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dawnagustd · 2 years

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MU$IC FAIRY || MYG

❃ Festivaled Away: Burned Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤞ Ticket: Playlist ⤞ Main Event: Based on a Playlist ⤞ Games: fucking playlist | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation

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Thank you for completing our questionnaire. Please stay on the line and allow us to find you the perfect match…

With a few basic questions and a two minute wait, he was paired with a woman that sounds rather beautiful. He imagines that she is, at least. Well, he hopes.

He’s been chatting with her for about an half of a minute, and he’s feeling her. So he doesn’t hang up when the official timer begins.

“So umm…how confidential is this?” He can never be too careful. This could ruin his reputation if someone found out. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, it’s safe, love. Trust me.”

He hopes you’re right.

“After you complete the questionnaire, they pair you with a random person who has similar preferences.”

He pushes the worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind and proceeds to pleasure himself before time is up. He’s currently living paycheck to paycheck, so fifteen minutes was all he could afford.

“Should I lead or…?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I got it, babe. Just vibe with me.”

“Okay.” Your response is through small labored breaths. You must be broke as shit too because you aren’t wasting any time. “C-Can you put on some music or something?...I umm, can’t do it when it’s this quiet.”

He grabs his laptop and allows whatever track is next to travel through the speakers.

Fuck. He forgot about the beats he was playing for someone earlier. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your mood before he can change it. “Sorry,” he mutters a bit embarrassed.

“No, this is fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sensual,” you pant. His brows knit together in curiosity and he momentarily ceases his movements. “The bass complements your voice well, actually. Did you umm…?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I like it.” The little moan behind those words has him standing at attention. In any second, he could blow his load.

“Yeah? What else do you like?...Tell me what gets your attention.”

There’s a pause. “Or would you rather me shut up?”

“The opposite. I wanna hear you…your voice. You sound hot,” you giggle and it’s one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You don’t sound bad either…Just hearing you laugh is making me hard.”

He hears a whimper; one of the sexiest, neediest whines to ever grace his ears. “Tell me what you just did. Don’t be shy.”

“I—”

You hesitate, so he steps in.

“Touching your pussy, huh?”

He senses through the phone how worked up he’s getting you. You’ve started panting and moaning out your words shamelessly.

“Mmhm, my clit.”

He chuckles and whispers of curses come through the phone.

“Do me a favor?” you agree and he continues. “Move a little lower and dip your fingers in your pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

He uses his spit for lubrication and tightens his fist around his cock. He imagines it was your walls snuggled around him, pumping his length as you bounce up and down. Something inside of him believes that you’re pretty, with a nice ass too. A really nice ass, that’s what his fantasies project at least.

“Fuck. How many?” you ask him.

Damn. You’re obedient as well. That’s hot, really hot.

“As many as your pretty cunt can take.”

When he hears a muffled cry, his bottom lips tucks between his teeth while he concentrates on the squelching sounds coming through the phone. You both move in sync with the music and allow it to take away the nervous jitters the both of you had previously. His cock starts twitching in his palm when your sweet little moans move through his ears.

“How many did you use, sweetheart?”

You answer him in a high-pitched voice. You’re close too, he can hear it. Your eyes are probably screwed shut, trying to keep it together to prolong the call, but he has to go before his bill skyrockets. He needs to get you off—quickly.

“Two. Three, now. I needed more.”

“Greedy, aren’t we?”

“No…I’m just really horny.”

He has to smile at that. “Yeah? Me too. This is good, but I'd rather be balls deep in you.”

“Fuck, I’d like it.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand and keeps going. The music has changed to something more upbeat and he knows this is his shot for home plate.

“Really? Is that why you’re making a mess? I can hear it, you know...you’re so fucking wet.”

“Shit, I wanna come,” your words are barely recognizable and you just keep begging him for more, “please help me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take your fingers out and rub your clit. Spread that sticky shit all over it and get yourself off.”

He throws his head back and curls his toes, bracing himself for the impact of his orgasm. This has to top he sexual encounters and he’s not even touching you. It’s just something about you that’s driving him insane. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need to, not when all that matters now is the pleasure of this experience.

“I’d lick it all up too, eat you out until you cry and forget your own fucking name. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’d let me take you anyway I’d like, wouldn’t you?...I could bend you over? Dick you down with your legs pinned by your head. I fuck you up, princess and you’d never want another.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Dead silence.

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!”

The phone hangs up just as you both reach your climaxes. Disappointment is thick in the air as his quick strokes gradually begin to slow. He groans and curses angrily at the loss, and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. Out of all the people for this to happen to; it had to be him. Just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse, this happens and proves that life is just out to get him.

“Something’s gotta give, man. I can’t keep living like this.”

So, he shrugs off his needs and does what he does best—work. He puts on his headphones and hopes that one of these tracks will be the one that opens the door to all of his dreams.

Two years later…

“This is your boy Jay Millz, and you're listening to Q107.9. We got my man Suga in the motherfuckin’ building. This guy has the hottest track on the radio right now, bro. He’s gonna be chilling with us for a minute while we dip into the Rush Hour Mix with DJ Reign. Suga! How you doin’, man?...”

He nods and greets the guy behind the mic. They extend their arms for a brief handshake before he continues. “What’s good? Glad to be here, man.”

Yoongi looks around the table and sighs. He’s tired of the same fucking questions.

What’s next for you? How does it feel to be the hottest rapper out right now? Will you sign with SlaughterHouse Records?

As if he’d leave a crumb behind for the tabloids to fight over. Yoongi’s been careful; really careful. He’s worked hard to maintain a decent reputation; besides a few run-ins with the law. But overall, he’s avoided anything that could damage the image he’s created for his pseudo.

Many have tried to tear him down, or trip him up. However, he knows how to handle those people, and that’s what he’s about to do when the woman across from him asks the question lingering on the tip of her tongue. He knows it’s coming; he can tell by the way her nails tap on the table. She waits for silence and then she goes for the kill.

“So…Suga, you know I have to ask.”

The other co host sighs with an exhausted eyeroll. “Bee, please don’t start.”

“I have to. The people wanna know,” she argues and Yoongi can feel his head starting to throb.

It’s bad enough that he hates these things and they cannot stop themselves from trying to dabble in his personal life.

“Anyway, are you currently dating anyone, Suga? A fan? A girlfriend?...etc?”

Yoongi looks to his left and gives her a lazy smirk, just fucking with her mind a bit before he responds.

“Nahh, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, you feel me?”

He takes a sip from his cup and savors the cold liquor before he gulps it down, watching the poor girl slump her shoulders in defeat. However, he was a fool to think this was over.

“And what about Mu$ic Fairy?” the interviewer to his right asks.

“What about her?”

He sets down his cup and turns in the man’s direction.

“She dropped a new playlist last night. I know a lot of us would have gone to see about that by now.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Well, I’m not a lot of us, am I?”

“Damn right,” Jay chimes in from across the table. He notices Bee shaking her head in the corner and he couldn’t agree with her more. This is ridiculous.

This girl, “Mu$ic Fairy” or whatever she calls herself is nothing but a fucking distraction. No one can resist bringing her up when he’s in the room. There’s no fucking escape.

At first, it was cute. A few Spotify playlists dropped every once in a while with a rather risqué cover just to tease, but now it’s an entire movement. Some fans are even calling themselves fairies, and wearing themed attire to his performances.

He fucking hates it. The wings, the glitter, the overly sweet tones in which they speak. Of course, he appreciates his fans and they’re fun to look at, but Yoongi’s a picky guy. And if that’s the kind of girl you are, then you aren’t his type.

“I would’ve probably hit her up after she dropped the Fre@kii Ho @nthem! playlist.”

Jay bumps fists with the other guy host after he says that and they have a “same” moment.

Bee adds her input after it quiets down.

“Well, I’m going to have to agree with—”

“Do not…say her name around me,” Yoongi intervenes.

He can’t; not when he has a show tonight. Just hearing her name pisses him off.

Another reason he hates doing interviews is because someone always has to mention…

“Oh, are you talking about that podcaster?...Damn, what’s her name…”

Jay struggles to remember while snapping his fingers, so Bee attempts to help him out. However, Yoongi cuts her off before she can speak of the devil.

“Don’t you dare.”

The woman once again backs down and carries on.

“Well anyway, I agree with you know who. She makes valid points about how none of these people were after him before he started making industry music. They don’t really fuck with the real Suga.”

Yoongi only nods his head because the annoying bitch behind that podcast is right. This Mu$ic Fairy chick started showing up when he became popular and so did her followers. But that’s about one of the only things he agrees with. Everything else is out of line. This woman doesn’t know anything about him, but yet always has an input to give when it comes to his music.

One of the interviewers notices his change in demeanor and senses the hatred he has for this chick. He steps in and changes the subject quickly.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time. That’s what happens when you’re chillin’ with one of the greatest to ever do it.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nahh, man. Don’t put that on me yet. Give me some time.”

“Many would have to disagree with you there, bro. Matter of fact, you should ask them. Why don’t you tell the listeners where you’re gonna be tonight?”

“Yuh, tonight you can catch me at the Varsity. Tickets sold out, but yeah…fuck with me.”

The interviewers briefly share a round of applause before Jay concludes.

“Alright. You heard him. Tickets sold out, but who knows ladies…he might just take you home for the after party, right bro?”

Yoongi can only press his lips in a straight line because anyone that knows him, knows that a piece of ass is the last thing on his mind right now, but for the sake of some poor girl’s imagination…

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

And because of this, he’s probably going to have to fight his way out of the club.

The rush Yoongi gets from being on stage always lingers in his veins even after the music stops. The crowd keeps the energy going and going. They scream his name, applaud his techniques, and praise his stage presence like he’s a king. He is, in a way. Suga is the king of this city; there isn’t a guy who doesn’t want to be him or a woman who doesn’t want to fuck him.

Typically, temptation is easy to resist since his career leaves him little time for extracurricular activities. However, sometimes he just can’t allow something to slip away. Not again.

“You killed it tonight, man.”

Yoongi doesn’t even spare his manager a glance as he brushes past him. His train of vision is focused on that little black dress swaying through the crowd. If he takes his eyes off of you for a second, he knows he’ll lose you in the mass of people.

“Thanks, dude. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

He doesn’t know what was said in response because he’s out of range within seconds. He’s a man on a mission, and he’s not even sure of why.

You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that—and sexy. But something else about you is just luring him in, and he thinks he knows why. At least, that’s his excuse for following you outside of the club.

It’s dangerous, of course, since anyone could be waiting to get him alone. But tonight he can’t let you just leave without a word. He’s done that too many times. You show up to show after show, stare him down as if he’s your last meal, then leave without even a wave or goodbye.

Yoongi’s had enough; this ends now.

“Hey!”

You immediately stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. He wastes no time trying to eliminate the distance between you, but you dash down an adjacent alley before he can get close enough to talk to you.

He follows you, and calls out to you one more time before you halt and finally respond to him.

“Hey there.”

Your voice is so dulcet, but edgy…and familiar. Where has he heard it before?

“Looking for me?” The closer he gets the more clearer the sound becomes and eventually it clicks. He knows exactly why he knows your voice.

But you aren’t the person he thought you were, and you’re the last person he wants to see.

“You’re that podcaster, aren’t you?” Yoongi questions, approaching you carefully. At least his mind still holds the common sense to be cautious.

When you look over shoulder, it’s like his breath leaves his body. He’s seen his share of gorgeous women, but you are out of this world. There’s no way you could be her. But everything is telling him that you are.

“Depends…who wants to know?”

Yoongi doesn’t know where to look first. Your face or the body that comes along with it. “You or the bitches who want to be like me?”

The moment he’s close enough to hear the cockiness oozing from your voice, he knows it’s you without a doubt. He can feel the same aura radiating from you now that he does whenever he listens to those podcasts. You’re her; he’s a hundred percent sure of it.

“So you’re bold behind the mic, but now you’re too pussy to look at me?”

You turn around on queue, adorning a wide smirk that he’d give anything to wipe off your gorgeous face. “Better?”

Yoongi nods slowly and takes a few steps towards you. With every step he takes you move backwards, allowing him to corner you and in the dimly lit alley.

“It’s funny because with all the shit you talk on air, I didn’t take you to be a runner,” he points out.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to assume that, love.”

“But you know me well enough to critique my music?”

You hum. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” When your back nearly touches the brick wall, he leans in a little closer. You show no signs of uneasiness so he plants his palm on brick structure and hovers over your shorter frame. “What makes you believe that?”

“Because I’ve been a fan for a very long time. Ever since your underground days. You’ve never noticed me…but I was there.”

When he gives you a look, you roll your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe a word that pretty mouth of yours spits out.

“Your first real gig was on your birthday. You were a senior in high school and you invited your parents to the show. You looked around and when you finally saw them you smiled like a fucking dork.”

Damn. You read him like a book, but that doesn’t make up for the negativity spilled on your behalf.

“So you’ve been following me to shows so you can build up the repertoire for your little podcast? For how long?”

You shake your head in denial.

“I followed you because you’ve always been my favorite artist. I admire you, and I’ve been around since the beginning. Even when nobody was fucking with your music…your real music. The kind you’re passionate about.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like you would know anything about that.”

“But, I do. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. All you make is industry music now, and I’m just…bored, I guess.”

You’re cute when you shrug your shoulders, but your eyes are lethal. He feels like he’s being stripped bare under your gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were silently flirting with him, but they’d be a reach.

“So find a hobby,” he suggests.

“I did find hobbies. The podcast, the playlists, the—”

“Wait,” Yoongi’s face contorts with confusion at those words, believing that he’s misheard you, “...you said playlists. What playlists?”

Your smirk returns and Yoongi suddenly feels his cock slowly rising in his underwear. Why do the heavens place the demons in the most beautiful women; he’ll never understand.

“You know which playlists I’m talking about, love…” your hand makes a move to touch his shoulder but he grabs your arm to prevent contact, “they were made for you.”

“Made for me? What does…”

Oh, damn.

“Are you…?”

“Well, it sure isn’t the whore in there dressed like Tinkerbell. You think I’d wear that shit?” Your laugh is so intoxicating; he almost cracks a smile just standing there watching you. “I don’t need all of that to grasp your attention. I never have.”

Yoongi shakes his head. All this time you were right under his nose. Two women he could never stand to mention are placed right in front of him, hiding behind a goddess. It’s pure comedy; his reaction to the news should have him pulling away from you and heading in the opposite direction.

But can admit that he judges a book by its cover; you aren’t what he thought you were. You’re different, interesting…someone he’d actually like to have underneath him in the opportunity ever presents itself. But he’s confused…why him? Why go through all the trouble if the music is all you care about? That whole Mu$ic Fairy concept has completely fucked with his mind.

How does he go from having no interest to wanting to see what it’s all about? There has to be more to it; otherwise, it makes no sense. You two are strangers.

He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.

“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your beautiful glossed lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in.

He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it.

“Why tonight?” he asks you.

You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.

“Because…I’m horny, and I’m tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.”

He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—

“And, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.

“What might that be, love?”

Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.

“An orgasm.”

Everything grows quiet after you articulate those words. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember, and when his mind processes it all, his brain nearly malfunctions as he tries to speak.

“You’re fucking with me,” he insists.

“You should know by now that I’m tired of the games, Yoongi.” His body shutters when you use his real name. Something he’d normally go off about, but he never wants you to stop saying it. He needs to hear you say it again; for an entirely different reason. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

He blinks a few times, not realizing he was just standing there and not saying anything.

“No, no. I’m just–wow…I never expected you to remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday you’re matched with your favorite rapper on a sex hotline,” you wink and Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“You knew it was me the whole time?...and you didn’t say anything?”

You nod. “Yeah, I did. Your voice, your demeanor; I knew from the start, but I played along because you obviously weren’t on the call to talk about mixtapes. I just wanted you to enjoy yourself, I guess.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi’s speechless. That was kind, and you kept it a secret all this time. Suddenly, all of this seems kind of sexy. It’s a secret he could have been in on if only he had read between the lines. However, he knows now, and it’s still technically still a secret…if it stays between you and him.

Your lips are once again his main focus; he’s so close to living the fantasies he had of you all those nights he wondered about how you handled yourself after the phone call ended. Did you come? Or was your mood ruined like his? He sure hopes not, because you were incredible and if anyone deserved to finish, it should have been you.

He was right about you too. You are sexy, and the longer he stands here with you, the harder it is for him to hold back on his urges. But hearing your needy voice breaks him entirely.

“How much longer am I going to have to wait for it, Yoongi?”

All regards for his reputation goes out the window. He looks towards both ends of the alley before he makes his move. Anyone could be watching, but once he feels your hands sliding up his body, he decides that that is no longer his concern.

“Come here.”

Yoongi grabs you by your throat, but doesn’t squeeze or choke you. He just wants you closer, and your eyes tell him you understand where he’s going from.

“I live 20 minutes away from here, think you can wait that long?”

“Do I have a choice?” you reply and that sass is what gets him riled up.

He doesn’t think twice about kissing your pillow soft lips. He’s been staring at them, wishing he could feel them, taste them, and now he is and he already can’t get enough. The level of sweetness on his taste buds is sinful, but it’s one addiction he’d never give up.

His tongue enters your mouth without any resistance from you, and he eagerly explores its depths, getting familiar with the woman wrapped in his arms as if he has all the time in the world with you. Your moans sends vibrations through his throat when he lifts your leg, nuzzling his crotch against your heat.

Yoongi would fuck you right now while he has you pinned against this wall but that just wouldn’t satisfy his thirst for you. You’ve been teasing him for too long for him to just rush this. It took two years to lead up to this moment, a quickie would never do it any justice.

“I need you to be on your best behavior until we get to my place,” he tells you through his slightly labored breaths.

“And if I don’t?”

His features harden.

“Then you won’t get anything, now come on. Let’s dip before one of your friends sees me without security.”

Or…before he changes his mind. He’s had plenty of bad ideas, but this tops the list.

Breathtaking.

It’s the only thing you can think about as your eyes scan over the sleek hood of the Lamborghini Gallardo. The man’s got some taste, you have to admit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking you to his place. You like the fact that he’s picky, but always chooses correctly.

You drink in the sight before—Yoongi standing there in his stage outfit, complimenting his car. The vehicle’s custom, all white except for the tires and the heavily tinted windows. You could only quiver at the image of him driving it, and when it actually happens, your mind and your mouth start to go in different directions.

He asks you basic questions like your name and where you’re from; you can only hope you’ve given him the correct answers because you cannot break away from the visual of him gripping the wheel with one hand while he’s laid back in his seat. His jewelry glistens and shines even in the darkness of his car, but your eyes still fight through the nearly blinding twinkle so you can watch the man behind it all.

You’ve wanted him since you first saw him. He came to a pep rally at your high school and you fell in love with his music and his sound—his voice especially. Sure he was a cutie, still is. But he had so much hunger, so much passion for music that you felt him on a spiritual level.

He did so well on his first performance, and you remember telling your friends how much you wanted to listen to his Soundcloud when the event was over. Of course, they laughed and thought he sucked because he didn’t fit their visual standards, but now…they probably wish they’d been a little more invested in him.

“Can you stop doing that and answer my question?”

There it is again. That voice. It drives you crazy; when he said hello to you on that hotline, you knew without a doubt you were talking to your favorite rapper.

“Wha–Doing what?”

“Eye fucking me and biting your lip like that. Do you want me to pull over?”

Well.

You open your mouth to speak but he interjects.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t even answer that. Certain things I don’t need in my head while I’m operating a vehicle.”

Your neck and face heat up. If only he knew that you aren’t as confident as you appear. He’s hot, but the fact that he doesn’t know it makes him hotter.

“Sorry,” you turn towards the window so you can smile. You don’t want to feed his ego. No matter how much he denies it, he’s cocky as hell. If he knows you’re gawking over him simply driving, he’ll run with it. “...What did you ask me?”

A slow exhale leaves his lips, like he’s slightly annoyed and you should be offended, but damn—it was kind of sexy.

“I just wanted to know what you do for a living. How can you afford to travel and come to shows all the time? ...I’m just curious.”

“Why? You think I’m selling my—”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were thinking it, and the answer is ‘no’. And no, I don’t have an OnlyFans either…probably should, though. I’d make bank,” you shrug.

“Look, I know you aren’t doing any of that. Honestly, you seem kind of selfish with the goods anyway, but…tell me how you keep up. That’s all I’m saying. Podcasts bring in that much money?”

“No they don’t, especially when you do them for free. I’m a writer. I write songs and I sell them to some of your favorite artists.”

Yoongi whistles. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Name a few.”

“This isn’t roll call, babe. If you wanna look up my credentials, you know my name now…Google me.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Fine,” you scoff.

When you look forward, you notice that you’re entering a gated community. Yoongi lets down his window and waves at the on-duty guard before the older man opens the automatic gate.

After driving past many luxurious homes, Yoongi pulls into a driveway and uses a clicker to open the garage door.

“We’re here,” he announces.

His home is lovely, and you’re in awe by the set up and interior design once you enter. You’re impressed, most guys don’t spend much thought on this level of organization.

Yoongi leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering more and more as you get closer to the top of the stairs. Your knees buckle slightly when he opens the door, but your eyes still look in every direction once you’ve made it inside.

It’s dark, but you can still make out the colors that fill the room. Blacks and grays with white walls. His bed is draped with a dark set; you can’t help but find it inviting. And it’s huge; you imagine he must be a wild sleeper because you couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed that large alone.

“I love your home, Suga.”

He waves his hand. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that. You didn’t call me that earlier.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and tells you that you can make yourself comfortable while he disappears into his closet. When he returns with clothes, you tilt your head with curiosity. “I’m gonna go shower, don’t get too nosey while you’re in here by yourself.”

“You’re leaving me? Why can’t I join you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second and a hand runs through his hair while he ponders over his answer. “Because umm…”

You crane your neck trying to coax an answer but he still stammers.

“It’s…you know.”

You smile. He’s kind of adorable, in a way.

“Too intimate?”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls back while you laugh and Yoongi huffs in annoyance as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re in there?” you call out and he stops to turn around.

You watch him get ready to produce a smart remark. However, he pauses before he can get it out. He puts his clothes on the bed and walks over to the nightstand, turning on his laptop and grabbing some Bluetooth headphones from the drawer.

“Here,” he says, pairing them to his computer and then handing them to you. You take them before you look up at him, wondering where he’s going with this, but he’s quick to fill you in. “Listen to this, I won’t be long.”

Yoongi puts on some music and gives you a wink that makes your pussy clench. He leaves you sitting on his bed, headphones in hand without another word.

For the first minute you stare at the object wondering what’s being played, but your curiosity takes over quickly and before you know it, they’re coming over your ears. You don’t regret it the second you hear his voice.

The music begins to travel through the speakers, you become obsessed with it from the very first track. You love that it’s similar to his original sound, but it isn’t the same track over and over again. They’re all so different yet so him. You can hear and feel the amount of dedication and effort he put into it. Like it wasn’t done out of obligation, but because he wanted to do it for himself. You can’t help but get up and sway your hips to the music.

You feel so connected to him through his work, and that’s why you go on and on about how you wish he’d make another mixtape because this shit is fire. You wonder how long he’s been hiding it from the world.

You aren’t expecting him to be sitting on the bed when you turn around. Your hand finds your chest and you lower the volume on the headset.

“How long have you been sitting there? You fucking scared me.”

He shrugs. “Long enough to know that I want that dress off of you.”

Your startled expression turns smug. “Oh, really?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“So…you want me to take it off?” You raise an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to have to use your words with me if you want something.”

Yoongi’s arms fold at his chest; his white tee strains against his beefiness. You remember how his clothes used to swallow him, but now he’s filling them up quite nicely, if you may. Either way, he looks good. It’s just a natural trait he possesses.

“I mean either you can take it off or you can leave. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugs his shoulders.

If you weren’t horny just looking at him sitting there in his boxers, you’d call his bluff. But you’ve already picked up on his stubbornness and you know better than to try him. “Fine.”

You sigh as you drag down the straps of your dress, rolling your eyes when he tells you to slow down. You flip your hair and twirl your body as you wiggle the fabric down your hips, turning around in the opposite direction to give him a peek at your derriere.

Looking over your shoulder, you notice how his face becomes etched with approval. You give yourself a silent applaud for selecting this piece. You’re sure your thong leaves nothing for his imagination. It also doesn’t help that you’re topless.

You stop torturing him and turn around so he can see the front.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

You take off your heels before walking towards him and his eyes never leave your breasts the entire journey, even once you’re standing between his legs, preparing to straddle his lap.

“I want you.” You tell him as if he doesn’t already know.

Yoongi’s hands find your waist while you place your knees on the bed. As soon as you’re on his lap, you can feel his bulge threatening to burst out of his underwear. It’d be so simple to pull your panties aside and milk him for everything he has, but not tonight. He’s the one who owes you a good fucking.

“How badly?”

His lips find your skin and make their way to your tits, making you clutch onto his damp curly strands while he sucks and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your hands tug his hair, and you force him to look at your face.

“Yoongi. You’re either going to fuck me or I’m going to fuck you. What’s it going to be—”

He scoops you up and drops you on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise. The dark gleam in his orbs has your thighs rubbing and your fists clinging onto the comforter. He's finally had enough, and hopefully he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“You asked for this,” he warns you and you almost giggle with glee. He pulls his shirt over his head and is about to toss it somewhere, but then he changes his mind. Yoongi looks at you for a moment, contemplating before he speaks. “You trust me, right?”

“Well, I came home with you even though you hate me, didn’t I?...Why do you ask?”

“So a lot or a little?”

You groan.

He chuckles and you feel the butterflies once again. Yoongi turns the volume up on his laptop before holding up a thumb to ask if it is too loud. Honestly, you’re glad it tuned him out because though you understand that safety is first, there’s little you wouldn’t try when it comes to this man. You’ve been waiting as patiently as you could to experience this and you’re ready to get started.

You nod and his devilish smirk is the last thing you see before he throws his shirt over your head. Darkness fills your vision but it doesn’t bother you as long as his voice is filling your ears. His cold hands slide up your thighs and spread them, wasting no time in touching your slightly sodden underwear.

Gasps escape your lips when his finger presses gently on your clit, and you can only hope the sound isn’t too awkward since you cannot hear yourself.

The bed dips so you assume he’s climbing on and you release a breath when you feel his lips hovering over your body. He leaves kisses between your breasts and he doesn’t stop until your lace panties prevent him from accessing any more skin.

Yoongi quickly slides them off, leaving lying on his bed completely naked. Everything from the moment when his tongue dips into your center is one feverish bliss. Your back arches, your toes curl, and your fingers entangle in his hair. The sounds you’re making are probably feral and of an obnoxious volume but Yoongi doesn’t bother to shush you or stop his sinful movements.

He draws circles over your throbbing clit with his tongue, moving in the same motion as you do as you swivel your hips. This song has you in the mood to grind your pussy on his face, and that’s entirely his fault for coming up with such vulgar lyrics. It’s filthy and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening by the seconds. You scream his name over and over but he just keeps going until you release the pressure built up inside of you.

The shirt is snatched off your face as you’re at your peak and what you see between your thighs only intensifies your orgasm. His face is buried in your heat, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and nibbling gently while you squirm in his iron grip.

Yoongi kisses your inner thighs once you begin to calm down to help you relax. When you back slowly droop onto the bed is when he carefully removes the headphones, turning them off and then setting them on the nightstand next to his laptop.

“I would go back for seconds, but that would only make me want more,” he tells you. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out some condoms then throws them on the bed.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“Well, you better say a prayer because we aren’t done,” he laughs and excitement bubbles inside of you.

Yoongi switches the music to something else and you can’t help but pout.

You sigh. “I pray you aren’t all talk.”

He glares at you for your comment and steps closer to the bed.

“You’re a sweet girl, but…” he flips you on your stomach and pulls you up by the waist, positioning you so that your ass and pussy are directly in his line of sight, “you need to watch how you fucking speak to me.”

A shriek leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “Yoongi…please.”

“Please? You want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice is high pitched and shaky, almost unrecognizable to your ears. “Don’t stop, please.”

Yoongi finds humor in your desperation. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whine but it’s the wrong answer. “Yoongi, please do it again.”

“No.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I said no.”.

“Such a fucking asshole,” you mumble insults, thinking they’re too low for him to hear.

“What was that?”

You look behind you and notice Yoongi rolling a condom over his dick. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of those veiny hands stroking his cock slowly, preparing himself to dive into your wetness. You’ve always wondered what he looked like doing that, ever since that time on the phone.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He puts his knee on the bed and inches closer to you. You tease him by wiggling your ass a little but he places a hand on your hip to still you. “You know…”

You can feel his cock against your entrance and your body pushes back on him to try and get it inside of you yourself. However, your impatience makes you forget how petty the man behind you really is.

The tip slips past your folds and with the amount of arousal seeping from your opening, he’s able to slide in with ease. But it’s only a taste; the majority of his cock still remains outside of you, and quickly your frustration takes control of you.

“If you wanna meet an asshole…” he makes a loud gasp leave your lips when he, without warning, slams into your pussy in one smooth motion. You whimper; a harsh snatch of your hair makes you wince and grip the sheets. Your head is turned in an uncomfortable position, but the only thing you can focus on is the intensity of the stretch and the way his dick doesn’t leave any room to spare, “I could introduce you to one.”

Yoongi pushes your head forward and pins you to the mattress. Your teeth grit together because of your sensitivity. You could come just like this without him even moving. That’s how worked up you still are. You just need a moment to pull yourself together, but Yoongi doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Arch your fucking back.”

He pulls out but swiftly snaps back into you, causing you to let out a squeak. You try to cover your mouth but his large hand comes down on your ass before you can do so. Your moans turn into screams within minutes, increasing in volume each time Yoongi slaps your rear.

“I know you can do better than that. Straighten up before I do it for you,” he grunts through the lewd skin-slapping noises that fill the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back like he demands. The position is only uncomfortable for a few seconds, but eventually it becomes familiar and the sensitivity ebbs away.

Yoongi lets go of your hair and starts rubbing his hands all over your ass, kneading the reddened flesh and giving it words of appreciation.

When you start to fuck him back he holds your waist and pulls you back on his cock. Your body begins to move naturally with the rhythm of the background music and he allows you to set the pace while he whispers obscene remarks.

“Look at you taking it just like a whore.”

You can feel the arousal between your thighs, dripping and making a mess of the sheets. The squelching sounds are disgusting but don’t phase you in this heated moment. You have more important things to worry about. Like how long you’ll be able to keep this up. You weren’t expecting him to have this much stamina, but you’ve learned to never judge a book by the cover.

He’s strong, the grip he has on you is evidence to that. The way he’s handling you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy he can use at his discretion has you clenching around his dick. His deep chuckle fills the room when he feels your walls tighten.

“On your next podcast, you should tell them how I fucked your brains out to your own playlist,” he comments.

Yoongi’s thrusts have your knees trembling and nearly giving out, but he’s quick to assure that you keep up. “No fucking slacking, whore. Do better or I’ll pull out and use your throat instead.”

You’re sure your ass will be sore in the morning because Yoongi cannot keep his hands off of it. He strikes you every chance he gets and the stinging sensation from his blows push you closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck. Yoongi…please.”

Tears roll down your cheek when his cock travels deeper, touching the spot that makes you unravel at the seams. It’s all too much and you beg him to allow you to surrender to the pleasure.

“Not yet. Shit, do you have any idea how juicy your ass looks like this?”

“But I can’t,” you sob into the comforter.

A slap to your left cheek leaves you a shaky mess. However, he shows you no mercy and does the same thing to the other side.

“That’s not an option. If you come, I swear—”

“Sorry…” Your muffled cries are the last thing you can recall before your body accidentally gives in.

Your juices leak onto the bed while you hold on for dear life, afraid you’ll float away if you let go of the fabric. But just as your orgasm reaches its peak, it’s ripped away from you by one of the foulest humans on this planet.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he growls as he drags you off the bed. Yoongi forces you to your knees, ignoring your pleas to regain what was stolen from you. He slaps your cheek a few times, snapping you back into reality and demanding your attention. “Answer me!”

“You…You told me not to come,” you hiccup.

His expression tells you how displeased he is, but it’s too bad that you don’t care. Something comes over you that has you sucking it up and wiping your tears. If he wants to play dirty, you can do it too.

“So why did you?...I never said that you could.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes. However, you have no intentions on being good anymore.

“Because it felt good and I wanted to,” you tell him and he grabs your face.

“You don’t get to decide what you want to do or what feels good. If you had the answers you wouldn’t have been begging for my dick for two years.”

Yoongi pulls off the condom and brings his cock to your mouth. You clench your fist to hold back the excitement when he tells you to open. You’ve craved the taste of him even though you’ve never had him. Your mouth waters as you wait for him to enter, and when he does, he doesn’t stop until reaches the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh if you need air, and do not suck until I tell you to, understand?”

You mumble around him as best as you can. “Mmhm.”

Before you can prepare yourself for a pace you know will be relentless, Yoongi withdraws and slowly re-enters your crevice. Your eyes roll back from the fullness and addicting taste of him. You want more—need more to fulfill your desire.

Ignoring his instructions, you enclose your lips around him and begin to suck him in each time he tries to pull out. “Easy,” he warns but you keep going.

One of your hands comes up to fondle his balls and Yoongi’s deep moans begin to fill your ears. He throws his head back in pleasure while you give him, what you would consider, the best blowjob of his life. The sound he produces is the only music you want to hear. His voice holds so much lust and bass, arousal gushes from your cunt as a result.

“Fuck, I told you not to do that.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. The feeling brings him to his senses and he places both his hands on your head. You have to grab onto his thighs to keep yourself steady since he’s starting to take control. You try to maintain the suction but his wild movements make it impossible.

“You wanted to suck me off so badly. Keep it up,” he grunts, increasing his speed.

You choke on his dick and the sounds make him twitch in your mouth. Yoongi starts to intentionally go deeper, but he’s unsatisfied by the lack of space there is for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you coughing and gasping at the sudden intake of air.

“Well, damn. Do I have to teach you how to suck dick too?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he looks down on you then uses his index and middle finger to open your mouth. He pushes the digits in and finds the back of your mouth with ease, pressing on the back of your tongue to make you open wider. “Stop being shy and open this pretty fucking mouth,” he demands, making you gag on his fingers.

Your eyes water and spit drips down your chin. You must look like a complete mess, but Yoongi cannot take his eyes off of you.

“Now show me, and I’ll give you some more.”

You’re scolded before you can even wrap your lips around his fingers.

“Stop being fucking lazy.” He gives your cheek a few more slaps before shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth.

This time you slurp and allow your saliva to coat his digits. ”Fucking, right. Now open up and milk this dick.”

Yoongi removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. This time you just open your mouth and let him in. He uses your head like a fleshlight and drills into you at a rapid speed. You try your best to keep eye contact and breath through your nose, but then out of nowhere he buries his cock down your throat.

There’s an intense burning in your airways due to lack of oxygen but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The rush takes you so high you become slightly lightheaded, sending a tingling sensation straight to your center. Nothing but music, the sound of you choking on his dick, and his sound of pleasure can be heard and the way he calls your name sends your ego through the roof.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Stay just like this, sweetheart.”

Within five long thrusts, his warm seed deposits on your tastebuds. You try to swallow everything but he pulls out quickly and empties the rest on your lips and chin. Your tongue tries to gather as much as you can, but some places are impossible to reach.

“Come here.” Yoongi pulls you from the floor and brings you closer, greeting you with a sloppy kiss once you’re on your feet. He laps up all the cum on your face and gathers it all on his tongue before he feeds it to you. You savor the taste of both of you as the kiss prolongs, and even after he pulls away you can’t help but remember how good he tasted.

If you had to guess which body part Yoongi favors the most, you’d say it was your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from them. You bite them, he shudders. You lick them, his cock twitches. So you can’t control yourself when it comes to teasing him and pressing them against his soft skin.

“You must want another round if you keep that up,” he mentions as you make your way to his earlobe. You nibble on it gently before you whisper in his ear.

“I just wanna come one more time before you kick me out.”

“Who said I was kicking you out?”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi ushers you to his bed and helps you lie down before he joins you. He hovers over you once again and his hand snakes between your thighs.

“I definitely am, but not right now. I’m not done with you,” he informs, fingers entering your heat while his thumb caresses your clit.

“Well, hurry up then.”

He frowns. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, whenever someone has the balls to make me shut up—”

“Interesting,” he states after his hand pins your neck to the mattress. “Let’s test that theory.”

Yoongi’s digits begin to move in and out of your wetness, producing more lewd noises and causing your body to shake with sensitivity.

“Yoongi.”

His name flows past your lips like water. It’s the only word you can think of at the moment. Having been worked up all this time with no relief makes you desperate to satisfy the lingering desire that’s settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Feels good, huh?”

It feels damn good. Your hips buck off the bed to match his movements so you can chase your high. “Yes…more.”

“More?”

His hand tightens its grip and restricts your air supply. He knows how close to the edge it takes you by now and he doesn’t hesitate to use it against you.

“Say please and I’ll make you come all over my fingers,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t respond like this.

You try to speak, but everything gets trapped in your throat. You can only claw at his chest, begging him to guide you to your release. He loosens his grip and through your coughs you manage to give him the answer he wants.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Yoongi gives you a fake pout, squeezing your face between his fingers. “But you can…watch this.”

His fingers curl inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your nails dig into his arm, body arching off the bed due to the intense wave of pleasure that hits you. You try to run, but he pins you down and forces you to accept the mind-blowing orgasm you were begging for.

“You talked a bunch of shit, now back it up, love,” Yoongi tells you while your walls clench around him. His hand covers your mouth, preventing your screams from waking up the neighbors as if it isn’t already too late for that. “Let’s see if this cunt’s worth the headache.”

The coil snaps and your body stiffens. Yoongi’s deep voice continues to degrade you as your juices squirt all over his bed. Even though you cry out from the sensitivity he fucks you until the last drop. Your body just falls on the bed once he’s done with you, and you move into a fetal position when he carefully slides out his fingers.

The aftershock of your release has you twitching, but the bliss you feel is superior. This is what it feels like to get fucked out, and you knew he would be the person to deliver. Satisfied would be an understatement because you weren’t expecting to be stuck like this after you were done. Usually, you’re able to get up and go before they can return from the bathroom, but tonight you can only lay there in silence while Yoongi cleans you up with a warm cloth.

“I didn’t break you, huh?”

“The opposite, actually,” you laugh weakly.

“Good.” He lays his body beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, enjoying the familiar beat that plays into the dark room. It’s your phone sex song; the beat he played to help you relax. “Remember this?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You keep saying that like I’m always on your mind.”

“Maybe you are,” you reply.

A soft scoff comes from behind you. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

There’s silence, then eventually a long sigh.

“I want you gone before I wake up, okay?”

You shake your head. Not in disbelief because it’s what you expected, but because he can’t read between the lines. But you aren’t naïve and you know when someone wants you just as bad as you want them. So for now, you’ll be patient.

“Fair enough,” you answer.

Satisfied, he rolls over and drifts off into sleep, leaving you awake to wallow in your thoughts. It seemed best to just get up and leave then, but it takes nearly an hour to regain your strength. And just when you think it’s safe for you to slip away and consider this night one of the good memories, the warmth you felt before returns and pulls you closer—it is then that your eyes become heavy and you submit to the comfort you know you aren’t supposed to have.

When Yoongi wakes up and finds a cold empty bed, he can only throw his head back in frustration. He hopes…no, he prays he didn’t say anything to make you feel like he wasn’t interested. He knows he can be a dick, but he was just pissed and horny last night. You’re not easy to handle, but he likes that about you. You aren’t afraid to put him in his place.

He rolls out of bed and the first thing he notices is that his laptop is still playing music, so he makes turning it off his first task. However, once he enters the password, he finds an opened document with a typed note in the center of the page.

If you ever think of me, just call...If you want?

Yoongi’s speechless, and out of his damn mind. That’s the only excuse he has for picking up his phone and calling the number you left at 9 am in the damn morning. The longer the phone rings, the more regret fills him. He can’t help but think you left that there to tease him for calling you so quickly. He tries to hang up but before he can remove the phone from his ear the ringing stops and your beautiful voice blesses him once again.

“Hello?”

He panics, and doesn’t respond. He searches the room frantically and finds his excuse lying on the floor right in front of him.

“Yeah, you left your earring. Looks expensive,” he murmurs before he clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m wearing both of mine now. Must be for someone else.”

Embarrassment washes over him as he stands there naked in his bedroom. How could he be so stupid? That thing’s probably months old, if not longer. He wonders if you saw it. Maybe that’s why you left.

“I’m kidding, Yoongi. If it’s a gold hoop, it’s mine,” you laugh and he feels a weight left from his shoulders.

The idea of you finding stuff that belongs to other women in his home doesn’t put a good feeling in his chest. He also doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who lets anyone in his home because he’s not that kind of guy.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he says once your giggles cease.

“And you’re sarcastic.”

Still sharp as hell. He thinks to himself.

“Whatever.” He takes a seat on his bed and rests his back against the headboard while he checks emails on his laptop and uses small talk to melt away the awkwardness. “So…you left in a hurry, huh?”

Smooth.

“You told me you wanted me gone before you woke up, remember?”

Of course, he did. Because he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I was just fucking with you, though. I would have given you a ride or something, you know.”

“No worries. I made it to my hotel room safely,” you assure and he releases a sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear that.”

“Mmhm, miss me already, huh?...too bad you kicked me out.”

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna wake up to some tits in my face, but that’s fair.”

There’s some shuffling in the background like you’re moving something, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

“Can you remember anything from last night?” you ask him after a beat of silence.

His fingers run through his hair as he thinks about all the filthy images replaying in his mind.

“Well yeah, I remember you, of course. You were fucking incredible. But everything after that moment was a blur. Please don’t tell me I did something stupid.”

“No, you’re good. I had fun.”

So did he. He wishes it’d happen again, and again. “And you’re okay too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My ass is sore and I can barely sit down, but I feel good. Thanks for that.”

Thank heavens you are. He knows how rough he was and most women aren’t into that but you took it and enjoyed it. You were fun to play with, and now his cock twitches at the thought of what your ass must look like now, covered in his marks.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, love. Bummed about having to work, but I’m good,” he responds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I kept you up when you have to work this morning.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I enjoyed your company, and…”

He almost told you that he missed you, but caught himself at the last minute.

“And what?”

“Uhh, nothing,” he gulps. “I was reading something…Forgot what I was going to say.”

“O’kay.”

Yoongi can tell by the sound of your voice that you don’t buy it.

“Yup,” is all he can say in response.

After a minute or two of both of you just holding the phone, you finally say something to keep the conversation going. “Yoongi?”

“Hm…”

“Are you busy right now or…?”

He places his laptop beside him because he can assure that whatever he has to do isn’t as important as this.

“No, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about last night,” you admit.

Now, he’s kind of nervous. What else happened while he was in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi stays on the line waiting patiently for your answer, and it’s one he doesn’t expect.

“Well, you still owe me, you know?”

Interesting.

“And what do you mean by that?” he questions.

“Well…”

Yoongi already knows where this is going and luckily he knows exactly how to handle this situation. “Not satisfied, are you, baby?”

“No, I am. But…”

He chuckles. “You want some more?”

“If it isn't too much trouble. And if you have time, of course.”

You’re as sly as a fox and you know how to get what you want. It’s hot, but he’s going to have to humble you before he does anything else.

“No trouble at all, baby. Do me a favor, and spread your legs for me.”

“Okay.”

He hears some more movement and then you return, prepared to do anything he tells you in the hopes of pleasuring yourself. You tell him once you’re ready and he provides you with more instructions, in which you follow without question.

“Now, facetime me and place the phone between your thighs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

Within a second, his phone notifies him of an incoming facetime call. He answers it and finds you sitting in your hotel room. You’re wearing a large shirt but he can still see the fresh blooms from where he took your skin between his teeth the night before creeping up your neck. He can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

He curses when he sees your cunt, all glistening and wet with your juices. His mouth waters but he pushes his filthy thoughts in the back of his mind.

“This is what you’re going to do,” he starts, watching in awe as strings of arousal snap while you’re scissoring yourself in his presence, “...you’re going to imagine me fucking your brains out and you’re gonna use that image to get yourself off…without me.”

“Yoongi—”

He tsks. “I’m not your man, and making you come is not my job, baby.”

“But…”

If he gave a fuck, he’d break hearing how desperate and needy your voice sounds, but you need to understand that he isn’t going to come every time you call for him. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t need distractions.

“But nothing…Now, bye. Have fun.”

He hangs up just as you start to curse at him and yell into the phone. But he knows this isn’t over; you’re probably getting a ride over to his place right now, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

You were able to just walk out of here this morning without even waking him. That doesn’t sit right with him, and there’s only one solution for it really—

He’s just going to have to fuck you harder during round two…

And maybe, just maybe…get to know you a little bit after.

We’ll see.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga smut #bangtanbathhouse #festivaledaway #bangtansorciere #btsdreamcourt #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #yoongi fanfics #bts fanfics #sugakookitty

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

two in one (explicit)

genre: 100% smut

pairing: hoseok x reader x jimin

summary: you finally have a much-needed smoke session with your best friends, just like old times. you’re also pretty sure they’re gay… right?

word count: just under 12k, help

contains: explicit sexual content!!! M/M/F threesome, double vaginal penetration, come eating, mutual masturbation, recreational drug use (just weed tho), friends to lovers, multiple orgasms, a lot of cunnilingus, a smidge of dirty talk, crying after sex (in a good way), and some incredibly stupid/v mildly problematic discussions of sexuality

A/N: i am literally so embarrassed that this is my first crosspost to tumblr but hi, i made you this p0rn, i hope you like it. this is also on AO3 if that's how you prefer to get down

~*~

The three of you have the perfect smoke session down to a science. Your roles are considered sacred at this point, unchanged since you were fifteen years old and smoking mids out of horribly constructed apple pipes in Hoseok’s parents’ basement.

Hoseok provides the pot.

It’s easy for him, social butterfly that he is, to make the connections and bring up the question just delicately enough to get what he wants without seeming like a narc. He’s always been able to thread the needle of finding a reliable plug with good quality stuff who doesn’t awkwardly overstay their welcome by asking to smoke it with you (or worse, try to push pills or other shit on you).

And now that he’s rich, he gets the best stuff there is, probably flown out from California with stupid names like Maui Wowie and Super Lemon Haze. He has to pack the bowl, too– you’re lazy so you prefer pre-rolls, but Hobi refuses to do anything rolled if Jimin is smoking it. (“Have you seen his lips? He’d soak right through the thing.”)

Jimin brings the snacks.

These have not changed from when you were teenagers, but you can actually afford them now, instead of forcing Hobi to distract a store clerk while you and Jimin shoved as much as you could into his backpack.

Honey butter chips, shrimp crackers, pepero, the little chocolate puffs that he can toss in the air and catch in his mouth every time– Jimin’s snack game is elite, and he’ll always lovingly set out a full glass of water for each of you before the session starts. He’s even been known to disappear into the kitchen, only to return with three bowls of fire noodles that he managed to whip up while blazed as fuck.

And you are in charge of the music.

You’ve had other friends argue that this isn’t enough to be considered a real session contribution, but you know Hobi and Jimin understand the importance of ambiance. You’ve learned the hard way how awful it is to be high as shit in absolute silence– or worse, high as shit with Adult Swim on in the background. Your best friends, thankfully, have taste.

Over the years you’ve built up a collection of playlists perfectly crafted to follow the arc of a session: Fun pop to ease you into the giggly stages, then slowly moving on to stuff with more psychedelic layers as the body high sets in, and of course a nice dose of chillwave to round things out. (Is there anything better than falling asleep stoned to Tycho? The answer is no.)

“Hoseok, I can’t figure out your fancy Bluetooth shit,” you whine as your phone once again refuses to connect to his built-in home stereo.

You’re in the living room of their bougie apartment, sinking into the pillows of a couch that feels more like a cloud. Quite a change from the basement years, when you’d all try to squeeze on an eyesore of a loveseat, the upholstery torn away on the arms to reveal the foam stuffing underneath. It was really only built to fit two people, so inevitably, someone would end up on the floor. Usually Jimin.

Hoseok is kneeling on the carpet, working diligently atop the glass coffee table. You glance over at him for help, but he’s in full Hobi-focus mode, tongue between his teeth as he gingerly removes the lid from the grinder, bringing it close to his face to check the consistency. Giving an approving nod, he pinches the grind between his delicate fingers and begins packing it into the bowl of his rainbow glass pipe. His favorite, naturally.

Jimin flops down on the couch next to you, taking your phone out of your hands without asking. He repeats the exact same steps you’ve done three times, but for some reason when he does it, the device connects without issue.

You roll your eyes and snatch your phone back, scrolling until you find your latest session playlist. You tap play and the opening guitar notes of Lil Nas X’s MONTERO surround you from all sides.

The reaction is immediate from both of them. Hoseok throws one hand in the air, doing the best body rolls he can manage on his knees while still packing a bowl with the other hand. His tongue lolls out of his mouth as the beat kicks in, and he throws in his own ad-libs (“yeah”, “uh-huh”) between the lines of the first verse.

Jimin, being Jimin, reaches his hand between his shoulder blades and pulls his shirt off over his head.

It’s been a fact for as long as you’ve known him– Jimin is terrible at keeping his clothes on. You’ve seen him shirtless, even down to his boxers, easily hundreds of times. There is no human more immune to the charms of a six-pack than you are, you’d wager.

The defined indentations just below his hips, though… His sweatpants ride low enough as he wiggles to the music that you can see them now, and your gaze lingers for a moment. Those are pretty good. It’s a shame, really.

You grab his shirt off the floor and toss it back at him. “Keep your clothes on, Jimin!” He sticks his tongue out at you and you poke a finger into his side until he squirms away and does as he’s told.

Hoseok grabs the seat next to you on the couch. “Alright Jimin, you do the honors,” he announces, passing the bowl across you and retrieving a lighter from the coffee table.

As Jimin gets the bowl started, you feel Hoseok’s hand gently creep up your back. He’s always so touchy. It’s funny how all their mannerisms come back to you in pieces, like you’d forgotten your best friends. It’s been too long, you guess, nearly a year since the last time you’ve been able to be together like this.

Hoseok’s fingers absentmindedly start to massage a knot in your shoulders and you shiver at the sensation, letting your eyes flutter closed for a second. God, that feels good. You have so few friends who are comfortable being physical the way he is, and you haven’t had a proper fuck in way too long.

Not that that’s Hobi’s problem to solve, of course. But at this point, you’ll take what you can get, even if it’s just a one-handed shoulder massage.

Jimin exhales the first hit in an impressively large cloud of smoke. His hand still working your shoulders, Hoseok leans over you with his lips pursed, inhaling at the air as if to pull the smoke in.

You laugh as you take the bowl and lighter from Jimin, because Hoseok looks ridiculous. You let the flame lick at the bud and when you inhale, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“Please, Hobi. If you want to shotgun, you have to do it right.” He places his fingers under your chin to tilt your head up, his mouth hovering close to yours, and parts his lips.

You roll your eyes because Jimin is such a fucking flirt. He always has been. Feeling put upon, you exhale a stream of smoke and he sucks it in. It’s not particularly sexy, but having someone’s face so close to yours, with Hoseok’s fingers still pressing into your skin, is enough to make your pulse quicken.

Good god girl, get a grip, you think to yourself. These men are not interested.

You hand the bowl off to Hoseok and he removes his hand from your shoulders to take a hit. Apparently not satisfied with only one shotgun, Jimin leans across you to encourage Hoseok to do the same. He’s always been the king of playing chicken.

Hobi’s eyes crinkle as he fights to keep the smile off his face. Jimin’s hand lands on your thigh for balance as he moves over you.

You’re not sure if it just takes you by surprise or if you’re really that touch-starved, but you flinch at the contact, which is enough to make Hoseok laugh and choke on the hit, coughing smoke out at the both of you.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I’m jumpy today.” You sink back into the cushions.

The rush of the first hit after far too long is enough that your head is buzzing a little and you have no filter, instead there’s simply a direct line from your brain to your mouth. “I need to get laid. I’ve been in a dry spell for like…” You pause to count. “Jesus, almost six months. It’s starting to fuck with me.”

You look up and Jimin and Hoseok are having some silent conversation between the two of them in facial expressions you can’t make sense of. Jimin has paused with the bowl halfway to his lips and is failing to suppress a laugh, creases appearing under his eyes.

Jimin has forever been able to make Hoseok cackle without saying anything. “It’s all in the eyes!” Hobi would always say after doubling over for a solid minute. “Just his eyes make me laugh!” Now is no exception, and Hobi does his classic move where he laughs so hard he stands up, which never fails to make you laugh.

You clap a hand to your mouth and that makes both of them laugh more, until Hoseok is sprawled on the floor and you’re slumped sideways on the cushion where he was sitting.

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally manage to gasp, launching a couch pillow at Hoseok. He effortlessly catches it between his feet. “I know you guys never have this problem, alright? Must be nice.”

Jimin, about to finally take his hit, pauses again. You sit up and smack him on the arm, and he flicks the lighter and runs it around the edge of the bowl, inhaling deeply. Trying his best to hold it in, he manages to choke out, “What does that mean?” before coughing up the lungfuls of smoke. When he finally recovers, he hands you the bowl. “We don’t fuck fans.”

You give him a look. “Well yeah, obviously.” You take a hit, the bud sizzling in the flame of the lighter.

Hoseok sits up. “I’m confused.”

You pass the bowl and lighter to him with one hand, using the other to gesture back and forth between them, like it’s obvious, then finally exhale smoke through your nose. “You’re– you know! You two!”

Hoseok grins ear-to-ear, like he’s finally understanding. “Me and Jimin-ah?! We are not together.”

You sigh, frustrated. “Okay, fine, whatever label you want to put on it. Roommates, fucking, whatever.”

Jimin squints hard, leaning his whole body away from you so he can survey you like you’ve gone insane. “What?!”

Your mouth goes dry (well, even dryer than the cotton mouth that was already starting to happen). You reach for your glass of water on the coffee table, the physical need completely overtaking your desire to continue the conversation, and chug in silence for a few seconds.

Hoseok exhales a pretty stream of smoke, then frowns in confusion. “Who told you we were fucking?”

You shrug, glass still to your lips, then finally swallow and return it to the coaster. “Nobody.” Your cheeks flush with heat as the delayed embarrassment finally starts to kick in. “Forget I said anything.”

Jimin takes the bowl and lighter from Hobi but is clearly not satisfied with your answers, because he sets both down on the coffee table and fully turns to face you, crossing his legs under him on the couch cushion. “What made you think we were?”

You make a face, wondering how that’s even a question. “I don’t know, have you seen the two of you interact?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Jimin flirts with anything that moves.” Jimin shrugs and nods as if to co-sign this assessment.

“You’ve been roommates for like a decade! You always talk about living together forever!”

They blink at you, apparently waiting for you to produce better evidence for your claims.

You close your eyes and let out a deep exhale. “Whatever, look, I made an assumption and I shouldn’t have. And I was wrong. My bad. Let’s move on.”

You crack one eye open to see them both shrug it off.

Jimin reaches for the lighter and bowl once more as a weird feeling bubbles up in your chest. You grab your phone to find a song to reset the energy of the space. You didn’t mean to kill the vibe, you think to yourself, and then Kendrick Lamar seems like the obvious choice.

They both nod in approval, Jimin’s full lips wrapped around the end of the bowl, and Hobi immediately starts to sing along. The chorus is perfect for his deep vocal register, and he effortlessly slips into the fast-paced verse as Jimin inhales.

You should leave it alone. You know you should. But something you assumed to be objective truth has just been disproven, and now you have to question everything. Is the sky even still blue?

“You guys are gay though, right?”

The laughter starts up again, and you sink so low on the couch you almost slide off. “What the fuck?!”

“Oh my god, look at her,” Hoseok cackles, crawling over to slide onto the cushion next to you. You scoot back up and roll towards him, burying your face in his shoulder and tucking your knees alongside him. “Did your entire world just turn upside down?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You’re terrified to say anything else, so you can only nod your head against his shoulder.

Taking pity on you, Hoseok wraps his arms around you, his fingers running gently through your hair. His nails barely graze your scalp and you shiver in pleasure, melting that much further into him. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.” He scoffs. “No, we’re not gay.”

While you were having an existential crisis, Jimin must have snuck in a second hit, and he chokes on it now, coughing out a few puffs of smoke. He gives a little shrug. “I mean, I’m not not gay.”

“But you, Hoseok?!” You pull away slightly to look at him and he gives you a look right back.

“What’s that supposed to mean, bitch?”

You scramble to find some evidence for this belief you’ve held for a decade and are unable to come up with much. “Y-you’re such a good dancer, and you love fashion… You saw Lady Gaga in Vegas!”

He rolls his eyes and shoves you. “Alright, get off me.”

“Wait, no!” You slump backwards, bumping against Jimin’s leg, and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry, Hobi, I didn’t mean it like that.” He pouts at you, apparently still a little hurt.

You continue, trying to dig yourself out. “I seriously don’t care, and you know I love you guys no matter what. But you have to understand that I’ve held these… clearly delusional beliefs for a long time.” You pause and a smile cracks over your face. “And I’m also high as shit, so like. Just give me a second to process this.”

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok’s concentration has suddenly shifted away from you, and you turn to see Jimin taking his third hit in a row. He looks sheepish as he blows out the smoke, then flashes a small smile.

“What? You guys seemed busy.” He finally hands you the bowl and the lighter; you’re grateful for the distraction.

You’re about to touch the flame to the green when he adds, “I think Hobi’s just mad because he always wanted to fuck you, and now it turns out you thought he was gay the whole time.”

You nearly drop the bowl. “What?!” You scream, but you’re drowned out by the half-yell, half-laugh Hoseok makes as he leaps over you and tackles Jimin.

They roll onto the floor, leaving you sitting stupidly on the couch alone, way too fucking high for this.

Hobi wraps himself around Jimin, pinning his arms and legs in place in what almost looks like a full-body hug. He’s cackling like a madman, his nose pressed into the crook of Jimin’s neck. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you smug son of a bitch.” He whispers, and Jimin giggles and squirms, trying to free himself.

You look down at the bowl in your hand, beyond confused, then shrug and take your hit anyway.

Jimin manages to wrench one arm free, tickling Hobi until he finally relents and they break apart from each other, both breathing heavy. Jimin lays flat on his back, laughing contentedly to himself as he stares up at the ceiling. Hoseok is on his hands and knees, and he leans forward to press his forehead into the carpet, gasping for air.

Nobody says anything for a moment, and you set the bowl and lighter on the table. “Can we just start over? Forget everything that everyone has said tonight?”

Hoseok lifts his head to make eye contact with you, still panting. “I don’t know why Jimin said it like that. Like he didn’t wanna fuck you too.”

You grab a pillow off the couch and shove it over your face. “Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on,” you wail, slightly muffled by the fabric.

A pair of hands close around yours, and the pillow shifts out of your vision, replaced by Jimin’s face. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, leaning in. His eyes linger on your mouth.

“Hoseok’s not wrong.” Jimin licks his lips.

“Oh my god Park Jimin, do not fucking flirt with me right now!” You yank the pillow back from him and move to smack him with it, but your reflexes are slowed enough that he’s able to shield his face with his arms in time, dissolving into a fresh round of giggles. You continue to beat him senseless with your fluffy weapon.

“Okay, okay, ow! I’ll tell you the truth if you stop hurting me!”

You’re slightly more intrigued than you are pissed off, so you relent, hugging your arms around the pillow in your lap. “Go ahead.”

Jimin seems unprepared to say more, and his eyes dart to Hoseok, looking for an out.

Hoseok groans and pulls himself back onto the couch, and Jimin mirrors him on the other side of you. “The truth is…” Hobi starts, clearly unsure of how to phrase it. “We were fifteen. And you were a cool girl who smoked weed with us. So obviously, we wanted to fuck you.”

Your head spins and you cling to your pillow for dear life. “B-but… Neither of you ever… We never…”

“Never what? Tried anything? Come on. We didn’t have any game, we were total losers back then. And you didn’t seem like you were interested, so we didn’t want to ruin things.”

“I don’t know why you weren’t.” Jimin leans one elbow on the back of the couch, resting his head in his hand and purposefully flexing his bicep.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning, amused by Jimin’s antics as always. “It’s also kind of awkward when you’re both into the same girl.” Hobi shoots a very specific look at Jimin, and your eyes dart between them, trying to decode the hidden message.

Jimin bites down on his bottom lip, cheeks puffing out in laughter, understanding something that is lost on you.

“Tell me!” You smack a hand on each of their thighs. “No more secrets!”

“Ohhh, Jimin-ah, do you want to tell her?” Hoseok tilts his head, his face flushing. “It’s embarrassing!”

“Well, now you have to tell me!” You persist.

Jimin’s cheeks are red now too, and he shifts uncomfortably, playing with the hem of his shirt. It must be bad if the guy who is literally known for being shameless can’t even say it. A thousand possibilities race through your mind.

“Sometimes after you left, I’d, uh, go to the bathroom while Hoseok stayed in the basement and we’d… You know. Take care of things. Separately.”

Surely the drugs were laced and this entire conversation is some wild hallucination, you think to yourself. This cannot be real life.

“And sometimes,” Hoseok says, his voice breaking as a nervous laugh rips through him. Jimin turns away and buries his face in the arm of the couch, already full-body cringing in preparation for whatever Hobi is about to say. “We’d take care of things… not separately.”

At this, you’re on your feet, your security pillow falling to the floor. “So you are gay!”

“No!” Hobi stands up beside you, hands reaching to grip your shoulders as he convulses with laughter.

“I thought I made my status clear earlier,” Jimin mumbles, face pressed into the couch.

“The dicks never touched,” Hoseok clarifies with a shake of your shoulders, still laughing.

“Like that makes any difference,” you counter.

“We never touched each other’s dicks. It was a… mutual masturbation of sorts.”

You pause to consider this. “I– Wow. I think I need a minute.” You allow Hoseok to gently push you back down to the couch. He sits next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders again, guiding you to lay on your side with your head resting in his lap. You don’t resist.

“I really thought we’d take that one to the grave,” Jimin says with a laugh, reaching for his glass of water.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” you mumble. Your mind drifts back to high school. It feels like another lifetime. How did nothing ever happen? Why weren’t you interested in them?

You think back on fifteen-year-old you and give her a pity laugh. For starters, she was a fucking trainwreck. You were so self-conscious and anxious back then, it probably never even occurred to you that anyone was capable of having any desire towards you.

And then at some point, as you got older, you’d convinced yourself they were boyfriends, or at the very least fucking. Once it seemed like the option was off the table, you’d never considered it again.

But now… Your head spins.

Your best friends are obviously extremely attractive; you have eyes. And they apparently want to fuck you– or at least, they did. But what about now? The unspoken question lingers in your mind.

You’re desperately touch-starved and in need of a good fuck, this much you know. But these are your best friends. Could you do it? Should you? Would they even want to? Would it mess everything up? And how would it work, logistically? Would you have to pick one? Would they take turns? Or would they… share?

Your body shudders with a mixture of arousal and confusion, and you feel Hoseok rub his hand along your upper arm, then your back.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come back to earth. Don’t let it ruin your high.”

You’re not sure you even feel high anymore, just overwhelmed and on edge. You sit up slowly, still shivering.

Something bumps against your arm and you realize it’s Jimin’s hand. He laces his fingers through yours and gives your hand a squeeze. You glance at him.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow hard and let your eyes flutter closed for a moment. These little touches alone, Jimin’s hand in yours, Hoseok rubbing small circles into your back, feel incredible. You’re overcome with the realization of how much you love them both, how grateful you are that this bond you share has stayed the same for more than a decade despite so much else changing.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m good.” You open your eyes.

The fingers of his right hand still working along the column of your spine, Hoseok leans forward to grab the discarded bowl off the table. Communicating in their own silent language, Jimin grabs the lighter with the hand that isn’t holding yours and circles the flame around the bowl when Hobi puts it to his lips.

He takes a long, steady pull, then sets the bowl down again and turns to you. His left hand ghosts over your thigh, just above your knee, while his right slowly moves up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You instinctively turn to face him and realize your pulse is racing. “Can I?” Hoseok asks, his voice stilted as he holds the smoke in, and your heart skips a beat.

You nod, and his right hand cups your jaw, pulling you in. You open your mouth slightly and he does the same, fully closing the distance to press his lips to yours.

He exhales and you inhale, and it’s definitely a very different sensation compared to the chaste inches-apart shotguns you’ve done with them before. You feel him smile against your mouth and you break away to exhale the smoke with a laugh.

“Is this okay?” Hoseok asks again, his eyes searching yours.

You shift, then realize that your hand is still intertwined with Jimin’s, and you look back over at him. He appears to be enjoying the show, which makes your face heat up. No one’s ever watched you like this before; being something worth watching feels good.

You unlace your fingers from Jimin’s and pat his leg. “Be right back, okay?”

You answer Hobi’s question by taking his face in your hands and pulling him in, this time for a kiss that’s just a kiss. Hoseok presses his hands into the small of your back as you move your lips slowly against his, your mind spinning.

You’re kissing your best friend, you can’t help but think to yourself. Your best friend who is not gay. The whole thing is truly unbelievable.

As if sensing how in your head you are, Hoseok takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, and your breath hitches as you’re suddenly unable to focus on anything else.

He brings his lips to your jaw, then below your ear, then down along the slope of your neck. You tremble at the heat of his mouth on a particularly sensitive spot and he stays there, lightly worrying the skin with his teeth until you whine, then running his tongue across the mark.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you gasp into his ear as he blows a cool stream of air over the same spot. You lean in for more of him, and then you hear the telltale click of the lighter and an inhale from behind you.

God, there’s two of them. You don’t think you’re going to survive this.

You look up at Hoseok as if to ask permission without saying anything. You bite back a smile as you try to think of how on earth you’d phrase it as an actual question: Hey, I know we were just making out, but is it cool if I turn around and make out with your best friend now, who also happens to be my best friend?

You briefly wonder if Hobi can read minds when he grins and says, “Go ahead.”

You shift to face the other way with a nervous giggle and Jimin is there, smiling with his eyes as he holds the hit in his mouth. He repeats the same motion from minutes earlier– you can’t believe it was only minutes earlier– of grazing his fingertips along your jaw, but this time when he tilts your head up, he brings his mouth all the way to yours.

Jimin’s lips are so soft and warm that it takes you a few seconds to remember what you’re supposed to be doing, and then you inhale the smoke that he breathes into your mouth. You wind your fingers in his hair and he moans against you.

The way he kisses is so different from Hoseok, but so equally perfect. Your pulse quickens as you wonder what else they might do differently.

Jimin sucks gently on your bottom lip for a moment, then pulls away. “Do you want to keep going?” He asks, and you can’t imagine how anyone would ever say no. You nod.

A smile lights up his face, and his gaze moves from you to over your shoulder at Hoseok, then back.

“Well, somebody’s gotta go first.” Jimin says, and he proceeds to do what Jimin does best– strip immediately down to his boxers. The speed at which he goes from fully-clothed to nearly naked makes all three of you laugh, and that’s enough to break some of the tension that’s been building in the room.

Jimin pulls you back in for another kiss and you feel hands snake around your hips, just barely pushing up the fabric of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Hoseok murmurs in your ear, his breath on your neck.

“Yes,” you say between kisses, and the attention from both of them at once makes it come out more like a moan. Your face flushes at how needy you sound. You break away from Jimin as Hoseok strips your shirt off, and then his fingers press against the band of your bra.

“This too?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to vocalize your answer. Hoseok undoes it easily and you slide it off, shivering a little as the air hits your bare skin.

Jimin’s mouth drops down to your collarbones, then trails lower, and you lean back on your hands to allow him better access.

The couch shifts slightly as Hoseok stands. You hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor at the same time Jimin closes his full lips around your nipple, and the mix of anticipation and sensation is enough to make you moan again.

Jimin sucks the bud into his mouth and teases his tongue over it, earning another whine of pleasure from you. “Yes, Jimin,” you gasp.

Part of you wants to take things slow and enjoy the moment, but another part of you can’t stand being the only person with your pants still on, can’t stand the fact that these two don’t have access to every single inch of you to do whatever they please with.

You don’t wait for either of them to ask, your hands moving beneath Jimin to wriggle your leggings down your thighs.

Jimin takes his mouth off you and giggles, helping to pull your pants the rest of the way off.

You figure it’s your turn to raise the stakes, so you hook your thumbs under your panties and push those down too. Jimin raises his eyebrows as if to ask if you’re sure, and you nod, so he pulls them off. You never would’ve imagined at the start of the evening that you’d end it naked in front of your best friends, or that you would enjoy it so much. It already seems impossible that there was ever a time you didn’t feel this way.

Hobi returns to sit next to you, stripped to his boxers. You only have a moment to wonder what the etiquette is here before he wraps his arms around your waist and scoots you towards him until your back is flush with his chest.

Hoseok’s mouth finds your neck again, clearly enjoying how sensitive you are there. “Hi,” he murmurs against your skin, and then he trails gentle bites from your collarbone to your ear. You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he chuckles when you gasp each time.

He brings a hand up to cup your breast, then rolls your nipple between his fingers and your hips jerk in response. You glance at Jimin who is watching the two of you intently, hand just barely grazing over his boxers.

Jimin brings his other hand to your thigh, and you spread your legs for him. You’re on the verge of desperation, you want it so bad.

“Please,” you whine.

Jimin trails a finger through your folds right as Hoseok gives your nipple a hard tug, and you can’t hold back the cry that rips through you.

“Shit,” Jimin breathes, looking up at you and Hoseok. “She’s already so wet for us.” He slides his finger down to tease circles at your entrance, and you’re so slick that you can hear it. Hoseok groans at the sound.

When Jimin moves up to lightly tap at your clit, you whimper and shudder violently, your head dropping back onto Hobi’s shoulder.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” Hoseok asks, pressing his lips just behind your ear.

Jimin taps again, eliciting the same response from you, even louder this time.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hoseok says with a soft laugh, and you nod. “Jimin, can you keep making her feel good?”

You see Jimin blush a little at the direction. “Yeah, I can do that.”

There’s a moment where Jimin pauses, looking at how much real estate he has left on the couch and clearly trying to do some quick threesome mental math.

“Hang on a second,” he mutters, and then he stands up and begins to drag the coffee table away from the couch. Watching him do it all with his dick straining against his boxers is enough to make you giggle.

Hobi guides you to turn and scoot forward until your hips are at the edge of the couch, his legs resting on either side of yours. He nudges your thigh with his hand and you gently spread your legs again.

He nuzzles into your neck. “This still okay?”

You’re so wet you think you might literally be dripping onto the couch. “It’s better than okay,” you say. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

Having sufficiently cleared enough space, Jimin returns to kneel between your spread legs. He’s so fucking pretty, you think to yourself as you watch his eyelashes flutter. His full lips trail teasing kisses along the inside of your thigh, and you smile, reaching down to brush his hair off his forehead.

Without warning, Jimin licks a stripe up the center of your cunt. Hoseok must be watching him because he rolls your nipple between his fingers at the same moment. It feels so good that you almost can’t take it.

“Jimin,” you gasp, aching for more. “Please, I need you.”

Understanding what you mean, Jimin settles in between your legs and brings his mouth to you. You moan as he works your clit, alternating between circling it with his tongue and firm suction from his lips. Everything is so slick, his mouth so soft, that it feels amazing.

When Hoseok’s lips and teeth find your neck again, a wave of pleasure rolls through you. Hoseok’s hands close around yours, and he guides you to wind your fingers in Jimin’s hair.

“Ride his face,” Hoseok groans.

Tentatively, you circle your hips, and Jimin whines encouragingly. “Oh fuck,” you hiss as your cunt slides over his tongue.

You’re already close to coming undone and desperate for it now. You grip Jimin's hair, reveling in the pleasure and the filthy wet sounds as you grind your clit against his tongue. Hoseok nips and licks at your neck, and then you feel his breath in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Come on his tongue.”

All you can do is whine and nod, and your orgasm crests as they take you apart together.

You keep Jimin’s mouth held firmly to you as you pulse and shudder, until finally it’s too much. You drop your hands and collapse back against Hoseok, who presses a kiss to your temple. You take a moment to lay there, blissed out, letting the post-orgasm high wash over you.

“Wow,” you breathe. “That was fun.”

Jimin wipes his mouth with his hand, then leans forward to rest his head on your stomach. “Very fun.”

“Now what?” You ask, sitting up a little, and the eagerness in your voice makes them both laugh.

“Well, that’s up to you.” Jimin moves to sit on the couch next to you. “We can stop, if you want to stop.”

You can see they’re both still hard, and you feel a little guilty that you got off without so much as touching either of them. “That’s not fair, you two didn’t even…” you trail off, embarrassed.

Hobi shrugs. “Don’t feel like you have to be responsible for it. This was just about making you feel good.”

You smile. “Well, don’t get me wrong, that was amazing.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves. “But I do specifically need to get fucked.”

They look at each other and exchange knowing smiles, clearly pleased with your response.

“But first,” you continue. “Would you show me, uh… what you used to do? After I left?” Their faces both flush and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly very aware of your nakedness after stating your desire so plainly. “I mean, only if you want to! Don’t do it if it’s weird. I don’t know what the rules are here.”

Jimin looks at Hoseok with a shrug. “It’s your call, babe,” he purrs in an apparent test of Hoseok’s boundaries.

Hobi snorts. “Don’t call me babe. But yeah, we can show her.” He pauses for a second, making a face like he’s deciding whether or not to say something. “But Jimin, do you want me to…?” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, leaving some question unasked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you exclaim, your eyes darting between the two of them as you try to understand. “Back up. Is there more?” You’re not sure you could handle much more. “What didn’t you tell me?”

Hoseok keeps staring at Jimin with that same look on his face, then he clears his throat. “Would you like to tell her or should I?”

Jimin giggles, obviously embarrassed. “Hoseok would…” He smiles. “Mmm, how do I put this. He likes to talk. When we did… that together, he would talk to me. I didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually.” He shivers a little.

You blink, astounded by the confession. You’ve picked up on their natural leanings towards dominant and submissive, but you never would’ve expected this.

“I… I want to hear it, if that’s okay.”

Silently agreeing that it is, they move to fully strip, Hoseok untangling himself from around you. You can’t watch both of them at the same time and your eyes jump back and forth between them, unable to make a decision.

Never one to turn down the opportunity for a show, Jimin swings a leg over you so that he’s straddling your thigh, thumbs teasing at the waistband of his underwear as he rolls his hips. He’s done this to you before, because he’s Jimin, but never this seriously, and never with his dick straining against his boxers the way it is now.

Your face flushes as you watch him move. You long to reach out and take him in your hand, but you try to behave and not touch the performer. He licks his lips and then gives his waistband a proper tug down, and his dick springs free, thick and perfectly straight. You swallow hard.

Satisfied that you’re appropriately teased, Jimin shifts back to stand up, turning around to peel his boxers all the way off. Even his ass looks good, you think to yourself as you watch him.

You hear a laugh and realize Hoseok has been enjoying the show too, and he steps forward to occupy the space in front of you, gently nudging your legs apart so he can stand between them.

“Would you like to help?” He asks softly, and you nod.

You run your hands along his stomach, scratching your nails against his skin in retribution for his earlier teasing bites. He hisses a little at the feeling, and then you move one hand to palm him over his boxers and he groans.

“Take it out, baby,” he encourages, and you do, slipping the waistband down to pull his cock out. He’s not as thick as Jimin, but the length and slight curve of him make your core throb. He’s rock hard when you wrap your hand around him.

Hoseok bites his lip in an apparent attempt to maintain his composure as you give him a few slow strokes. His fingers brush under your chin and he tilts your head up to look at him. “Do you want to watch us?”

You really do, it’s almost embarrassing how much you want to. You nod and push his boxers down his thighs, and Hoseok smiles, stepping away to finish the job.

They stand in front of the couch, far enough apart to ensure no chance of touching, but still close enough that you can keep your eyes on both of them at the same time. You grab a couch pillow off the floor and hug it to your chest.

The absurdity of the situation clearly sets in, and there’s a pause as no one is quite sure how to begin.

Then Hoseok says in a booming voice, “okay, Jimin-ah!”, and it’s enough to make Jimin double over in laughter, his dick slapping against his stomach.

You wrap your arms around the pillow in your lap as you laugh, too, and it’s with a strange sense of relief. A reminder that these two idiots are the same idiots you know and love, even with their dicks out.

“Stop, stop,” Jimin gasps, trying to breathe. “We have to be serious.”

He manages to compose himself enough to survey Hobi again, a smile still playing at his lips. The look on his face is his classic flirtatious expression, like he’s daring Hoseok to look away first. “Go ahead,” he challenges. “Like old times.”

In unison, they each bring a hand up and spit into it, and you have to keep yourself from giggling. You hide your face behind the pillow, but peek over it, not wanting to miss a thing.

“Touch yourself, Jimin,” Hoseok commands as he begins to stroke himself, and Jimin obeys, starting off at a slightly slower pace.

You bite your lip at the way Hoseok watches him. “How does it feel?”

“Good. Really good.” Jimin grunts, his eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. His hips roll, matching the rhythm of the way he works his cock. You just know his stroke game must be deadly and your cunt clenches, ready for more.

They can’t be the only ones allowed to enjoy this, you reason, and you slip your hand between your legs under the pillow.

“Are you having fun tonight, Jimin?”

Jimin just barely moans as he lets out a sigh, face flushing. “Yes, fuck. It’s so hot.” You bite your lip and nod in agreement as your fingers push into your cunt, still soaked from Jimin’s earlier attention.

“Did you like kissing her?” He smiles, and you can’t help but do the same. “Yeah, I did.”

Hoseok’s voice is a little more breathless now. “Did you like playing with her tits?”

“Uh-huh,” he whines. You slide your other hand up to pinch your nipple, your back arching at the feeling.

“How about making her come on your tongue?”

“Fuck yes,” Jimin groans, pausing to squeeze his hand at the base of his cock. You can see fresh precum leak from him and you lick your lips. You speed up the pace of your fingers. “It was so fucking sexy.”

“Was it as good as you always imagined?” Hoseok says with a dry chuckle.

Jimin rolls his hips into his hand again. “It was better.”

“What else do you want to do tonight, Jimin?”

At this, Jimin’s eyes flutter open, and he stares intently back at Hoseok. “Anything,” he says, and then he fucking winks.

To his credit, Hoseok manages to keep his composure, though he can’t quite hide the smile on his face as he continues to stroke himself. “Is that right?”

Jimin only nods.

Hoseok turns to you, as if he might pose the question to you next, but then he sees the state you’re in. He takes his hand off himself to reach for the pillow, and you don’t fight him as he moves it away, leaving you with nothing to hide behind.

“Holy shit, look at you,” Hoseok breathes.

You let your eyes fall closed as you continue to touch yourself. You’ve never felt more exposed or more turned on.

You sense something move above you, and when you open your eyes again, Hoseok is kneeling in front of you. His hands trace up your thighs, thumbs massaging expertly at the muscles there, and your legs reflexively spread wider to allow him more access.

“Shit, Hobi,” you whine.

“Do you want us to fuck you now?” His low voice is almost a whisper, and all you can do is nod. You slide your fingers out from your cunt. He catches your wrist in his hand and pulls it to him, closing his lips around your slick fingers to taste you with a glint in his eyes.

You whimper at the sight, and your gaze flickers up to Jimin. He’s standing and watching the two of you, pillowy lower lip between his teeth, his hand squeezing the base of his cock.

Hoseok pulls off your fingers and smiles. “Who do you want to fuck you first?”

Your eyes linger on Jimin, and your core throbs at the thought of the way he was rolling his hips.

You look back at Hoseok and a strange wave of anxiety washes over you. Jimin went down on you– if Hobi hasn’t actually done anything yet, shouldn’t he be the one who gets to fuck you first? You’d never considered the mental calculus involved in a threesome before. You don’t want to make anyone feel left out or less desired. You really do want both of them.

He must be able to see the wheels turning in your head, because Hoseok takes your face in his hands, his expression serious. “Hey,” he says, gently shaking your head side to side. You smile a little and he smiles back. “Hi,” he tries again.

“Hi.”

“It’s not a trick question, okay? There’s no wrong answer. I literally just want you to tell me what you want. And if the honest answer is that you want to stop, then that’s also a right answer. You hear me?” You nod your head in his hands, and you think your heart might burst as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Now,” Hoseok tries again. “Would you like to suck my dick while Jimin fucks you?”

You swallow hard. “Yes, please.”

“Do we need condoms?” Jimin asks, and you look up at him, then back down at Hoseok.

“I–I’m okay. I mean, I’m clean, and on the pill. Unless you guys want them.”

“We’re both clean,” Jimin nods, his face flushing a little. “Honestly, not a lot of time for sex in our schedules.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Maybe you should just fuck each other.”

Hoseok barks a laugh. “It would certainly be easier.”

As he’s clearly the person in the room most comfortable giving orders, Hoseok has you switch places with him so that he’s sitting on the couch and you’re kneeling in front of him. You run your hands along his thighs, enjoying the opportunity to return the massage, kneading at the firm muscles in his legs. He groans and lets his head drop back on the cushion as your fingers tease higher and higher.

His dick is hard and leaking, flush against the flat plane of his stomach, and it twitches when you take it in your hand. You work up some saliva in your mouth and let it drop onto him. Hoseok hisses as you spread the wetness over his shaft.

You lean down to put your mouth on him, and that’s when Jimin chooses to slide into you from behind. The way his thick head stretches you open feels so good that you moan around Hoseok’s dick, and his hips snap up in response.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses at the same time Hoseok groans “fuck”. You could get used to making two men fall apart at once, you think.

Jimin fucks you slowly from behind, hips rolling fluidly, and the fullness of him feels incredible after so long. He’s just as good as you thought he would be, and his pace is gentle enough that you can still take Hoseok’s dick in your mouth without feeling like you’re choking on it. You revel in the sensation as Jimin’s rhythm naturally pushes you up and down along Hoseok’s length.

“God, your fucking mouth,” Hoseok groans as you swirl your tongue around him. His hips shudder up towards you, desperate for more, and you can tell that Jimin’s relaxed pace is driving him crazy.

Jimin must notice this because you can hear him giggle softly behind you. “Sorry–” his voice breaks as he grinds into you. “This is about as fast as I can go,” he rolls his hips again with another whine. “If you want me to last.”

You slide your mouth off Hoseok with a wet pop, continuing to stroke him with your hand. “I don’t mind either way, Jimin.” You do your best to look back at him. “It feels fucking amazing.”

You return your attention to Hoseok, and his eyes are dark with lust.

“Can he come in you?” Hoseok asks, his voice hoarse. You lick a stripe up his cock and he groans, laughing a little at how much of a tease you are.

“Yes,” you say with a shy smile.

“Do it, Jimin,” Hoseok commands. “Come in her.”

As if he’s been waiting his whole life to receive the order, Jimin pushes into you with a newfound ferocity. He keeps the same fluid movement but his hips roll faster and faster, and the feeling of his cock pounding into you is so overwhelming that you can’t stop yourself.

“Oh my god, Jimin, fuck, yes, fuck–” You gasp and rock your hips back, matching his rhythm.

You hear Hoseok grunt and for a moment you lose concentration, your thrusts faltering and your head swimming as the worry creeps back in that you’re not giving him enough attention. You look up, still breathless from the way Jimin is fucking you, to see Hoseok jerking his cock at the same tempo, gaze fixed on you. His tongue toys sloppily at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like watching Jimin fuck me?” You manage to ask, attempting to try out your own dirty talk and simultaneously check in on Hobi. A smile breaks across his face.

“I fucking love it,” he groans, giving himself one long, slow pump before he resumes his steady pace. His other hand reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Keep fucking yourself on his cock like that. You’re perfect.”

You follow Hoseok’s instructions, rutting back onto Jimin, and it’s enough to finally send him over the edge.

With one final body roll, Jimin pushes all the way into you with a high-pitched whine, his cock pulsing inside of you as he comes. He gives a few shallow thrusts, milking all of his release out, and then he slumps forward, thoroughly spent.

“Holy shit,” he giggles, arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel him trembling, and you turn over in his arms, leaning back against the foot of the couch. Jimin drops his head onto your shoulder and you press your nose into the crook of his neck, trailing a few gentle kisses across his collarbones.

As you shift you feel his cum slowly start to leak out of you, and you look down in mild embarrassment, pressing your knees together. Having someone come inside you is the kind of thing that always sounds sexy until it actually happens, and then it’s just a mess.

Hoseok gives Jimin a few moments to recover, hand still teasing over his own cock, then finally gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, Jimin-ah. Switch with me.”

Too spent to say anything, Jimin grunts and crawls off you, waiting for Hoseok to free up the couch before he collapses face-first onto it.

You expect Hoseok to pull your mouth back onto him, or turn you around so he can slide into you, but instead he kneels in front of you. “Can you sit up for me?” He asks softly, and you lift yourself onto the couch cushion behind you, Jimin shifting to make enough space for your ass.

Hoseok places his hands on your knees, which are still clenched together to hide everything leaking out of you, and he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Your pulse quickens at the look in his eyes, and you slowly let your legs drop open.

You can feel his breath over your center, and then he swipes a finger up your thigh to push a trail of arousal back inside you.

“Can I taste you?” Hoseok asks, and you squirm a little in response. “You can say no,” he reminds you.

“I-I mean,” you falter. “I would like that, but– you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Since it’s… messy. We can just fuck.”

Hoseok laughs. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. And frankly, there isn’t much I don’t want to do to you.” He leans in to lick up another drip running down your thigh and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

He looks at you again, waiting patiently for your final answer, and your face grows hot as you nod your consent. Needing no further encouragement, he spreads your legs even wider and brings his mouth to you.

Hoseok’s tongue is long and precise, and he laps up and swallows every bit of Jimin’s cum from inside you like it’s his last meal. The little gulps and groans he makes as he licks into you again and again are unreal. Your pussy is so sensitive from just being fucked that each stroke of his tongue makes you whimper.

This takes his affinity for cleaning to a whole new level, your last brain cell thinks, and then he drags his tongue up your folds and you can no longer form coherent thoughts. You can only moan while still softly laughing at your own joke as he licks figure eights over your clit.

When he slips two fingers into your cunt, your back arches.

“Fucking shit, Hobi, oh my god–” you moan. You collapse back, lost in the feeling, and knock against Jimin, stretched out on the couch behind you.

You reach towards him, and his hand finds yours, your fingers interlacing. You turn your head to look at him and he’s watching you intently, lips parted slightly and pupils blown with lust.

You’ve gotten the idea a few times tonight that Jimin is a bit of a voyeur, and you’re starting to learn that you quite enjoy being an exhibitionist for him.

Hoseok quickens the pace of his fingers, pressing deliberately on your front wall, and you cry out from the pleasure, your gaze locked on Jimin. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine, and Jimin nods along with you.

You notice that his other hand is reaching to gently palm at his dick, already getting hard again. “God, you are so fucking sexy,” Jimin murmurs.

Hoseok hums around your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jolt up at the feeling. Aware he’s onto something, he keeps going, humming low in his throat while his tongue works your clit, the vibrations rolling through you. His fingers rub circles inside of you, and you writhe, unable to get enough, your peak rapidly approaching.

Jimin shifts on the couch next to you, your fingers still intertwined, letting go of himself to bring his other hand to your neck. He presses his full lips to yours and sweeps his tongue into your mouth with a groan.

The attention from both of them at once is enough to make you come all the way undone.

You break away from Jimin, bearing down hard on his hand in yours, and cry Hoseok’s name as your second orgasm hits you full-force.

Hoseok’s tongue and fingers slow as your walls flutter around him, but he doesn’t completely let up until your final aftershocks subside.

You squirm away from his touch as you become oversensitive, and he laughs and relents, wiping the back of his hand across his face. His nose, lips, and chin are all shining with your slickness, the results of his efforts. It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You’re not sure you remember how to string words together to form sentences, so you’re unable to protest when Hoseok hooks his arm under your knees and pulls your legs up across the couch so that you’re laying down. You roll over in submission and Jimin’s there pressed against you.

Jimin pulls you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours. You lean your cheek into his chest and shut your eyes as your breathing slows. Then he shifts, and you feel something nudge your thigh.

Eyes fluttering open, you glance down and laugh. “I can’t believe you’re already hard again.”

Jimin blushes, kicking his feet a little as if in frustration. “It’s your fault!”

A pair of hands come to your shoulders that could only be Hoseok. Those perfect fingers trail down your back, massaging along your hips. You whine a little at the feeling.

“Well, did you have fun?” He asks, and you turn to see him properly. When he gently rubs his hands across your thighs, you shiver; you’re still overstimulated, but it’s not unpleasant.

“Is it over?”

“If you want it to be,” Hoseok shrugs.

A desire that’s been building up inside of you all night blurts out before you can think to stop it. “I did have one more idea,” you start, then bury your face in Jimin’s shoulder. “I can’t say it, though. I have no idea if it’s even really possible.”

“If it is, we’ll make it happen. We want you to feel good,” Jimin says, wiggling his erection against your hip for added emphasis.

“Okay, but if you don’t actually want to do this, please tell me, and we can all pretend I never said it and that the threesome ended here and everyone was happy.”

“Tell us what you want,” Hoseok commands.

Your voice is nearly a whisper. “I think I want to try double penetration.”

Jimin hums in surprise. “Are you prepped for that?”

You lift your head up as you realize the misunderstanding. “Oh, I– no, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to do anal. I was talking about, um, both of you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, face hot as you’re forced to say it out loud. “In my pussy. Together?”

“Wow,” you hear Hoseok groan at the same time Jimin lets out a shaky exhale.

You open your eyes to look at both of them. Hoseok is grinning, and Jimin’s hands roam over your body, gently running along the curve of your waist and then cupping your ass.

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks softly. “That’s probably going to be pretty intense for you.”

You nod, still flushed with embarrassment. Your core is already starting to throb again at the thought. “I learned from a well-endowed hookup that I really like, uh… girth.” You cringe at the unsexy word. “Is that okay? Can we try it? You can say no.”

Jimin grinds his hips against your thigh with a smirk. “I wasn’t joking when I said I was up for anything.”

Hoseok stands up decisively, doing a terrible job at hiding how excited he is about this. “We’re gonna need some lube. Be right back.” He disappears, heading for the bedroom.

The arousal is already pooling in your belly at the promise of what’s to come, and you press your nose into Jimin’s neck, trying to remember how to breathe. “Hi.”

Jimin dips his head to kiss you. His lips are so soft. He pulls away with a small laugh. “Hi yourself.”

“So, this has been a pretty crazy night.”

He’s still smiling, looking as dazed as you feel. “Tell me about it. This is payoff, like, a decade in the making. I don’t think I’ve ever waited so long for anything.”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’m having a really good time.”

Jimin presses another gentle kiss to your forehead. “Me too,” he says, and then Hoseok returns, holding the bottle of lube triumphantly, like it’s a prestigious award or a designer bag.

You sit up and offer your palms to him, and he squeezes a decent amount into each one. The movement is just clinical enough that it has you all giggling, tense with anticipation.

Hoseok and Jimin kneel on either side of you, and you work your hands over them until they’re nice and slick and groaning under your touch. You’re still soaked from Hoseok’s tongue, but you rub what’s leftover on your palm across your entrance, if only for good luck.

Hoseok leans back against the arm of the couch, his dick fully erect and leaking. His eyes are already heavy-lidded with lust, but he’s smiling so big, you don’t even have to ask if he’s enjoying himself.

You crawl over him and he kisses you hungrily as you sink down onto him. He’s longer, and you have to take a second to get used to the new feeling, circling your hips a little.

“God, you take my cock so well,” Hoseok groans, giving your ass a playful smack. You wiggle until you’re sure you’ve sunk as low as you can go on him. “That was the hard part. Now it’s just Jimin,” he teases with a laugh, and Jimin sends a pillow sailing in his direction, missing by several inches.

You lean forward, bracing yourself over Hoseok who takes the opportunity to graze his lips and teeth along the slope of your neck. You feel Jimin’s head press at your entrance.

“Ready?” Jimin breathes, and you look back to nod at him. He starts to push into you, devastatingly slow.

It doesn’t really work like porn or romance novels would have you expect, where everything slides in easily and feels great right away. There’s a stretch and a fullness that’s intensely uncomfortable at first. You have to ask Jimin to stop and wait a couple of times while you adjust and wince at the sensation.

He and Hoseok are impressively patient with you, teasing their hands and mouths over your body in an effort to get your cunt to relax, until you’re nearly shaking from the pressure in your core. Little by little, Jimin manages to slide himself into you alongside Hoseok.

After minutes that seem more like hours, Jimin grunts, his head dropping onto your shoulder as his hips give a final push. “Fuck. That’s it. That’s all of me.”

The pain is still there, but you can tell it’s starting to morph into something else, something good. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You all take a second to breathe and let it sink in that this is really happening. No one is quite sure what to do next. Hoseok experiments first, rolling his hips in a lazy circle that makes all three of you react with a noise.

“Fuck, Jimin,” he groans. “I can feel you.”

Jimin bites his lip, his cheeks flushing, and nods in agreement.

Hoseok sets the rhythm, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes, and then Jimin’s fingers grip at your hips and he gently starts to move, too.

You can’t help but whimper at the way it feels– you are overwhelmingly, perfectly full.

The sensation is incredible now, the way they slip and grind against each other inside of you. You can only sit there and take it as they alternate fucking into you. You swear and groan their names interchangeably, over and over.

“Tell us how it feels,” Hoseok grunts. “Taking two dicks in your tight little cunt.”

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good,” you moan.

“Shit,” Jimin groans, “all this friction…” He lets out a shaky laugh. “God, I think I’m gonna come again.”

Your breath hitches and Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. “You like that, baby? You want Jimin to fill you up again?”

You nod with a whimper. “And you. Both of you.”

Hoseok laughs and groans at the same time. “Oh my god, you are so fucking hot.” He punctuates the final words with three thrusts into you, picking up his pace. Each thrust means he slides against Jimin, and on the third one, you hear a moan behind you.

“Shit, Hoseok, agh! I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jimin ruts into you in fast, short strokes as his climax hits, and his cock twitches and shudders inside you again.

As Hoseok groans beneath you, you realize that he can feel it all too.

“Fuck yes, Jimin,” Hoseok hisses. The extra slickness of Jimin’s fresh arousal just makes everything that much easier, that much messier, and that much hotter. You know Hoseok is fast approaching his end as he fucks you, his strokes deep and hard.

The way his length bottoms out inside you when you’re already so tender is too much, and you lean back into Jimin.

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’m–” you gasp with each thrust, and then your third orgasm takes you by surprise and you can’t do anything but cry out.

Jimin wraps an arm over your shoulders to steady you. You can feel him trembling beneath you as your walls pulse around both of them again and again and again. You’ve never come this hard in your life, and the endless waves of your orgasm are enough to finally bring Hoseok to his peak with a hoarse groan of your name.

Your hips grind down on him and work him through his release and the aftershocks of yours, riding out every last bit until your cunt is quivering from overstimulation. With all three of you entirely spent, you let yourself crash from the high and slump forward against Hoseok’s chest.

There are a few moments of bliss before you feel everything start to drip down your thighs. It probably should be gross to be so full of lube and two loads of cum. Maybe it will be in a few minutes, you think to yourself.

But right now, it’s fucking hot.

“Holy shit,” you whisper as the room slowly returns around you. You can feel both of them starting to soften inside you, and you glance down, mostly because you can’t believe that really just happened.

When you do, you realize that at some point, Hoseok must have also gripped onto your hips, probably when he was fucking up into you. You were too busy taking two dicks at once to keep track of exactly who was doing what when. But now, you see that Hoseok and Jimin have interlaced their fingers together over the curve of your hips.

It’s one of the tamest things that’s happened tonight, but something about it makes your heart crack open.

Your breathing uneven, you run a finger along their still-joined hands. It’s only when the first drop of moisture hits your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

You’re turned enough towards him that Jimin is able to see your expression, and then he’s the first one to break the scene, shifting to slowly withdraw from inside you. He scoots back on the couch, and you feel his hands come to cup your shoulders.

Hoseok keeps his hands on your hips, his touch featherlight as he lifts you up so he can slide out as well. The look on his face is concern mixed with pure love, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for all that he is, all that they both are, your two best friends. That hasn’t changed.

Jimin speaks first. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come here.”

You lean into his touch and allow yourself to lie down as more tears spill over. Jimin’s fingers scratch along your scalp, and you roll onto your side and curl up. “Post-orgasm chemicals can be weird, and that was–” he bites back a laugh, “–really fucking intense. Just let it out.”

You’re leaking out of both ends, you think to yourself, and you press your cheek into the couch cushion, laughing and crying at the same time. “This is so embarrassing. I swear to god I’m fine.”

You feel what must be Hoseok’s hand rubbing gently along your thigh, and his voice confirms it. “Happy tears?”

You nod. “Very happy tears. That was incredible.”

Hobi wiggles his body into the tight space between you and the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling off. “You were incredible. I’m glad you had fun.” He shudders softly against you and you look up to see Jimin running his other hand through Hoseok’s hair.

“We definitely did,” Jimin says with a small giggle as he scratches both of your heads. “I think our inner teenagers can rest happy with the knowledge that it did finally end up happening one day.”

You smile. “I’m glad it happened now, because I definitely couldn’t have done any of that when I was a teenager.”

Hobi cackles into the crook of your neck. “And Jimin would’ve came even faster than he did tonight!”

At this, Jimin fists the hand in Hoseok’s hair, leaning over him. “My dick is sensitive, and I don’t appreciate you making fun of it,” he growls.

Realizing how close their faces are, Hobi is the one to start the game of chicken this time, tilting his face up towards Jimin. “Is that right, Jimin-ah? Got a sensitive dick?”

Jimin doesn’t miss a beat and continues to lean towards Hoseok’s mouth, tugging on his hair. You really think they might actually do it this time, considering everything else that’s happened, but Hoseok finally relents in an explosion of giggles, turning to hide his face against your shoulder before Jimin can kiss him.

“I yield, I yield!”

Some things never change. ~*~

Approximately half an hour and one shower later, the three of you are again collapsed together in a heap on the couch, shifted over by one cushion to avoid the wet spot. Jimin’s arms are wrapped around your waist while Hobi plays with your hair.

They’ve lent you clothes to sleep in, and the big t-shirt (Hoseok’s) and black sweatpants (Jimin’s) are each infused with the scent of their respective owner. Smelling like both of them at the same time makes you feel loved, even claimed. Your brain is buzzing from the post-threesome and post-crying endorphin overload (not to mention the THC), and you sigh happily.

“Hey, Hobi?” You say with a restrained giggle. He turns to look at you, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “I think you might be a little gay now.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

“Your dick literally touched another dick. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, inside you! Surely that negates the gay part!”

“I don’t know, Hobi,” Jimin says in agreement. “You also ate cum out of her. I don’t even swallow that stuff, man.”

“I hate you both,” Hoseok laughs, folding his arms behind his head. “Look, I don’t give a shit. If enjoying every single second of tonight makes me gay, then I’ll lead the fucking pride parade.”

You laugh, scrambling to find your phone. Now you have to play Gaga. You put on Bad Romance and Hoseok instantly sits up.

“Okay, I do also know the dance to this. Wanna see?” He untangles himself from you and Jimin to jump up and strike a pose, hands already fixed into monster claws.

Jimin giggles, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “I’m gonna go make some buldak, but please film this so we can blackmail him forever.”

~*~

A/N: if you actually made it all the way to the end you're a real one. i'm v lazy about crossposting/putting my masterlist together on here, but i've got more stuff on AO3 if you enjoyed!! would love to hear your thoughts, i'm honestly dying for more friends in this space lol. thanks for reading 💜

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #don't rly wanna tag this as jihope bc it's like... not gay? only a little gay?#what am i doing with my life #two in one

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thepsychewrites · 2 years

Text

Reflections | S. Rogers

Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: An offhanded under-the-breath comment you make sets Steve off. He decides to teach you a lesson about talking like that- especially when the words are aimed at his best girl.

> Word Count: 4.7K

> Warnings: Insecure reader, body image issues, little bit of angst, mentions of injuries, angry!Steve, soft!Steve (I have to balance it out my friends), established relationship, smutsmutsmut: Mutual masterbation, spitting, thigh riding, spanking, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it b4 you tap it my friends), lotsssss of praise, cum play, size kink, body worship, overstim, crying (but from happiness 🤧), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, & pretty girl), reader calls Steve sir a few times BAHAH, mirror sex?? LMAO I THINK THATS IT.

A/N: HOLY SHIT GUYS this one is longggg and a doozy. But y’all are nasty and apparently love this shit so HERE YOU GO WHORES <3 Any feedback is appreciated. (Also, Tumbr glitched when I was nearly done writing it the first time, so I had to basically write it all over. Love that for myself.)

Main Masterlist

————————————

The humming of the jet wasn’t able to distract you for long.

You were stupid.

So, so, so stupid.

The mission was supposed to be clean. Easy. Simple. Something a newbie could pull off in ten minutes tops.

But of course, being the people pleaser you were, you told Tony you’d get the extra intel for him.

It was only a flash drive.

But the damn thing nearly cost you your life.

Even though you only had a few scratches on you, you weren’t going to hear the end of it.

“I mean seriously! How reckless can one person be? I gave you orders and it is not a personal choice wether or not you follow them. You do. You do because I am in charge. I make the calls.” Steve yelled, his rant going on for nearly fifteen minutes now.

You had heard enough. “Are you done?” You snapped, silencing Steve. He turned in his chair to look at you, your body curled into the passenger chair.

“No. No, I’m not done, actually. You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Y/n! From now on you don’t take orders from Tony, or anyone else for that matter if they’re not the one leading the mission. Is that understood?” His jaw was tight and his eyes narrow, locked on your heated face.

You hated when he went all Captain on you like this, shouting at you like you were just another member of the team and not his girlfriend for fucks sake. It’s one of the reasons you never liked going on duo missions with him anymore.

“I asked you a question, Y/n. Answer me.” His voice was dark. He wasn’t playing around.

“I understand.”

“Look at my face when you speak to me.” He ordered, earning an eye roll from you.

You turned to face him, legs planted firm on the ground. Your eyes were just as cold as his. “I said I understand, Captain.” You spat, quickly moving to your prior position on your chair before he could say something else.

“Can’t wait to add ‘unable to follow orders’ on the ever-growing list…” You mumbled into your palm. You didn’t intend on Steve hearing you, but of course he did anyway.

“What did you just say?” He asked, looking at the sky ahead.

You huffed. “It was a fucking joke, Steve.”

He shook his head, pressing a few buttons on the glowing panel in front of him. “No, say it again. What list?”

God, he was relentless. You buried your head in your hand, refusing to answer. Steve could never let things go.

“Are you serious right now, Y/n? What fucking list are you-”

“Oh my god, Steve! I’m talking about the list of shit I hate about myself! You know- how I can’t follow orders, I’m ignorant, bitchy, I complain too much, I’m impulsive-” You yelled, counting the traits on your fingers for dramatic affect, “and that’s only my personality, don’t even get me started on the shit I hate about my body.” The words flew out faster than you could catch them, not meaning to say aloud that last part. You slumped in your seat, chest huffing and face hot with an annoyed pout on your lips.

Steve was pissed now, his knuckles burning white from his death grip on the steering controls. “For the sake of keeping the jet in tact, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. I don’t want to hear another word from you until we get back, is that clear?”

Dread filled you, burning the contents of your veins. “Crystal.”

———

The rest of the jet ride was short, thankfully, and entirely too silent until you returned to the compound.

As soon as you stepped off the landing platform Steve was on your tail. You were ahead of him by quite a few yards, wanting nothing more than to just get to your room so you could sleep this whole disastrous mission off. Luckily, Steve stopped behind you when Tony turned the corner, taking a quick breath before he started laying into him, reprimanding him for giving you orders. You passed Tony, handing him the flash drive with a quiet apology before heading to your room.

Steve’s words were drowned out as soon as you shut your door, immediately shedding your dirty tactile suit and boots in the dark. You tossed them in the corner, missing the hamper by a good foot, and turned on your lamp before moving to the bathroom.

His words crept their way back in your head as you turned the shower on, a thick cloud of steam quickly filling the room. You turned to face the mirror, grimacing at the state of your body.

You had dirt and blood splattered all around your skin, a few already scabbing cuts from the fight finding a home on your arms and stomach.

A sigh left you as you grabbed for your comb, doing your best to untangle the knots in your hair. You didn’t care about being gentle. Anger still boiled in you, making you even more sick at your reflection.

You took a deep breath as you entered the shower, trying to calm down before you had to face Steve again. The water was scalding, simultaneously rinsing away the filth that covered you and the words that taunted you. You crouched down, sitting on the shower floor and wrapping your arms over your legs. You were exhausted, that’s for sure.

With your head settled between your bent knees you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Nor did you hear Steve undressing. You only noticed his presence when the sliding glass shower door opened, not bothering to look up and see him getting in behind you.

Taking a shower together was your post-mission ritual. Normally they were taken under better conditions, but they were never skipped.

Steve bent down behind you, draping his arms around your entire frame and planting kisses to the side of your head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I was upset, but should have waited until I was calm before I talked to you. I know now that you were just trying to do a favor for Tony.” He moved the the back of your neck, trailing light pecks over it and across your shoulders.

“I was just scared. That flash drive nearly got my beautiful girl killed. The thought of losing you over something so little is not ideal, and I won’t let it happen under my watch. Regardless, I didn’t need to scream at you. I’m sorry, Y/n.” Steve finished, setting his head on top of yours, still holding onto you under the stream of water.

Despite the crap that sometimes comes out of his mouth, Steve is a good communicator. He’ll tell you when he’s upset, angry, nervous, jealous. And he’s willing to admit when he’s wrong.

“Can I stand you up, pretty girl?” He asked, the words getting mumbled in your wet hair.

You nodded and he moved his hands, wrapping them over your upper arms to help you up. Once you were on your feet he turned you to face him, his face much softer than before as he looked at you.

“You okay? If you’re upset with me I can give you some space.” His hand smoothed over your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb.

You shook your head, words still failing you, and moved into his chest. You were mad, yes. But you understood where he was coming from.

You would yell at him the same if he made your mistakes too.

He held you tight, running his hand along your spine as the other cradled your head, his lips leaving wet kisses along your hairline. “I would like to talk about what you said, though.”

There it is.

You internally groaned, not wanting to explain to your boyfriend that sometimes you didn’t like who you are or what you looked like.

So what?

“Do we have to?” You whined, snuggling further into his chest.

“I just want to know why you have a list of things you dislike about yourself. You’re the most perfect person I know, sweetheart.”

You shrugged. “Don’t we all? And I’m not perfect. I’ve got attitude problems and cellulite. My arms are jiggly and I have more stretch marks now because I’ve gained ten pounds in the last few months. Ten!” You answered dramatically, keeping your eyes closed as Steve started to wash your body, the lavender scented soap not doing much to help you relax.

His hand gripped your chin. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart.” He waited to speak again until you were staring at him. “None of that makes you any less perfect. Do you have any idea how beautiful I think you are?”

He waited for an answer.

All you could do was shrug. You knew he loved you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to see you through his eyes just yet.

Your lack of answer made his jaw twitch.

He didn’t say another word as he finished cleaning your body and moved on to washing your hair. He was gentle, massaging your scalp with your coconut shampoo before rinsing it away, following up with its matching conditioner.

Once you were all clean he finally spoke, putting a firm hand against the side of your face. “I want you to get out and dry off. Don’t get dressed. I’ll be out in a few minutes and I expect you to be on the bed, waiting patiently like the good girl you are. Understood?”

You nodded and his hand gripped harder on your face.

“Words.” He commanded.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Jesus Christ.

A familiar throb started humming at your core. Steve hardly acted like this, but when he did... you knew you were in for a long night. “Yes, Sir.” You answered, more awake and less angry than before.

He smiled and sent a pat on your ass. “Go.”

You did as you were told, slipping out of the shower and drying off, doing your best to squeeze the extra water from your hair before sitting in the center of the bed with your knees tucked under you. Your breathing was hard to control and your heart was fluttering behind your ribs. The waiting games always got you nervous, but you just sat there as patiently as possible as Steve finished his own shower, probably taking the time to plan out exactly what he wanted to do with you.

The turn of the shower faucet caught your attention, your heart rate climbing as you heard Steve get out and towel himself down. He must’ve wanted to torture you because he was taking his sweet time.

It was only a minute later when the bathroom door finally opened, a naked Steve walking out and walking to you incredibly slow. It didn’t help your cause that he already had an erection and it looked borderline painful as it hit against his abs with each step he took.

“See, my pretty girl knows exactly how to follow directions.” He leaned across the bed and kissed at your awaiting lips a few times before standing straight again. He held his hand out below your face.

“Spit.”

Your eyes widened at his demand, but you did it anyway, forming a pool of saliva in his outstretched palm.

You didn’t take your sight off of him as he circled around the bed, his gaze reminding you of how a predator looks just before they capture and devour their prey. When he turned and sat himself down on the chair in the corner, you got confused.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice quiet and sweet as you watched him, his legs spreading and his back settling down into the cushion.

His eyes never left yours once, talking again but ignoring your question. “Open your legs, pretty girl, I wanna see you touch yourself.”

You stopped breathing for a second. He noticed, a twitch of his smirk pulling at his lips. “Go on. Be a good girl and do as your told. Touch yourself.”

Unsure, you shifted toward the headboard, letting your back hit the pillows before your legs parted, exposing your wet cunt to Steve. He stared at you while he waited, his smirk growing as your fingers finally circled around your clit, a soft gasp pulling from your lips.

“Do you wanna know what I think about when I get myself off?” He started, his voice low and dark.

Good God.

“Now- I don’t do it often, because nothing gets me off better than the hands and lips of my pretty girl- but on the off chance I’m on a mission that’s taking me away from you for more than a week… I can’t seem to help myself.” His left hand went behind his head, his right going around his other head, gripping it slowly before he started to pump. Your spit slicked him up, mixing with the beads of his precum to make the job easier.

“You’ll send me a picture of your gorgeous face, or-”, Steve stuttered, his hips bucking off the chair as he quickened his pace, “hell, if we can’t have contact I’ll bring one with me. Just one look at that face and body of yours gets me going, it gets me riled up to the point that I need to touch myself or it’ll hurt for the rest of the day.” He moaned, his head tilting back before slowing down. “Everything about you turns me on- gets me so hard. Your voice, your face, your body, your scent, your taste-” He panted, his chest rising and falling heavily as he went on. “I have no willpower when it comes to you, pretty baby. None at all.”

“Stevie, can I-” You started to ask, the coil deep in your stomach nearly about to snap. You were soaking wet, the lewd sounds of your fingers rolling over your clit filling the room.

“Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.” Steve knew exactly what you wanted, but he wasn’t ready to let you have it just yet.

You tried to listen to him- you really did, but his voice was so gravelly and you could smell his shampoo from your spot on the bed and it was driving you insane. Your fingers kept their pace, your head pushing into the pillows and your back arching ever so slightly off the bed. You were so close. You nearly had it before a large hand snapped around your wrist, pulling it away from your core and stopping your impending orgasm.

Your eyes fluttered open, a whine falling from you from the loss of contact. Steve hovered above you, his free arm digging into the mattress to keep his weight off of your body. He didn’t say anything as he looked into your eyes, his breath trailing over your collarbones and chin.

Steve slowly brought your glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking off your arousal until they were clean. His pupils were huge, only a sliver of his pretty blues showing underneath the darkness that overtook them. You felt his cock twitch against your stomach, a drop of precum landing on your skin.

His free arm tucked under your back, hoisting you up as he sat on the bed. He guided you to his lap, your core landing on his bare skin and your breasts bouncing from the movement. His eyes lingered on them for far too long, silence settling between you.

Most people would assume Steve Rogers is an ass man, and he would agree for the most part. But there was something so tantalizing and mouthwatering about your breasts that he just couldn’t fucking help himself. They were so full and tender and responsive and it drove him crazy. He would give up every material possession of his just to fuck them once, but that could wait for another day.

Just not a day too far in the future.

His eyes trailed up and locked on yours as he dove down, his lips capturing one of your nipples as he sucked hard.

“Fuck… Steve…” You mewled, your fingers wrapping in the strands of gold atop his head.

He didn’t say anything, instead he let your hardened nipple go with a soft pop and sat back with a purse on his lips, signaling he wanted a kiss. You leaned in, falling right in his trap. As soon as you connected your lips a sharp slap landed on your ass, a yelp falling in Steve’s open mouth. One of his arms was hooked under your thigh to keep you against him, not letting you go as he landed two more open-handed smacks to the flesh.

“That’s for disobeying my orders.” A final hit came down, this one twice as painful as the first few. It was easy to tell that he still had pent up anger left simmering in him from earlier. Your skin was burning, your eyes watering from the sting. “And thats for questioning my judgement. You’re my girl, and when I say you’re fuckin’ perfect, you better believe it as fact, got it?” His fingers were kneading into the tingling flesh, massaging the burn away.

“Yes, Sir.” You huffed, your eyes glossy and your face nearly sweating under his gaze.

“I want you to ride my thigh, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” Steve asked, his face close to yours, noses brushing softly together.

This man was going to be the death of you.

You nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to cum this time. You don’t have to ask.” He said before pressing his lips to yours, his hands crawling up to find purchase on your waist. He helped guide you along his strong thigh while you rocked your hips back and fourth. The friction was heavenly, and you were a moaning mess on top of him. Your mouth was open against his, your breaths mingling together as you rode him, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

It was so much all at once. You felt everything and it was sending you into overdrive. His hands on your waist, his nails digging crescent shaped marks into your skin. His breath along your collarbones and throat, goosebumps raising from the heat it left behind. The flex of his thigh and how he was barely bouncing it, but that added movement made all the difference. The flutter in your walls begging for a release only Steve could give you. It was entirely too much for you to handle.

“Steve…”

And boy did it snap.

Your orgasm hit you like an eighteen wheeler, your head falling to his shoulder as you released on his thigh, his skin slick with your arousal. He was panting too, his hands gripping so harshly into your sides you were worried he might be drawing blood.

He pressed gentle kisses to your neck, praises falling out in between. “Good girl. Such a fuckin’ good girl for me, aren’t you?” Steve asked, his voice rumbling in your ears.

“Jus’ for you, Stevie.” You nodded heavily, blissed out after your first release.

After a few more sloppy kisses were placed over your face, he pulled away, his hands cupping both cheeks as he forced you to look at him.

You blurted the words out before he could speak.

“I love you.”

The three words that always came so easily to you when you looked at Steve. It was true. You loved him. Not a single day would pass where you wouldn’t love him.

And he knew this all too well.

Steve’s face softened, his small grin growing wider. “And I love you. So much.” He proclaimed, pressing the lightest of kisses to the tip of your nose. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you earlier. You didn’t deserve it.”

You were quick to shake your head, a rogue tear falling down your face and onto Steve’s hand. “It’s alright, honey. Thank you for apologizing, but I was being reckless. You were just trying to keep me safe. I’m sorry too.” His thumb swiped at the wet trail the tear left behind.

“It’s okay. I love you so fucking much-” He said, his voice breaking as his eyes glossed over. Quickly your lips were back on his and he seemed eager to drink you down. Before he could get too ahead of himself, he pulled back, his eyes lidded and dark.

“Hands and knees on the bed, baby. I’m gonna show you how much I fuckin’ love you, and you’re gonna watch.”

Your entire body shuddered as you nodded, peeling yourself away from him and crawling down so your knees and forearms were pressed to the blanketed mattress, your ass in the air and waiting. You focused on his movements behind you, easy to see now that you faced the large mirror that stood in the corner and was pointed directly at the bed.

Steve must’ve done that before he met you in the shower.

A quiet whine left you when his hands landed on your hips, jostling your body forward an inch, your breasts grazing the duvet. His eyes locked on yours in the mirror, the smirk he wore enchanting and devilish at the same time.

Steve was a sneaky man. Sometimes a little too sneaky. It’s why you were so caught off guard when you felt two of his long, thick fingers enter your pussy, your mouth falling open at the sensation.

“Fuck- fucking hell, Stevie.” You moaned into the bed, your nails digging into the blanket for support.

“My beautiful girl…” Steve cooed, his fingers pumping in and out of you like it was his job. “Taking me so well while I’m stretching you out, huh?” His free hand was caressing your side, the pads of his fingers tracing over every iridescent stretch mark that found a home there. His eyes never left yours for even a second, worried he’d miss the way your face contorted from how he played you so expertly. He curled his fingers up, grazing your g-spot with each push and pull.

“Stevie… I’m gonna cum again…” You whined into your hand, drool falling past your lips and onto your skin.

Steve chuckled softly, a shake of his head following as if he was lost in thought. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” His own mouth fell open to mirror yours as he felt you clench around his slick fingers, the pulse of your walls sending a heat to his growing erection.

Slurred words that resembled his name dropped from your mouth, and the coil in your stomach was fading. But Steve’s fingers weren’t slowing down… if anything- they were gaining speed as you rode out your orgasm.

“Honey, w…what are you doing?” You mumbled, beads of sweat forming on your face. “Ahh-” You whimpered, brows knitting together as a third finger entered your aching cunt.

Steve’s eyes weren’t on yours anymore, but instead were focused on how your pussy accepted his fingers so well. “You’re still so tight pretty baby… how are you gonna take all of me, huh?”

You felt thankful for the soundproof walls that surrounded you because you were not being quiet.

“Please, Stevie. I- I can take you… I promise. Please… please…” Your chest was heaving and another orgasm was quickly approaching.

You fell over the edge easily once Steve’s large thumb circled your clit. He rubbed it once, twice, and a third time before you were spasming around him yet again, your moans turning into loud yells against the comforter.

“I know you can baby, just don’t wanna hurt you- that’s all.” He answered before pulling his dripping wet fingers from you, gracefully sweeping them into his mouth yet again before he sucked your arousal right off of them. He hummed around his fingers and closed his eyes, lost in the taste of you.

When his eyes opened again, he looked nothing short of feral. Like something had overcome him and he felt like he had to be in you right now or he’d lose his god damn mind.

So he gave in, dragging his swollen tip across your folds before pushing into your pussy in a single rut of his hips.

“Oh f-fuck-” You stuttered, a heavy shiver running down your spine as he bottomed out inside of you. He felt like heaven and you were a goner when he finally started moving, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix every time he pushed back in. “Feels so good, Stevie. You feel s…so big.”

Steve’s hands were trembling from the adrenaline rush of being inside of you, his fingers kneading into the swollen prints on your ass from earlier. “You feel full, pretty baby? Feelin’ me in your belly?” He asked with lidded eyes, his left hand snaking down to push on the bulge he made in your lower stomach each time his hips snapped back into your ass.

You nodded, pants tumbling out of your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of being filled by your love. “Mhmm, so full Stevie.”

You gasped when you felt his fingers wrap around the base of your throat, tightening and keeping you in his grip. “Eyes up, sweetheart. I need you to see what you do to me.”

The veins in his arms were protruding out and he was dripping in sweat, his face flushed and overtaken with bliss as he kept his pace, his mouth ajar and his eyes dark and filled with lust.

He was close to crying from how much he fuckin’ loved you, needing you to really see what you did to him.

How you completely wreck him and he just lets you and will continue to let you because you’re his best girl and his best girl can wreck him any day of the week.

“Look at how beautiful you are baby, huh? So fuckin’ beautiful. Always so pretty just for me, ain’t that right?” His grip grew impossibly tight against your throat, stars beginning to twinkle in your sight. “Say it, pretty baby. Tell me how beautiful you are.”

From the way Steve was sinfully filling you up to the way his words made your heart flutter with love to the white heat that was building in your stomach, you couldn’t think straight. “I’m b...beautiful, Stevie. I’m your p-pretty girl- ah!”

Hearing you finally say the words he begged to come from you sent him into overdrive, his deep strokes in your pussy growing tenfold, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tried to hang on to any breath your lungs held. It was impossible though, especially with his hand around your throat so possessively, his other now ghosting over your abused clit.

Your hearing was going out as your climax finally burst, but you could make out the loud, “Yes baby, come on baby, cum on my cock like a good girl. Oh fuck…s-shit sweetheart, you’re so fuckin’ good baby. Just like that.” of Steve’s words. Your walls were clenching around him, his orgasm coming right after yours. He kept rutting into you as he came, his warm, thick seed filling you up entirely until it started dripping out and around his cock, sliding quietly down your shaking thighs.

Steve’s grip around your throat loosened as he pulled out, your body fully plopping down onto the mattress as exhaustion washed over you. You felt him place a few feather light kisses on your back before he got off the bed, the faucet in the bathroom turning on. He returned a moment later, turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, a lukewarm wash rag being dragged across your center as Steve cleaned you up.

He cracked a smile as soon as he saw yours.

“That was… wow, Steve.”

It was an accurate statement. Steve was usually never that rough and commanding with you- but you couldn’t deny how good it made you feel.

“Was it too much?” He asked, a slight cringe pulling at his features.

You shook your head quickly, a small laugh coming from your mouth. “Not at all, Sir. I’m gonna have to piss you off like that more often.” You chuckled as he finished wiping your thighs.

His eyes narrowed at you as he threw the rag in the hamper, making it in despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking. In an instant he was loomed over you, the blues of his eyes disappearing once again.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, you brat.”

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Better Girlfriends

gif by @abimess

Summary: A truth or dare game with drunk friends might be just what you needed to prove to your longtime crush Wanda Maximoff that you can be a much better girlfriend.

Warnings: (+18), explicit language, cursing, public, lot of drinking, sexual themes, friends to lovers, mutual pining, a lot of teasing and jokes, with consensual cheating (?); fingering, lap sitting, kissing, college au. || Words: 5.216k

A/N: I finally managed to bring my contribution to stories inspired by the song "Boyfriend" by Dove. Forgive any mistakes, I'm not sorry for anything.

All Works Masterlist || AO3

--//--

College parties are supposed to be more fun than high school ones, but you were completely bored.

Your friends had disappeared, each one involved in one activity - or person - and the music was terrible. You also had no intention of admitting that the persistent frown on your face and the growing impatience in your chest had any connection with the pair dancing a few feet away.

Deciding that you finally had enough, you returned your drink - sugared with soda and things you'd rather not ask about - to one of the tables and made your way to the exit among the crowd of people in the Romanoff Residence.

Unlucky for you, the owner of the house - also coincidentally your best friend - bumps into you at the door.

"Where are you going, dorogoya?" Natasha questions with a raised eyebrow, and you giggle.

"Home."

"What? It's so early." She comments approaching, and she is clearly drunk, by the way, her pupils are dark, and her eyes tired.

"Where's your boyfriend?" You ignore her comment with some curiosity, looking around to see if you see Bucky anywhere, but no sign of him. "I told him to take care of you."

"He left." She retorted and chuckled, biting her lips. "He got jealous."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? What did you do?"

Nat laughed, shrugging. "He dared me! He said I wouldn't have the guts to kiss anyone in front of him."

"And of course, you proved him wrong." You retorted with a chuckle. "Tasha, I thought you liked Bucky."

"I do!" She defended herself. "I like being right too."

You laughed again, shaking your head incredulously.

"But it's really early, Y/N. Why are you leaving?"

"No reason, I just had a tiring week." You reply, but Nat doesn't buy it. Mostly because she catches your inability to not look at the dance floor for a moment, and as you follow her gaze, where the couple was laughing together, she sighs.

"This is exactly why you need a party, you know?" Nat says trying to attract your attention. "To take your mind off of exams and work! You know what you should do? Get laid."

You laughed, putting your hands in your pockets. "Hard pass. All the cool people are either my friends or taken."

"That never stopped anyone before, not even you, kitten." Nat returns making you roll your eyes with amusement. "But I know you prefer something more intimate, so let's narrow down your options."

You frowned in confusion, but Nat was grabbing your forearm and pulling you away from the door, more towards the party. Before you could ask, she was approaching your closest friends, and whispering in their ears about the basement of the house.

In less than fifteen minutes, you found yourself being dragged downstairs, a much smaller group of young adults joining you all for the bottle game.

You honestly loved your friends. You quickly cheered up when you saw Sam covered in glitter, Steve with his entire t-shirt filled with motivational phrases that were ironic about him becoming captain of the soccer team recently, or Tony trying to hide that he had just knocked over all of Melina's Russian silverware that Nat had left in the basement to avoid the drunks at the party (clearly unsuccessfully).

In addition, Kate and Yelena - both freshmen - were also there, talking to each other, and you made a mental note about asking Nat how things were between the two of them before moving to take up one of the spots on the couches and armchairs that the boys were dragging into the center of the room.

"Y/N, I hadn't seen you yet!" It was the deep voice of Thor, who had spent the entire party outside, and really hadn't said hello to you all night. You rose from your seat only to accept the blond's tight hug, lifting you a few inches in the air and eliciting a few giggles, before returning to your seat.

Everyone quickly took their seats, and you were optimistic about finally having some fun when your gaze met the last pair coming down the basement stairs.

Wanda was the most amazing girl you had ever met. She was sweet, had a wonderful sense of humor (ironic, sometimes dry but never cruel), and was brilliant. You had known her since high school - like the Romanoffs - and you were really blessed that you all ended up at New York University.

The little trick in the story was that you realized you were completely in love with her a few months ago. Maybe it happened in an instant, from the second she bumped into you between literature and math class in the first year, the shy, apologetic smile on her face, and you fell for it. Or maybe it was the years of friendship, the late-night conversations, the inside jokes, or the movie evenings brushing your hands when reaching for the popcorn.

Either way, there you were. Completely in love, and having to watch her date a guy who certainly didn't deserve her.

Vision was two years older, and part of Bruce Banner's biology class - who was Tony's best friend, and introduced everyone to him - and was a complete idiot, in your humble opinion. Full of himself, two-faced, and proud. What a girl like Wanda saw in him you would never understand.

They had been dating for some time, in fact, exactly one day before you realized that you were in love with her.

Your plan was to declare yourself, buy some flowers, maybe make a double meaning joke that and if she laughed, you would admit it. It all blew up when Wanda told you and Nat that Vision had asked her out on a date. Your hesitation was immediately noticed by Natasha, but not by Wanda, whose cheeks were still red with shyness from the interaction. You had to swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile, saying you were happy for her.

"I thought you left without saying goodbye." The brunette commented with an almost warning tone as she reached you in the center of the room, but she was smiling.

"I was." You retort with a short chuckle, receiving a confused look from her. Vision was greeting the others behind her, and you relax against the armchair, before commenting, "But you seemed busy enough."

Wanda let out a clumsy laugh, "What?"

But before you could torment her further, Vision was grabbing her forearm so that she sat next to him on the opposite couch, and you were more than happy that Thor was rushing everyone for the game to begin.

With everyone seated, Tony stood and made a fake speech expression, placing one hand on an imaginary tie around his neck and the other holding the bottle that you all would use to play.

"Dear friends, we have gathered here today for another legendary bottle game produced solely to cause discord among our circle of friendships since this one was formed." Tony spoke between chuckles, and when he was done, everyone clapped excitedly. "As usual, the last loser of the last dare does the honors." Guided the young man, and the group let out excited exclamations when an almost embarrassed Clint Barton leaned over to spin the bottle.

"That challenge wasn't fair, everybody knows that." Clint loudly defended himself but the whole group just laughed. Tony, as he sat down, sneered that Clint was a bad loser. Which was not a smart thing to do, because it was precisely on Stark that the bottle stopped. "Ah, this is going to be interesting."

Tony didn't hesitate. "Of course it will, I'm extremely funny."

You were among those who rolled their eyes with amusement, chuckling at Tony's overconfidence.

"Truth or Dare, Stark? "Clint asked.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Dare, obviously."

Clint laughed, shaking his head. He thought for a moment, then said, "Send a sext to the last person you asked a question to."

Tony frowned, then let out a brief laugh. "You saw me ask Barnes about the practice schedule. Well played, Barton, well played."

The group let out excited exclamations as Clint laughed, leaning over to grab a beer. Tony picked up his cell phone and quickly typed until he raised the device in the air and showed everyone the conversation.

Tony: The new uniform values your ass. If Romanoff doesn't squeeze it, I will.

Barnes: ????

Barnes: Are you drunk?

Barnes: but thanks I think

The group burst into laughter, even Tony chuckled although he was complaining that things would be awkward forever in the locker room after that.

Things didn't get any easier after Tony's challenge. Your friends were known to take these challenges to alarming levels - like Kate and Clint, both part of the archery team, who had already been dared to use the bow and arrow a few parties before - or the time Steve was dared to open Tony's car without the key and was almost caught by the University security guard.

Throughout the night, Nat was challenged to call a pizza place and speak only in Russian, Clint had to tell - in detail - about his most disastrous sexual experience, Steve had to moan for thirty seconds in Stark's ear, and Yelena had to kiss Kate.

The first kiss of the evening certainly traumatized Natasha - who complained about not wanting to see her younger sister hooking up with anyone - and certainly made the mood of the game more sexual. Or maybe Steve's challenge did, you couldn't tell.

Your turn finally came when Kate - who was just as flushed red as Yelena, though she didn't had the same smirk on her face as the blonde - spun the bottle.

"Dare, Bishop. And be nice, remember I'm still your boss." You warned before she even asked, pinning about being the supervisor of the lab where you did your internship together. Kate joined the group in the laughter, although she seemed a bit uncertain about whether you were joking or not.

"O-okay... How about, the person you get out in the bottle spends the rest of the game on your lap?"

The group whistled and you chuckled awkwardly but nodded in agreement before moving to spin the bottle.

The small object stopped at Wanda and you wanted to take a picture of her boyfriend's disgusted expression to the universe defining the brunette would have to get up off his lap to sit on yours.

"Come on, Maximoff, rules are rules!" Tony sped up enthusiastically, and you wanted to grin at Vision's expression, but you were busier adjusting yourself on the couch so that Wanda would be comfortable on top of you. She looked at you for only half a second, giving you a shy little smile before sitting back down your hips.

You would have kept your hands steady on the couch, unsure where to touch her, but Wanda groped her way around the cushions until she intertwined your fingers together and brought your hands to her waist, making you embrace her.

Totally platonic.

"Getting quite comfortable, I see." Nat teased, drawing giggles from the group, but you were more concerned about the feel of Wanda on top of you. Her ass fitted against your hips, the friction when she leaned over to turn the bottle-

Clearing your throat, you attempted to focus on the game and to try not to look like a complete mess for the rest of the evening.

The bottle stopped at the Vision, and to Tony's displeasure, Wanda returned to the round of questions.

"When did you know you were in love with me?"

Suddenly the game was no longer funny to you. Your fingers tightened gently around her, but you kept your expression neutral as your friends gave a chorus of "owwt" and Vision wriggled in his seat half awkwardly.

"Damn, baby, you caught me off guard. You know I'm not good with these things." He mumbled clumsily, eliciting a few short giggles.

Wanda didn't laugh. "Okay, tell me one thing you like about me then."

Vis chuckled. "There are two things I love about you, if you know what I mean..."

Most of the group only laughed because they were drunk, but you felt Wanda tense up on top of you, even though she forced a smile.

"Is that it?" She insisted, causing Vision to give a lopsided laugh.

"Come on honey, it's not your turn anymore, let's continue the game."

Whatever the hell that was, it made Wanda go quiet for many rounds. Everyone was getting considerably drunker throughout the evening - except for you, who were trying to lessen Wanda's annoyance by stroking your hands together or making jokes in her ear, and the brunette herself, who wasn't drinking.

By the time Yelena and Kate had slipped into the closet after the seven-minute challenge - and one of them had locked the door from the inside - and Nat was out of the game talking on the phone with Bucky to try to save her relationship, the game was turning into a confessionary.

Tony had just told about how he disastrously had early ejaculation upon seeing Pepper in lingerie for the first time when with the pause of laughter, a very drunk Sam remarked:

"Girls can't relate to that. Especially Y/N, this damn womanizer."

The boys laughed, but you only frowned in confusion, a clumsy chuckle escaping you. "I'm sorry, what?"

Sam laughed again, making a funny face. "Come on, Y/N, don't be modest!" He returned. "Everyone knew about you and Quinn."

"Oh, yes! The twelve-times thing! Was that really real?" Steve asked in a mixture of surprise and excitement, and all you could do was shrink back in your seat in embarrassment.

Wanda shifted uncomfortably, frowning as she questioned the group, "What are you guys talking about?"

"What? Are you telling me that your friend didn't tell you about this?" Sam questioned incredulously. "The whole campus only talked about it for two whole weeks."

"Exactly! I'm pretty sure it was one of the kids from Gotham who graffitied 'Avengers tell twelve lies' on the bleachers." Tony commented receiving a chorus of agreement from his friends. You mumbled embarrassedly to yourself, and Wanda gave a confused laugh insisting that she had no idea what they were talking about.

"Jesus, Maximoff, it's the best story of the year!" Wilson retorted excitedly. He returned the now empty beer bottle to the table and straightened up to start telling. "You know the folks at Gotham University, yes? And about them being rivals of the Avengers, our lovely team, for at least five generations?"

"Yes." Wanda agreed quickly.

"Well, we had the finals last month, and the victory party was for both universities." Sam continued, already smiling in her direction. "And someone had more fun than others."

"God, I hate you guys." You grumbled embarrassedly, using Wanda's back to hide your face from the group, who just laughed as Sam continued the story.

"Do you know the captain of the Gotham cheerleading squad? She's a blonde girl, blue eyes." Sam asked Wanda, who quickly confirmed. "Well, you must have also seen her dedicate a lot of dances to her boyfriend, the captain of the football team, right? I think he dyed his hair green in a prank last year."

"I haven't met him, but I've seen him around the games." Wanda clarifies. Steve and Tony are betting on who drinks the fastest, and they're not even listening to the story anymore. Sam seems willing to embarrass you.

"Well, everyone knows they're a couple, not least because the public displays have always been pretty euphoric." Sam laughed. "The King and Queen of Gotham. Almost separated by the event called 'Twelve Times'.

"Jesus, are you bragging about that again, Y/N?" It was Nat who interrupted the story in a teasing tone, making you sigh loudly and the group laugh. Wanda only continued to be completely confused as the redhead returned to her seat to continue the game.

"I knew you bragged!" Sam joined in the teasing, and you loosened one of your hands from Wanda's to raise your middle finger at him.

"It's a funny story and all, but of course, it's just a story." Vision declared to the group, causing an immediate silence. He wasn't intimidated, "That's not even physically possible."

The girls who knew the story chuckled incredulously at his words. You commented, "Nice way to admit to everyone that you don't know how to satisfy a girl."

The group laughed out loud - as Wanda tensed up on top of you - and although you turned slightly red, Vision didn't hesitate, "Come on, Y/N, everyone knows it's a lie. Why don't you just admit it and stop trying to lower the guys' self-esteem?"

You let out a dry laugh, and realizing that you were a second away from starting a fight, Nat intervened:

"I don't think she's lying." Declared the redhead drawing attention to herself. "In fact, it's a great opportunity for Y/N to prove how it's done."

Nat was confident that this was the best idea of the year, and the group seemed to have followed her logic because even Vis gestured with a "Be my guest" in her direction. And thinking that wasn't enough, Nat raised a finger in the air.

"Since it was my turn to play, here's my challenge: "Nat began in the same tone of voice as all the games that ended in complete disaster. "I dare Y/N to succeed in making a girl cum within the next twelve minutes. And, because Vis is so sure that this is a tough task, and called you a liar to your face, I think it's only fair that you do it to Wanda."

You stood absolutely in shock for at least a whole moment, while the entire room exploded in laughter and provocative comments. Wanda looked at her boyfriend, but Vision only rolled his eyes, perhaps too drunk to care.

"Twelve minutes, as if." The boy scoffed, and some of the other guys agreed, but Nat didn't lose her nerve.

"So you're making a challenge on top of my challenge? You can't back out now, boy." Natasha scoffed, and the group agreed in unison.

"Yeah? Like I said, be my guest!" Vis retorted proudly, and the group whistled.

Vis grimaced, "What's wrong with you guys? I'm not doing this with everyone watching!"

Vis immediately laughed - understanding your refusal as a victory - and the group let out disgruntled sighs. Tony insisted:

"Come on, Y/N! If you don't, you'll prove him right!"

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks!" You retorted, and as your irritation grew at the sight of Vision's victorious expression, Thor moved to reach for one of the blankets stored in the back of the basement and tossed it into Wanda's lap, ending the discussion by warning:

"Here's the solution. No one will actually see it, but we'll definitely know if Wanda is enjoying it. Vis always says how vocal she gets in the bedroom."

The group laughed again, and Vis ignored his girlfriend's angry expression - clearly annoyed that he was sharing such things with his friends - to shrug cockily, turning his bottle of beer into his mouth.

You sighed impatiently, ready to say you weren't going to participate in any more stupid games when Wanda turned her face in your direction. "I'm in if you are."

Oh.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

"A-are you're serious?" You returned in shock, and the girl just nodded, smiling at you.

"Come on we don't have all night!" Tony cut in loudly, the words slurred out completely.

Wanda got off your lap only to take the seat next to you, and throw the comforter over your lower bodies. You felt your whole face burn - probably as red as hers - and you settled down next to her on the couch, your hands sweating under the fabric.

"Well, so, what are you waiting for?" Nat commented, and you swallowed dryly, turning your head to Wanda who was breathing out of rhythm without you even having done anything.

With a short smile, you brought your face closer to hers, only to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, "Relax, Wands. It's just a game."

She nodded, choking softly when your hand moved and your fingers brushed her thigh. Tony commented "Tick-Tack" making the group laugh, but you weren't even paying attention to the other people anymore.

Moving up your fingers, you did not take your eyes from hers, the irises darkening as you approached your target.

A soft sigh escaped Wanda's lips as your fingers found the fabric of her panties beneath her skirt. You bit your lips, fighting the urge to kiss her as you began to tease.

"Hey, keep telling Wanda about the story!" Steve suddenly recalled, and you can only imagine that for your friends - who weren't feeling the touches or seeing anything really - watching the two of you wasn't all that interesting. You had forgotten them for a moment.

Nat giggled a little, and you had the impression that she wasn't even looking at you anymore. "Ah, Wanda was a funny thing. Y/N apparently was the only person in the whole school who had no idea that Harley had a boyfriend." Nat started again, but you don't think Wanda was even listening, the growing wetness in the fabric of her panties against your fingers. "So she took the girl home and went AWOL all night. When the party was over, Harley forgot that her best friend's cell phone was plugged into the party Bluetooth to the music as she narrated how Y/N L/N made her cum twelve times upstairs."

The group laughs, but Wanda frowns at you, tensing up for a moment as she whispered: "You fucked another girl?"

"All night." You retorted low, and the girl locked her jaw, looking away. Almost... Like jealousy.

What if?

Pushing the fabric of her panties aside, you sank a finger into her without warning, sliding it in easily, and Wanda choked, closing her eyes and shuddering against the couch, a low curse escaping her lips completely muffled by the sounds of all your friends getting excited about another round of challenges.

You imagined their drunken state would take the attention away from you two soon enough, but you weren't thinking about it, all you could feel was your heart pounding in your ears at the feel of Wanda's soaked walls on your fingerprints.

Moving slowly, you removed your finger to tease her clit with gentle circles until Wanda was dripping, her breathing quickening as she bit her lips hard to muffle any sound.

You brought your mouth to the height of her ear, your fingers sinking as deep as you could in that position as you whispered, "I'm going to make you cum so hard you'll forget your boyfriend is watching."

A noise escaped Wanda's throat and attracted everyone's attention, but instead of stopping, you increased the speed of your movements, causing her to start spasming against you.

"I think the show is about to end folks." Wilson mocked aloud, but you were continuing your thrusts inside Wanda, sighing at the sensation of the walls of her pussy twitching in your fingers.

"I can tell you things I like about you besides your tits, Wanda." You gasped low against her ear, feeling it throbbing in your hand. "The way you laugh. The way you intensely love, care about your friends. Your weird dreams, the way you frown when you're focused, how you eat your cereals, the cute nose scrunch you do and-"

"Fuck!" Wanda interrupted your declarations with a gasping exclamation, cumming against your fingers, her back arching slightly and her nails digging into the couch.

The group celebrated, laughing loudly as you watched her with adoration, and she tried to normalize her breathing.

Vision stood up abruptly, throwing the beer bottle against the table, which broke and tossed drink at everyone, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He shouted shocking the whole group with his aggressiveness. "Five fucking minutes! I already took a whole fucking night without getting it, and you come with her in five minutes! What the fuck is your problem?"

Wanda's eyes filled with tears, and you moved your fingers away at her touch on your wrist. Vision stormed angrily out of the room, and the girl went right after him with trembling legs up the stairs.

"That was awkward." Natasha commented aloud trying to ease the tension, with some success because everyone was too drunk to care, and stood up with two empty bottles. "Well, I guess it's time to call it a night. Y/N, I never doubted you, but go wash your hand to help me clean the house. And if any of you are kind enough to get my sister and her girlfriend out of the closet, I would be very grateful for the unearned trauma."

The group dissolved quickly with the end of the game, and you were still a bit out of sync with everything that had happened for many long minutes.

After using the basement sink, and helping the Nats kick the drunk adults out of the house by the end of the party, you decided to go home. You needed to think, and you couldn't do that with the boys trying - and failing because of their drinking - to gather all the bottles and cans in the house at high speed.

To your surprise, you found Wanda sitting on the entrance wall of the Residence, her eyes glued to her cell phone.

Only when you got close enough did you realize that she was sniffling softly.

"Wands?"

The girl startled slightly and wiped her face before looking back at you. "Hey."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

You don't believe it one bit, all since you could see the dried tear marks on her face and the new ones that had formed and wanted to come out.

"Where's your ride?"

She let out a whiny laugh, shrugging her shoulders. "Vision won't be my ride anymore."

"I'm sorry." You sighed, but she swallowed dryly, shaking her head.

"It's okay, I... I needed a push." She clarified.

"For what?"

"To build up the courage. To leave him."

"Oh, okay." You muttered half uncertainly, trying to hide the feeling of happiness from your face.

Wanda shifted her weight between her feet. "I was thinking… can you ride me?"

You raised your eyebrow in amazement, and Wanda quickly corrected herself with very red cheeks "I meant give me a ride! H-home! I... sorry."

You laughed softly, moving closer as you pulled your keys out of your pocket. "It's okay Sokovian girl, I always understand what you're trying to tell me."

"Not always." She retorts too low so you don't hear it.

Despite everything that has happened, the way to your house is very peaceful. Which is probably because of the intimacy you have with Wanda - who insists that you take her to your place, because Erik would kill her if she came home at that hour smelling of booze - and you didn't mind.

Wanda already knew the place, she often visited with the other girls, and you were more than happy to welcome her.

"If you want something to eat or drink, you know where it is." You comment throwing the keys on the counter. "I'll get some clean clothes for you."

Wanda busied herself with taking off her shoes but followed you upstairs to your room. As you searched for a set of pajamas for her, the girl let her curious gaze run around the countless photographs -many of which she was present - that you had of your friends on the nightstands and bookshelves.

You returned with an oversized shirt and shorts, and Wanda blushed at your fingers rubbing together as she accepted the outfit, but did her best to disguise it.

"You can use the shower first." You spoke up. "I think I'll get us something to eat."

"O-okay."

She ran to the bathroom faster than you left the room.

And while you were preparing a snack for yourselves - definitely not thinking about the feeling of Wanda on your fingers - the girl was in the shower. Definitely not thinking about having your fingers deep inside her.

Okay, suddenly ice water might have been a better idea.

A few minutes later, Wanda finally stepped out of the shower, wearing your clothes, with the fresh smell of soap and her hair loose and damp, and you almost knocked over the tray of food.

Swallowing dryly, you hurried to return the smile she gave you and put the food on the little table in your room.

"I'm not really hungry, I think I'll go to bed." The brunette declared, and you hesitated before nodding.

Without question, she didn't leave the room as you imagined, but rather, went straight to your bed, where she lay back comfortably.

"I suppose I'll sleep in the living room then." You joked, but Wanda frowned.

"What? No, you'll sleep here."

"W-with you?"

"Why not?" She retorted lightheartedly, and you giggled awkwardly, thinking she was teasing you. Seeing your hesitation, Wanda raised her face in a challenge, "You brought her here?"

"Who?" you asked confused.

"You know who."

"Voldemort?"

Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes with amusement. "You're such a dork." She retorted with a sigh, moving to grab a pillow and throw it in your direction.

You gripped the item with ease, a short smile on your lips. "Yeah, but you love me."

"I do." She retorted immediately, in the same tone, and you felt your heart miss two beats in a row. Clearing your throat softly, you squeezed the pillow in your fingers.

She swallowed dryly, without breaking eye contact.

"What?" you asked breathlessly about the staring contest you two had engaged in. She hesitated and then:

"I can be a better girlfriend than her."

With an affected laugh, you nodded. "And I can be a better boyfriend than him."

Wanda's eyes darken, and she swallows dry again.

"Then why are we wasting time?"

You smiled, throwing the pillow on the floor and moving closer to the bed as you said, "I have no idea." before kneeling on the mattress and meeting Wanda halfway.

Her hands grip your shoulders, pulling you against her as your mouths joined in a passionate kiss, drawing wet sighs from both of you.

Kissing until the air was needed, trying to pour out all the hidden feelings at once, you parted, your foreheads together as you stood on top of Wanda.

"I think you need a new number." She gasped against your lips, making you blink in confusion. But she only smiled, moving to peck your lips, kissing for a moment before biting your bottom lip softly and pulling to get a low moan from you. "Make me cum thirteen times."

You let out an affected laugh, sliding your hands into her blouse. "You think you can stay up all night?" You challenged against her ear, running kisses down her collarbone that made her shudder beneath you.

“Let’s find out.” She retorted affectedly before pulling your face back to hers, kissing you intently until you forgot about any doubts.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #college au #marvel imagines #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #wanda x yn #wanda maximoff imagines #marvel au #marvel smut

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nikihoon · 3 years

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summary ⋆ jealous that her ex boyfriend, jay, left her for someone "better", y/n goes to the one person who owes her something to make him feel the same. the one problem? that someone is park sunghoon, who just happens to be one of jay's bestfriends.

pairing ⋆ sunghoon x fem!reader

genres/tropes ⋆ social media au, fake dating au, friends to lovers, fake dating to lovers, highschool au, fluff, some angst, mutual pining

featuring ⋆ p1harmony's soul, stayc's yoon, txt's beomgyu, and an oc

warnings ⋆ cursing, cheating, some violence, underage drinking, more to be added as i write + lmk if i missed anything !

status ⋆ completed

taglist is closed.

profiles 1 | profiles 2

one: #girlboss moment

two: who tf is jisun

three: the bro code

four: terms & conditions

five: the world's best cat 🐈

six: count your days.

seven: #teamwonki

eight: premarital hand holding

nine: really really bad

ten: lover's quarrel

eleven: jake sim hate club

twelve: sunki vs the world

thirteen: redemption arc?

fourteen: bday bash part 1

fifteen: bday bash part 2

sixteen: don't ask questions

seventeen: the only exception

eighteen: he who shall not be named

nineteen: 2 soon

twenty: only real ones know

twenty one: skipped a chapter

twenty two: in love with a criminal

twenty three: THE halloween party

twenty four: insufferable

twenty five: i hate couples

twenty six: what would you do if we kissed

twenty seven: movie night

twenty eight: epilogue

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yeonjunszn · 2 years

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𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩

pairing: nishimura riki x f!reader

genre: angst﹒fluff﹒crack

warnings: LOTS of mature language LMFAOAOOA, high school au, for the sake of the plot everyone’s the same age, enemies to friends to lovers, dancer!reader, ni-ki is a little gremlin but what can you do, reader thinks she’s a comedian (spoiler: she’s not), girlxgirl jokes (reader and yuna), mentions of mature themes but like they didn’t actually happen??, more warnings per individual chapter!

feat: the rest of enhypen, txt choi line, and yuna from itzy

summary: as the captains of the girls and boys dance teams respectively, you and nishimura riki have a mutual hatred for one another. to you, he’s cocky and self centered. to him, you’re constantly stealing his spotlight without hesitation. but when a rumor goes around that you did some… questionable things… with the captain of the lacrosse team, riki finds that maybe— just maybe— he doesn’t hate you that much after all.

status: completed!

started: mar. 20, 2022

ended: may 20, 2022

— AHHH FINALLY MY FIRST SMAU IM SO EXCITED!! also this is loosely based off my hc from my enhypen as my favorite tropes post!

— send an ask to join the taglist!

profiles 1 | profiles 2

one. penelope garcia but a male high schooler

two. a magician never reveals her secrets

three. 🤢 y/n 🤢 and 🤢 jeongsu 🤢

four. su*cidal tendencies 1 - sapphics 0

five. RIKI UFC ARC ‼️

six. OPERATION WHAT!

seven. truth or dare (2.3k)

eight. just peachy

nine. sunghoon do you ever stop talking

ten. i’ll help you (2k)

eleven. atp i just be breathing

twelve. u wuv us jay

thirteen. do u ever stop and T.H.I.N.K?

fourteen. irredeemable qualities

fifteen. the reason why

sixteen. ruh roh

seventeen. exclamation points (1.1k)

eighteen. wake 😴 up 👆 in 👁 day 🌤 one 😔

nineteen. reminded me of you <3

twenty. whorible driver

twenty one. pocky

twenty two. good? to? know?

twenty three. dig into the archives

twenty four. the devil works hard but kim sunoo works harder

twenty five. valentine’s day

twenty six. like switzerland

twenty seven. once upon a time in a land far far away

twenty eight. NOT a donkey

twenty nine. JUNGWON SPEAKING PRINTER?????

thirty. the february chill (1.4k)

thirty one. i’m so tired

thirty two. @/rikimura

thirty three. free period (1.5k)

thirty four. minions

thirty five. i’m secure now (2.1k)

epilogue. 4 more years

BONUS

riki and y/n priv accs

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen niki #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen niki smau #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki smau #niki x reader #niki smau #⭒ — fluffy fluff #❅ — in my feels #🐆 — nrk #mixed.up.riki🌪#yeonjunszn

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yoongisleftearring · 2 years

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P U S H + P U L L

-> in which you are trying to survive college life but seem to have a thorn in your side in the form of Seo Changbin. After years of hating each other can you decide to remain civil with the handsome rapper? (let's just hope he doesn't come across that private thirst account you have for him)

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pairing: student!changbin x student!reader

featuring: stray kids, feat. random idols

genre: sm au, crack, fluff, slight angst

status: completed!

Warnings: Cursing, attempted assault in part 23, some mature themes

A/n: Did I create this story to simp over changbin? quite possibly. But, never mind that, we're keeping it light and breezy with this smau, I hope you enjoy reading !!

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profiles: y/n's crew

profiles: changbin's crew

part one: cause of death: Kim Seungmin

part two: his ego needs a break

part three: I lied

part four: it all makes sense now

part five: don't be too hasty

part six: I said what I said Bang

part seven: oh. nevermind.

part eight: you two know each other?

part nine: it's called an icebreaker :)

part ten: she stole my man

part eleven: can it, Binnie

part twelve: Deja Vu

part thirteen: Something to say?

part fourteen: Hulk Hogan

part fifteen: mom and dad are fighting

part sixteen: the feeling is mutual

part seventeen: Hwang, you menace

part eighteen: will you ever?

part nineteen: SHIP

part twenty: That man is unhinged

part twenty-one: not to simp or anything but

part twenty-two: weak-willed

part twenty-three: I'm here now

part twenty-four: Did you want me to sleep with you?

part twenty-five: are you seeing what I'm seeing?

part twenty-six: he hates me

part twenty-seven: less questions more intervention

part twenty-eight: justin bieber wannabe

part twenty-nine: regret

part thirty: I think we should break up

part thirty-one: sorry, I had him first

part thirty-two: FAM

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eideticmemory · 2 years

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I DON’T SMOKE | SPENCER REID

Newly released from prison, Spencer meets his pen pal for the first time. Live, in the flesh, and under his thumb.

Word Count: 5k.

Warning: 13 year age gap, power dynamic, descriptive smut. Spencer is written as a very questionable and possessive character. Hitting/slapping, aggressive/intense smut.

One month in, he tells you that he is in prison for murder. The relevation is sudden and unprompted and you are not sure what to say. You do not reply for four minutes and Spencer can feel the seconds passing by like a bone saw to the skull. Time is limited and you suppose that is part of the appeal. The rush, the outpour of information to a man you've never met, never seen and never heard. The bubble, the exchange similar to two people sitting in a tent, whispering things to each other they never thought they'd say out loud. He knows when you got your first period and how much you owe in student loans. He knows your middle name and only refers to you as [y/n] [y/m/n] because that is how deep he is under your skin. You know about the screw in his knee and how he knows the exact number of times his mother has put her hands on him. You know she's sick and that she is the only parent he knows. You don't know, until he says it, that the federal offense ultimately resulting in your correspondense was murder.

S: I'm not a killer.

Y: Okay.

S: You don't believe me.

Y: I want to hear your voice.

You schedule a phone call for the next day at noon. He does not call and you eat soup of out a can, slowly, until one o'clock rolls around and you realize you don't have an appetite. There are days where you two do not speak, but there is a mutual dependence, a need to escape that eats away at both of you. You have never heard Spencer's voice. You do not know what he looks like, but it is only two days at most before you ache for him, before you are plopping down and spending ten minutes on crafting the perfect message just to say - Hi.

If you are lucky, Spencer can chat for fifteen minutes. Most days, it is ten. The last day you speak, it is for only eight minutes and he stops responding in the middle of the conversation. It feels very final. Like a farewell. You do not expect to hear from him again. You do not expect to receive a text from him. A real text, one that makes your phone ping and vibrate at eleven at night.

S: I'm out.

It is not until a week later that the two of you can meet. You change your outfit three times and by the final pick, you are still not content with your decision. Nonetheless, he's expecting you at six o'clock and your hair is still wet. You still do not know what he looks like and the realization that you are meeting a stranger dawns on you with a quickness. It is so cold outside, you can feel it in your joints and when you see him wave, you know it is him. His hands are in the pockets of his suit -- you were not expecting him to be wearing one -- and his nose is red. You are not sure what to do. If a hug or a kiss or a exhibistionist blow job is the right way to go. He decides for you, he sticks his hand out and when you put your palm in his, your hand disappears under his fingers.

He is, for some reason, a lot taller than you had expected. You come up to just below his chin, and you can almost feel his breath on your forehead. It was his idea to meet at a park, in twenty degree weather and it is obvious that he is instantly regretting it. He cannot look away from you, though. His gaze is intense and comforting at the same time. It is like he is reading you, it is like he is piecing you together, finally, into a complete picture. It makes you feel self conscious, but you realize he has not let go of your hand, and his thumb is rubbing your wrist in soft, slow strokes.

This is the moment. This is the moment, you think, that he will turn and walk away and you will never hear his voice. But it is only when you look up at him again and realize he has just a small smile, that he speaks.

"[y/n] [y/m/n] . . ."

You smile back. You step closer to him and immediately step back and he pulls you back in by the wrist.

"Most people just call me [y/n]."

He had a plan. To take you to the fair. He got tickets and everything. But as he is driving, both of you sitting in complete silence, he studies you closely and notices your slight disappointment as you pull up to the fairgrounds.

“You don’t want to be here.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Will you buy me a funnel cake?”

“Yes.”

He does. You share it and he tells you he’d forgotten what real food tasted like. You ask what he first ate after his release and he says he could not eat for days, and when he finally could, all he had was a can of soup. You laugh, but you catch yourself.

“No, it’s okay,” he says. “You can laugh.”

“What kind of soup?”

“Tomato.”

“And it was good?”

“Not as good as this funnel cake.”

He is scared to ride the rollercoasters, you realize. He urges you to go on one alone, more than once, and the final time he says it, you reply, “It is not a date if I ride alone.”

You immediately want to die.

He stares at you for what feels like a long time. He had never said this was a date. This was merely the next step. This was merely the thing that, naturally, made sense to do.

But, “You’re right,” he says. “Which one should we go on?”

You take him on the biggest one. The scariest one and when you pull the lever down, strapping both of you in, you can see him start to sweat. You reach over and grab his hand, but he shakes it off and puts his sweaty palm on your thigh. The sweat stains your jeans and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs together in reaction. His hands are big, probably large enough to hold both of your wrists in one, and it is all you can think about.

When the roller coaster takes off, his grip tightens around your thigh and he does not realize he is doing it. Atleast, this is what you think at first. Until you glance over at him and he looks away.

In the fast breeze of the wind, he almost looks his age. With his hair blown back to reveal his hairline, and the sun shining just enough to reveal the true lack of color in his face. His facial hair is raised and you wonder how it would feel on your neck. Spencer is 16 years older than you, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you more. Why, at 22, you are so enthralled with a man nearly twice your age. But then he looks at you and smiles, and it’s Spencer.

He does not let go of your thigh until the ride is over and there is a n emptiness without his palm. A longing, a phantom feeling that you’re trying your hardest to hold onto. In the car, you eat a candy apple and your hand is trembling.

“Do you have a drink of choice?” you ask him, the two of you sat at a bar bar. It doubles as a seafood restaurant and smells like crab and you’re tempted to rub chapstick on your upper lip, but that is not sexy.

“Um,” he says. “I . . . I don’t really drink.”

“Oh,” you set down your glass of gin like you’re committing a crime. “I . . . we can go somewhere else.”

“No, no, you drink. It’s okay.”

“I feel awful.”

“I want you to stay here and drink.” It almost comes from him like an order and he nudges your glass towards you.

“Trying to get me tipsy?”

“Why would I do that?” He seems genuinely curious.

“I don’t know . . .” you’re suddenly embarrassed and finish the rest of your drink in a big gulp. “To get me into bed, I guess.”

He does not look any less confused. You want to bury yourself underneath the floor. Alternatively, to be boiled alive with the crab.

“Not that . . . I would need to be tipsy to sleep with you. I would. I would do it . . . not tipsy, sober. I . . . we can go somewhere else. I’m sorry.”

“You’re very apologetic.”

“Right now, or?”

“In general. When we would message each other, you would apologize for the smallest things. Things that weren’t your fault. Things like this.”

“I should’ve asked before dragging you to a bar.”

“[y/n] [y/m/n].” He says. His voice is stern and you feel like you’re in trouble. “Look at me.”

You lift your eyes and not your head, locking your gaze with his in a way that feels almost permanent.

“You can drag me anywhere you want.”

There is a heavy amount of embarrassment and shame in your gut as he drives you home. That, or a toxic mix of funnel cake, a candy apple, almonds, and two glasses of gin. You had not planned on him seeing where you live. You study his expressions, the subtle furrow of his eyebrows as the car crosses the border where DC effectively ends for middle aged white men. The homes get smaller and the architecture is shoddy and you mumble, barely enunciating, “Right here. On your right.”

His brakes come to a silent stop and you unbuckle your seatbelt. He seems to be spacing out, staring straight ahead. You pop the door open to get his attention and it works. He turns his head to you and goes to speak, but he stops himself. You do the same.

“Um,” you stutter. “Would you . . . um, would you like to come up, for a little bit, maybe?” You refuse to make consistent eye contact.

“Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” you are genuinely shocked. “You want to see me again? This is going well?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Don’t you think so?”

It is weird when you return to work the following Monday. It appears, that for the past few months, you haven’t done any work at all. The computer you type on is old, blocky and knows all your secrets. It is full of dust, decay and conversations streamlined from a secretary’s office in DC to Millburn Correctional Facility. Spencer has occupied an abundant amount of your time. And now he is occupying an abundant amount of space in your brain. Your thighs get slick just thinking about him and you cannot bring yourself to send him a text.

In fact, the two of you do not speak until Thursday afternoon, when he sends you a message out of the blue and asks you to meet him after work. You do not know what he does for work, if he works at all, if he has been sitting at home all day thinking about you or acting as though you don’t exist. But he texts you and it is void of any real emotion or mood and you take an uber to a restaurant downtown.

He is wearing a button up this time, not entirely casual but cozier than his last appearance. You slide into the booth but he does not like that you sat across from him and he places himself beside you. You feel sandwiched between him and the wall but he smells nice and you want to bury your face in his chest and you want him to do the same to you.

“How are you?” he whispers and you involuntarily lean in.

Your chin rests on his shoulder, “Good. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Since you’re not in prison?”

“Exactly.”

“Sorry. Is it too soon?”

A pink martini is delivered to your table and Spencer thanks the waitress kindly and orders an appetizer.

“What the hell is this?”

He chuckles. He doesn’t do it often but it is a sound to be heard. “I come here often with my coworkers. One of them gets that drink every time.”

You take a sniff and your eyes water. “Is she made of iron? God, that’s strong.”

“She’s a strong woman. Loves the color pink and getting drunk.”

“Her and I could get along.”

He doesn’t reply. He just hands you a plate and a roll of silverware so you can try the dumplings. He enjoys watching you stuff your face and you enjoy stuffing your face. When you fend for yourself, it’s mostly ramen and canned soup and sleep for dinner. This is much better and you shove the dumplings in your mouth, swallow it down with some of the pink drink.

Tonight feels different from Sunday. Spencer is talkative and inquisitive. He speaks at a million words a minute, but when you are talking, he listens intently, like he must hang on to each word you speak. It feels nice. It feels genuine and unfamiliar. You are tipsy without trying and you accidentally lean in and kiss his neck when he makes you laugh. The spot turns bright red, like your lips had set him on fire but he continues talking like it didn’t happen. It upsets you, only a little. Because on this fine Thursday night, Spencer Reid could have his way with you. He could take you out of here right now and to his car. Or his place. Your place — if that’s the only option. He could lay you down and do unspeakable things to you if he really, really wanted to.

But it doesn’t seem like he does. It does not seem like he could possibly be less interested. You do not get to kiss him until the next date and even then, when you grab onto his face in response, he moves away quickly and is seemingly unphased by the whole thing. Spit is dripping off your lip and you feel like you did it wrong. Like you didn’t have a moment to really show what you can do with your lips and his. He tells you goodnight and that he’ll see you soon.

It is almost every two weeks that you and Spencer can see each other. If you’re lucky, one week goes by before he texts you and if you’re unlucky, three. He’s mentioned that his work keeps him busy, but not much else about it. You’ve learned not to ask. You can only hope he’s feeling as comfortable with you as you are with him. Sometimes it’s clear in the way he rambles. The way his voice gets really high when you poke and probe him with questions because he’s a beautiful encyclopedia. The way he holds your thigh while he’s driving like it keeps him grounded. The way his fingers will get dangerously close to the hem of your dress but never close enough.

You two are meant to have your seventh date on Friday, but he texts you on Wednesday and asks to come over. You’re home and you rise to your feet with a random burst of energy and yell, “Yes!” outloud. If anyone had been watching, it would’ve been a major moment of embarrassment. You run to the bathroom, run back to your phone to reply, and back to the bathroom. You take time shaving, your lower back, your stomach, and everything below. You have a particular perfume that you’ve been waiting to wear, just for this occasion. You rush around, you put on twenty different outfits — each one skimpier than the last — and you clean. Nothing makes the place actually look clean, but you light a few candles and it at least looks romantic.

Spencer gets there within the next hour and he comes right in when you open the door. He does not notice that your shorts are squeezing your thighs and your tank top has spaghetti straps. He does not notice the candles or the music or how the hardwood floor has been mopped for the first time in a year. He asks if you’re hungry. You shyly say yes and he orders some food. You only have two plates in the entire apartment and they are both dirty so you eat chinese food out of the containers.

The silence is giving you a headache. It is making you go crazy and it is making you angry. He does not look away from the TV, suddenly very interested in Teen Mom 2, and he sits on the opposite side of the couch. His face has been in a constant frown and you wonder why he had bothered to come over in the first place. You lose your appetite mid-egg roll and you set the food down before you march to the kitchen. You busy yourself with a whole lot of nothing, and you breathe out a sigh that is exasperated and long.

His footsteps are light, but the floor is not strong enough to hold his weight and it creaks. The god awful noise moves closer to you and you want to move. You want to turn and face him, but there is a paralysis from the root of your hair to the tip of your toes. Your body is numb and unable to be swayed. The only sensation that lingers is the feeling of his hand on your breast, groping it in his palm, and his breath on your neck.

Yes, you think. Yes. Yes.

His other arm wraps around your body and he massages your boobs, pinches your nipples through your shirt. It makes you gasp and you arch your back, pressing your ass against his crotch. It is not a moan, but a growl that Spencer lets out and his hand wraps around your throat. You rest your palms on the counter, with your hips moving desperately against the front of Spencer’s pants. His free hand moves to your waist and he slams his crotch against yours, lifting you so gently that you cannot tell your feet are no longer touching the ground.

You feel him getting hard, you feel the heat between your bodies and the way you’re soaking through your shorts. Spencer observes the mess and the way your body shakes when he rolls his cock on you just right. The friction is good, but it’s not enough. Your head is full of thoughts of warmth, and how badly you want to feel Spencer in your belly. How good he feels through all the fabric and how he should take his pants off because it’d feel so much better.

He moves his hand to your back and pushes you down, so hard that you slam your cheek on the counter. It stuns you and you think for a second that your temple bone has popped out of place. But you drop your jaw to let out a moan and you feel a pop that tells you everything is fine. Spencer has the heel of his hand pressed into your spine, just between your shoulder blades, and you can’t watch as he undoes his belt. You hear it though, and feel the cold metal touch your ass.

You close your eyes, you imagine it all, and go off of your sense of touch. The feeling on his hand on your thigh. The sounds of him spitting on his cock.

After that, it is all in your gut. He is slow and rough and presses all of his weight onto you as he pins you onto the counter. Your eyes roll back each time he pushes into you and you try to keep quiet. You bite your lip so hard that you can taste blood, as though if you make any noise, you’ll scare him away. You won’t open your mouth, so he reaches in and opens it for you. Two of his fingers hook over your bottom teeth and as soon as he pulls it open, he can hear you.

Your moans are loud and straight from your throat, guttural and desperate. It’s not until you open your mouth, let him know just how much you like it, that he becomes vocal. Filthy. Lots of soft words about how good you look bent over and how you’re dripping on his clothes. He leans down and his face is so close to yours. You try to reach back, hold it in your palm, but he has your forearm pinned.

He moves your hair out of the way so he can see your face. He watches all you gasp for air and grind your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. He slows the movement of his hips until your whimpering, squirming underneath him and begging, “Spencer.”

But he wants to take his time with you. Each thrust is hard, but staggered, a merciless tease of what he could really do, if he really wanted to. Your hands ball into fists and your toes curl as your legs lift off the ground.

He tells you to come. He tells you over and over and over. He calls you [y/n] [y/m/n] and that does it for you. He holds you down while you writhe and twitch and beg for more. More. Anything. And he pushes into you one more time, hard, sudden, plunging into your ribcage just so he can feel it, just so you’ll be quiet.

He finishes all over your back. It gets your hair and you can feel it on the back of your neck, but you can’t feel your legs and you’re trying to catch you breath so you lay there while it happens.

You stand up when you hear him fixing his belt and you wobble trying to keep your balance. Spencer catches you and you stand in his arms with your back pressed into his chest. He holds you for a moment, then whispers, “Go change.”

You follow his order and turn to leave, but before you can take a step, he grabs you by the waist, pulls you in and kisses you. He tries to make it quick, but you grip onto his shirt collar and hold on for dear life. You shove your tongue in his mouth and lean against him as he tightens his hold on your hips.

Whatever it was, whatever was raging inside of him when he walked through the door, has dissipated inside your body and you suddenly feel like you can sleep.

Spencer is gone when you wake up. Spencer is gone for a few days after that. Spencer is gone a few weeks after that.

Spencer is gone.

You walk around sore for the next couple days after he demolished you in your kitchen, and you promise that you will not break. He has always texted you first, whether it’s a hello or hi, a good morning or are you off yet. He has always reached out to you, it is your pattern, it is your comfort zone. But days goes by, seconds feel like hours.

And three weeks later, you just feel used.

Why it never occurred to you to google Spencer is a mystery. It could be your severe lack of common sense, or your blind spot when it comes to Spencer. Either way, he’s a fucking fed.

Doctor Spencer Reid is a veteran of the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit. He is a genius, he is a hero, and no matter how hard you look, there is no record of him being in prison. You live thirty minutes from Quantico and it is a fourty-five minute bus ride.

The building is big, made of grey stone and glass and intimidating in its height. It is secure and people stare at your as you navigate your way through. Like they know you’re not meant to be there, and they know you know it, too. You slide in behind a woman as she scans her badge.

You feel like a stalker and it’s a shameful feeling, but not enough. Not enough to make you turn around, not enough to make you stop and think about what you’re doing. Up on the third floor, it is much quieter. No one appears to be around and you take it as an opportunity to roam around the desks.

Spencer Reid is printed on a name plate, placed in the corner of the neatest desk you’ve ever seen. You run your fingers over the wood and look at his desktop calendar.

Lunch, dinner, drinks.

Your existence is marked on the calendar, surely, with little notes to remind him when and where to meet you. But your name is no where to be found and that stings only a little.

“Can I help you?”

You quickly cover up the calendar with loose pieces of paper, startled and ashamed. The woman in front of you is confused, her white face turner paler out of . . . fear? Worry? Concern? Her outfit is bright and beautiful and you cannot stop staring at it.

“Are you looking for Spencer?” she asks.

“Who?”

“Spencer. That’s his desk.”

“Oh,” you stutter. “Yes. Yeah, um, I was just . . . um, is he here?”

“No. How do you know him?”

You hesitate, “Prison.”

Her face changes, like that word is forbidden and she cannot believe you have just said it. She tells you Spencer is in flight right now, but he should be landing shortly. She offers you a cup of tea because you’re shaking out of your skin. When you take a seat in her office, you do not expect her to sit with you, but she does and you immediately want to leave.

This was a mistake.

All of it was a mistake.

“Were you . . . in prison?” she asks.

“Only by association.”

“Hm.”

She doesn’t push, she doesn’t pull. She leaves the conversation where it ends and when she asks about the top you’re wearing, it draws you into a long chat about the environmental consequences to particular clothing. Penelope is fun. She is kind, although she doesn’t trust you. When your tea is empty, she gets you a new cup, and while she’s gone, Spencer walks in.

“Hi,” you say.

He does not say anything and marches away. You can hear him chatting with Penelope, rather loudly, and you feel bad to have gotten her into trouble.

He marches back in, “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

It is a long car ride and it is silent. Spencer is gripping onto the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are turning white. You stare out the window, but you can feel him glancing at you, mulling over just what to say. No words are spoken until you are parked outside of your apartment.

He lets out a long sigh, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That I was worried about you . . . I just wanted to see you.”

“See me? Are you kidding? That is my job. That is where I work. You can’t just show up.”

“I know. I know. I was just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was dumb, and disrespectful, but you left me hanging and I didn’t know what else to do and I just . . . I want want to know what you’re feeling right now.”

“I feel . . .” he breathes. “I feel like . . . I want . . . to hit you.”

You pause, “Okay.”

“What?”

“I said, o-kay.”

He unbuckles his seat belt and turns to you. He raises his hand and you close your eyes, anticipating the blow, but it never comes. He lowers his hand, and the moment you open your eyes, settle, get comfortable, he smacks you so hard that there’s a ringing in your ears. You don’t have time to react, you don’t have time to process, because he does it again. You catch glimpses of his open hand coming towards your face, striking the same spot over and over. While you just take it.

Your face is swollen when he’s done and your blood is pumping like it never has before. He locks the door and you ride him in the driver’s seat. He tries to talk to you but you cover his mouth.

“Shut up,” you tell him. “Shut the fuck up.”

He listens.

Spencer Reid cannot shake you, and it appears that he’s given up on trying. He finds his way back to you whenever he can, as often as he can and there are no more barriers. It takes a week for the bruises on your face to disappear, and the next time you have sex, he adds more.

“Tell me to hurt you,” he says with his hand around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you can barely talk.

“I w-want you to hurt me.”

So he does. He slaps you and he fucks you and it is too much for your body to handle and you come uncontrollably. It is the first time he empties himself inside of you and it makes your heart feel warm. He lays on top of you for a long time. When it’s over, he puts aquaphor on your face, using the tip of his finger to rub the solution on your skin.

His touch is soft. It is slow and tender. He frowns when you wince and kisses your jaw. Spencer is Spencer now, at this moment. He is gentle and traumatized and deeply infatuated with you. He is Spencer, but there is a time he will not be. There is a time he will become feral again and his touch will be rough and callous and painful and pleasurable. And you hope that is sooner than later.

#mine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #Spotify

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lostsometime · 3 years

Text

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking about how what Eodwulf’s experience of who Caduceus is is absolutely fucking wild. Like, in the 3 times he has really interacted with this guy, can you imagine what Caduceus looks like to him?

The first time you see him, he’s accompanying your ex-boyfriend to the Sanitarium, a location that is severely fraught for both of you. You notice that he’s surrounded by new friends - very colorful, and apparently largely foreigners. The big pink one openly wears the symbol of a forbidden goddess. He either does not know or does not care that doing this could get him arrested.

Also, your ex is still hot and you don’t know what to do with this.

The next time you see him is when you are actually spending a significant amount of time with your ex for the first time in almost 20 years. All his new friends are coming, and so is your mutual abuser, so you can’t really talk to him, but oh well. His friends are needlessly petty about the seating arrangements. The pink one, however, is polite.

For some reason you decide to react to this by making a snarky and somewhat racist comment about him, and he returns with so smooth and confident a burn you almost can’t be sure if he meant it as one or not. Maybe he’s just genuinely guileless and good-natured? You have literally not talked to someone guileless and good-natured since you were fifteen.

It is a deeply tense evening, and you spend most of it stuffing food in your mouth so you have an excuse not to talk or answer any questions. At the end of it you realize that, no, the pink one was definitely throwing shade at you earlier. You know this because he decides to openly insult Trent Ikithon, the person you fear and hate most in the world and potentially the most powerful man in the country. He throws this shade very eloquently and politely and it is the closest to speechless you have ever seen Trent.

You decide to get drunk.

(You see him again, briefly, in Nicodranas while trying to circumvent your orders to arrest your ex. You thought you were doing pretty well being subtle with your charm spells, but apparently he noticed anyway. Is there anything he doesn’t notice?)

Finally, you are brought as backup when Trent actually goes to confront your ex. This, it turns out, is happening at Pink One’s family home. You can tell it’s his family home because his entire family is there, and they are also Large and Pink. You set the house on fire.

The house is also a temple.

You are a fairly religious man, and you would probably feel bad about this, if you weren’t so good at thoroughly repressing all your bad feelings about everything you’ve been asked to do for the past twenty years. It’s been very helpful to think of everything you’ve done as being in some way the will of your goddess. It is very difficult to categorize “burning down a temple” under the heading of “things my goddess is cool with,” but hey, you’ve been ignoring your cognitive dissonance since you were 17 and you’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.

This is the first time you’ve really seen Pink One get angry. You don’t see it for very long, because you get your ass kicked by some of Bren’s other friends very quickly and fall unconscious.

You later learn that Pink One stopped you from dying.

He lives in a graveyard, and you worship a death goddess, and he saved your life. It feels like there’s something wrong with this but you don’t actually know enough about the gods to figure out what.

...you help put out the fire.

#cr spoilers #cr speculation #cr meta #my meta #eodwulf grieve #caduceus clay

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poursomesunaonme · 2 years

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absence of innocence

pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader

summary: a high school reunion brings you and kento together for the first time in six years.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: LMAO this started as a little angsty blurb then began a morphed character study but anyways i present to you something that has lived rent free in my mind for two months

cw: no curses au, mutual pining/regret, rumination, angst/little to no comfort, a smidgeon of fluff, smoking, reader's mother has passed, mentions of skinny dipping, mentions of losing virginity (a line of smut), thoughts of cheating (not acting on it), big brain existential crisis thoughts

song inspo: coffee and cigarettes by the night game

nanami kento looks so handsome with the wedding ring glinting brightly on his finger. you see him from across the gym, knowing that he had gotten there exactly fifteen minutes early and waited in his car to walk through the gym doors exactly at 7:00pm. meanwhile, you hadn’t bothered to start getting ready until that time, showing up an hour and a half late.

many of your friends from high school attend the reunion and squeal when you finally stride through the door. a multitude of arms wrap around you, familiarity of those days skipping through the hallways and gossiping after school. you can’t help but acknowledge those who are too far away to even think about returning to their hometown for a dumb reunion.

your friends who come from just a few towns over ask about the band on your finger and you tell them of your husband who stayed home with a sick daughter. of course, they lose their minds over how sweet and valiant he is. you only nod along, eyes trained on the blond standing by the table laden with food. the conversation with your old classmates dies down and you make your move.

“color looks good on you, kennie,” you smile. the blond looks at you over his cup full of punch, giving you a tender smile that sends your heart racing. you never saw him wear any other color but black in his days of youth, but the deep blue shirt and the spotted tie tell you of a growth in character that you can’t begin to fathom. you wonder if the woman that put the wedding band on his finger was the one that styled him.

“it’s good to see you,” he murmurs. you lean in to hear him over the music, finding that the only thing that the movement aids in is turning your legs into jelly at how close your bodies get.

nanami isn’t too sure of why he came. his wife didn’t care what he chose, seeing as he told her that he had a friend that he would be able to stay with, and it wasn’t a total lie. he just didn’t know at the time if you had an extra room in your house, if you had upgraded to a larger space, if those rooms were filled with toys and carbon copies of your beautiful face.

the star of the football team and head cheerleader take the stage and show a slideshow full of pictures from the glory days. everyone has a good laugh at the silly faces and the outlandish fashion that ruled over their high school experience.

you and ken have to laugh at a picture of the two of you sharing a smoke underneath the bleachers, grinning at the camera like a couple of delinquents. the itch to pull on one hits you, so you elbow him and he follows, much to the amusement of the other adults in the room as the slide for “most likely to get married” shows your faces.

“you smoke still?” ken asks the obvious question as you fumble in your purse for the pack and a lighter. you find what you’re looking for, setting the cigarette between your teeth. your hands tremble as you try to ignite the lighter. you’d like to blame it on the fact that you hadn’t had a fix since that morning, but kento’s gaze searing into you trumps every excuse.

“yeah,” you talk around the thing in your teeth before taking a long pull. you lean against the exterior of the gym and watch as the smoke billows out between your lips. you pluck the cigarette from its place and offer it to him. he shakes his head. you smile and take the hit instead before marveling, “you quit! goody two shoes.”

“a while ago.” ken’s arm brushes against yours as he takes a place beside you, watching the first few people begin to leave the reunion.

“i did when i was pregnant, but i missed it too much.”

you can feel his eyes on you at the statement you didn’t want to utter. it felt like some sort of duty to your husband.

“kids?”

“yup,” you smile. “two girls and a boy. all as cute as can be. you?”

“yeah.”

he doesn’t elaborate. you pretend not to hear the way his voice catches on the syllable. you stay silent for a minute more, then ask what he’s doing now. he tells you that he’s in the city, working an economic or banking job that you don’t really understand. a few terms that stuck in your mind from your college classes years ago jump out at you, but the whole thing is mainly jargon that you nod along with. ken knows that you don’t understand, which is why he asks you what you’ve been doing quickly after he finishes.

“well, i had to escape this town just for a little bit, but i ended up taking over my mom’s vet practice when she passed. i’m not really sure why i came back, seeing as i wanted to get out for so long.”

but kento knows why you did. your sense of loyalty and responsibility always came shining through when you were younger, as much as you wanted to deny it and lean into a rebellious phase that you thought was going to last forever. that’s one of the things that he loves - no, loved, about you so much.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know that your mother had passed.” it was the only sentence to push out from his dry mouth.

“it was a few years after i had gotten back, so i was able to spend a good amount of time shadowing her. the transition was easy after that.”

a heavy silence hangs in between the two of you as you take one last pull of the cigarette, flicking it into the bushes onto the grave of the butts you dug into the same spot in high school.

kento watches you as you twist the strands of your hair while you wait for something to say to magically pop into your head. he thinks that you haven’t changed a bit - even your mannerisms are the same. you still have flecks of beautiful color in your eyes, that one crooked tooth that four years of braces couldn’t fix.

being back in town reminds him of you. every street has a memory, every crack in the sidewalk, every window gleaming in the sunlight. he can’t help but imagine what his life would’ve been like if he had stayed, if he had conquered the fear of settling down in a place that he had longed to escape for so long.

kento feels trapped in his life. he hates to think of it that way. he has it good. he has a loving wife (that looks suspiciously similar to you), a baby, a house that’s not too big, not too small, a six figure job, a dog, a white picket fence. but it still feels empty somehow.

you can’t care less about how your life is missing something. it feels good to have taken over your mother’s business, to have responsibility for something that you love doing. throwing yourself into work is an easy escape from ruminating on every regret you’ve ever had, every text you didn’t send. but that doesn’t stop those thoughts from attacking when you leave the clinic during those late nights.

“we sound like a hallmark movie,” you marvel, looking up at the stars. kento chuckles in agreement. you jump when his fingers brush against yours, but only for a moment as he grabs the cigarette you had just lit.

“i thought you-”

“for old time’s sake,” he shrugs, taking a long pull. he coughs slightly, the smoke coming out in dense bursts, before passing it back to you. you smirk, then look back up at the stars with him, ignoring the fact that your hands touch as they rest against the exterior of the gym.

together, you wordlessly think of those long nights spent out underneath the same stars, those sunsets on the bridge, the midnights spent skinny dipping in the valley. sharing a milkshake at the diner, making breakfast after school dances, passing notes to him in class that he would never answer for fear of getting caught.

you both think of those memories as soon as your heads hit the pillows, and as soon as you rise from them in the morning. it’s an aching feeling, one that no other person can fill, no other substance can satisfy. you both ran away for too long, built up your fences around yourselves.

it had taken a while though. you went off to college in different places, coming back during the breaks to see your families. those times had been the most fulfilling. you had been older, more mature, more desperate.

when you finally lost your virginities, it was to each other, like it always should have been. you’ll never forget the feeling of him surrounding you in your childhood bed, those loving whispers and tender touches as he truly made love to you. that’s how it should have been.

it had been, for the time being. a whole year and a half. a winter break, a summer break, then another. but the seasons changing meant that you both were changing too.

but those visits to home after you both had graduated college became fewer and farther in between, for him at least. you were in vet school and he was out in the working world. your mom got sick and you spent all breaks, even some weekends, coming home to help out at the clinic and make things easier in her last few years on earth. and you barely saw kento except for around christmas. however, once he brought home that girl that looked like you, you could barely find the courage to speak to him.

he guesses it was the same for him, how the last time he saw you, you were shopping with a carbon copy of himself for thanksgiving dinner. he remembers how quickly he ducked away to the next aisle, how fast he ran out of the door, how he couldn’t keep himself from hitting the steering wheel over and over again, begging whatever god there was above for the courage to claim you, even if it meant kissing you in the middle of the deli section.

that courage never came.

instead, he chooses to remember those good times. how your first kiss had been after prom, how you were both too scared to go further while his parents were still home. he still has all of your notes, all of the haphazard poems you’d scribbled across them.

will you chase the sun

with me at your side, just us?

i’m waiting for you

the crinkled pages don’t smell like they used to, like your melon shampoo or your rose perfume. they’re locked away in a box full of those memories that he hates to open, but can’t help himself from doing so from time to time.

clouds will part

under our fingertips so

we’ll be artists, ken

you look at him, watching the memories play out in his eyes, dancing across the stars that reflect off of the molten depths. a specific night comes to your mind as you imagine him six years younger laying next to you.

“what are you thinkin’ ‘bout, ken?” you asked, prodding him with your elbow.

“‘s too deep, i think,” he mused, smiling at you. you turn into him, nestling into his side to escape the bite of the chilly autumn air. he tucks his arm around you to pull you in closer to warmth. he curses himself for not bringing more blankets.

“c’mon, tell me.”

“okay…” he sighs before sweeping his hand across the night sky. “our bodies are made out of stars.”

“whaddya mean?”

“the law of energy, right? it can’t be created or destroyed. so everything on earth came from the big bang, in theory. every rock, every plant, every animal. it’s all just bundles of energy. we’re just bundles of energy. energy that came from stars. and one day, that’s where we’ll be again. you know, eventually.”

“i think you’re right, ken,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “too much for my little brain this late at night.”

“your brain’s not little,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. his lips don’t leave your skin for a long time.

it was the last night you spent with him.

ken still remembers how the juvenile “i love yous” passed between your lips, how those words used to slip under his tongue like a drug. he was always underneath your spell. yet somehow, he had equated that with the hold that the town had on him. so you were one of the things he had to escape.

it wasn’t easy at first. every time he came back, you were waiting with a cheeky smile on your face. every meeting ended in your bodies tangled together, as it should have been, but kento was always too restless. you felt it. you felt that change.

his family up and moved out of town five years ago. he never had a reason to come back after that.

you still texted him from time to time, but after the conversations dried up and calls became more infrequent, you let him slip away. you thought that’s what he wanted. he thought that was what he had wanted. so those “hey, it’s been a while” and “happy birthday” texts became more and more scarce.

you don’t talk to each other for the rest of the night. you stand there in silence, letting those feelings collide over and over again in the tense space between you. your lookalike spouses are waiting for you at home, your children will need to be brought to school in the morning.

your phone rings.

kento watches as you bite your fingernail and nod along with the conversation, ending it with a tired “okay, i’ll be right there” and closing your eyes. one last cigarette. one last ash.

one last look over your shoulder as you wave goodbye to the man you don’t know if you’ll ever see again. the man that was the only one that made you feel like a star.

it’s cruel, you think, as you start the car to drive to the clinic, it’s cruel for someone with such big dreams to not realize that it was you all along.

it’s cruel for you to not realize that it had been him all along.

you speed away, fighting back tears along with the desire to turn the car around, the desire to run away from the three kids waiting for you to get home so that they can attack you with hugs and kisses because their father couldn’t get them to sleep without your usual bedtime story and song. you have a duty, a responsibility, and promise to fulfill, and one man from years ago can’t stop that. you had both made your choices. you both had already dug your graves. you’re buried with the burnt cigarette butts.

kento leaves soon after, not even bothering to go back inside. instead, he heads straight back to the suburbs just outside the city, greeting his dog with a tired scratch behind the ears.

you both lie in bed, staring out the window at the same stars, wondering if the other was thinking about you - and of course, they were.

two different people, two different lives, two different spouses that bear the resemblance of the ones that the others so desire to love. it’s a wicked fate, one that the lack of courage destines in the lives of those too cowardly to claim the ones they want. when the walls come tumbling down, when reality hits and you wake up next to someone you don’t recognize as the person you want to be with, that’s when the hole in your heart grows wider. it’s easy to acknowledge now, how in the absence of innocence, there was an abundance of regret.

taggin: @princess-jaeger @ob-levi-on @pink-apples001 @missyasma @leiriswhore @putridsimp @galactict3a

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanamin #nanami #nanami angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #nanami x reader #nanami x you #🪐beanie writes!

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semisgroupie · 2 years

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package deal

wakasa x fem. reader x benkei

word count: 1.5k

warnings: dom!benkei, switch!waka, sub!reader, reader cries quite a bit, dacryphilia, spit, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, slapping, slight dumbification, daddy kink, sir kink, waka is a little brat, reader is called “doll” (waka) and “princess” (benkei), oral sex (m receiving), poly

synopsis: here’s why two boyfriends are better than one and why you don’t break the rules that are set in place

a/n: this is for @sinnerofthewalls’s more the merrier (poly) collab! i love writing poly so fucking much so thank you for letting me join!

Imaushi Wakasa and Keizo “Benkei” Arashi

Two strong men that had one common weakness: you.

You met them from a mutual friend and from that moment on you all felt a connection to each other. After a few more dates and after hanging out more it was a general understanding that feelings grew between the three of you. A relationship like this was completely new to you all but now that you all look back on it you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Everything was perfect with them, from little cuddle sessions whenever they were stressed to the cute date nights they set up for you and they were always able to figure out what to do to cheer you up whenever you were upset. If one was busy then the other would spend the whole day taking care of you.

Then there was your sex life with them. It was absolutely perfect, the dynamic the three of you had led to the most explosive orgasms you had ever experienced. Despite his often bored look whenever the three of you were alone Wakasa would let a new side of him show, a submissive and dominant side to him. He would let his dominant side show often when he had you to himself but whenever Benkei was around he became submissive and defiant even. Benkei took a dominant role and he was very strict with his rules for you and Wakasa.

One of his biggest rules was that you and Wakasa were not allowed to play with each other without his permission.

This was the rule that was broken more times than you could count. Still every time you two broke the rule all you had to do was give him your biggest puppy eyes and beg for his forgiveness. He couldn’t stay mad when you looked at him with your sweet puppy eyes, they would always brim with tears and it would make his cock throb in his pants.

Today was another time that rule was broken. You were visiting them at the gym and Benkei had to do a quick inventory run, just to grab some new heavy bags, gloves and everything that they have run out of. He wasn’t going to be gone for a long time, it was just a little over fifteen minutes, he didn’t even expect for anything to happen. That was his mistake. The second he left Wakasa pulled you into his office and sat you on the little couch inside. His hands quickly explored your body over the thin dress you were wearing. Soon he had you on top of him bouncing on his cock, your dress and panties were thrown haphazardly on the floor along his his clothes and you were crying his name out.

Anyone that walked into the gym would have known what you two were up to with how loud you were, loud squelching of your pussy and the creaking of the couch were more than enough for Benkei to know that you two broke the golden rule once again.

He slammed the door to Wakasa’s office open, “what the fuck are you two doing?” You stopped your movements and looked back at him with wide eyes while Wakasa was still moving his hips up into you with a smirk on his face.

“Daddy! I-I—”

“You nothing, it wasn’t a question for you two to answer. I can obviously see what the fuck you’re doing. Now get off his cock princess.”

You nodded and tried to move off of Wakasa but his grip on your hips didn’t loosen, he whined and looked at Benkei. “Come on! You took too long and we wanted to have some fun! It’s not my fault you took forever.”

Benkei shut the door and walked closer to the two of you, grabbing a fistful of Wakasa’s hair and yanking it roughly making him moan.

“I didn’t ask you to speak did I? I would’ve said, ‘baby boy, what do you have to say about this?’ but that didn’t leave my fucking mouth did it baby boy?”

Wakasa groaned and glared at Benkei, staying silent until his hair got tugged again making him wince, “no.”

Benkei chuckled and gripped his cheeks roughly, “no, what? You know how to fucking address me.”

“No it didn’t sir.”

He pat Wakasa’s cheek and chuckled, “watch the attitude, but that’s how you do it. That wasn’t so hard was it? I know you can be a good boy when you want to be.” You watched them with big, tear filled eyes and Benkei turned to you, wrapping his hand around your neck loosely.

“I gave you a command didn’t I? Now get off his cock and suck up those tears or else I’ll give you something to cry about.”

You sniffled and nodded, quickly moving off of Wakasa’s cock. “Good girl, no tears this time. I’m proud of you. Now get on all fours and Waka will get to use your mouth while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

Wakasa whined loudly, glaring at Benkei. “No! It’s not fair! You interrupted us and I was going to make her cum, she was so close. Let me make her cum—ah shit!”

Benkei slapped Wakasa’s cheek, interrupting him. “You’re fucking lucky I’m giving you the chance to even cum. Now shut the fuck up and assume the position.”

You stood while Wakasa got up grumbling and you moved back on all fours, making sure to arch your back the way he liked. “Use me daddy.” You bat your eyes looking at him until Wakasa took your chin in his hand and turned you to face his cock. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip while Benkei took his cock out and lined with your entrance. Without any warning Benkei shoved his cock inside you and when your mouth fell open, Wakasa shoved his cock down your throat. He chuckled as you gagged and sputtered around his cock, hot tears streaming down your face almost instantly.

“Fuck you’re already crying doll, I just shoved my cock down your throat.” With that they started using your mouth and pussy like you were a toy. All your cries and moans were muffled by Wakasa’s cock and you looked like a complete mess, strings of saliva connected his balls to your chin every time he thrusted into you and tears coated your face. They pounded into your relentlessly, your thighs shook with every single one of Benkei’s strong thrusts and he leaned forward, taking one of Wakasa’s nipples in his mouth.

The longer haired male’s hips stuttered in your mouth at the new sensation and a loud moan was ripped from him. “Sir please not there! Too sensitive!” His pleas meant nothing to Benkei as he bit down on the nipple in his mouth and started thrusting into you faster. Wakasa didn’t need to move his hips as much anymore, the strength of Benkei’s thrusts moved you along his cock.

It didn’t take long for you to crumble under both men, you pulled off of Wakasa’s cock momentarily to cry out their names as your orgasm ripped through you. Your body and thighs shaking as their thrusts grew even faster and harder. Wakasa pulled you back on his cock and held your head in place as he fucked your throat, your gags just egging him on further. Once Benkei switched to his other nipple it didn’t take long until he shoved his cock completely in your mouth and hot spurts of cum filled your throat. He held you there as his cock twitched and throbbed and once the last drops of his cum filled your throat he pulled out and slumped on the couch, leaving you to Benkei.

“You’re all mine to use now princess.” He groaned as his grip tightened on your hips and he started slamming his cock into you. Your head dropped onto Wakasa’s thigh as Benkei kept slamming his thick cock into you, watching how your pussy split to accommodate him. It was a perfect sight, he loved watching how your lips spread open to fit him. Your pussy gripped him so tightly and your cries of “too much” pushed him closer to the edge. He knew from the moment he saw you bouncing on Wakasa’s cock he would end up cumming quickly. He moved his hands from your hips to your wrists and tugged you back so your upper body was up in the air, your tits swaying with each thrust.

He thrusts a couple more times and pressed his hips flush against yours as he filled your tight pussy with cum. His thick cum filled you to the brim and even started leaking out around his cock. He let go of your arms and let you drop back down against Wakasa. His hands smoothed up and down your back and he looked down at you two, practically fucked out. “Hope you two learned your lesson about breaking the rules I have in place.”

You nodded dumbly and a smirk grew on Wakasa’s face. “Yes sir, but it doesn’t mean I won’t do it again. Maybe you’ll be harder on us next time, I don’t think our pretty little doll cried enough.”

You rubbed your eyes and smiled at them, “I love you both.” They smiled at your sleepy sentiment and chuckled.

“We love you too princess.”

“More than you’ll ever know doll.”

Taglist: @undercoverweeeb @aasouthteranoswife @fairyfuyu @sukunababy @eijirhoe @bokebelle @sylphic @mujinazaka @bontensbabygirl @shigamiryuk @httptamaki @izanasqueen @rosesandtoshi @tometpd @tokyoredlightdistrict @shibuyawardnetwork

Join taglist here!

#Threes A Crowd #Poly Ship Collab #benkei smut #wakasa smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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chaotic-nick · 2 years

Text

Note: First Miche fic of the year, and a perfect way to end the first month. YAY! Also, this is my first time ever writing smut, and that too, being all explicit. If I missed anything in the warnings please do tell me. Feedback is welcome and very much appreciated.

wordcount: 4k

warnings: Camgirl reader, Miche is an actor, hinted that he's older than reader. Both of them are adults. Fingering, nipple play, mutual masturbation, squirting. (Please tell me if I've missed something!)

Collab hosted by @fvckme-sir

Miche’s a man of his routine. One that he’s proudly followed when he learnt to live his own. With the change of his income, came the change of his daily routines— occasionally though he’d break from it and enjoy a weekend’s worth of leisure with Erwin and Nile. Sometimes staying in to drink alone until the book for the day melded with his dreams.

Though no matter what, he bounced back on carrying out his routine with ease.

Seven am, wake up and stretch. Boil water for his drink— a selection between lemon water or warm water, by the time he was done stretching his drink would be at the perfect temperature of being warm enough and still drinkable.

From that until eight-thirty, he’s on his balcony reading his schedule and going over emails, glasses perched and his back facing the sun to dry his sweat and get whatever vitamins it gave.

Nine to nine-thirty is of him enjoying his shower and getting ready for the day. A fifteen-minute drive from his condo to the agency, maybe a script reading or a radio interview.

And when he got home at four, he was faced with the darkness of his apartment. Perfectly mirroring his life. It was the same every day. On days where he wasn’t on the platform to think properly, he’d think about marrying for convenience.

The convenience of having to call someone his wife. To stop the many questions of what his type is, bringing false hope to his fans and actors alike. For the convenience of sex—

— no. That can be solved. A quick solution to any adult website. Trashy storylines and overly exaggerated sounds.

One click of a video was enough to get rid of that itch.

Somehow though, at the height of being desperate for a heavy release and his eyes looking through a daze of arousal that’ll meet his needs, Miche found himself on a webcam site. No one is alluring yet with how . . .articificial they purposely made themselves look. Or how forced the moans were. Well choreographed facial expressions for even the slightest touch.

It was a quest of using his left hand to scroll on his laptop’s touchpad until he found her. An account not too big, nor too small. But enough have her at the bottom of the first page, with viewers in triple digits.

Some asking her to get to the point of her stream— to be a slave to their demands. Some asked her about her day if she ate well.

Faceless and only her body on full display . . . not yet. @/attack_(Y/n). Only in a dangerously transparent shirt and her panties plain. Her hair was tied upward, swinging in every move she made. She was talking about her haul of sex toys for the month— proudly showing the clit sucker, asking if it was for the stream . . . or for something heavier when he joined the live.

‘Create an account to comment’ popped up on his screen when he hit the thirty-minute mark, interrupting the show of her using her pointer finger, leaving feather-like touches for her nipples to harden.

An actor with a reputation tied to his name like that shouldn’t be lingering on a sight like this— he shouldn't be losing his mind over a faceless camgirl who built an audience by playing herself like either.

Miche never typed faster in his life, setting with using ‘Zach_November’. The verification of his account took longer, though when the window blocking him from her was gone, hardened nipples kept a segment of her shirt up and a slow movement of her hips on against a couch pillow welcomed him.

‘How much to take your shirt off?’

His request differed from the many ‘customers’ demanding that she take her panties off. Or lick her fingers clean after she tasted herself. Pride swelled in him when she stopped rocking too, leaning in to read his comment.

“Oh, wow. New subbie’s very straightforward. Thank you for asking, hmm how much?” Such a tease with how she bunched the end fabric of her shirt with both hands. Lifting just enough to show a naval piercing “How much are you willing to pay?” They’re called her subbies, not customers.

‘Play with your nipples after you take them off,’ he typed when her phone let out a notification faster he had sent in a payment. Knowing from her body language

“We’ll have to break away from the usual program then guys.” her shirt was gone and came in the flood of many many donations. Each starting at triple digits to even five. A hand went up to untie her hair and let all of it fall on her chest. Three fingers started at the top of her collar bones, slowly teasing herself as it travelled down. “We have a new member here.”

“Zach, hello, Zach. My shirt’s off, what next?” She lifted herself up, knees planting deeper onto the mattress. A thumb hooked through the band of her panties, suggesting what she should do next.

The chat filled with more comments cheering him to take her panties off.

‘Play with yourself like that.’ Move your panties to the side, wanna see it on you.

That might’ve caused his instant popularity to fall. “If you guys won’t behave, I’m ending the chat soon. C’mon be good, for Zach.” She spat, settling into the frame of the bed, legs slowly opening. Teasing him more when her index and middle finger tapped her clit, making her leg twitch. He could feel the dryness of his throat the pain in his cock, desperate for a release.

“We meet every Wednesday night, Zach. Saturdays are when I fuck myself stupid— crying, even.”

More donations when she moved her panties to the side and he figured that even with a smaller audience in comparison to the other streams he was in, she was richer. Every move she made cost someone’s living wage. “Ah, fuck.” Her body jerked when she put the vibrator already set at a higher setting at the entrance of her hole. Then a laugh.

So, it was her casualness that made them pay for it.

“Think I wanna fuck myself stupid, like a welcome gift for you Zach.” Groaning into the pillow and feet kicking when her stubbornness won and told her to push the vibrator in, rather than turn it off and let her body ease into it.

‘Yes, please. I’ll send you way much more, please, please.’

‘Yeah, we’ve been here way longer than this Zach dude.’

‘C’mon, go off-script for once.’

‘I’ll pay you to fuck yourself with that machine I sent.’

Amidst the intensity of her vibrator, the little shakes of her legs, she still leaned closer to the camera. “What do you think, Zach?”

Cock in his hand, and already in a trance of being willing to do anything, he typed ever so slowly. ‘Name your price.’

——

He wasn’t too ashamed to admit that ever since stumbling on the stream, he’d adjusted the same routine he’d been loyal to for Wednesdays and Saturdays. Sitting by himself in his room with his phone open to his bank app ready to send in the amount she demanded. With how much he’s been giving her at every stream, his username was no different from his real name.

Both are fan favourites.

It was obvious that despite not using his actual name, he’d become her favourite too. Her brat-like tone spatting at ‘subbies’ for being too demanding melted away when his username appeared in the chat. Always a “Hello, Zach.” or “Hi, Zach, what do you wanna do today?”

There was also his bank. In the first month of sending in donations, they called him and asked in a worried tone if one of his cards had been stolen. Followed by a ‘congratulations’ when he explained that he was spending on . . . her. His ‘fake’ fiancee.

Miche knew he’d have to face reality. Get an actual person to be with rather than spending his Saturdays losing his mind over someone without a face. Was the name in her username even her actual name? Or an alias to hide that aspect of her life.

‘Hi Zach, (Y/n) here. You’ve officially completed three months of being a loyal subbie and I’d be such a liar (haha, punish me) if I said that you didn’t help me at all. How about a private show? Free of charge. Just us on a Saturday night when you’re free.’

He will clear his night just for that, though the abruptness of her sending in a message during work hours made Miche question his comprehension skills when he was in the middle of a script meeting. Needing to read it again and again. Carefully analysing the words she used.

‘A gentleman always pays.’ Right. Easy to read. Puts her in her place and—

An instant reply.

‘Awww, you’ve given enough, but if you insist.’ Attached is her reply was a picture of her in a bathtub. Only her thighs were shown and nothing more, imagining her bare in a new setting nearly tightened his pants. A breath stuck in his throat. ‘What’s your favourite colour, Zach?’

A vixen! That she is. He called her so when she sent in another picture, her cleavage in the background where her nail polishes were lined up. He didn’t need to imagine the rest of her nakedness anymore. Now, Miche was coming up with the many reasons why she’d ask him that.

‘Green.’

A toy?

Lingerie?

No, definitely a toy that she’d make herself cry with. That was the scheduled program, and without fail, she'd do it.

Saturday was when he’ll find out and prove his guess correct.

Saturday: 9.30 PM

Miche only remembers being so nervous interacting with the actors he looked up to when he first started, as years passed and then his experiences made him the veteran actor juniors looked up to. He doesn’t remember being nervous in interacting with anyone anymore, having mastered the art of ignoring paparazzi’s and recognising questions with the intention of causing drama.

Though laptop open to the site and his lights dimmed as he waited for her, being able to see his reflection on the black screen, Miche could hear the pounding of his heart.

Shame made itself known and made his poor mind wonder if the entire ‘free’ session was to catch him in the act to get blackmail material to threaten his image. Just to calm himself, Miche reached out to angle the camera lower, pointed at his chest. Again, he wondered why she asked him his favourite colour. Was it to catch him?

Was the entire thing a perfectly good setup to expose him? Who would think of such a messed up thing?

Was he hated enough that they'd go that far?

No, that was too much effort to do. Then a timer ‘Session will start soon’ came on screen, reassuring him that it wasn’t that sort of show.

It opened to her laying on her side, a change of setup. More . . . casual. Not the usual velvet sheets where she would lean on, knees spread. Instead of a skimpy shirt and panties, she wore a flannel— not green. And shorts that really wouldn’t cover anything.

‘Turn on microphone to interact’

“It's okay if you don’t want to.” She spoke in a different tone. Like they were friends. Coyly she lifted herself up, turning her body to the side, “To be honest, I wanted to try something new with my streams. A voice command session if you will.” Manoeuvring herself, she turned her body to face the screen, waiting for him to accept the request. Twirling the little curls in her hair. Miche liked to think that she excitedly got ready and actually put in the effort as if she knew him on a personal level.“But I guess we could do the same, fuck— I’m really excited to even edge myself. Going off-script.”

“Zach?” She called again when he’d been too quiet. On the other side, Miche prepared himself a glass of water, clearing his throat.

“I’m flattered,” he finally talked, how she reacted still confused him. Did she sit upright to get a better listen to what he’ll say? Or because she wasn’t expecting to sound like that. “Voice commands, yeah?”

A breathy, “Yeah,” as she crawled to lean closer. “Wow, you sound so . . . hot.”

“Really?” He scoffed, his ego shot up knowing she was about to do anything. “Name your price, babe.”

“Aww, you really serious?” She lowered herself on the screen enough that he saw the pout on her lips. “Really, Zach?”

“How about you sit back, huh.”

Saturday: 10.00 pm

(Y/n) felt a stray strand of her hair stick on the side of her face, and fall off along with the sigh she pulled. Heat rising up to her cheeks and her back hot against the headboard that had supported her every time he was so sadistic and told her to take her hand out off her clit and go back to caressing her torso. “Zach— please, tell me to take my panties off.” All the wetness pooling in her panties, sticking against her twitching hole made her think so low of herself.

Letting someone tell her what to do on a stream— so detailed and not be as horny as the rest of her audience. This was . . . “Can’t stop looking at your nails, babe. Looks great on you.” He’s a devil. Sounding nonchalant like he didn't make her take the vibrator out when she was close to an orgasm.

“Please,” focusing on the chandelier light in the bedroom, (Y/n) squeezed her eyes. Her tone was enough of an indicator that she was done begging.

“How much longer can you take?” Asshole made her ghost her fingers over her clit, plauy with her nipples and he asks this?

“Not much.” This was a first. Though, he was a gentleman, like his text said. “Can I please take them off now?” She heard his heavy breath. A ruffle of what she guessed was the material of his shorts being removed.

“Only because you asked nicely.”

“Now what?” If only he wasn’t mplayeeting Erwin Early on Monday he would’ve enjoyed this and actually have the pleasure of seeing her cry, a new vibrator on slow was pointed at her twitching hole. Panties taken off and at her feet “—do you want me to—” having it penetrate her brought satisfaction to the both of them.

Just like her, now with his hand’s warmth around the base of his cock, Miche was sure he wasn’t gonna last any longer. “Show me how you’d properly fuck yourself.”

That persona reserved for her streams lowered, she seemed clueless for the first time. “Like how I normally would?” Her back wasn’t arched, and her knees meeting. Hands at the side of her body in thought. “Really?” A coy tone, one she can fool anyone with.

“F-fuck . . .” two fingers coming down, parting her lips open. One hand at her collar bones, drumming along down to a breast.

“Keep doing that.” His green eyes never blinked. Watching her fingers disappear so torturously slow in her twitching hole.

“Of . . . of course.” Her mouth was hanging open, letting out whispers of ‘Zach’. Miche wished that it was his actual name rather than an alias. Gone was the composure she held in her streams, reduced to such a pathetic state of fingers rubbing her slit for a release that’ll make her whine.

Miche was as shameless as her, letting the sound of his hand jerking him off be picked up on the mic. His hair was all pushed back and the sweat on his nape rolled down to his bunched up t-shirt.

Knees buckled and her hip-shaking, her left hand grabbing hard on the pillow, a squeal came as her orgasm came strong, “Oh my god!” below her a spot on white sheets had become a shade dark. More of her orgasm dripping down, painting smaller dots around the wet spot.

Her body was in shock from how strong it came. Slowly, (Y/n) returned to a normal state of mind. “Zach?” Her question was answered by the sound of his hand wrapped around his dick. Deciding that she’d get her payback, she gathered all the strength to lay on her stomach, nimble fingers playing with her nipples.

So many thoughts swarmed him. How she would really feel with her eyes pleading him to have his way. How that wet hole that he never left would feel— all of it sending him to finally feel his hips thrust upward, into his hand and away from the chair. “That was . . .” Miche panted, already reaching for the tissues.

“I actually squirted with someone, cute.” Copying him, she reached for the towel ready on the edge of her bed. A hairbrush to untangle her hair. “Did you like it?” She laughed, sitting back up on her knees with her towel over her body.

“You made my weekend,” he answered, feeling sleep roll in. “Thank you, my sweet, sweet (Y/n).”

“But what did you think of my nails? Is this the shade of green you like?”

Monday, Smith trading 10.00 am

When asked to brag about what he had achieved in life, Miche would rather step back and stay in the shadows. His height was already loud enough to attract unwanted attention, people always asking him if he was a former athlete. As quiet as he was, there was one thing he’d open his mouth for.

It was to bash his childhood friend— the former actor turned CEO Erwin Smith for living through life without a proper routine. Never did he form a specific routine that he followed through regardless of the day, so used to the life of glam where everything he mentioned as a passing thought was handed to him at an instant. In the finest of quality too.

Meetings with him and his business partners were all done by his many staffs and a secretary who was quiet and let her presence be loud instead. Miche’s never met the poor secretary, but how Erwin spoke so highly of her he concluded two things. One, he had a crush on her. Simple as that. Two, she’s actually scary.

Not scary enough that his dear best friend forgot about their meeting that Miche woke up early for and drove an hour. Skipped breakfast because Erwin promised that it’d be a long breakfast of them just catching up under the guise of a business meeting.

Maybe the lack of routine and his crush on the secretary is what Miche will bash him for today. A sinister smile formed in his face, cut off when his nose caught a whiff of the perfume of a woman coming towards him.

Eyes bored as she looked around, her low ponytail swayed with her. She scanned the lobby of the floor, then saw him and resumed her confident walk.

“Sir,” he assumed she the secretary his friend so highly of, hair combed down and gathered in a low ponytail. Arms warped around the clipboard. “Mr Smith asked me to get you.”

“That bastard’s somewhere else, huh?” He cracked his fingers, rising up from the seat to follow her to where she was walking.

“There’s a cafe that opened on the thirty-first floor and he wants to hold the meeting there.” He tried his smile that had reporters looking down on their cue cards, though she only offered and nod and turned around walking.

“Course he does.” As they waited for the elevator door to open in silence, Miche stood behind her. Not wanting to paint himself as the perverted creep of a friend. ‘Nerd.’ He thought, staring at the many paintings Erwin had bought. Maybe even commissioned.

And then applauded how much of a good boss he is for providing a wall of snacks behind where the employees were.

Eyes lingered everywhere, even on the mirrored ceiling.

And stayed up on the mirrored ceiling.

The odd reflection of them standing together was amusing enough for him to keep staring up there. One glance at her though made his heart nearly leap out his chest. And decided to stay up in his throat when he angle his head properly and used his height difference to look at the nails resting on the printed documents on the clipboard.

No doubt it was her. The one who had made his weekend full of sin. That Saturday night he had passed out after sending in his payment.

Sunday morning, he was still fantasizing about the intimacy of what they did. Liking the more honest side of her. Fingers that had pleasured her drove him insane, leading him to fold his pillow in half unable to take it that afternoon. Closed his eyes and saw the image of her perfectly replicated of how wet she had been— a ‘ding’ of the elevator stopped interrupted their thoughts.

Both of them like sheep being herded into the empty elevator taking them up to the thirty-first floor. Conveniently, it was only them there. Surrounded by mirrors, given him that view of the very bored look on her face.

“Tell me,” he cleared his throat of what was stopping him from talking. His heart was pounding loudly. If he was wrong he’d walk himself to where he can peacefully die in embarrassment. Just to be sure, and have an ounce of his confidence back, he looked at her nails. “Smith pays you enough? Not living paycheck to paycheck?”

“Yes, sir.” She feigned a smile. He knew it was a fake, the real one came when the flood of donations came one after another.

“Probably not enough—” a scoff that made her finally look at him. Her eyes weren't wearing the reaction he imagined.

“Sir?”

“Your nails.” There was a satisfaction within him that he was able to finally put a face on the only woman who had reverted his sex drive to that of a college student. There were too many dirty thoughts coming at him at full speed in broad daylight at full speed.

“What— what about them?”

“Was last night’s payment enough?” One of them was her eyes wide like that, glossy with tears. Begging him just like last night for just a sliver of pleasure.

“Zach?” And her mouth— always having so much to say in her streams stuffed with her wet panties.

“Miche Zacharias actually.”

“Please. . .”

He smiled, breaking the awkward eye contact. “No need to worry, babe. Secret's safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

Then silence again as they waited for the elevator to take up. At the twenty-fifth floor, he turned to her, “How much?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How much do you need to stop selling yourself like that?”

Rather than heartfelt ’thank you’s’ and her declaring an instant love for him just like with the money they sent her way, gone was the meek look on her face. Replaced with one that matched her tone well, eyebrows up. “Why not we do it together then, hmm?”

“You know that’s an offer I cannot refuse.”

“Honestly, it’s getting exhausting doing all the work. Need someone doing it for me— tie me up, blindfold me. Tease me like last time.”

“When’s the next stream?”

“Excited, I see.” The side of her lip curved upward. “How are you controlling yourself when I’m right here?”

He shrugged, his playful smile matching hers. “It’s taking me everything to stop myself from kissing you actually.”

“You know,” she looked down, checking the time on her phone. “Erwin asked me to take notes while the two of you talk. Can you handle that?”

“We’ll just have to see, (Y/n).”

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