to look."

"No need, dear customers! I'll show you, just follow me."

Grim and I follow the man in the patchwork top hat through the expanse of items and prices, recognizing him as Sam, the owner. As he leads us, an odd feeling settles itself into my being. What is it? Oh, that's it- though the shelves are short, the store is vast, stretching onward like a neverending maze. Following Sam through all this feels a lot like I'm walking through a limnal space, guided by a supernatural entity of unknown origin.

"Here we are!" In front of us, Sam is motioning to a shelf with stout cans of tuna stacked one atop another. Sure enough, the price tag on the edge of the suspiciously strong plastic reads "SALE" and is followed by a slashed-out price displayed above a price that's worth half the original, written in larger font. I don't need to look to know Grim's reaction.

"Thank you!" I wave to Sam, grab some tuna, and turn back. He's gone by then, so I just move Grim to my other shoulder and walk to the counter. Sam is waiting there, smiling as usual, and sends us off with an enthusiastic "Thank you!" When we pay and leave.

How unusual. Oh, well. I'll let Grim have a can of this now, and the rest can be saved. Now, where's a trash can?..oh, over there!

...huh. There's a spot in the trash bags over here that's cleared out, about the size of a first-year student. Why? I can't see any reason someone would clear this out. Other than boredom, but this looks like it's been here for a while now. How odd. Meh.

I trash the lid and walk away. We have better things to do. Say, for example, hiding pencil erasers in Ace's bag until he notices and says something, or trying to figure out what the hell is up with Korrak.

"Myeeh, do you hear that?" I stop walking, merely two steps from the indent, and attempt to fine-tune my ears. When I hold my breath, I hear it. Music.

I'm a sin, but I'm half of the hourglass, glass, glass

I don't recognize the song, but I hear it. There is definitely some kind of music playing. But from where? A quick glance at Grim's ears tell me it's toward the pile of trash.

I turn around, slowly, silently, and look a little closer. The music is decently loud now, but I can't see its source.

"Hold my can." I take the half-eaten can of tuna from Grim with one hand and lower the other to allow him to jump down. He ignores the platform entirely and jumps down without my help, landing on concrete and quickly deciding he'd rather move the bags with magic than with his paws or face. The one right in front of him glows somewhat, rises, and reveals a pair of beaten-up headphones plugged into a strange, once-white rectangle.

Grim looks at me. I reach in with my free hand, grab the headphones, and Grim releases the trash bag the instant nothing is under it anymore in favor of hopping onto my arm. When I'm fully upright again, I pass Grim his tuna.

"Myeeh, thanks." He returns to eating. I try and examine the device. It resembles a rectangle when viewed from the front or back, but looking at the top gives it a more almond shape- if almonds were pointed at two ends and not rounded at one. It's very thin, too, much thinner than an almond.

The music still plays. I can't identify the song, but this is probably on a playlist, so I wait for the song to end. It loops.

Dah dah dah dah, da-dah dah dah, dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah

The music kicks up. I still don't recognize the song. The headphones don't fit over my head, but, in my endeavors to put them on, I see him, on the edge of my vision. Barely visible.

Korrak. I don't see Rook. Why is he here?

Ok, Yuu, hold on. You don't want to sound suspicious. That's your roommate and friend. He doesn't know I've seen him yet. So...

I turn to face him and ask, "Hey, are these yours?" He startles. Okay, maybe that wasn't the right move. Still, he attempts to reply- a series of quiet chitters and chirps I can't understand, yet still too loud to miss for my now cat-level hearing, even over the wind and faint music.

"Yeah," Mandible nods, presumably translating for Korrak, "those are ours. Thanks for finding them." I can't be sure as to why Korrak stutters and Mandible doesn't.

"Well, here you go. Your song is still playing." Indeed it is, the singer's voice calling out to be remembered for hundreds of years. Korrak, upon seeing my outstretched hand, visibly relaxes and reaches out to take it.

I've seen that reaction before, on videos, in photos, and in the mirror- not the magic one- when I realized something I saw as precious hadn't been stolen or lost, but was being returned to me.

I saw it in Grim's eyes, reflected from my own when I saw him before the entrance ceremony.

These must be important to them. They've probably had them for years and years, a persistent source of comfort through tough and easy times alike.

Grim was like that for me.

"Thanks," speaks Mandible. It takes me a moment to register his words as his, momentary confusion clouding my judgment of Korrak's voice vs. Mandible's jaws moving. The confusion clears with a single word rushing into my mind: ventriloquism.

Another question rises from the ashes of my puzzlement, burning like a Phoenix: why doesn't Mandible stutter?

Just as quickly, the question abandons me, and nothing more comes of the interaction- rather, a new one begins at the moment's end, with Rook walking up and playing a hand on Korrak's unoccupied shoulder. Korrak briefly panics, a flash of intense fear taking root in his eyes, but that fear is pulled up when he realizes whose wrist the black-gloved hand is attached to.

"Monseurs," Rook begins, nodding at me and Grim as well as Korrak and Mandible, "Come with me. You are going to brew potions in class soon, and I have been instructed to ensure that you all know the basics and how to apply them."

I approach when Rook motions with his free- well, not really, he's holding his bow with that one- hand for me and Grim to follow his lead. A short-feeling walk later, we're back at Pomefiore's main building, through the lounge, down a flight of stairs, and standing in a dark, basementy room that reminds me of medieval castles- if they were cleaned and the atmosphere of a damp, uneven-floored chamber were intentionally crafted. Rook leads us over to a cauldron, and I see the nearby bench against the wall. Epel is sitting there, head slumped a little to his right like he's drowsy, but not yet asleep.

Rook snaps his fingers. Epel jolts upright, his head turning rapidly from side to side until he spots us and hurries from his seat to a spot beside the cauldron. He's in his labwear, and, with a flick of his magic pen, so is Rook. Korrak follows suit, swapping his neatly-buttoned jacket, dress shirt, and Pomefiore-purple vest for a dull white lab coat and a pair of the goggles every Pomefiore student has. Mandible chitters something I don't know at him, and, a moment later, me and Grim are the only ones not in labwear- a fact soon made false. Clearly, my practice is paying off.

Rook waves his magic pen again, filling the cauldron with a shimmering liquid I initially fail to recognize as water in the opalescent lighting of the room. Epel looks at us all, moving his goggles down his face to sit over his eyes once Grim taps the clear frame of the cat-adjacent familiar's protective eyewear.

"Now, then," the vice housewarden speaks up, his voice steadfast, "Every Pomefiore student worth their salt needs a flawless pharmalogical grounding." He briefly moves away to fetch a cart with three levels, the upper two of which are covered in a thick, single layer of small glass vials with corks. The top jars look to contain herbs, judging by the faded green and slightly-wilted brown reflected and refracted by the smooth, light-bending surface of their containers. The ones on the middle level, however, appear to contain a collective rainbow of various spices, rocks, furs, and everything else Crewel hasn't let us touch yet, with the exception of equipment.

I squint at the sudden, unmistakable scent of mint wafting off the cart, in spite of the fact that it's on Rook's right and I'm on his left. Grim moves to cover his nose with his paws, but stops when he remembers he's wearing lab gloves and that might not be a bright idea. Looking over, Mandible's nose is twitching like mad- he and Korrak must be getting the brunt of it.

In asingle half-second, I realize Rook is holding his breath, his chest steady instead of slowly moving with his lungs, and then he pushes the cork down onto a vial I hadn't noticed him reaching for, closing it. The aggressive scent of mint wanes and blows away. Rook exhales and inhales, clearly relived. He's a hunter; his sense of smell is sharp. Too-strong oders must be overwhelming to him- they are to me.

A memory surfaces in my mind- falling asleep in a bed of mint, wild mint, dug up and moved to one spot, with Grim in my arms, and then it fades, vanishing like clear gel tossed into the sea. Another event rises into the forefront of my attention, more solid and vivid than the last. The mix of disappointment and sorrow that rose then comes with it, soon yet gradualy overtaken by the sense of apathy that settled into my being back then. That numbness stuck around for years until fate dragged me into this school to reunite with Grim and feel again.

Why did that particular memory surface? What is it that ties then to now, only now? Laying in a bed of mint- oh! My nose is sharper now, much sharper. Back then, I could lie in a bed of it and rest well, but now a meter and a half away is too close.

My familiar stands on all fours and stretches straight up, claws digging ever-so-slightly into the surface of my skin and coat. I snap back to the present. That's right, I'm busy. Busy doing what? Oh, that's right, Rook's helping with upcoming potionology work.

"Now, then..." Rook doesn't talk too much, evidently favoring the act of guiding us by our hands and arms, only commenting when the herbs become involved. Contrawise, he hums near-constantly, one of the melodies bringing the earlier encounter with Korrak and Mandible to my immediate attention. It's the same song.

Rook was there. Good. That means Korrak had some other company. I was a little worried, but now that I know Rook was there to keep an eye on them, some tension I was previously unaware of dissapates like smoke set free from a jar and into the cool evening breeze.

Soon, though, we are back upstairs, in the Backstage Room, discussing as we usually do. I hear someone say the time and our roommates leave me to complete my last two steps with ease, choosing to brush Grim until we're both off to bed. Korrak is asleep by the time we get there, and, soon, Grim curls up in his cat bed as I curl up in my human bed, and then we both close our eyes for the night. My dreams are a single, simple phrase:

"Memory Lane"

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #m!yuu #twst yuu #twst grim #twst rook #twst epel #twst oc #twst sam #what if yuu didn't want to go back

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clonehub · 1 year

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The risk of being forcibly labeled as pro or anti something is why discussions on racism in works on both of a character and meta and textual and literal level get shafted so easily.

Also personally i do despise pro/anti divides for every damn thing, it juvenile as nick said, it's needlessly polarizing, and in all honesty what the fuck does it mean to be "pro" a show ship or character or "anti" a show ship or character? Those labels make sense for being pro and anti abortion, for instance, because that is a real phenomena with real impacts and material harms and means of being actionable about them. If you're pro abortion you march, you legislate, you organize in favor of abortion rights. It's a legitimate position with legitimate philosophy to back it up.

But when people apply something like that to fandom, it becomes not about ideology but about frankly very trivial things like ships or characters or groups in a tv show. The neverending pro/anti Jedi debate comes to mind, along with a worrying lack of nuance and painfully obvious lack of a "solution" to the stance that doesn't negatively affect the interpretation of every other event in Star Wars or outright justify/deny genocide (or that doesn't baselessly accuse the "other side" of believing the Jedis genocide to be okay).

Now that basically any and all critiques about fandom get shoved into oversimplified positions of being pro or anti fandom (or the things within fandom), people (especially Black people) get forcibly labeled as activists of varying types, especially by racist white people who then want to criticize our activist actions as if they're in any position to be doing so. What also happens is that people think critique for something = outright hatred for the thing, to the point where if hypothetically given the power, the assumption is that the "anti" would zap the thing they don't like from existence.

Ive had this issue with tbb stans who take my critiques of it's racism as a personal issue that can only be resolved by destroying the show -- basically, I'm "anti tbb" even though I think that's a weird way to position anyone's opinion about a text when the critique in question is about racism. I've joked about just cancelling the show before of course, but I've also quite plainly stated that if the series wasn't super whitewashed and wasn't ableist and wasn't antisemitic, I'd be a fan of it (mediocre writing aside). For years my position hasn't been "cancel the show" it's been "change the show".

This difference isn't taken into account by people who can only view any opinion through strictly black and white lenses of supporting everything something has to offer (and thus seeing no issues in it, at least not serious ones) and hating everything something has to offer, and thus thinking it needs to be scrubbed from memory rather than fixed. This has led to even hardcore tbb stans being terrified of critiquing the writing in the show (not the racism) because people so frequently leave no room for critical analysis of any kind that doesn't reaffirm and support what's being presented in the series (or what's support by the fandom, even if not by canon).

I've been flipping back and forth between racism and gen critiques. For the record, me personally I'm not pro or anti anything. I have my opinions, i understand nuance, and there's definitely shit that i hate that I'd rather not see. I've never once subscribed to that model of fandom interaction outside of maybe (MAYBE) tagging something anti tbb, and that was more for engagement and for the sake of the tbb stans who somehow keep following me.

#ch posts #its all over the place but itll do

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olderthannetfic · 2 years

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I gotta ask, am I the only one who prefers neverending UST for my ships over canonization? My understanding is that most people find no resolution frustrating, but I actually become less interested in a ship after/if they get together (though not to the point of losing interest altogether). Am I just into the PG13 version of edging lol?

In canon or in fic?

I tend to prefer stories about how characters got together, and those tend to end shortly after they declare their feelings or start dating or whatever.

But part of that preference is due to some very bad writing of established relationships. TV series have an especially bad habit of having UST-based writing and then not knowing what to do once they get their leads together. They tend to break them up and get them back together or make them behave very stupidly so that they can go on with the same kind of writing as before.

Established relationships that aren't tedious as hell tend to work better in plots with a ton of inherent external conflict. Something like series mystery or an action-adventure story has enough going on to menace the couple that they don't need to be having stupid internal drama to generate a plot.

A lot of writers just seem like depressing people with small imaginations who can't conceive of what a happy, long-term relationship looks like or any of the ways to make it enjoyable to observe. UST is a very popular taste, but I think more people would like established relationship stories if they were presented with actually good ones.

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hyunlixsbbygirl · 1 year

Text

the baby verse | one.

-- summary: when felix has a breakdown one night chan accidentally discovers that the younger can regress. though they try to hide this from the others, it inevitably leads to a domino effect as the other members of the maknae line slowly come to terms with their own regression, while the hyung line leaps into caregiver mode immediately, the don't expect that the full group are actually regressors to some degree.

-- pairing: bangchan x felix

-- genre: idol au, fluff, slight angst

-- word count:

-- chapter warnings: slight hint of anxiety, age regression that feels forced but it's not, cussing potentially

-- notes: this story is cross-posted to AO3 and Wattpad, there might be a slight difference in storyline based on the site used to read the series.

Felix you're a little

It was a little past 2 am when the eight Stray Kids members sleepily stumbled into their dorm after a long day of rehearsing, performing, and doing a live stream for Stays. Saying nothing particularly coherent to each other, the members slowly trickled into their shared bedrooms; many members opted to just go straight to bed without changing while other members made the effort to at least change into pajamas. The only members who were still wide awake were the Aussie twins; BangChan and Felix.

The leader had a habit of staying awake all night due to his insomnia and incessant need to keep working while the younger was honestly just too stressed to sleep right now. The two Aussie twins and their roommate, Changbin made their way into their shared bedroom; the middle-aged member flopping down onto the bottom bunk of the bunk bed with a loud sigh; "Hey Binnie, you may want to sleep with one of the others. I think Lix and I are going to be awake for a while longer. I don't want to disturb you with the light or anything."

With some hesitation, Changbin stood back up and grabbed a change of clothes before thanking the elder and shuffling off to one of the other shared rooms down the hall. Felix flopped face-first onto his single bed once Chan had ensured their bedroom door was closed tight. He let out a deep sigh as the tears finally spilled over his lashes; he sniffled and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. He was feeling very overwhelmed and stressed about their neverending schedules; he should be used to this by now and, for the most part, he was.

Tonight though, it was just hitting him a little harder than usual. Chan, being the unofficial dad of the group, sensed something wrong and quickly sat down on the bed next to the younger and rubbed small circles on his back comfortingly. "You okay Lix?" he asked softly. The younger shook his head, "I'm so stressed and overwhelmed and no matter what I do I just can't seem to calm down." he whined into the blanket beneath him.

"Have you tried working out? Changbin swears by it and says it's really the only way he can relieve his stress. Or maybe try something more artistic; like drawing. I'm sure Hyunjin wouldn't mind loaning you some supplies." Felix rolled onto his back with a deep sigh; his head felt weird and he just wanted to cry and be cuddled. If he was being fully honest with himself, he really just wanted to throw himself on the floor in a fit like a toddler.

Chan noticed that there was a slight change in Felix; it was really subtle but it was there. Something different that he couldn't quite place his finger on. "I don't want to work out and I can't paint like Hyunjinnie" Felix's voice came out sounding higher than usual, almost childlike. "I also don't want to discover new music like twinnie, or play video games like Seungie, or journal like Minnie, or..." cutting himself off when he realized the change in his voice.

He didn't sound like himself and he was calling his other members nicknames that he had never used before; he almost felt scared by the sudden change in himself. He moved his eyes to Chan hoping the older would understand what was happening to him or at the very least be able to reassure him that nothing had changed. The older looked back at him curiously; there was something that he had come across a few months ago that piqued his interest.

Chan had been doing some research on different ways he could help his members relieve stress when he came across something called age regression. The age regressor, or little, regresses to a mental age that is much younger than their physical age and will act accordingly. Apparently, it was a really great way to relieve stress amongst other things. At the time, Chan really didn't think any of his boys would be littles but out of curiosity, he had saved several things from the topic just in case.

Looking at Felix now; his voice, facial expression, and body language were all showing signs that pointed to the possibility of being an age regressor; but how would he find out for sure? Felix bit his thumbnail nervously; he really had the desire to suck his thumb as he used to when he was little but he had worked so hard on ridding himself of the habit and the desire to do so was putting him on edge. "Lixie, baby..." Chan started, testing the nickname to see how the younger would react.

Felix sat up and crossed his legs; "B-baby?" he questioned with wide eyes. None of the members had ever called him baby before; at least not in this soft and gentle manner. Hyunjin typically called him baby but it was in a teasing manner with a tone of voice he had lovingly described as a meme tone. Hearing it then never affected him, but hearing it with this tone felt different. Chan pulled the younger into his lap and ran his fingers through his hair; "Have you ever tried regressing?"

Felix tilted his head in confusion, "I don't know what that is..." Chan sighed, he initially expected Felix to be offended or angry by him asking but now he was relieved to know that he hadn't even heard of it. Chan was even more relieved to see that Felix genuinely seemed interested in what he had to say next regarding regressing. "It's a form of stress relief in which you allow yourself to fall into a headspace in which you're much younger than you actually are. While in the headspace; you act according to your headspace age."

Felix considered the older's words for a moment, "To be honest... I do have these... desires. To like suck my thumb and be cuddled..." Chan smiled, he could tell that Felix was hesitant but knew that most likely, he was a regressor. He was probably just never given the chance to slip into the headspace before today. "You can do it now, I won't judge you for it." Felix considered it for a moment but eventually shook his head.

He still felt overwhelmed though and the idea of not feeling better anytime soon caused his chest to tighten. "Oh, baby..." Chan whispered when he heard Felix sniffle again as he began to cry softly, the emotions getting the better of him. Felix's body became softer as he sobbed harder; Chan quickly tried to recall how one could help someone to regress but his mind was blank. He only knew how to comfort a little that was in distress but wasn't sure if he should try those tactics.

"M scawed" the older heard Felix mumble; it was so soft Chan didn't know if he had heard him correctly. His words were small and unpracticed as though they had been spoken by a child; he realized then that Felix was unintentionally slipping without help. Chan was a little surprised; he didn't think Felix was capable of slipping so easily once he allowed himself to, he was glad it was happening though. "It's okay baby... hyung is here. I'll help you little one." Felix nodded, his mind felt like he was walking through a thick fog.

He still felt like an adult and felt the stress of his life pushing on his shoulders but at the same time he felt this new sensation; like something was pulling him into this headspace that he'd never had before. Being called baby and little one by the older only made that feeling stronger and he wasn't sure if liked this. Felix's sobbing grew louder as he sobbed harder and harder against Chan's chest. The younger was crying so hard and loud that Chan worried he would wake the others.

If Felix truly was a little; Chan didn't want to risk the chance of one of the members finding him like this when they inevitably came to yell about their noise. Thinking about the box of items he had bought a few months ago; Chan picked Felix up and carried him over to their closet to grab the box. It was a medium-sized, black box that Chan had filled with regression items in the chance that one of the members slipped. He never wanted to be caught without some tools to help him out.

He dropped the box on Felix's bed and sat back down near the head of the bed; flipping the lid off the box he revealed a blue pacifier, a sippy cup with Mickey on it, a plain bottle, and some of the notes he had taken about age regression specifically for a moment like this. Chan pulled the pacifier out and held it in front of Felix, "Does baby need a paci?" he asked noticing that baby talk was helping Felix slip further into the headspace.

Felix slowed his sobbing a little and looked at the pacifier questionably; it didn't take him more than a few seconds before he nodded yes though. Chan slid the pacifier into Felix's mouth and sighed happily when the younger ceased crying altogether. "There's my baby" Chan cooed, earning him a small smile from the younger. "How old do you feel little one?" Felix tilted his head in confusion and instead of giving an answer, he gave Chan his big puppy eyes.

"Non-verbal. I'm assuming less than a year old then." Chan nodded contently as he watched Felix rub his eyes sleepily and whine as the exhaustion of the day finally hit him. "I think it's time for bed baby boy. Do you want...daddy to cuddle you?" Felix giggled but then nodded as yawned, holding the pacifier between his teeth so it wouldn't fall out of his mouth. Chan maneuvered them so they could lay down together; pulling the blanket up over them as Felix snuggled into him.

Chan watched as Felix sleepily sucked on the pacifier, a few yawns escaping him every now and then while his breathing began to slow down. His eyelids became heavy and eventually fluttered closed as sleep overtook him, "Daddy loves you baby boy" Chan whispered, giving Felix a kiss on the head as his breathing slowed to a steady beat. Feeling the younger so content and warm on his chest helped Chan to also begin drifting into a much needed sleep.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #bangchan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #felix #seungmin #i.n #agere #age regression #the baby verse

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fleckcmscott · 9 months

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hey cm! i'm always impressed with how consistently you post new writing and was wondering: do you have a regular writing routine? also: any tips for writers block? 🩷

Hey, Fleckficgirl!

Thank you so much for your generosity and kind comment.

The timing of this ask is rather ironic, because getting words on the page has been incredibly difficult as of late. Much of my routine has tapered off this summer. My job's more stressful, personal matters are a challenge, my brain is bereft of ideas. Maybe I should blame the heat and humidity, too. 😂

The routine I've slipped away from (and am currently working back towards!) is writing something every day. When life is not busy being life, my goal is to write 500 words a day. However, I have to keep in mind that I will not always reach that word count - and that that's okay! A goal exists for me to strive for, to pick up the pen and get going.

(That 500 words isn't applicable to creating an outline, taking notes, or rereading drafts and editing. While important to creating a rich, well written story, those are different parts of the process.)

I also make sure to take a day off once a week. That's usually Saturday but it could be another, depending on what's happening.

Now, no one wants to strive all the time; that's discouraging. On the days I'm struggling, my depression flares up, or the nasty fear of failure called Writer's Block settles over me like a mildewed cape, I need a guaranteed win, so I set a goal I cannot fail. Write three sentences, set a timer for thirty minutes and write whatever you can, write 300 words.

If you're dealing with writer's block, I encourage you to try one of those goals, or to come up with your own.

When writing is a neverending difficulty that drives me to the point of despair, I take that as a sign I need a longer break. (The friends I whine to about it are also good at pointing that out. 💜)

Creating is an act of faith in the process. Inspiration is a series of elusive bursts. Writing is perspiration and work, work, work. If we don't plan breaks, our brains will force us to rest. So I plan two-four weeks off and make sure I set a date to return - even if the return is three sentences a day.

Here are some other writing tips I've posted:

1) Read a lot - but read critically. If a book doesn't work for you, ask yourself why. If you loved a story's pacing, take note of that structure. Read not just popular fiction, but the masterworks that have stood the test of time.

2) Self-doubt and fear are part of the package. While they’re painful, try to take comfort in the fact that every writer who isn’t deluded goes through them.

3) Be diligent about writing, but don’t be too hard on yourself if you only get a few words out during a session. That happens! 😃

Thanks so much for your ask! I hope this helps! 🤗

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buckysfaveplum · 2 years

Text

between two lungs

chapter 2

summary: y/n is desperate as her coven is in jeopardy. with no one else to turn to, she gives bucky a call

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!female reader

word count: 3.8k

warning: i don’t really think there’s any in this one :)

a/n: y'all thank you so much for your patience with my updates!! i know it's a lot, but my life is so crazy and jam packed rm, it's hard to find time to sit down and write. but chapter 2 is here, hope you like!!!

and pls lmk what you think, comment anything. it truly does encourage me to keep posting when i know you like my stuff <3

masterlist | series masterlist | send requests

Bucky knew you would owe him one the minute he saw you. It was your fault he had to sit in the car with Sam on the ride back from the airport, listening to him drone on about some old movie Bucky was a dumbass for putting off. It was your fault, not because you asked him to come. Because you had him so under your control, all you had to do was ask and he’d come crawling a thousand miles.

He couldn’t stop thinking about your text, vague as you often were. When he texted back, agreeing to come and asking if you were okay, all he got back was your address. The pit in his stomach wouldn’t go away, just growing and growing with every mile added to Sam’s car. If he didn’t stop bouncing his leg in the passenger seat, he would surely drill a hole through the floor.

“Thanks for coming man, I know it was short notice. But I appreciate it,” Sam said, taking a swig of his coke as they made their way down the highway. Bucky gave him a sharp ‘no problem’ and a quick nod before returning to silence. He couldn’t engage in small talk and cheap conversation, not when you needed him. All of him, all of his focus. Perhaps if he concentrated enough, staring down the endless pavement before them, the time would pass quicker.

“Hey, so how’d you meet a girl in New Orleans anyway?” Sam asked.

After you texted him, Bucky immediately called Sam back. Practically begged him to give him a ride to your place, with a promise that as soon as he was done helping you, he’d assist Sam. His friend understood, was intrigued actually. The idea that Bucky had a secret friend in his home state that he’d never heard of before was too alluring to ignore. He agreed, but only with the compromise that Bucky would be more pleasant to work with than last time.

“A mutual friend,” Bucky said, staring at the trees breezing by in his window.

“Man, I’m your only friend,” Sam said with a laugh. Bucky just gave him a flat look. “Did she say why she needed help?”

Bucky just shook his head. The more he dwelled on your text, the more he began to spiral. You were one of the strongest, most powerful people he knew- whatever you were facing, if you needed to ask him for help it was terrible.

“Do you think it has anything to do with the disappearances we’re tracking?” Sam asked. Bucky froze. “I mean, you did say New Orleans, and lots of the young girls were from there.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Bucky said. His mind had already begun to divulge down that new path, creating horrifying scenarios he would never have imagined if Sam hadn’t made the connection. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The tarmac was neverending. It seemed as though with every mile they traveled, another was added at the end of the road. Bucky’s old strategy of disassociating no longer seemed to do the trick. Not after his head found a new way to torment him. For the first time, he was glad for Sam’s rambling to keep him distracted.

From what he could remember, Bucky had never been to New Orleans. Maybe he visited briefly during his time as the winter soldier, but some of those memories were beginning to blur together, losing focus and forming into one mass of trauma instead of the old string of torments that used to clutter his mind. But that mass was shrinking, day by day.

There was no way he’d visited the south as a kid. Though he couldn't remember everything from his childhood, he recalled enough to know his family was too poor for a vacation like that. But he’d always heard of the famed city of Louisiana. Of their massive Mardi Gras celebration, soul food, and rich culture. Only good on the list about the city and reasons to go. You were just another one of them.

Bucky loved your visits. The days you’d spend with him in New York were enough to make him forget the drag of his own life. To make him feel secure and at ease. Never did Bucky come to you, you always came to him. To be fair, you had your reasons. You’d tell him that you had some witches from your coven who’d moved up north to the city and that you wanted to check in on them as well. But deep down, he felt like that wasn’t it. You rarely were away from him when in the city, rarely left to be your friends. Deep down, he hoped that maybe- just maybe- you were there just for him.

Walking through the cozy streets, Bucky could tell why you loved your home so much. The city was alive in a way so different from the concrete jungle he was trapped in. Warm buildings of aged brick, flickering neon signs, the swirling iron of gates and railings, every block was bathed in character and charm. He could just picture you walking through, your boots clicking on the pavement, and that bag you wore everywhere swaying at your side.

Sam had found parking near your block, the two of them heading down your street in search of your place. Bucky had no idea where you lived or what it looked like, he just had an address. Bright colored buildings with lush greenery past them, each with a number counting down to yours. Vinery twisted up the aged bricks and knotted around windows. It was so much more inviting than the cold steel of his home.

They approached a large building that sat at the corner of the street. It was impossible to miss its grandiose architecture. The orangy-red brick flashed before them, peaking out from behind the swirling iron railings of the two-story balconies. The aging of the stained glass windows added to the character of what was obviously a very old building. The shudders of the windows a warm black, hanging upon their arched details. Thick greenery was hung all across the balcony, trailing down some spots and twisting around the black poles along the front patio. Among all the beauty of the place was a big forest green door, at the center of the first floor, pushed back by dark stone steps. Marble columns with blooming black and brown details framed the door, obviously added for decor as their glistening shine stood out against the aged charm of the rest of the building.

A small sign hung on the door: “For herbs, oils, and other spiritual needs, find us at the French Market every Saturday!” Bucky recognized the print anywhere, that was your handwriting. If the sign hadn’t clued him in already, the little numbers along the top of the door matched the address you’d sent him. This was it.

“This is it,” Bucky said, shoving his phone in his pocket as he made his way to the door.

“This place is incredible,” Sam said, following behind. “Man, look at these windows!”

Bucky just ignored him, rolling his eyes as he stopped in front of the door. He went to reach for the door knocker but stopped, his vibranium fingers hovering just over the gold latch. What was stopping him? He loved to see you, to hear your voice, and watch as your eyes lit up when you saw him. Nothing could beat the feeling he got when he first saw you when you’d come to visit. That first look as you ran down the street to meet him out front of his building. Like a breath of fresh air after spending months trapped inside.

Maybe he was delaying what he knew would await on the other side of the door. Pain, worry, fear. It always followed him anywhere, anytime. If you needed his help, it was bad. Something terrible had to be behind the thick mahogany doors. Perhaps he just needed a minute to prepare.

“Buck, just knock,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky took a deep breath before grabbing the latch. Before he could pull back and knock, the door swung open, ripping the latch from his hand.

Suddenly, he had that feeling he loved. Out of nowhere, unprepared and unexpected. There you stood, before him in the doorway. You wore those familiar boots, running up your mid-calf, covered in buttons all the way up; the little charms and strings of beads hanging off the hooks added a little touch that was just you. A pair of rust and black tights covering your legs, soon hidden under a sheer lacey black skirt skimming your shins and another lacey dress layered over top. Bucky always loved how you dressed. You always told him you preferred “used clothes” or vintage, telling him how you thought it was so unfair that beautiful things had to wither just because society had decided to move on to something else. The lacey and silky slips you always wore reminded him of his years as a teen in the 30s, the dresses the same as the nightgowns girls at the time wore. It was familiar but in a completely new way.

He glanced at your hands on the door. A dozen gold rings stacked atop your fingers, with different crystals adorning each. Little bracelets of gold and leather and ribbons wrapped around your wrists; they always made a soft clanking noise when you spoke, waving your hands in a way only you did.

He ventured up, making his way to your face. Just like your hands, you had a couple of necklaces layered around your neck. The gold chains drawing his eyes to your collarbones, peaking out from the wide necklines of the slips. Finally, he met your eyes. Your kind y/e/c eyes stared back at him. It had been too long since he saw them.

“Hi,” you said, giving him a wide smile. Your words pulled Bucky from his trance, remembering where he was.

“Hey,” he said with a smirk.

You turned your attention to Sam behind him, taking a step forward and stretching out your arm to introduce yourself. Your body grazed Bucky’s as you did so, the smell of your perfume hitting his nose. A deep blend of teakwood, rose, and bergamot.

“I’m Y/n,” you said to Sam, shaking his hand.

“Sam,” he said.

You pulled back, giving Bucky a quick smile before welcoming them inside. Bucky didn’t miss how urgently you slammed the door behind them, watching as you did up all the locks.

The home was massive, much bigger than it seemed on the outside- if that was even possible. The dark green walls decorated with antique paintings and photographs, each wrapped in a gold frame. Same as the exterior, the interior was full of luscious plants, filling every little cranny that was left empty. Bucky could only imagine how hard it was to keep them all alive. On the walls not covered in paintings, there were towering bookshelves, lined with antique-looking texts. Little trinkets and objects also sat on the shelves, things Bucky would never be able to name. The stained glass of the windows allowed the bright light of the sun to shine through, bouncing off the velvet chairs and couch and showering the spiral staircase leading to the next floor. Decorative rugs were thrown over the dark hardwoods, making Bucky self-conscious of his old combat boots on top of the Moroccan throws. It was beautiful, ornate, and unique, just like you. It was so fitting that you lived there.

“Make yourself at home,” you said, pacing around the living room. Bucky could immediately see the anxiety radiating off of you. You never were good at hiding what you were feeling, at least not from him. He watched as you fidgeted with the maroon polish on your nails, peeling it off in little chips at your cuticles.

Sam sat on the couch, you eventually came to sit in one of the chair across from him. Bucky stayed on his feet, too alert and concerned to get comfortable. Just as awkward as he always was.

“So, I gotta ask, how do you know the cyborg?” Sam asked, smiling at you. You chuckled, biting your lip as you gave Bucky a look. He just rolled his eyes again.

“Um, through Steve,” you said.

“Wait, you knew Steve? How?” Sam asked.

“Well, after the Chitauri invaded New York, I guess Shield was on the lookout for more ‘enhanced’ individuals. We seemed to pique their interest. They sent down Steve and we talked,” you started.

Bucky watched as you explained what happened all those years ago. He knew it all of course, but it was still a little foreign to hear you tell it all again. The two of you rarely discussed Steve anymore. After you got to know each other and grew closer, it was clear how much Steve’s leaving hurt him. You didn’t see any point in dwelling on the past any longer. And to Bucky, you were here and Steve wasn’t.

“We wanted nothing to do with Shield or the government, no offense,” you said, giving Sam a little smirk.

“I get it,” he scoffed with a laugh.

“Our coven has protected and served this city for centuries, even if the people didn’t know. We didn’t need Shield and Fury coming in and sticking their nose in something they didn’t understand. Steve turned a blind eye, he understood. And I guess, we just stayed in contact.”

“Coven? Wait, so you’re-”

“Yeah, witches.”

Bucky bit back a little laugh at Sam’s dumbfounded face.

“I mean I figured it was pretty obvious. The books, the sign on the door, the fucking shelf of herbs and potions behind you?” you said with a giggle.

Sam turned to see said shelf, nodding as he soon understood.

“Oh, and also,” you started. Sam turned back over to look at the chair you were sitting at. Only to watch as your figure disappeared from the seat. Not with a flash, no big bang or smoke or sparkles like he’d come to expect with some members of the former team. Just gone in a poof.

“Teleportation could give it away,” you said, tapping on Sam’s shoulder from behind. He spun around, jumping to his feet in fright. You chuckled as you watched him catch his breath. A smirk grew on Bucky’s face as he watched you show off. He was always amazed by what you could do, whenever you decided to show him.

As Sam calmed down, a bit of laughter coming from him as he relaxed, you came back to your seat. Bucky couldn’t help but notice that anxious, somber mood settling back on your face.

“So, your text,” Bucky said, giving you a soft but stern look. You bowed your head, the heaviness of your situation soon coming back to the forefront of your mind.

“Witches have been disappearing along the lakes around the city. It’s been happening sporadically for a while, but things have picked up. We know it’s not witch hunters, they haven’t been a problem since heroes like you guys started popping up. Three of my sisters have gone missing, at first, we thought they left of their own will but our High Witch felt their magic fading. Our coven is fading. Something bad is going on and I don’t know how to investigate this or handle this myself.”

As you finished, Bucky came over to stand by your chair. Giving your shoulder a soft squeeze, pushing you to continue.

“Our magic is old, we operate on a balance between dark and light magic. Each witch is called to one side as she ages. Many choose light, we can control the balance and keep things safe. But when the dark side gets too strong, it’s dangerous for everyone. Our High Witch was convinced these disappearances are connected to dark magic,” you said.

“High Witch, what is that?” Sam asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“The most powerful witch in our coven. She leads us and protects us all.”

“Well, you did the right thing reaching out. I was working on a case I called Bucky down for, and I think we’re investigating those same disappearances. Working together would be the best idea,” Sam said with a kind smile.

“You’ll really help?” you asked, looking up at Bucky. He gave you that same look he always did, one of adoration and care. Sometimes he wondered if you could tell how devoted he was to you just by his face.

“Of course, doll,” he said.

“I think the best start would be to talk with your, ‘High Witch’ was it? Get as much information as we can,” Sam said.

Your throat went dry at his words. The room was suddenly fuzzy and suffocating. You could feel the blood pounding between your ears, your boots were too tight, the rings on your fingers too cold, the velvet of the chair too itchy on your back. You could feel the building panic blooming in your chest, banging and clawing to get out.

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he watched your foot begin to tap, your knee bouncing, and your hands shaking. He knew you, he knew when you were stressed, scared, upset. He wanted to get down on his knees, take your hands in his, and press soft kisses to your knuckles. To pull you close and tell you everything would be okay. That he wouldn’t rest until you and your family were safe. You did so much for him; held him as he cried and pulled him out of some of the darkest places in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to do the same for you.

“Um, oh! I forgot, let me get you both some tea. I’m such a shitty host,” you said, a subtle southern accent dripping out as you frantically spoke.

Before Bucky could say anything, you rushed off around the corner and into the kitchen. He turned to his friend, exchanging a concerned and confused look. After giving you a moment, he made his way to the kitchen.

He watched from the doorway as your hands bounced from cabinet to cabinet. Pulling out a teapot, then cups, then a tray. You zipped through drawers, pulling out little jars of what Bucky could only assume was tea. The way your fingers trembled and struggled to a pot to the faucet wasn’t lost on him. He waited til you’d placed a pot at the stove before making his presence known with a soft knock on the doorframe.

You turned to meet his eyes, seeing the kind smile and blue-eyed gaze you’d come to love. You motioned him in with the quick cock of your head before going back to your task.

The beauty of your home just kept leaving Bucky awestruck. The kitchen carried the same dark green as the living room into the cabinets. With dark floors and a hardwood ceiling looming overtop. The walls were a soft cream with the textured swirls of the plaster left visible. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack on the ceiling, maps and charts hung along the walls, and flowers covered the marble countertops. Bucky didn’t even have to look around to know there were even more plants trailing down the shelves next to the pantry.

“Your place is really something, Y/n,” he said, coming to rest on the marble island behind you.

“This home has been in our coven for generations,” You said as you pulled the steaming pot off the stove. “The whole coven used to live here at once, but not anymore. Just a few of us.”

Bucky watched as you opened a jar with a decorative border full of roses wrapped around the top. The loose bits of tea spilled into a small strainer overtop your teapot. Your fingers continued to shake as you poured the hot water through the strainer and into the teapot.

“You know, you’re the first not witch to step foot in this kitchen- well, to be invited in at least. It’s a house rule, no outsiders beyond the living room,” you said.

“Look at you, breaking all the rules, huh?” Bucky said with a smirk.

He wished he could take his words back when he saw your face. You placed the pot on the countertop and buried your face in your hands. Tears began to spill over as you could no longer hold everything in. Bucky rushed over, his frame looming at your side as he debated what to do.

“Hey, babydoll, what’s wrong?” He said, taking your shoulders in his hands. You tried to hide your face as the tears kept flowing, but he wouldn’t allow it. Gently, he slipped his vibranium hand to your cheek, hoping the cool of the metal would help calm you down. “Doll, please, talk to me.”

Slowly, you peeled your hands from your face. Your feet shuffled you closer to him as you took his dog tags in your hands, fidgeting with the plates as you tried to steady your breathing. All those nights you sat with Bucky as he fell apart in your arms flooded the front of your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if each time he came to tears in your presence he felt the same way you did then. Ashamed, childish, and pitiful.

“She’s gone, Buck,” you whispered, though your word came out as more of a whimper through your tears.

“Who’s gone, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Allegra, our High Witch. She’s dead.”

More tears began to flow at your confession. You pressed your face into the crook of Bucky’s neck as you cried, dampening the neckline of his henley. Your frame shook as you felt his strong arms come to wrap you closer to his chest. The plates of his vibranium fingers roamed across your spine and shoulder blades.

“What happened, Y/n?” Bucky asked, after giving you a moment to collect yourself. Through sniffles and hiccups, you pulled back and let out a trembling breath.

“We don’t know, I found her along the bayou swamps. She could barely speak, she…” Bucky didn’t let you finish, seeing as your voice began to shake again.

“Hey, breathe, it’s gonna be okay,” he said, taking your face in his hands.

“That’s why I called you, I don’t know how to handle this on my own. I don’t know how to save my coven,” you said, leaning into his touch.

“It’s not all on you, babydoll. We’re gonna help you.”

Your lips began to quiver again, slick with tears. Bucky’s thumbs brushed along your cheekbones, trying to keep your breathing steady.

“It is on me though, Buck,” you said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m the new High Witch.”

---

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