3: the offering after blood
genre: dark romance; mafia omegaverse au
full list of tags/tws on ao3
summary: Soobin's game and what comes after.
a/n This is just a lot of smut. And powerplay. That's it. That's the chapter. You've been fairly warned. Also yes, Soobin and you and the rest of the pack had a maybe not safe and sane but very consensual conversation about doing this whenever they came back home after doing unspeakable and gristly crime.
I am a slave to feedback so if you (hopefully) enjoyed reading this, let me know. comments/reblogs = fic getting updated faster :) Thanks for reading!
A sharp crack, leather snapping across the tender curve just below your ass, and your breath shatters.
You don’t scream, not quite, but the sound is enough. Enough to echo against the marble, to wrench something primal from deep inside the pack.
Beomgyu’s chair screeches as he rises, looking half-feral. Kai gasps like he’s the one who’s been struck. Yeonjun’s hands curl into fists on the table, knuckles bone-white. Taehyun doesn’t move, but his jaw grinds, and the muscle beneath his cheek twitches with violent restraint.
His hand smooths over the welt blooming beneath your robe, a single stroke that makes your knees threaten to fold. “Good,” he says softly, like it pleases him that you cried out. Because it was never about causing you pain, he just wanted to hear the sound of your obedience finally breaking loose.
“You’ll thank me,” he murmurs. “Later. When your hole’s leaking and your legs can’t hold you up.”
Your cry rips louder this time, raw and breathless and ruined.
The belt thuds onto the table, and Soobin finally steps back.
Your fingers tremble where they reach for the belt at your waist, but you undo it anyway. Let the robe slip. The silk whispers down your arms, puddles at your feet, leaving you bare and glowing in the candlelight, thighs slick, scent heavy with need.
You hear Kai’s breath hitch. “Hyung…”
Soobin doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. He steps to the head of the table again, and when he speaks, it’s to the others.
“Since he wants to be loud tonight,” he says, voice cold as steel, “let’s see how long he lasts before he begs me to let him be quiet.”
But you know what's coming.
Yeonjun’s chair scrapes next.
His footsteps cross the floor behind you, nearly silent, very much deliberate. You recognize them by rhythm alone. By his scent.
Leather gloves. Gun oil. Salt.
“I’m first” Yeonjun says, his voice a low vow.
You don’t speak. Instead, you move.
Your hips shift back, slow and deliberate, the curve of your spine deepening as your bare skin presses against the edge of the table. It creaks faintly beneath the weight of your submission, and the slick between your thighs shines in the low light like an invitation.
Behind you, Yeonjun stills.
You can feel him, not touching yet, but watching, heat pulsing from him. The silence stretches too long. The others know better than to interrupt. Even Beomgyu, who practically vibrates with impatience, keeps his mouth shut.
You don't turn to see him.
He always does when you give him this.
Because Yeonjun doesn’t want something soft. He needs it. And needing something makes him dangerous.
"Yeonjun-oppa," you whisper, just loud enough. Your voice is low, supple, pliant. Just what he needs. “Will you make it hurt?”
The sound he makes isn’t human.
Gloved hands close around your hips, dragging you back so hard your toes lift off the ground. You gasp, and he’s already there, body heat flush to your back, breath against the nape of your neck. One hand slides between your thighs, ungloved now, rough fingers spreading you with reverence edged in desperation.
“Already dripping,” he murmurs, voice raw and aching. “You want me to split you open like this?”
Right onto your hole. It’s filthy, almost too fast. His fingers spread it in, and you jolt forward, knuckles white on the table. He doesn’t even bother with more.
You gave yourself to him, and that’s worse than begging. That's an offering.
Leather brushes your inner thighs as he kneels behind you.
You don’t expect the first kiss.
But it comes, open-mouthed, pressed against the back of your thigh. Then your ass. Then the spot just beside your hole, where his breath ghosts hot and damp.
He ruins.
But he mourns what he ruins even as he does it.
You feel the scrape of teeth. A growl, low and guttural. His zipper lowers like a warning.
Then the head of his cock presses against your entrance.
You rock your hips back again, whimpering. For him. That’s what makes him lose it.
Yeonjun doesn’t ask, doesn’t bother giving a warning.
The table slams forward an inch. Your cry is helpless, echoing off the walls, a hymn offered to a merciless god.
His cock stretches you wide, brutal and perfect, filling you so deep your vision whites out at the edges.
Behind you, his voice is shaking.
The edge of the table bites into your hips with each thrust.
Yeonjun fucks like he’s punishing the ache in his chest, driving it into your body until his breath shudders ragged against your neck. His fingers lock around your waist like a man holding himself close to the only thing he trusts not to fall apart.
You’re the only thing he trusts. The pack are the only people he will ever fully trust.
He doesn’t say it. He never does. But the way he holds you says more than any confession ever could.
The head of his cock drags over a sensitive spot inside you, thick and blunt and aching. You moan, legs trembling. Slick coats your inner thighs, your hole stretched wide around him. Your body tightens again when he hits that same spot again and again with punishing precision.
“Fuck—fuck, look at him,” Beomgyu groans from the side, hand now shamelessly pressed to the front of his slacks. “He’s swallowing hyung’s cock like he was made for it.”
“Because he was,” Taehyun says, coldly clinical, but his voice sounds strained.
Kai doesn’t speak at all. He just stares, lips parted, eyes glassy.
Yeonjun leans over you, chest slick against your back. One hand claws over yours on the table. The other drags to your belly, pressing down possessively where his cock bulges from the inside, deep and relentless.
“You’re taking it so well,” he pants into your ear. “So fucking well, Omega. Look at you, dripping for me, choking on me, and you still haven’t begged for it.”
"—Knot me. Please. I want it. I want your knot, I want you to fuck it into me in front of everyone—please."
He grabs your throat, not tight enough to bruise but just enough to keep you still and buries his cock to the hilt.
You feel the knot starting to swell. It pulses at your rim, thickening slowly, forcing your body to yield. The burn is sharp, exquisite. You cry out, mouth open against your forearm, eyes wet, legs nearly giving out. He’s panting against your neck now, groaning, muttering mine mine mine.
The word cuts clean across the room.
The entire pack goes still.
You’re shaking. Slick. Open. Half-full of the alpha who needs you the most and he is not allowed to finish.
You turn your head, slow, dazed. Eyes meet Soobin’s.
He’s seated again, legs spread slightly, hands resting on the arms of his chair, a king awaiting tribute.
Yeonjun exhales like it guts him.
He pulls out slowly inch by inch, trembling, his knot swollen and unsatisfied, your hole wet and gaping from the absence.
You moan, high and wrecked, collapsing forward onto your elbows. Your thighs quiver, the air cold on the mess between your legs. You’re empty, still slicking, unclaimed.
“Come here,” he says. “On your knees.”
You move, a puppet cut from its strings.
Your hands rest delicately on your thighs. Your eyes lift.
“Ask me,” he says. “The way you asked him.”
“Soobin-oppa…” Your voice breaks. “Please. Please let me be knotted. I want it. I need it. Please tell me someone can claim me tonight—please.”
He watches you a moment longer.
“You’ll take them all,” he says. “One by one. But you won’t be knotted until I say.”
Beomgyu groans in relief. Taehyun exhales through his nose, unbuttoning his cuffs. Kai’s hand is already in his pants.
Yeonjun’s still panting behind you, cock red and leaking. This is exactly why he doesn’t like Soobin’s game. And yet, he still plays
“You begged so sweetly. Let’s see if your body can handle what your mouth promised.”
You breathe in through your nose, five distinct scents collapsing into something feral and intoxicating. Blood. Musk. Salted sweat. The lingering sweetness of your own slick, still running down your thighs.
“Beomgyu-oppa,” you whisper, lashes trembling, “touch me first.”
Then the chair scrapes. Fast, reckless.
He’s in front of you before your next breath, dropping to his knees, dark eyes blown wide, lips already parted. His fingers are smearing against your slick the moment they land, two pushing into you with no ceremony at all. You choke on a moan, body jolting, back arching so beautifully that Yeonjun curses behind you and grabs his own cock just to stay still.
“Look at that,” Beomgyu murmurs, eyes glued to where his fingers disappear into your ruined hole. “Still open. Still greedy. Still fucking twitching for more.”
He scissors his fingers deep, crooking just right. You jerk forward with a strangled cry.
“There,” he breathes. “That’s the spot. You’ll come just like this, won’t you, little thing? Begged for knots but forgot how good fingers feel.”
You collapse into it. Your head dips low, hips rutting subtly into his hand but then someone else moves.
He’s quiet, unseen until he always isn’t.
He slides beneath you, positioning himself between your knees, one hand sliding up the back of your thigh while the other tips your chin up with maddening gentleness.
“Sit on me,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. “Let me hold you while Hyung breaks you.”
Your legs tremble, body caught between Beomgyu’s fingers and Kai’s breath. You don’t speak, just obey.
You lower yourself into Kai’s lap, thighs bracketing his hips, his clothed cock pressing up against the slick mess between your legs. His arms wrap around your waist, deceptively soft.
“I’ll keep you together,” he promises. “While they pull you apart.”
Beomgyu’s fingers stay buried inside you as you shift, and the angle changes and fucks you deeper.
You cry out, keening into Kai’s shoulder as Beomgyu laughs, low and delighted.
“God, you’re soaked. Want another?” he asks, already sliding a third finger in beside the others.
Behind you, Yeonjun paces like a caged thing. Taehyun’s rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, still seated, but his eyes haven’t left your body for a second. Soobin hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. His hands are folded, one finger tapping, slow and patient, against the armrest.
You seize in Kai’s lap, mouth open, throat raw, your hole stretched wide around his fingers and pulsing. The burn is everything, white-hot and perfect. Kai’s hand presses low on your belly again.
“Still not full,” he murmurs against your ear. “Not even close.”
The beta rises smoothly. Every movement is controlled. Undeniably hard beneath his slacks, but composed as ever.
“Let’s test how long he can keep his composure.”
Your head rolls back against Kai’s shoulder, throat exposed, chest heaving as Beomgyu’s fingers thrust relentlessly into your soaked, stretched hole. The heat coils in your belly, impossible and bright but not enough. Not when Soobin hasn’t touched you. Not when he’s still clothed, still sitting there untouched by the filth he’s orchestrated.
You don’t look at Taehyun.
“Soobin-oppa…” Your voice is hoarse. “Make him break me.”
The reaction is immediate and absolutely devastating to the beta.
Taehyun freezes halfway to you, caught between duty and the raw, trembling line between control and ruin. You see the flicker of emotion behind his eyes, he pulse of want, sharp and fast, drowned under years of composure. But Soobin doesn’t grant him the dignity of a choice.
“Taehyun,” he says, voice a razor. “Do what he asked.”
A collective hush falls over the room.
Even Beomgyu stills his hand, fingers buried to the knuckle inside you, eyes wide and glittering with something that isn’t quite surprise. Kai’s arms tighten around you, keeping you in his lap, lips brushing your temple in silent warning: Hold on.
He doesn’t rush. He never does. But when he reaches you, his eyes are darker, pupils blown, jaw set, lips pressed so tightly together they’ve gone white. He says nothing as he undoes his slacks, as he kneels between your legs and lets Beomgyu slide his fingers out, slow and wet.
Your body flutters around nothing for a heartbeat.
Then Taehyun’s cock replaces them. He doesn’t ease it in. Doesn’t try to tease either.
Just one hard, sudden thrust and you scream.
Kai catches it in his palm over your mouth.
Your back arches, thighs kicking, the table rattling from where parts of your body press against it. Taehyun’s cock is thick, smooth, deep, forcing your hole open in one brutal push. You clench around him instinctively, trying to hold on, and he groans quietly, chokes it down like the sound was pulled from his lungs against his will.
“God,” Beomgyu mutters under his breath. “Taehyunie really snapped. Look at him.”
Your perfectly poised beta, the voice of reason—gone.
Taehyun grabs your hips with both hands, dragging you lower into Kai’s lap as he fucks up into you, merciless and precise. His thrusts are cruelly angled, punishing, forcing cries from your throat that you never meant to give. You feel every inch of him, feel how deep he reaches, how violently your body is made to take this.
Kai strokes your chest, voice in your ear. “You asked for this, darling.”
You nod. Crying now, mouth open, tears tracking clean down your cheeks, moans swallowed by Kai’s hand as Taehyun drives in again and again and again.
“I can feel you tightening,” Taehyun pants, hips snapping forward. “You’re close already. I’m not even trying to make you come.”
He is. He is, every thrust is angled like a punishment, cockhead grinding against where you’re sensitive so hard your legs twitch, your toes curl, your whole body threatens to shatter.
“Please—oppa, please, I can’t—”
“You said he could break me,” you gasp. “You said no restraint”
“And I meant it.” Soobin’s voice is calm, terrifying. “But you don’t get to come until you beg him.”
Taehyun’s rhythm falters for half a beat.
You look down at him. He’s flushed, sweaty, falling apart and still holding on.
The restraint was never Soobin’s.
Taehyun’s hand is tight on your hip, bruising, trying to contain himself in the controlled violence Soobin allowed but you break that hold. Fingers trembling, you guide his hand up, press it flat against your belly where his cock pushes deep inside, where you want him to feel what he’s doing to you.
“Taehyun-oppa,” you whisper, voice shaking, wet and ruined. “Please.”
He blinks up at you, barely seeing, lips parted. Still moving, hips grinding into you with the kind of rhythm like he’s been waiting months, years to be given permission to lose control. But he’s still holding back. Still waiting for the edge.
“Please,” you whisper again. “Please break me.”
Your other hand touches his cheek, fingertips grazing his jaw, soft and trembling. “I want to come on your cock. I want to soak you. I want to feel you lose yourself inside me.”
“Let me be your first, oppa,” you breathe, because you’re still playing the game and you know exactly what to say to him to win. Even if it’s a fantasy. “The first one you fuck.”
He growls. It’s not a sound heard from him often. It tears from his throat. Stripped down, Taehyun’s merely a man betrayed by his own restraint.
Your back hits the table. Kai gasps behind you as you’re ripped from his lap, bent over wood and silk, your thighs forced wide as Taehyun slams into you, cock hitting deep, precise, brutal.
“Fuck,” Beomgyu hisses. “There he is.”
“He begged for this,” Taehyun snarls, voice broken, guttural. “He begged.”
You sob. Not from pain. From pleasure so intense it feels like you’re burning. Praying for salvation or destruction, you arem’t sure.
He pistons into you, merciless, his breath now frantic, mouth open, sweat dripping from his temple.
“Say it again,” he growls. “Say you’re mine—say it.”
“I’m yours, I’m—fuck—Taehyun-oppa, I’m yours.”
You clench. The edge begins to swell.
And Taehyun, his control shatters.
He slams forward and forces all of his cock in, thick, blunt, stretching you wider than before. You scream, convulsing around him, body trembling violently as your orgasm rips through you like lightning down your spine.
Your come spills across the table, slick dripping onto the floor.
Taehyun bites into your shoulder.
He comes deep, cock buried inside you, body pressed flush to yours as he moans your name into your skin, whispering it like an apology or a blessing or a curse he asked to carry.
Kai is panting, stroking your hair, whispering nonsense praise against your cheek.
Beomgyu looks ready to devour you.
Yeonjun hasn’t moved, but his eyes haven’t blinked since you started screaming.
Undoes his cufflinks. Rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. Smooth, unhurried.
“Now,” he says. “Someone hold his legs open.”
Taehyun pulls out gracelessly. Your body trembles, limp across the table, throat raw, thighs soaked and glistening.
You should be empty. Spent. But the hunger inside you has only sharpened.
Soobin’s footsteps approach, measured and heavy with promise, and the air shifts with the weight of command. He’s already unbuttoned his sleeves. Veins flex at his forearms as he rolls them up.
Someone needs to hold you open.
And you reach for Yeonjun.
Your arm extends blindly behind you, slick palm curling through the air until it finds the sharp line of his wrist. He jerks like he’s been burned, still half-hard, knot swollen and aching, denied the one thing he’s wired to crave.
You turn your head, cheek pressed to the lacquered wood, eyes glassy but unyielding. Your fingers tighten around him.
You hear the shudder in his breath as he comes forward, heavy boots on marble, his frame casting shadow over the table. His hands slide beneath your thighs, scarred knuckles, leather-worn fingers and he lifts them.
Yeonjun spreads you open like you’re something holy. Something sacrificial. And maybe that’s exactly what you are on nights like this.
Yeonjun holds your thighs apart and your hole gapes invitingly, slick and twitching, dripping with their release.
“Hyung,” Beomgyu whispers from the side, breathless. “He’s still open. He’s—fuck—he’s going to take another cock”
Soobin steps between your legs.
Dark slacks. White shirt. Hands clean. Eyes unreadable.
Just watches as Yeonjun tilts your hips higher, your knees almost to your chest, your ass lifted so Soobin can see the mess, the ruin, the wreckage that he instigated, that somehow still pulses with want.
His cock is already hard.
Thick. Dark-veined. Too long to be kind.
You don’t want kindness though. You want to fall apart.
He drags the head through your slick folds and you twitch, eyes fluttering, your nails digging into Yeonjun’s wrist.
“I told you you’d take them all,” Soobin says at last.
The stretch is impossible. Too much. Your hole’s already ruined and Soobin is fucking huge, and yet he pushes steadily, watching your body shudder as it’s forced to yield.
Kai moans behind you. Beomgyu nearly drops to the floor. Taehyun just sighs, sated still.
But Yeonjun, he holds you tighter.
He whispers against your knee, breath catching on your skin.
“You’re doing so well,” he says. “Take him. Let him break you. We’ll put you back together after.”
Soobin’s cock pushes deeper.
You sob. Your body doesn’t know how to handle it, your brain short-circuiting between pleasure and agony and surrender so complete it’s like being on ecstasy.
His hips grind in a slow, devastating rhythm, dragging thick, deliberate inches through the tight, overstretched mess of you, cock dragging against you like he wants to ruin every nerve you have left.
Your voice has long since broken.
There’s nothing left now but sound, half-sobs, ragged moans, the wet slap of skin against skin as your body is used past the point of reason.
And still you lift your chin.
You offer your throat, soft, exposed, slick with sweat.
Soobin pauses mid-thrust.
For the first time, he exhales like he’s lost something. The clench of his jaw eases. The line of his shoulders falters. Only slightly but enough.
Because you haven’t begged.
You’ve begged for knots. For hands. For cock.
And he understands the difference.
The next thrust is deep, a deliberate grind down, stretching you wider. You cry out, and Yeonjun groans, his fingers tightening on the backs of your thighs like he’s holding down an altar that might otherwise rise to heaven.
His hand comes to your jaw, tilting it gently. His cock stays buried inside you, his gaze dragging over your throat like a sword choosing where to fall.
Your scent is blooming now, thick with surrender, sticky with slick and sweetness and the wild ache of being so completely theirs.
His lips find your pulse.
You feel his breath, slow and steady.
The mark burns. It’s not pain, not quite, but something deeper. It feels like blood remembering who it belongs to. Like muscle re-aligning to crave his touch. The bite sends shockwaves through your whole body.
Then pulls back slowly, blood blooming at your throat in two perfect crescents, and licks it clean.
Soobin looks down at you, still impaled on his cock, mouth slick with your blood.
“You’ll take us all,” he says again. “But I always leave the first claim.”
Limbs trembling, jaw slack, breath ragged against the polished wood as your body throbs, stuffed full and leaking from every hole. Soobin’s come still trickles inside you, warmth sinking deep, claim written in your blood. Yeonjun hasn’t let go of your legs. His grip is bruising now.
You feel the table shudder when Beomgyu stands.
“Fuck, baby.” His voice cracks like glass under pressure. “You look like an offering.”
You reach one hand forward, fingers curling lazily in the air.
“Come fuck my mouth, oppa.”
It’s guttural. His belt is gone in seconds, pants shoved down just far enough. His cock is flushed, leaking, angry with denial and the moment you open your mouth, he’s there.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and thrusts into your mouth, head thrown back with a hissed “Yes.” Your lips stretch wide, tongue slick under him, nose buried against his pelvis in seconds. You gag once but he moans like he wants the resistance.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this throat. Missed you like this,” he pants, rolling his hips. “My cock down your throat while Soobin-hyung inside you… God, you’re so fucking greedy—”
Quiet as always. Invisible until the moment he isn’t.
He slips under the table, the soft brush of his hair against your calf the only warning before his tongue presses between your thighs.
You jolt violently around every cock inside you.
Kai moans into the mess of your hole, his hole, his precious, ruined omega split around Soobin. He drinks it in, tongue sliding along the split of you, tasting slick and semen and iron-tinged blood that dripped where Soobin marked you.
“Sweet,” Kai murmurs against your skin.
His tongue pushes in, into you, sliding between the edges of your stretched rim, licking around the cock still pulsing inside you, lapping up the mixture with slow, obscene delight. Soobin hisses at the sensation before pulling out without any warning.
You scream around Beomgyu’s cock.
You convulse, body arching off the table. Yeonjun tightens his grip to hold you down. Beomgyu moans brokenly, rocking harder into your mouth.
“Soobin, look at him,” Beomgyu gasps. “He’s choking and dripping and still asking for more,”
“I see him,” Soobin says calmly, now seated, Taehyun on his lap.
“I want to eat him every time he begs.”
His lips suck at your entrance now, slick-slick-slick as he laps every drop of seed that leaks out of you, humming contentedly.
You suck Beomgyu harder, jaw aching, spit spilling from your lips. His moans rise in pitch. He’s close. You can feel the tremble in his thighs, the way his thrusts lose rhythm.
He pushes deep, and you take it, mouth full, throat fluttering, his come spilling down your tongue.
Beomgyu’s whole body shakes as he groans your name and shudders.
At the same time, Kai moans beneath you. Your hole pulses around his tongue.
“I want to be inside,” he whispers.
You swallow Beomgyu’s come. Let your lips part as he pulls out, cock dragging from your mouth wet and spent, his breath ragged above you. His hand lingers in your hair, still curled, still trembling. You don't thank him.
You shift your head to the side.
You can feel Soobin’s come sliding out, and Kai’s mouth is gone now, replaced by the ghost of something harder, hot skin nudging at your rim, tip of his cock wet, wanting.
You feel his breath on your thigh.
Find Soobin’s eyes across the table again, calm as death. You can’t kneel, not with your legs barely holding weight, but your voice is steady when it breaks the quiet:
“Oppa. Who gets it next?”
Kai’s cock pulses behind you. Yeonjun’s hands haven’t moved from your thighs. Soobin’s expression doesn’t shift.
Only his fingers twitch once on the arm of his chair. Taehyun leans against him, boneless and spent.
He lifts Taehyun gently from his lap, stands again, and sets the beta on the chair like a ragdoll. Walks to you with slow, measured steps, and tilts your chin up with the barest edge of pressure. Your throat is still bleeding slightly. His mark. His claim. You feel him look at it. Then at you.
“I said you’d take them all,” he says. “And you will.”
“Beomgyu fucked your mouth. Taehyun fucked your hole. Yeonjun-hyung hasn’t had you yet.”
Yeonjun’s breath catches. His grip tightens.
Kai’s fingers tremble on your ass.
“And Kai-oppa?” you whisper. “He’s waiting.”
Soobin’s lips curl, just slightly.
Kai whimpers softly behind you. Beomgyu huffs, but doesn’t argue. Because it’s Soobin’s game. Only Soobin gets to decide. Only he hands out your body tonight.
“Yeonjun-hyung,” Soobin says, stepping aside.
You feel Yeonjun shudder.
Yeonjun doesn’t make you wait.
He pushes in, and you scream again because never ready for how he fucks. He sheaths himself in one stroke.
And groans, low and wrecked, against your shoulder.
“You asked,” he breathes, thrusting deep.
Yeonjun drives into you with the force of a man who has waited too long and now worships only through destruction.
Every thrust is brutal and deep, punching breath from your lungs, the wet slap of his hips against your ass drowned by the wreckage of your own moans. Your hole, swollen and overused, clenches down on him instinctively, milking him for every inch.
Your hand finds Kai’s shoulder, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and you pull him forward.
He gasps, eyes wide, lips parted in shock as your free hand slides down to his belt.
“Come here, oppa,” you whisper, voice hoarse, throat red from Beomgyu, blood still faint on your lips from Soobin. “You’ve waited long enough.”
He nods frantically, breath catching.
Your fingers make quick work of his belt, then his fly, then he’s freed, hot and flushed and leaking from being edged by the sight of your ruin. You guide his cock to your lips, and he stares down at you like he’s about to cry.
Yeonjun thrusts deep again hard and you choke around Kai’s tip as it slides into your mouth.
Yeonjun behind you, grinding into your soaked hole. Kai in front of you, whimpering as your tongue laps around his cock, lips tight, cheeks hollowing as you take him all.
His hands flail for something to hold. One finds your jaw. The other braces on the table. His thighs tremble beneath your grip.
“Fuck—fuck, Omega,” Kai moans, hips jerking forward before he stifles himself, trying not to thrust too hard. “You’re—you’re too good—”
“Let him,” Soobin’s voice cuts in, dark and amused. “He needs it.”
And then he fucks your mouth sweet at first, then reckless. Desperate. His thighs slap against your face as your lips stretch wide, saliva spilling down your chin, your moans swallowed around him.
Yeonjun groans low behind you, cock rutting into your hole now in sharp, possessive snaps.
“So tight still,” he grits. “Even after Taehyun. Even after Soobin. You keep pulling me in like you need it.”
Kai's hips stutter. You feel the telltale twitch in his cock, the choked sounds escaping his throat. His hands slide into your hair, gentle even now.
“I—Omega, I’m gonna—*fuck—*can I—?”
Soobin answers for you, calm and final:
“In his mouth. And don’t pull out.”
He buries himself deep and comes hard, hot spurts filling your throat as you groan around him, lips sealed, swallowing everything he gives you. He cries out your name, hand shaking against your scalp, thighs trembling.
If anything, your swallowing tightens your hole, and his groan breaks.
You pull back from Kai’s softening cock with a gasp, spit and come dripping from your chin. You turn your head enough to meet Soobin’s eyes again, mouth ruined, throat sore, hole still full.
You’re nothing but trembling muscle and devotion.
“You’re ready now,” he says. “Beomgyu. Finish the job.”
Yeonjun groans against your back, cock pulsing as he finally spends himself inside you thick and molten, a slow flood of heat spilling into your ruined, twitching hole. He doesn’t knot.
He never does. Not without permission. And you didn’t give it.
Instead, you brace yourself on shaking arms as he slides free with a slick shhlk, your body collapsing open. You hear him curse behind you, hear the wet drag of his cock against his thigh, still hard but disciplined.
Low. Dark. A sound full of promise.
Boots heavy, cock already in his hand, spit-slick and flushed angry red at the tip. You barely have time to shift before his fingers grip your hips, sliding through the mess between your thighs.
“Still warm,” he purrs, pressing the head of his cock against your spent hole. “Still open. Still mine.”
There’s no patience. Just Beomgyu's cock punching deep into the heat left behind by three others, slicked with their come, stretched by Taehyun's cock, burned in by Soobin’s mark and still not enough.
He groans, head thrown back. “Fucking—Omega—"
His hips snap forward again. And again.
He fucks like chaos. Like a man who doesn't ask. Who takes. Who dares to believe your body was made for his cock alone and needs to be reminded who it belongs to.
Kai gasps behind you, watching, eyes wide and glassy. Yeonjun sinks into a chair, breath still ragged. Taehyun is sitting up now, flushed and silent, watching the bounce of your body on Beomgyu’s cock like he might break again.
Soobin stands, hands behind his back, saying nothing.
Beomgyu grips your ass tighter. His pace is vicious. There’s no rhythm nor reason, just raw need. He presses a thumb to your hole where his cock stretches you obscenely, smearing come and slick around your rim.
"You feel that?" he growls. "That’s all of us, baby. Soobin-hyung's come. Taehyun’s cock. Kai's tongue. Yeonjun-hyung's cock. And now—" his thrust knocks the wind from your lungs, "—me."
Your moans are raw. Half-sobs. You're not crying but close. Your body can’t tell the difference anymore.
And still he doesn't stop.
You feel the swell begin.
His knot. It feels too thick. Brutal.
“Beg for it,” he hisses. “Beg me to break you open again.”
You whimper, “Please, oppa, knot me—I want it, I want all of you inside, I want to be full—”
Slams forward, knot forcing in with a sickening, perfect stretch, and you scream as your hole clamps tight, locking him inside with a messy pop. He groans, spilling into you with a pulse that makes your legs shake, your back arch, your eyes roll back.
He bites your shoulder. Hard.
Spasming under him, sobbing into the table, your body trembles like a puppet with strings cut. Beomgyu's breath stutters against your skin, one last thrust grinding into your overstretched hole, knot throbbing as he empties everything he is into you.
He pulls out a while later.
Turn your face to Soobin.
One ruined hand after the next across the floor, slick dripping down your thighs, your hole gaping, red and used. Your scent is thick enough to choke the air.
He parts his legs and lets you straddle him, your spent body trembling against his chest, arms wrapped weakly around his neck.
You look into his eyes, barely whispering.
“I want your cock last, oppa.”
Soobin’s hand comes to your back. Gentle.
Soobin's thighs are hot beneath you, iron tension beneath a layer of tailored wool, his slacks still undone from earlier. You settle over him and his hands come to your waist immediately.
But you don't need his grip to move.
One slow, trembling lift of your hips, slick dripping down the inside of your thighs, hole raw and ruined from every cock that came before and then you sink down onto him.
A single, low sound—fuuuck—ripped from his throat like it was dragged out with a knife. And you’re the knife.
Lets you set the pace. And it burns.
He’s thick. Too thick. His cock stretches you. You could be exaggerating but it feels like the first time, and maybe it is, because no matter how many times he’s inside you, it’s always new. Always a slow, surgical conquest.
Your palms brace on his shoulders, slick skin against his shirt. He doesn’t flinch at the mess. You lift again, thighs shaking, then drop. Grind. Take him deeper.
“Fuck, you’re still open,” Beomgyu groans from across the room, shirt half-off, jaw slack. “You’re dripping all of us around his cock, look at that.”
Kai kneels nearby, hands on his knees.
Yeonjun sits in silence. His cock’s in his fist again. Taehyun is still. But his eyes never leave you. His mouth never moves. His hand is curled so tight in his lap, you wonder if his nails draw blood.
He brushes a strand of hair from your sweat-streaked face. His fingers linger at your cheek, tracing the blood he left in your throat with his bite.
“You waited for this,” he says, voice low.
You nod. Ride harder. Your thighs quake. Your mouth opens in another silent cry. You know how his game ends.
Soobin’s other hand grabs your ass now, guiding your rhythm. Still not taking charge. Still giving you the reins.
Your rhythm stutters. You clench around him. You feel the stretch of something blooming inside. Your climax is building again, third or fourth or—what does it matter now?
You throw your head back, riding faster, the slap of your skin against his now lewd and wet and filthy.
“Come on, wife,” Soobin breathes, voice close to breaking. “Show them who you belong to.”
Your hole clamps down, every muscle drawn tight as your orgasm rips through you with punishing force, your come splattering against his stomach, your body jerking uncontrollably in his lap.
And that’s when he moves.
Three brutal thrusts up into your body and then he knots.
It forces inside with cruel pressure. You cry out again, body locking as his cock seals itself in your ruined hole. His arms wrap around you, chest to chest, as he comes deep, filling you a second time.
You sob in his arms. He doesn’t let you fall.
His lips come to your ear, breath warm, voice soft.
Because there’s nothing else left to say.
Soobin doesn’t move at first.
His cock pulses deep inside you still knotted, still filling you with warmth that leaks out slowly,. His arms are tight around your waist. He rests his forehead on your shoulder.
You feel the tension bleeding out of all of them, uncoiling from their bodies quietly.
Across the room, Beomgyu is sprawled on the floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest rising with deep, even breaths. His smile is soft now. He watches you with something almost gentle in his eyes.
Kai curls at the foot of the table, arms around his knees, cheek resting on the edge.
Taehyun has returned to his chair. His hands are open now, resting palm-up on his thighs like he’s finally let go of something he didn’t know he was holding.
Yeonjun hasn't spoken since he finished. But he's standing again, quiet in the dim light, his shirt gone, belt discarded. He watches you like he’s memorizing your breathing.
Soobin’s knot softens slowly.
You shift in his lap, breath trembling, and he lifts you in one motion, one arm beneath your thighs, the other at your back. You make a soft sound, half-asleep already, and your head finds the curve of his shoulder instinctively.
And just like that, they follow.
Yeonjun is first. He gathers the discarded robe, tucks it gently around your shoulders. Beomgyu stretches his arms behind his head and laughs under his breath.
“About time,” he says. “If he stayed on that table any longer, I’d have asked for round two.”
“You still can’t walk straight,” Kai murmurs with a grin, and Beomgyu flips him off without getting up.
Taehyun is silent as he trails behind, lights dimming automatically as he passes. The house shifts with him into calm.
They don’t speak as they carry you to the bedroom.
It’s an expansive quiet space. Still scented faintly of the candle Kai lit before they left, the one you insisted on burning before every night that you know will end like this. You don’t stir as Soobin lays you in the center of the bed, your bed, their bed, theirs and yours. The silk robe pools around your waist. Your thighs are still faintly sticky. Your throat is marked.
They tend to you carefully but none of them wipe you clean.
Not tonight. Not when their instincts have just settled.
Yeonjun slides in first, taking the left side, your back pressed to his chest. Beomgyu wedges in on Yeonjun’s other side. Kai tucks himself between your legs, head resting on your stomach, fingers tracing lazy shapes over your skin.
Taehyun settles at the foot of the bed, then shifts upward, finally letting himself curl around your ankles, his hand ghosting over the bruises forming on your thighs.
He turns out the final light, then climbs in beside you, fitting his body along the curve of yours, arms folding over your chest. His breath brushes your ear. His voice is low.
“You were good,” he murmurs. “Ours.”
Their breathing slows one by one, the sharp edges from the night, blood under their fingernails, rage behind their eyes, the weight of everything they did in the dark, dissolving in the heat of your skin. Fucked out of their system.
This is what they killed for. This is what they come home to.
