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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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1. Asterism || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 1: Asterism

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, fingering, explicit protected s*x WC: 9.5k

Part 1: Asterism Asterism: (noun) a recognizable pattern of stars that does not make up the full constellation

Things start when your mother texts you asking for a favor.

To be more historically accurate, things started when you were a child. But for the sake of brevity, for a tighter focus on the now, it starts with this text -

[5:41 PM] Mom: can you do me a big favor?

When you send her back “sure”, she calls you, which you expected all along. You’re surprised she texted first at all, instead of going straight to the phone call. She’s a creature of habit, your mother.

“I cooked a few dishes and stuck them in the fridge,” she tells you. Pacing across your own kitchen, a fifteen minute drive from her place, you squint as you pass through the one exact spot where the afternoon sunlight assaults you from the window every day around this time. You’ve lived here for years - you’ve just been too lazy to put curtains up in this room. Your mother continues, her voice coming through your phone so loudly that you can hold it like it’s on speaker (although it’s not) and still hear her loud and clear. “You’ll see them, they’re in the tupperware with blue lids? Can you bring them over to the Kims’?”

“What?” you say - not because you didn’t understand the directions, but because you didn’t understand the why. She starts to repeat herself but you cut her off, clarifying, “Why are you making food for the Kims?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asks. “Or at least Minji? Mr. Kim had his knee replacement today.”

You call Minji from the car, but she doesn’t answer. You’ve been best friends since kindergarten; her dad’s house is just across the street from the one you’d grown up in, where your parents still live. You kids have all grown up, and away - you, Minji, and her two brothers - but Mr. Kim still lives in that same house, the light blue one that you can see from your childhood bedroom window.

You still live close, and Minji’s just a few towns over. Her brothers moved far - requiring planes and trains to get back. You see Minji at least monthly, if not more often - usually you meet for brunch at a place between your houses. Sometimes, though, you meet back home home - for holidays, usually. The last time you were at her dad’s house with her was for the winter holidays two years ago; you’d rung in the New Year on her back deck.

You try not to think about that night.

You let yourself into your parents’ empty house with the code and head straight for the kitchen. As promised, there’s a small stack of blue-lidded containers, and you load them into a reusable grocery bag you steal from the cabinet beneath the sink. You lock the house back up and head across the street on foot.

Once upon a time - for most of your life, really - you would have just let yourself in. You and Minji grew up in each other’s homes. This was your second home, her dad your second father. It had been like that your whole life. But once you and Minji went away to college, things changed - just slightly. Part of it’s just becoming an adult. You don’t barge in anymore, you knock.

You expect Minji, or maybe one of her aunts if they’ve come to help, to answer the door. Instead, it swings open to reveal her older brother, Seokjin - full lips frowning slightly, strong brow furrowed as he tries to piece together why you’re standing on his father’s doorstep holding a grocery bag.

The moment stretches, stills. It can go one of two ways - you can let it be awkward, or you can be sure that it isn’t.

“Hi,” you say, hoping it sounds breezy. “My mom cooked some dishes for you.”

Seokjin takes a minute step backwards, lips parting to speak, but then you hear your name squealed from over his shoulder and you brace yourself for impact.

Jin acts fast, grabbing the bag of food from you and flattening himself against his open front door as Minji launches herself past him to hug you, laughing.

“I called you on my way over!” you scold her, smiling, hugging her tightly back.

“Sorry!” she says, still holding you, still laughing. Jin’s still holding your food, just to the side of you, watching this display with a blank face. “I was helping my dad lay down. I left my phone in the kitchen, I think? You should see his knee, it’s disgusting. Is that food?”

She releases you and turns, heading through the house towards their roomy kitchen. You know you’re expected to follow. You reach to take the food back from Jin, shooting him a thankful smile. Your fingers brush as you take the bag, and you drop your gaze, hurrying to follow the sound of Minji’s voice as it floats through the house. Seokjin stands in place as you leave, and you hope he doesn’t see you shudder against goosebumps as you hurry away.

He’s had that effect on you since you were fourteen years old.

But that’s ancient history.

There’s a lot you want to ask him, starting with how long he’ll be in town, ending with… well. Not now.

In the kitchen, Minji is trying to make room in the fridge for everything your mom sent over. You sit at the table, watching her absently, answering whenever her chatter pauses to ask you something.

Jin joins you two wordlessly. He reaches over Minji’s head and then turns and holds out a beer bottle, offering it to you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you say, taking it from him. Minji looks up to see what you’re talking about and then nudges Jin’s shin - which is next to her head - to indicate that she wants one too. He sits across the table from you and sets a beer for Minji at the seat to his right. When she’s done in the fridge, she sits heavily next to her brother and they both look at you as they drink.

“So,” you say, because you have to say something about now, have to keep yourself from getting swept up in twenty-something years of memories that this house holds for you. “How’d the surgery go?”

“Great!” Minji beams. “The surgeons said it was exactly as expected. He’ll start physical therapy next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tell her genuinely. Mr. Kim was always important to you. You turn your attention to Jin, who’s downed half of his beer already. “Are you staying long?”

He nods, swallows, then answers. “A few weeks, probably,” he tells you. “I got approval to work remotely through the end of the month. Hopefully by then he’ll be back to a point where he doesn’t need someone here 24/7, and Minji can just pop in on him…”

He trails off, his eyes going over your shoulder, watching a few birds hop from the bird feeder to the deck railing. The deck railing where you’d hung wet bathing suits to dry on never-ending summer afternoons, where you’d placed soda cans with rivulets of condensation running down their sides, where you’d leaned with Minji as you talked about boys and school and boys again, where you’d buried your hands in Seokjin’s hair as he’d - nope.

Not going there. Not unless you want to drown.

“Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Minji asks, throwing you a life preserver by dragging you back to the present.

“Ah,” you say, letting your regretful tone do the answering for you. “I’d like to, but… I should get home.”

I should get out of this house, you think. I should get away from your brother.

She grins at you slyly. “Got that man to feed?”

You laugh in surprise. Seokjin is suddenly very interested in the label on the beer he’s almost finished.

“No,” you say. “He’s out of the picture.”

Minji narrows her eyes at you, assessing. “We don’t seem sad,” she observes finally.

You shake your head. “We aren’t sad,” you confirm. Jin gets up wordlessly and opens the fridge again, reaching for a second beer. His shoulders take up almost the whole space. You try not to notice, try not to think about the muscles of those shoulders rippling under your fingertips - enough. Enough, now.

You stand, needing the escape, needing to get away, draining the rest of your beer in one long drag that would make your college-self proud.

“Listen,” you say to the room at large, to both of them, after placing the empty bottle back on the table, “call me if you need help, okay? My place isn’t far. I can pop over if you need an extra pair of hands, or a break, or some errands handled. Okay?”

Seokjin’s still hiding in the refrigerator, taking a million years to choose between two of the same beer. Minji, oblivious, takes your hand gratefully.

“Thank you,” she says warmly, giving you a squeeze.

You start to head back towards the front door, Minji still clutching your hand.

“Bye, Seokjin,” you say over your shoulder.

He glances up at you around the open refrigerator door.

“See you,” he says. There’s something hollow in his voice.

You get it, though.

The last time the three of you were here together, two years ago, he’d welcomed in the New Year buried inside you against the back of their house, gasping your name against the inky dark of the frigid December night.

You’ve never told a soul, and you don’t think he has, either.

You’ve never talked about it at all.

You and Minji spent New Year's Eve out at bars and clubs together almost every year. The year you were twenty-six, though, something had changed. Suddenly, the idea of vying for bar space, in heels, for overpriced drinks and sleazy dudes seemed abysmal.

“We could stay in,” Minji had suggested. “Pretend we’re sixteen, sneaking booze into dad’s basement again? Seokjin is back in town for the week because he dumped that shitty girlfriend of his for the sixth time, might be kind of fun to all hang out.”

You’d pretended to dislike the idea, grimacing a little as you thought it over. Your brain snagged on dumped his shitty girlfriend.

“Come on,” she’d said cajolingly. “We can put on 90’s music and play card games, like we used to.”

You knew the whole time that you’d go; all you needed to know was that Seokjin would be there. Since he’d left for college, he only came home twice a year - Christmas holidays, and over summer breaks. Since he'd moved far, even those weren't promised.

Minji ended up with a small crowd - a few that you were friends with in high school, but most of them you thought were friends of her brothers.

You’d spent most of the night trying to avoid staring at Jin - or at least avoid getting caught staring. It had been about two years since you’d seen him last - four years since he moved away. He was twenty-eight to your twenty-six that year, and you weren’t sure if it was the way he was aging or if it was the tequila, but he seemed - somehow - even more handsome than you remembered.

It had gotten more and more difficult as the night went on to focus - on conversations, on card games, on how to balance as you walked; your brain wanted to spend its energy cataloging the quirk of his full lips when you said something funny, his windshield-wiper laugh when Minji dropped a whole tray of lemon slices she’d spent twenty minutes cutting, the strip of bare skin his shirt revealed when he bent down to help her pick them up. It was like your brain was trying to soak up every little detail of him that it could after so many years of distance, of him being somebody you used to be close to.

Eventually, you’d retreated to the back deck, alone, just minutes before midnight. Outside, the noise of the party fell away, and you took in deep gulps of cold air, your hands gripping the splintery wood of the railing.

When the door opened behind you, you expected Minji. Instead, Seokjin stood there, staring at you like he’d asked you a question and was waiting for an answer.

Maybe, in his own way, he had. Maybe it had been all the quick glances he’d given you that night. Maybe it had been the way he’d stuck close, listening when you talked, smiling wryly when you cracked jokes. Maybe it had been the way his eyes had followed you from room to room, the way his fingers had tightened around his glass when you bent down to grab one of the wayward lemon slices.

You’d stared back at him, unsure what the right move was. This was Minji’s brother, and you’d promised her almost fifteen years ago to never get tangled up with her family. This was Minji’s brother, who had bought you girls beer before you were old enough, who had once driven to pick you up from the mall on a rainy day when your date had gone badly. This was Minji’s brother who’d once held your hand in the backseat of your dad’s car as you sobbed over a broken wrist, who’d often let you sit and watch him play video games even after he’d told Minji to bug off and leave him alone.

This was Seokjin, who was staring at you so intently that for a moment you weren’t sure if he hadn’t asked you something.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes met yours.

“Explain to me how you got even more beautiful?” he’d murmured, and your heart had leapt into your throat.

“I - what?”

He was close enough to touch. You’d dreamed of this for so long - pathetically long, really. You’d never dreamed that he’d want you.

He stepped closer, and you did touch him - one hand acted without permission, coming up and resting lightly on his chest, over his heart. It had thumped beneath your tentative fingers.

Your fingers had curled in the material of the thick hoodie he’d been wearing, had pulled him just closer.

And then his mouth was on yours, searing, and your hands were in his hair, and that deck railing was pressing into your lower back as he pinned you against it, and one of his hands was creeping beneath the hem of your shirt, and you could feel him hardening against your lower stomach, and -

And through the window, you could see the party carrying on.

You broke the kiss, pushed gently on his forearm to extract his sneaky hand from inside your shirt.

“They can see us,” you’d gasped, and he’d followed your gaze somewhat dumbly, like it hadn’t occurred to him that everyone else existed in the same place as the two of you.

Then he’d taken your hand, pulling you down the deck steps, away from the glow of light from the house’s windows, down into the darkness, where witnesses would have to work a little harder to see what was going on.

He’d pressed you against the wall of the house, beneath the deck, and as you’d tipped your head back to allow him access to nip and soothe lines up and down your neck you’d thought of all the summer nights you’d spent in this exact spot. This is where the keg usually goes, you’d thought absently as that sneaky hand returned to the bare skin of your belly beneath your sweater.

You hadn’t felt even remotely cold, despite the threat of snow in the air.

You’d kissed until your lips hurt and you wanted it to hurt just a little more, your hands starting to toy with the waistband of his jeans as his thumb rubbed determined circles around your puckered nipple beneath the fabric of your bra.

“Tell me what you want,” he’d said, the words mumbled against your lips. He’d pulled back just enough, just enough to watch your face as you told him -

“Anything. Everything. All of it… all of you.”

His hand had traveled up the back of your thigh, beneath your skirt, fingers pushing the cotton of your panties aside before stroking through your center. You’d moaned, low, aware that anyone could come out onto the deck above you without warning. His breath had hitched in response, and his hand had left your pussy long enough to tug you to him again, pressing you against his hips for just a second before returning. This time he didn’t toy with you, pressing his index finger into your messy heat, followed quickly by a second digit.

You’d mouthed his name against his jaw, trying to keep yourself upright as he pressed you against the brick of the house, as he pumped his fingers leisurely, fingertips rubbing circles against your front wall until he found the place that made you gasp and buck against his hand. He’d laughed, asked, “Yeah?” in a cocky voice you’d never heard on him before. It’d made you, impossibly, wetter.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you’d whispered, half delirious, and he’d laughed again, like he knew already.

There had been a flash of foil between his teeth, the sound of his zipper echoing across the frozen backyard, and then he was pushing inside you, fingers still wet from you now gripping your hip to keep you in place.

You’d groaned in unison as he slowly bottomed out. The brick had bit at your back, the winter air had bit at your face, and Seokjin had bit at your lower lip as he pounded into you steadily.

It had been hurried. It had been hushed.

Your name on his lips when he came took the air from your lungs.

You’d wanted this, wanted him, in silence for as long as you could remember. Before you had words to put to it, before you were old enough to understand why your stomach hurt when he left the room.

It had hurt, after. The scrapes from the brick wall. Your sore hamstrings. Your chapped, cracking lips.

His silence.

You’d both missed the countdown. Happy New Year.

You don’t know what you had expected after seeing Seokjin at his dad’s house unexpectedly. Apparently, some foolish part of your subconscious thought he’d reach out to you, because you find yourself disappointed when he doesn’t.

Stupid, you think. I don’t know what you were thinking. Aside from that one slip on New Year’s Eve two years ago, you’d done a stellar job at orbiting Seokjin in silence, keeping your feelings under control and out of sight, never pushing yourself into his path but never letting him stray so far as to forget you, either. Nothing’s changed.

You tell yourself this for two days, until Minji’s name lights up your phone as you’re packing up from work on Thursday evening, your stomach growling and your feet aching to get out of their heels.

“Yeeees?” you answer her as you power down your laptop and cast your gaze around your cubicle for anything else that needs to come home with you.

“Are you still at work?” she asks, sounding a little breathless, a little irritated.

“Packing up right now,” you tell her, rising and pulling your bag onto your shoulder. You give Dale, your cubicle-mate, a silent wave goodbye and head for the elevators. “What’s up?”

“I tried your mom first, but your parents are apparently out to dinner tonight,” she says. “Is there any way you can swing by my dad’s? I think Seokjin is having a hard time with dad, and I’m stuck here at least another two hours -.”

“No problem,” you tell her, cutting off her explanation. It isn’t needed. “I’ll head there now. Tell him I’ll be like…” You glance at your watch for the time, “...twenty-five minutes, tops, if traffic is bad.”

“You’re a saint,” she breathes in relief. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I promise I’ll hurry. Did I tell you that deal with Mr. Lee fell through? I have been non-stop -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her, meaning it. “I’m happy to help. I’ll be there soon. See you later, okay?”

You grew up on a dead end. You never tell people that, now. You always fancy it up if it’s brought up in conversation - you call it a cul-de-sac, though it isn’t according to the yellow sign that marks where you turn left to reach your parents’ house.

Every inch of this street is steeped in memories for you - memories of growing up with Minji and Seokjin, running wild through these streets whenever the weather allowed it, learning to ride a bike, having snowball fights and water balloon fights and - once - even a foodfight. Thinking of your childhood with those two, you think mostly of chaos and laughter.

You miss it, a little, and that’s only a little bit nostalgia talking. Maybe the lack of chaos is nice, but the lack of laughter kind of sucks.

It takes Seokjin forever to answer the door when you knock. When he does, it’s evident immediately why Minji had called for backup.

He’s sick as a dog; his nose is red, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and sleepy.

“Minji sent me,” you explain. “She said you need help with your dad.”

“I don’t,” he protests, just a little whiny. “We’re fine. Why’d she call you? I told her we were fine.”

This clear untruth is punctuated by a fit of coughing. You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He shakes his head, recovering. “It’s just a cold,” he says, doubling down. “I’m sorry you drove all the way here, but I don’t need help. I was just about to help Dad get showered - I need to get back up there, he’s waiting.”

He starts to turn to go, but you reach out, catching his sleeve. He turns, brows furrowing in frustration, but you cut him off.

“Jin,” you say seriously, “come on. I came here to help. What needs to be done? Do you want me to start heating up dinner while he showers?”

He sags back against the wall behind him, raising one hand to rub wearily over his brow, his eyes, down over his mouth. You let his sleeve slip between your fingers and you wait as his resolve cracks.

He sighs heavily, eyeing the ceiling. “Could you strip his bed and put on clean blankets? So when he’s done showering, I can put him back in a clean bed?”

“Absolutely,” you say, relieved that he’s delegated a task. He leads you upstairs silently. Your feet remember the way to Mr. Kim’s bedroom. You weren’t often allowed to play in there as kids, but you have to pass it to get to Minji’s room; you think you could walk the path in your sleep.

Halfway up the stairs, you pause, stopping by one of the dozens of framed photos on the wall. You smile, putting your finger on the glass.

At the top of the stairs Seokjin pauses, turns to see why you stopped. Something on his face softens when he sees.

“Yeah,” he says. “That one’s still up.”

You give him a small smile. The photo your finger rests on is a group shot with blue water meeting blue sky as the backdrop.

Mr. Kim stands in the middle, beaming, one arm around Minji and the other around Seokjin. Minji’s little brother Jungkook - only a year behind you girls in school - sits on the ground at Seokjin’s feet, grinning with a scrunched nose. You’re behind Minji, peeking around her shoulders, your eyes closed as you laugh. You’re all kids in the picture - Seokjin, as the oldest, is probably around ten.

You’d been shy to be included in the picture, but Mr. Kim had told you that you were one of his kids in spirit if nothing else. You’d all been at the lake that day. Seokjin had been the one who made you and Jungkook laugh as the camera snapped. You remember it like it was yesterday. After the picture had been taken, you girls and Seokjin had dug a hole in the sand and buried Jungkook up to his neck. You’d splashed in the water, squealing over the slimy rocks that lined the lake’s floor. Later, you’d all eaten thick slices of watermelon, the juice dripping on your bare legs as the summer sun set over the horizon, the four of you sitting in a row on the picnic table bench like a matched set. You’d chased fireflies until Mr. Kim called your names, ready to pack you all into the car to return home, smelling like sunscreen and lakewater.

It was one of your favorite memories, that whole day.

You strip the blankets and sheets from Mr. Kim’s bed and toss them in the hamper. You collect a clean set from the linen closet in the hallway without needing to be told where they are. You spent as much time in this house as your own growing up. In the ensuite, you can hear the shower running, the low murmur of both men’s voices as they chat. You make the bed, fluffing the comforter, and then take the hamper down to the basement, where you dump them into the washer and get it started.

When you head back upstairs, Seokjin is in the living room, slumped sideways on the couch, eyes closed. You’re not sure if he’s awake, if he knows you’re standing behind him. He has that hand pressed to his brow again, and you know a headache when you see it.

You pad quietly up the stairs and into the hallway bathroom, where Mr. Kim used to keep all the over-the-counter stuff - bandaids, pain-killers, lozenges, even tampons back when Minji still lived here.

Heading back downstairs, you grab a glass of water from the kitchen and find Seokjin exactly where you left him, pressing his face pitifully into the arm of the couch.

You nudge him gently, and hold out your offerings - fever reducer and the water.

He grumbles as he takes them, pushing himself to a more upright position so he can drink from the glass without spilling.

When he sets the glass down, he looks over at you somewhat warily. “How have you been?” he asks, and there’s something resigned in his voice. Something defeated. You wonder what battle he’s lost, to make him sound like that. You feel - have always felt - that so much of what goes on in Jin’s mind is kept behind the curtain. For someone so loud, he’s the most private person you know.

“I’ve been fine,” you shrug. “Normal.”

He looks sideways at you for a long moment. “Is that a lie?” he asks finally, voice low.

“No,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. It isn’t, right? You’ve been fine. What happened between you was two entire years ago, the lid closing tightly on a lifetime of maybes. You’d had your moment together and it hadn’t led to anything. What choice did you have, but to accept it and move on? So, there you have it. You’ve been fine.

You make the decision, right there, not to bring it up - what happened two years ago. His lips on yours, his body under your hands, the way your legs had trembled as they’d struggled to hold you up. Better to let it stay dead. If Seokjin had wanted to talk about it, he’s had two years and four months to do so. If he wants to pretend he didn’t fuck his sister’s best friend and then ghost her completely, who are you to mess with the plan?

You need something sweet; you’re far too bitter.

But honestly, you can’t even hate him for it. He hadn’t promised you a thing, so logically there’s no reason to feel like a toy played with and discarded - even if you’re left wishing he had never picked you up to play with at all.

You look him over, taking in the sheen of sweat on his brow, the haze you can still see in his eyes. “You look like shit,” you tell him.

He lets out a single puff of a laugh, his eyes closed. “Now I know you’re lying,” he says, lips quirking into a smile.

“You look like you have the flu,” you say flatly, ignoring his nonsense.

“It’s just a cold,” he says.

You lapse into silence. He keeps his eyes closed, that hand still resting on his head. Finally, you say, “How about you? How’ve you been?”

He shrugs. “Been fine. Working. You know.”

A tiny smile tugs on your lips. “What are we playing these days?”

The smile creeps sideways across his face and he opens his eyes to actually look at you, sending you a conspiratory smirk. “Now you’re asking the right questions,” he says, and starts to tell you about a console game he got last week.

You head to the basement when it’s time and move the sheets you were washing into the dryer. You pause in the doorway when you return upstairs, looking Seokjin over from afar. He looks better than he had when you’d arrived - eyes less glassy, cheeks less pink.

“I think your fever’s down,” you say, as you return to where you’d been sitting before.

“I feel better than I did,” he agrees. He looks at you appraisingly, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. And, considering the fever, maybe he is. “So Minji said you live pretty close?”

You nod. “Not far. That apartment complex over behind the plaza with the grocery store? You remember, the one that we used to go trick-or-treating at?”

“Wow,” he says, giving an appreciative whistle. “Those are swanky.”

“I’m swanky these days,” you joke, smiling.

Just then, there’s a soft beep from outside - someone locking their car.

“That’s Minji,” Seokjin observes, and you find yourself standing, feet carrying you towards the kitchen.

“Do you need anything to drink?” you call over your shoulder. Jin is watching your sudden departure, clearly bemused. You busy yourself in their fridge, even though you don’t have a real reason to. You just didn’t want Minji to enter the house and find you and Jin having domestic hours on the living room couch.

The front door opens, and Minji calls your name through the house.

“I’m in here!” you call back, and head for the doorway of the kitchen.

Minji hurries to you, setting her bags down on the kitchen floor and flopping dramatically onto the doorjamb.

“I am so sorry,” she says. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Your brother’s sick,” you tell her flatly. “He had a pretty high fever when I got here.”

Her eyes widen, and she turns to look over her shoulder at Seokjin, who gives her a cheery thumbs up.

“He says he’s fine,” you inform her, “but he’s got about two more hours before the fever-reducer wears off and then he’s gonna be useless again.”

“Thank you for the warning,” she tells you, while Seokjin squawks from the living room, “I am not, and have never been, useless!”

You give Minji a quick hug goodbye and head for the front door.

You meet Seokjin’s eyes as you pass through the living room. They’re sharp, now that the fever’s receded, locked on you and looking.

“Feel better,” you tell him. “Make sure you hydrate.”

“Hey,” he says, making himself comfortable against the couch cushions, “thanks.” Then, an afterthought - “Seriously. Thank you.”

You give him a tight smile and slip out the front door.

Going home doesn’t stop you from worrying, even though you know Minji is home and capable of taking care of everything. But at work the next day, your eyes keep darting to your phone screen, as if you’re expecting updates on how Jin is feeling, if everything is okay at the house.

No one texts you.

You can’t ask Minji. She’s too fucking smart. If you so much as said, “Hey, is your brother feeling better?” she’d be all over it.

You try your mom instead, texting her, “How’s Mr. Kim doing? Any updates?”

She answers, “Haven’t heard anything!”

You groan, tapping the corner of your phone on your desk in frustration. You try to focus on work for a little bit, but it’s truly a lost cause. With a defeated sigh, you open your phone and thumb through your contacts.

Kim Seokjin.

You’ve had his number in your phone since you got it - your mom was the one who programmed it in for you when you were fourteen, citing Jin as someone you could call if you had an emergency. As if by being two years your senior, he qualified as a helpful adult.

You haven’t used his number in over five years - not since you were still in college, probably.

Actually, you realize, you remember the last time - though there were definitely parts of the night you didn’t remember.

It was your senior year, the first weekend of December, and you and Minji were drinking in some girl’s dorm. You’d never even met this girl before, but there you were, perched on her desk with a bottle of flavored vodka in hand, watching her LEDs change color along the ceiling.

You and Minji were both wasted, even though it was relatively early - not even midnight yet. You leaned against each other, holding the other up, both of you giggling and tapping around on your phones as the conversation flowed around you.

That’s what had happened - you’d noticed it was about to be midnight, the clock about to change from 11:59. And despite being so drunk that Minji was mostly propping you up, so drunk that you had to close one eye to read the letters of this girl’s alarm clock, so drunk that you’d be throwing up in just minutes - a little part of you brain informed you that midnight meant it was officially December 4th.

You’d texted Seokjin happy birthday at exactly midnight, one eye closed to make sure you were typing actual words. He was hundreds of miles away, had graduated and moved out already, and you hadn’t talked since the day the Kims had loaded all of his shit into a rented moving van, about five months ago.

And he’d answered - “thank you! what are you doing up??”

To which you’d replied, “getting baja blasted with your sister” and he’d replied, “i do not want to know, thank you!!”

And then Minji had looked at you drunkenly and narrowed her eyes. “Who are you texting with that smile?”

The floor had swooped below your feet, and you’d run for the bathroom. Minji had forgotten about interrogating you, and you and Seokjin had never texted again.

Now, at your job, you stare at his name on your phone screen, wracked with indecision.

“This is ridiculous,” you finally sigh. Behind you, Dale glances over his shoulder to determine if you’re talking to him or yourself. Ignoring Dale, you tap Seokjin’s name and type, “how are you feeling today?”

You don’t even have time to feel nervous about it - his response is almost instantaneous. He sends you a picture of a gaming screen, where he’s clearly playing a shooter POV. He follows it up with the sunglasses emoji. You laugh out loud, trying to keep your chuckles quiet to avoid calling attention to your cubicle.

“What a nerd,” you mutter affectionately. You type back, “you must be fine then 🙄”.

Seokjin’s played video games his whole life; it’s one thing you do know about him. How many hours of your childhood had been spent with him, Jungkook, and Minji crowded around the tv in their basement, fighting over whose turn it was to play?Usually Seokjin got to play the first controller (since he was older, stronger, and technically the console belonged to him), which left you and Minji and Jungkook to fight it out over the second one.

But you remember other times, too - especially as you got older - when you’d just sit in silence and watch him play. By the time you were a teenager - fourteen to Jin’s sixteen - Minji was over wanting to join him. She’d argue for use of the tv, and when she lost she’d flounce upstairs to her room to sulk about it. Sometimes you’d join her - usually, you’d join her. But sometimes you’d cast a glance at Seokjin, see if you were welcome. He’d always play it the same - look at you sideways, give you a tiny nod, pat the couch behind him like an invitation. (Seokjin played video games from the floor, letting the base of the couch prop him up. He said he focused better that way.)

You’d sit, quiet, watching him work the controls, listening to him whine and groan and complain and shout his way through each map. And you’d feel special, because he let you stay after he’d told Minji to fuck off, because he didn’t mind your presence, because sometimes he’d ask if you wanted him to teach you how, even though you always said no thanks.

You text your mom and ask what she’s making for dinner.

“Why?” she sends back. “Are you asking me to feed you?”

“Maybe,” you send back.

You join your parents for dinner, “just because”. It’s not that uncommon for you to join them for a meal now and then, considering how close you live. You go because you love your parents and you want a home-cooked meal - definitely not because you know it puts you back in proximity to Jin.

Your mom glances up at you from across the table approximately every four-tenths of a second through the entire meal, until finally you slap your palm on the table and snap, “What?”

She purses her lips, amused. “Nothing,” she says, feigning innocence. “We just don’t usually see you on Friday nights.”

“Jagi,” your dad warns, his voice full of affection. Like he knows it’s a lost cause but he thinks he should try to rein her in for your sake.

“I’m just saying!” she says, still all innocence, eyes wide. “I’m not complaining! It’s nice to have you here.”

You grumble a response, aggravated that she seems to be onto you. To escape their scrutiny, you rise and move to bag up the full garbage, tying the top of the bag and heading out to the trash cans at the end of the driveway.

You pause there after hefting the bag up and into the bin, taking a second to breathe. It’s a nice night - the sun has mostly set, the sky deep and dark above you but still clinging to shades of pink down near the horizon. It’s warm, too, for April.

You’re standing there, arms crossed, watching the sky inch closer and closer to darkness, when you hear a door shut across the street. Your eyes follow the sound immediately, and you see a man’s silhouette do the same thing you were doing - make its way down the driveway, a trash bag in hand.

Romantic, you think wryly. A garbage date. You stay rooted to the spot, watching as Jin - just an outline, a shadow - tosses the bag into the bin and brushes off his hands. Then, he stops still, seeming to notice you.

You hold your breath, not sure how this will go, and then he starts to lope over, and you exhale in a whoosh.

“Hi,” he says simply, as he gets close enough that you can finally see his face through the dark.

“Hi,” you say around a tiny smile. “You seem better today.”

He scoffs. “I told you it was just a cold. I just needed to sleep it off.”

“I’m glad,” you tell him softly. Maybe it’s dangerous, maybe it’s stupid - to be soft with him. To act like you didn’t already get your answer from him, years ago. To pretend your affection for him is still as pure and untainted as it was when you were a teenager.

But it feels safer, out here, away from his dad’s house. In there, the memories of that New Year’s Eve are too fresh, too strong - they cling to the air, slide down the walls. The heating unit sighs to life and you hear your own sighs as Seokjin’s fingers danced along your bare skin. The refrigerator grumbles and you hear the grumble of pleasure that originated low in Seokjin’s throat as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. Someone’s footsteps crunch gravel outside, and you hear the crunch of gravel as Seokjin made his way back to the front of the house in the dark, leaving you hidden in shadows, clutching the bricks and gasping for breath.

It’s better out here. In the fresh air, away from that house, the memories are looser, less focused - bike races, raucous laughter, chalk drawings, bouncing beams of light from flashlight tag.

“Thank you for the help yesterday,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed. “I know I kind of gave you a hard time.”

“You didn’t,” you say, letting him off the hook. You’ll always let him off the hook, for everything. You always have. “How’s your dad?”

He glances back at the house over his shoulder, like he needs to verify this answer before giving it. “Not so good today,” he admits. “He’s in a lot more pain, starting to get frustrated needing so much help.”

“Hmm,” you deadpan. “A Kim man who gets frustrated at needing help. Interesting.”

Seokjin laughs, full from his belly. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no ire in it. “Can I help it if I’m a chip off the ol’ block?”

“We’re supposed to learn from our parents’ mistakes,” you tell him, like a reminder. “Not continue them.”

Just then, a car turns around the corner, the headlights casting you in blinding white light before throwing you back into shadow. You both turn to look - since it’s a dead end, traffic doesn’t just pass through here.

You recognize the car - it’s Minji’s. She parks and pops out, calling hello to you, ignoring her brother. He makes a face at you like, what am I, chopped liver?

“I have your mom’s tupperwares, do you want to take them?” she asks, pressing the lock button on her key fob and making the car behind her beep once, loudly.

“Sure,” you say, following her into the house. A glance over your shoulder tells you that Seokjin is following, too, a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets.

Inside, Mr. Kim is sitting sideways on the couch, his leg propped up on a small stack of pillows, a bag of ice over his knee. He perks up when he sees you, lowering his phone away from his face and pushing his spectacles further up his nose.

“How are you, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’d come hug you, but -.” He gestures at his leg.

“I’m doing fine,” you assure him. “I heard you had a rough day today.”

Mr. Kim shoots a dark look at his son, who looks innocently at the ceiling. “Just a little pain today,” Mr. Kim demures.

Seokjin glances at his phone. “We might want to get you upstairs soon,” he tells his father. “You know you’ll be asleep in about fifteen minutes, so unless you want to spend the night on the couch…”

You watch, feeling awkward and unable to help, as Seokjin helps his dad swivel and stand, an arm over Seokjin’s shoulders. They make their way slowly and laboriously up the stairs, and you feel a little anxious watching.

“Are they okay?” you ask Minji as she returns from the kitchen, pushing your mother’s empty tupperware back into your hands.

“They’re fine,” she says easily. “It takes a while but they’ve got it down to a science. Hey, listen, do you want to go grab a drink? It’s Friday, and I’ve had a hell of a week, and what I would really like to do is Uber into town and drink like college-Minji.”

You laugh at this. “I’m not sure I’m prepared for the return of college-Minji.”

“Pleaaaaaaaase?” she begs, blinking her lashes at you. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh. “Let me go tell my parents goodbye and drive home and change. Text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yessss!” she cries, dancing in place a little. You feel a swell of affection for her; you love Minji with your whole heart. You’ve been through a lot together. You’ve been through a lot separately, but always side by side.

There have been many times through your life where you felt like you were clutching Minji’s hand through the fire.

You still remember clearly the way she’d bounded up to your locker, back when you were thirteen, squealing and excited because the most popular girl in your year had asked her for her number, had invited her over.

You still remember clearly Minji sobbing on your bed weeks later when it came to light that the girl - who wouldn’t be the last to try - was just trying to get an “in” with Minji’s hot older brother.

“You know I would never, right?” you’d promised her. Stupid, at fourteen, not clarifying that you mean never use you to get to him. Stupid, because then you were sixteen and then eighteen and then twenty-one and then twenty-six and you weren’t sure what you had actually promised - had Minji heard it as I would never get involved with him?

“I know,” she’d sobbed, reaching one hand blindly to clutch at yours. “I know you wouldn’t.”

And now you’re twenty-eight and the secrets you’ve kept keep piling up - each day you loved him, another pebble atop the pile. The slightest shake could topple the tower, and you’d be absolutely buried.

You could never let Minji know you loved him. Not when you were fifteen and he was untouchable. Not when you were twenty, and he was the best part of coming home. Not when you were twenty-six, pressed between him and the deck railing.

Not now, after two years of existing outside his orbit again.

The bar she picks is small, but quiet - quiet enough that you can actually carry on a conversation from opposite sides of a wooden booth, which is exactly what you do.

What you hadn’t banked on was that Seokjin would join her, sitting on her side of the booth, complaining loudly that he’s not going to come out with you two ever again, he’s never been such a third wheel in his life.

“You could have stayed home with dad,” Minji says, giving him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Don’t be such a complainer. You jumped in on my plans.”

“Can we please talk about something besides your hot coworker, then?” he begs. “Anything, anything else.”

“We could talk about my hot coworkers,” you offer, even though you have none. But this - teaming up with Minji to push Seokjin’s buttons - is a song and dance you know by heart, something you’ve done since practically infancy.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Believe it or not, that’s not better,” he deadpans.

You laugh, knocking back the rest of your drink and sliding out of the booth to go get another, leaving the Kim siblings to bicker in your absence.

You don’t expect Seokjin to follow; you don’t expect him to press up behind you as you stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention.

But he does, his body heavy and warm against yours. The blood rushes to your pussy so fast it almost makes you mad. All he’s doing is standing in close proximity, can your body get it together?

“What are you doing?” you murmur, trying not to meet his eyes in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

“Minji wants shots,” he answers easily. Like his body isn’t pressed against yours, like he isn’t causing your heart to hammer against your ribs.

“You’re too close,” you manage to say, because it’s the best option you can think of. Better than she’ll see us. Better than you still aren’t close enough. Better than don’t do this if you’re just going to leave again.

He does catch your eyes in the mirror, then. He must read something honest on your face, because he shifts sideways, leaving you cold. The bartender comes by, takes both your orders. You take your drink back to the table. Seokjin follows with a tray of bad decisions poured into tiny glasses.

Even though he gave you the reprieve when you asked for it, it’s clear he’s got a mission to ruin you. You’re sure of it, more and more sure as the night wears on. Sure of it when you reach for the same shot glass, your fingers brushing, his lingering. Sure of it when his eyes on your face make you so warm that Minji accuses you of having a drunk flush. Sure of it when his foot hooks around your ankle beneath the table, slides up and down your calf, slow and tantalizing, inches from Minji’s stilettoed feet. Sure of it when this causes your breath to hitch and his fingers tighten around his glass and his gaze goes to the opposite wall, anywhere but towards you.

You’re drunk, but it’s Seokjin that’s sending you spinning.

You’ve made this mistake before, you remind yourself sternly. Nothing good can come of it.

You excuse yourself and head for the bathroom, a marked up door at the end of a narrow, poorly lit hallway. You grip the sides of the sink and breathe deep, closing your eyes. The room sways and you press your forehead to the mirror, trying to ground yourself.

“You cannot fuck him again,” you whisper to yourself, eyes still closed. “It wouldn’t mean anything even if you did.”

The alcohol catches up to you as you whisper these words; the truth of them slam you harder than normal. You blink away tears, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“Time to go home,” you tell yourself firmly, turning off the water and wiping quickly under your eyes in case any makeup ran.

This is what it means to be in Seokjin’s orbit, now: to crash into each other, to fight with yourself - fight with the truth that he doesn’t want you, and then run away scared until he’s too far away to hurt you again. Spin idly along until the next time your circles cross paths. Do it again.

He’s in the hallway when you emerge, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. You have to pass him to get back to the table. He pushes off the wall when he sees you coming, stumbles a little. A tiny, sensible part of your brain whispers that he might be drunker than you are as you sidle into his personal bubble.

“What are you doing, Seokjin?” you ask him for the second time that night.

His eyes comb your face. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for, what question he’s secretly asked you in his mind.

“You tell me,” he retorts, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, but speaking somehow brought him looming closer and you’re drowning in the smell of him, the warmth of him, the desire to feel his body hard against yours again, to feel him split you open again, to have his mouth hot on your skin again -

You close your eyes, sag a little. His hands come to your elbows quickly, holding you up. “You’re confusing me,” you whisper, and then look up at him through your lashes.

There’s something aching on his face, and then he whispers back, “I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so sorry - I never meant -.”

The click-clack of high heels approach and round the corner. You and Seokjin leap apart like you’re burned, your arms tingling where his fingers had been.

It’s not Minji. The stranger murmurs an apology and brushes past you both, towards the bathroom.

Spooked, startled out of the moment, you turn to head back to the bar, back to Minji.

Seokjin grabs your arm, pulls you back. You teeter back a step, then look at him expectantly as you regain your balance.

Seriously, so seriously, he tells you, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.” Then he releases your arm with a tiny push, guiding you back out of the dirty hallway and into the light.

You Uber home alone. You brush your teeth, remove your makeup. You change into pajamas, drink a glass of water.

You wake up to your phone buzzing incessantly next to your head.

[10:14 AM] Jin 😎: oh [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: my god [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: i think i am dead? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: are you dead too? are we ghosts? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: can ghosts throw up??? 🤔

You giggle despite your own headache.

[10:15 AM] You: whats wrong old man, you can’t hang anymore?? [10:16 AM] Jin 😎: WOW [10:16 AM] You: 😇

You check all your other socials, answer a few emails, and then finally drag yourself out of bed and head for a hot shower. As you stand beneath the hot water, you think about your first hangover, when you were sixteen.

You’d woken up next to Minji on her basement floor, a hoodie balled up beneath your head like a pillow. You’d closed your eyes again, hoping the splitting pain in your head and the roiling adrenaline in your stomach were a bad dream.

They were not.

You spent most of the next hour in the basement’s tiny bathroom, curled up on the floor next to your porcelain jail. When you felt like you could stand, you rinsed your mouth and pulled the pillow-hoodie onto your body, taking comfort in the way it swam on you, the hemline brushing your thighs just below your cutoffs.

You’d made your way upstairs, hoping to sneak past Mr. Kim and your own parents and make it unscathed to your own bed. You wanted nothing but to sleep for the next fourteen hours. Or years.

You got busted at the top of the stairs. Luckily, it was Seokjin bustling around the kitchen, not his father.

He had taken one look at you and started laughing, low in his belly. “Too much fun?”

“Shut up,” you’d whined, literally covering your ears against the noise. “Or I will throw up again, I promise.”

Jin had smiled at you, open and easy. “Sit down, kid,” he’d said kindly, jerking his head towards the kitchen table. “I have an age-old remedy.”

And actually? It had worked.

After drying your hair and throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt, you scavenge your kitchen. You have most of what you need, and you toss it all into a tote bag and hunt for your keys. You finally find them on the floor next to the kitchen counter - chances are you’d tossed them at the counter last night and missed - and head out.

Your parents are home when you let yourself in. They both stare at you, baffled, then exchange a sly, knowing look.

“You’re back, I see,” your mom says, something sneaky in her tone.

“Do you have any bean paste?” you answer. “I’m going to go make Minji hangover soup.”

Only one word was a lie.

This makes your mom laugh, and she rummages in her cabinets and helps you complete the list of ingredients you need.

The Kims’ front door is locked, so you make your way around the side of the house and fish the key out of its hiding spot, letting yourself in the side door that leads to the kitchen.

The house is still and quiet, and you try not to clang any pots and pans as you get to work. When you finish, over an hour later, you set up the table - a bowl of hangover soup, and a mug of steaming hot coffee, black.

You text Seokjin, “come to the kitchen”, and set your phone back down, turning to start on the dishes.

You’re informed of his presence by his laugh. You turn, hands red under the hot water and covered in suds, to see him sitting down at the spot you’d set up. He looks up at you, amazed, an uncertain smile playing across his face.

“It’s an age-old remedy,” you tell him seriously.

“You are…” he trails off with a quiet laugh and reaches for the coffee.

You’d love to know the end of that sentence.

When you finish the dishes - save for the pot with the remaining soup, still on the stove for when Minji wakes up - you pour your own mug of coffee and sit across from Jin, watching as he finishes his soup. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, then sets down his spoon reverently.

“Thank you,” he says, like a prayer, but also like a joke. “That was so needed.”

“Consider it payback,” you tell him.

It feels different, sitting across the kitchen table. Different than sitting across that booth at the bar. Less charged. Like it wasn’t something physical burning between you, like you’d thought, but the need for catharsis, for apology. Even if you don’t know what he’s sorry for, even if you still don’t know what exactly happened with him two years ago.

He’s thinking about it too, apparently. He says your name quietly, and you look up to meet his eyes. You can read the apology all over his face. The house is still still and quiet, no one awake but you and Jin. Like no one exists but you and Jin.

You’ve felt that way before.

Sitting beside him in the basement. In the passenger seat of his car, driving through a rainstorm. In his backyard, in the dark, your breath visible in the air as it leaves your mouth in desperate puffs.

“I kind of wanted to talk,” he admits, and your stomach twists. Maybe you should have had some of the soup. “About -?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quickly, already standing, already moving to gather up the tote bag you’d used to carry ingredients. You shrug back into your jacket, ignoring Jin’s wide-eyed look of surprise. “I should get going,” you say, still not looking at him. You go back to the kitchen door you’d entered through, picking up the key so you can return it to its hiding place outside. You pause on the threshold, turning, eyeing the stovetop thoughtfully.

“Tell Minji you made the soup,” you instruct, and then you close the door behind you.

Next ->

Thank you so so much for reading - i hope you like this one as much as I do! Please don't feel shy about letting me know what you think!

Part 2: Retrograde will post next Friday, June 2nd. Hope to see you there!

636 notes · View notes

lipglossanon · 1 year

Text

It’s Moving Faster (It’s Coming Closer)

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stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy trifecta x fem!reader

(This means all 3 stepdad versions at once 🤭) This is essentially a crack fic so don’t take it seriously 👍 😆 Literally just for s and g’s

Inspiration:

Answer to anon: The After Dark series is in its own universe as the OG stepdad!Leon. The others like With Devils Inside Me (super dark stepdad Leon) and then the sweet, alcoholic stepdad Leon in If You Could Only See are each their own thing.

thanks for the insane idea 🤭 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, foursome (F/M/M/M), daddy kink, dirty talk, name calling, oral (f & m receiving), biting, nipple play, pussy spanking, unprotected sex, creampies, breeding kink, talks of lactation kink

Title from Slither by Djo

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You wake up with a start, head ringing like a bell. Raising up, you realize you’re in your bedroom but it seems.. off.

“Oh she’s awake!” Leon’s voice comes from your left; you turn to see him sitting against the headboard, hip even with your shoulders.

“We can all see that,” another lower timbre speaks, sounding almost exactly like Leon coming from your right along with a copy of his laugh.

You blink sleepily at him as he brushes your hair away from your face, “Ignore them, sweetheart.”

You move your attention to the other voices and freeze in place. Your eyes can’t believe what they’re seeing. Sitting on your dresser, is an exact copy of your stepdad and leaning against the wall next to him is another duplicate.

“What?” You whisper out loud, quickly turning to your Leon, “how—“

He shrugs and pets your hair again, “Don’t know. We all just woke up here.”

You feel your bed dip as another weight sits down.

You turn and see a meaner, younger Leon staring at you.

“It’s uncanny how much they look alike,” this new Leon pets your calf, dark eyes empty and cold, “still so pretty.”

Your breath catches as you pull your leg away, pushing closer to your actual stepdad. The other Leon pulls his hand away with a mean little smile.

“Act the same way too,” his eyes flicker from yours up to your Leon, “got me wondering if her cunt’s as good.”

You gasp as he laughs at you. Your Leon only pets your hair softly.

“No need to be so crass,” the third Leon comes in closer; this one looks a little rougher around the edges, eyes bloodshot but kind.

The mean Leon shrugs, “You know you’re thinking it, too. What it would be like to bury your face in this hot little cunt to see if she compares to the one at home.”

The third Leon flushes and drops your gaze bashfully as he doesn’t argue. A hot tongue of arousal buzzes your cunt both from the younger Leon’s words to the reaction of this shy Leon thinking such dirty thoughts about you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” your Leon finally speaks up, voice colored in amusement, “who said I even felt like sharing?”

Your clit throbs at the thought of Leon letting these two strangers have their way with you. You whine in your throat making two pairs of eyes watch you greedily.

“She sounds the same,” the shy Leon speaks up, voice rough, “always so good.”

“Could make her sound even better,” the Leon sitting on your bed scoots a little closer, “could make her scream.”

You push up until you’re sitting between your Leon’s splayed legs, hands gripping his thighs tightly to press yourself as close to him as possible.

He chuckles and runs his hands down your sides to your skirt, “Feeling nervous, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper, eyes glued to his copycats who watch you just as closely.

“Babygirl,” the rough looking, shy Leon moves until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed as well, “no reason to be nervous.”

You smile shyly at him as the Leon behind you murmurs in your ear, “He’s right, baby, no reason to be nervous. Besides..”

He flips your skirt up to show your damp panties off to the other two Leons.

“They’ve seen needy cunts before,” he kisses your ear as you mewl in embarrassment, “now I’m just gonna show them the best one.”

“Daddy,” you gasp out as your stepdad holds your skirt up with one hand and rubs against your wet panties with the other.

You spill more slick into the gusset of your panties making you try to hide your face from all of them staring straight at your cloth covered pussy. Your body’s so hot making you pant softly, nipples hard and showing through your shirt.

The crass Leon moves until he’s kneeling between your legs.

“So wet already and none of us have even touched you,” he smirks at you, a mean look hovering in his eyes, “little slut.”

Your hips rock up with a whine as your own Leon laughs down at you making you hotter and wetter. Whatever happens, there’s no way you’re going to survive all of them at once.

“So mean,” the third Leon cuts in, scooting across the bed until he’s pressed against your right side, “she’s our perfect girl, gotta be sweet to’er.”

He dips his head down and presses a gentle kiss to your neck making your eyes flutter as you sigh.

“So sweet,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth across you jaw with slow kisses until he reaches your lips, “can I kiss you, baby?”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, reaching out to wrap your hands around the nape of his neck.

You whine into his mouth as he kisses you slowly, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste your hot, wet mouth. There’s a hint of whiskey on his tongue, driving you a little wild, making you suck on it greedily. He groans and fucks his tongue deeper into your mouth.

Once he pulls away, there’s a strand of spit connecting your mouths. You surge forward and lick it off making him moan.

“Perfect girl,” he kisses you hungrily, giving up being sweet to roughly lick into your mouth to suck on your tongue.

“Keep going,” you hear the Leon between your legs speak, “getting this pussy nice and wet with those kisses. Maybe should kiss this sweet little kitty huh?”

You break the kiss to whine, spreading your thighs wider, “Daddy!”

You feel your Leon’s cock pressing against your ass making you rock down into him.

“Can h-he?” You pant as the Leon you were kissing drags his mouth across your neck to leave suckling bruises in his wake.

“Can he what, sweetheart? Ya gotta be clear about what you want or how can he give it to you?” he rumbles against your back, hands dragging down your thighs and back up to stroke your cunt through your panties.

You whine, chest heaving, feeling dizzy with arousal.

“P-please,” you turn your wide eyes to the Leon between your legs, “will you eat my pussy, daddy? Pretty please?”

You still have your right arm draped over the shy Leon’s neck as he kisses and bites your neck; dragging your left hand down, you hold your skirt out of the way. Your Leon lets go of your skirt and uses both hands to tease your cunt through your panties, stroking your pussy lips and rubbing your sensitive clit.

The Leon directly in front of you grins crookedly making your pulse leap in your throat, “What manners,” he coos, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the floor.

He lays flat on your bed and slowly kisses his way from your shaking calves up to your spread thighs.

“Bite her,” your Leon cuts in, “she likes a little teeth near her sweet cunt. Gets her tight hole soaking wet.”

They both laugh meanly at your high moan; the shy Leon groans against you neck.

“Biting?” he pulls away, pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes, “you like that pretty girl?”

Before you can say anything, the Leon between your legs sinks his teeth deep into your thigh close to your pussy. You cry out, body arching as you press into his sharp teeth. Leon pulls away and sinks his mouth right back into your thigh making you whine and buck your hips.

“Fuck,” the shy Leon whispers, eyes glued to the Leon sucking and biting your tender skin.

“Oh yeah,” your Leon growls, “fucking loves getting those thighs bruised up. Only place her mom won’t see, isn’t that right, baby?”

Your eyes are lidded and hazy, “Uh huh, daddy. S’good, makes me so wet.”

You feel as the sweet Leon rolls his hips into your side.

“God, I’ll have to try it with mine,” he pants against you, “where else? Her momma ain’t in the picture anymore.”

You drag your gaze away from the Leon mauling your thighs in sharp bites. He pulls back to slip your panties off but presses his mouth into your thighs to leave more bruises .

“Neck, shoulders,” you whisper at him, lips swollen and enticing, “want daddy to mark me up everywhere.”

You tug him closer with your arm, lips brushing against his as you sigh out, “Tits are a good place too. And if you get me going really good, you can bite my pussy lips.”

He shoves his tongue in your mouth with a whine, licking into you sloppily getting spit everywhere.

“Fuck,” he pulls away, hands ripping his shirt off followed by him slipping his jeans and underwear off.

You watch hungrily as he strokes his cock a few times to take the edge off.

“Got me so fucking hard, sweet girl,” he groans, kissing you messily again causing your clit to throb, “want daddy to bite your cute little cunt? Fuck, s’hot baby.”

“Daddy,” you whine at him, “you’re so sweet,” he kisses you again, a little softer but no less eagerly.

“You got a lucky girl,” you pull away to whisper in his ear, “do you give her lotsa kisses?”

“Yeah,” he pants, stroking his cock pulling the foreskin down to spread his precum around the head, “lotsa kisses.”

You hum and whisper again, “What about her pussy? Do you give her pussy lotsa kisses too?”

“Fuck,” he grits out, “yeah, yeah, I do, god, how can I not? Love kissing that pretty pussy.”

You sigh and tug him closer, “Then help eat me out, daddy. Give me lots of those sweet kisses.”

He surges against you this time to lick into your giggling mouth. He shifts to kneel between your legs.

“Move,” he presses against the shoulder of the Leon between your thighs.

That Leon raises his head, lips swollen from sucking and kissing bite after bite into your thighs.

“Fuck you mean move?” He snarls at him, “she asked me to eat her cunt.”

“Yeah well she just asked me to as well,” he growls right back.

Your pussy flutters around nothing as more slick gushes from your hole watching as they argue over eating you out.

“Sneaky,” your Leon chuckles in your ear, “and greedy, sweetheart. You want their mouths that bad, couldn’t wait so had to have both?”

You whine, “Daddy, I need it. Need them to give my pussy lots of kisses.”

“Don’t want her feeling left out, huh?” his smoky voice makes your skin pebble with goosebumps.

You shake your head, “Uh uh, daddy gives the best kisses. She needs them too.”

Your spine arches as two greedy mouths lap at your glistening cunt at the same time, a low whine spilling from your lips. You can’t think past the hot wet tongues licking into your pussy and circling your clit.

“S-so good, unh, unh, d-daddy s’good,” you moan, pushing your hips up into their mouths.

Your hazy eyes watch as the mean Leon fucks his tongue into your clenching hole with a groan while the sweeter one suckles and kisses your clit.

“Help’em out, sweetheart,” your Leon whispers hotly in your ear, “hold your cute little pussy open so they can eat her all up.”

“Leon,” you gasp, “yes, yes, please.”

You flip your skirt all the way up and reach down to spread open your cunt.

“Good girl,” the sweet Leon praises you lighting up your nerve endings.

He and the other Leon messily make out with your cunt, tongues running all over your swollen clit and fat pussy lips, licking into your dripping wet hole only to repeat it over and over and over until they’re holding your thighs down so you can’t move away from their mouths.

You’re crying from how good you feel; arousal is pulsing all through your body, heightening when your Leon slides his hands around to lift the hem of your shirt and take it off of you. He tugs your bra down so your breasts spill out of the cups, nipples hardening in the cool air.

He tugs and pinches the hard buds making you mewl and push into his rough fingers.

“Daddy,” you pant, eyes open but unseeing as the Leon at your back fondles your breasts and teases your nipples.

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear, “just let us play with you, baby.”

He twists your nipples making you squeal, slick gushing from your pussy to coat the mouth of the Leon lapping at your hole while the other Leon sloppily kisses your sensitive clit. Your Leon keeps up the harsh tugs and pinches making you whine from the too much feeling pulsing in your tightened buds.

“Like me being rough on these cute little nipples, huh?” he mocks, “look at you getting so wet for us. Think that sweet cunt’s ready to get fucked?”

You mewl needily, “Uh huh, need daddy so bad. Please, Leon, please want it. Give it to me, please, please.”

The two Leon’s between your thighs pull back with a loud wet noise.

“Going first,” the mean Leon states, eyes taking in your wet pussy as they drag up to your nipples, still being toyed with by your Leon, then up to your blissed out face, “one of you two can get my sloppy seconds.”

You moan and arch your hips down towards him, “Please, daddy.”

He spanks his hand down on your swollen mound and clit making you squeal.

“You’re gonna be a good fuck, babygirl,” he laughs, getting completely undressed then pressing his fat cock against your drooling pussy.

He eases in, stretching you open on his throbbing length making you moan into the feeling. He pauses for a second then fucks himself into your clenching walls, not stopping until he’s completely bottomed out, tip kissing your womb.

“S’deep,” you choke out, hands moving up to grab your Leon’s forearms, nails digging in, “he’s too deep, daddy.”

“No he’s not,” he laughs in your ear, “you can take’em, sweetheart. Your little pussy’s made for daddy’s dick, right?”

You nod, tears streaming from your eyes, “H-hurts, daddy.”

They all groan at that, the Leon inside you bucking forward trying to get even deeper into your pussy.

“Fuck,” he grins crookedly at you, “gonna breed this pretty pussy then it’s his turn right?”

He nods to the sweeter Leon kneeling at your side, slowly stroking his cock as he watches you get fucked open.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mewl, mouth watering as you watch Leon jerk his cock slowly, precum oozing over his knuckles making them sticky—making you want to clean him up.

Leon pulls his cock out of your pussy slowly then slams back in hard making you cry out, eyes closed and head tossed back. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, chasing his own pleasure as he bullies his cock into your cunt until you’re practically screaming.

“That’s it, fucking take it,” he growls at you, eyes stormy and mean, “gonna fill this little pussy up.”

“Say thank you, sweetheart,” your Leon kisses your ear, still tugging and pinching your swollen nipples.

“T-thank you, d-daddy,” you gasp, voice hoarse.

The sweet Leon moans and fucks his fist a little harder making you whine over at him.

“Want me to suck it, daddy?” You bite your bottom lip.

“Mm only if you want to, honey,” he shuffles up and the Leon behind you lets you lean over to kitten lick at the fat tip of this other Leon.

He groans and grabs the back of your neck, holding onto you but not pushing any further making you moan and suck more of his cock into your mouth. Your pussy squelches with every thrust by the mean Leon, jostling you until you’re gagging on the dick in your mouth.

Your Leon grabs you head and holds you there, “He’s gonna fuck your mouth, baby. Sit still.”

With that permission, the sweet Leon slowly builds up rolling thrusts to fuck his cock in and out of your spit filled mouth. He groans and pants, rocking the tip of his dick into your throat making you choke but neither he nor your Leon let you up so you just have to take it, drooling all over his cock so much it drips down his balls.

“Nothing but a slut,” the Leon fucking your pussy grits out, picking up speed to bully his cock into your soaked cunt.

You moan, the sound garbled and wet as your stepdad starts playing with your sensitive nipples again, tugging hard before pinching your tits.

“Mm she likes that,” Leon laughs meanly, fucking into your pussy harder, “squeeze down on me babygirl, about to cream this pretty cunt.”

Not being able to move makes you sigh and whine against the cock filling your throat and squeeze down hard on the one filling your pussy. Leon tugs on your nipples just right and your eyes flutter shut as your cunt milks the fat dick splitting you open.

“Fuck, ‘m cumming,” Leon pushes his cock as deep as possible, hot spurts of jizz painting your spasming walls as he empties himself inside you.

It feels like forever before he slowly pulls out, a wet noisy suction that makes them all groan.

“Your turn,” he grins at the Leon you’re sucking off.

“Mm, ready, honey?” he eases out of your swollen mouth and moves down between your legs.

“You’re so full, sweetheart,” he moans, “gonna fill you up so much, we might knock ya up.”

You moan and rock your hips down, “Daddy, don’t say that.”

He smiles at you, “Sorry baby. Just gets me hot thinking we might breed your pretty pussy.”

He slowly feeds his cock into your sore pussy. You can feel cum and slick drip out of your hole as he presses deeper and deeper into you. Whining, you dig your nails into your Leon’s arms again.

“He’s too big, too,” you pant, “s’too much. You’re gonna break my pussy.”

Hips jumping, the sweet Leon bottoms out in your cunt suddenly making you wail at the pressure against your cervix.

He presses down on your thighs to keep you spread open, “Sorry, baby, you just make it so hard to go slow.”

The mean Leon lays along your side so he can mouth at your breasts.

“Just think, if we knock you up you could be leaking from here, too,” he bites your nipple making a reedy moan leave your throat.

Your Leon laughs in agreement, “Milk you like you milk us, sweetheart.”

They take turns being rough on your nipples with your Leon pinching and rolling them in his fingers while the other bites and sucks on the hard buds.

“So tight,” Leon grinds deep into your cunt, rubbing against your g-spot.

“There, daddy,” you gasp, “there, there, there!”

He doesn’t move and just keeps grinding his dick over and over until your whole body shakes apart, orgasm completely wiping your brain out with white noise. When you finally come back to yourself, this Leon is still between your legs pounding your pussy over and over, soft whines and grunts slipping past his pouty lips.

You feel a hot wet mouth suckling your nipples making you arch into the suction.

“Like those tits being sucked don’t you?” A low smoky voice whispers in your ear making you sigh in pleasure.

“Mmhmm, s’good,” you whimper.

“Say it, baby, wanna hear you say it,” the low tone laughs.

“Like when daddy sucks on my tits,” you whisper, “feels good.”

The Leon filling your cunt moans, “Gonna cum, honey, where do you want it?”

“In me, please,” you try to spread your thighs more, “want daddy to breed my pretty pussy.”

“God, fuck, ungh,” he growls and pumps his load into your spent pussy, hot strings of cum dripping down his throbbing cock since your pussy is filled to the brim.

He pulls out and shoots the rest out on your fat pussy lips and swollen clit. You sigh at the hot jizz coating your pussy.

“My turn, sweet girl,” your Leon states tugging you up and away from the two Leons on the bed.

He manhandles you with ease until you’re both at the foot of the bed, he’s standing behind you as your kneeling on the sheets arms twisted behind you, back arched to accommodate the hold he has on them.

“They’re gonna suck on your pretty tits while I rail this sloppy cunt,” he kisses your neck as the other two Leons move up until they’re right in front of you.

You mewl as two hot mouths eagerly suck on each nipple, tongues and teeth teasing at the hard buds. Your Leon slowly presses his dick into your abused pussy, cum dripping all over your thighs from the other creampies.

“That’s it, good girl,” he coos in your ear, “feels good getting those cute tits licked huh? It must cause this pussy is sucking me in.”

You can only pant, body overloaded on sensation. The two Leons in front of you grunt and moan into your breasts, sucking hard and greedily. You notice they’re each stroking their own cocks, getting off on tasting your tits.

“Daddy,” your tongue feels swollen in your mouth, “want you to cum in me.”

“I’m going to sweetheart, don’t worry,” he smacks your ass, “just wanna enjoy this sloppy cum filled pussy. S’hot getting somebody’s sloppy seconds. Or should I say sloppy thirds?”

He laughs making you clench down on him hard. He spanks your ass a few more times making you whine and buck back into him. Once he bottoms out, he just grinds the fat head against your cervix making you arch your back, which only presses your tits further into the hungry mouths sucking on them.

“Would be hot to milk those cute titties of yours, baby,” he grunts in your ear, “you’d be so wet and messy everywhere. Wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth off of you.”

“Leon,” you whimper, “don’t wanna—“

He reaches around and spanks your pussy, “It’s just a dirty thought, sweetheart,” he chides, “your pussy sure likes the thought of me sucking on your milky tits though.”

He grips your arms harder and starts railing into your cunt deeper, hips humping faster into your wet squelching pussy. He keeps spanking your pussy making you drool all over yourself as your belly gets warmer and warmer, orgasm just around the corner.

One of the mouths on your breasts starts biting making you mewl and press harder into their teeth.

“Bite me, daddy,” you’re crying softly now, feeling too good, “bite me, please.”

All three listen to you, each mouth on your nipples nipping the bud before sinking teeth into your areola. Leon behind you bites down on your shoulder making your legs shake in pleasure.

“G’nna cum, daddy, you’re g’nna make me cum,” you moan, body squirming—not sure where to go against the onslaught of feelings.

Leon spanks down on your clit the hardest he’s ever done and you scream, pussy gushing all over his cock. You think you’re babbling thank you but you honestly have no idea. Your brain is totally offline as pleasure makes you stupid, sweeping through your body leaving nothing behind.

You feel the mouths slowly pull off of your nipples as you Leon says something. Then, you’re completely bent over the bed so he can pound into your sloppy cunt. You weakly clench down on him and he snaps, knocking his cock into your cervix and spilling inside of you. It’s so hot it makes you moan brokenly. Without pulling out, he starts to shake your shoulders roughly.

“What?” Your brain feels like soup.

“I said you need to wake up, sweetheart,” his voice says from above you making you slowly blink your eyes open.

You shoot up in bed and look around. It’s your room again but this time it doesn’t have that weird dream vibe to it.

You look up at Leon who’s standing next to your bed with a confused expression.

“You okay? Are you getting sick?”

You shake your head no even as he tests your forehead for a temperature.

“Hmm, well if you don’t feel well let me know and I’ll pick up some medicine while I’m out,” his frown doesn’t disappear even as he walks towards your open door.

“Will do,” you call out to his retreating back as he shuts he door.

You flop back down on your bed with a huff. Maybe you shouldn’t have ice cream before bed.

#crack fic #stepdad!leon multiverse? 😂#stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepdad leon s kennedy #stepdad!leon kennedy #stepdad!leon s kennedy #stepcest #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy #alcohlic stepdad!leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossanon

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