summary: you had three golden rules that you promised to never break. however, jack abbot made you break them all in one single night on your twenty-first birthday. never fall for your attending, never beg a man and last but not least: never ever have kids!
content warning: 18+, MDNI. reader is younger than jack, height difference, daddy issues, slight daddy kink, angst to smut, porn with a plot, jack is a tease, brat!reader, mean jack!, bad parenting (not from reader), kissing, p in v, rough sex, crying, petnames (baby, princess, sweetheart, doll), oral (f. receiving), pregnancy mentioned, cursing.
word count: 8.1k
a/n: this idea actually originated from a post I saw on tiktok. english isn't my first language so please be gentle with me.
You never really wanted kids.
It was kind of a promise to your inner child.
To the little girl curling in her small bed, trying to stop the rumbling of her stomach, embracing her body in a tight hug. To the one begging for her daddy to come back home even when he was miles away from the house. To the one that tried to call him, reach him to tell him that she didn't have enough money to buy herself something to eat.
It was only a vivid memory but you still remembered your fear of darkness. It wasn't until you'd bawl your eyes out and finally fall asleep, that you'd calm down. And you told him once.
Your dry lips were trembling, tears building in the corner of your eyes, you would bravely push them aside by using your palms. Afterwards you'd look at the wooden floor, gently tugging on the edge of your pink shirt. "Daddy..my closet is looking at me with its eyes closed."
He was watching football with his friends that night, the lights were dimmed upstairs, leftover pizza on the kitchen counter, so many noises from the men getting worked up about the game. "Door open, light on. You're a big girl. Go ahead, I'll be up in a bit."
Now you knew that he only said those last words because of his friends. He would never sent his five year old daughter back to her room, telling her to fuck off in front of his best friends. That's not who he was.
You remembered the way your hands trembled as you went back upstairs. It was the room at the end of the hallway. The worst part wasn't even that you wet your bed that night. It's the fact that he didn't come and check on you, like he promised he would.
It broke your tiny heart.
He never showed up to your football games at Highschool, even though you started because you wanted to impress him. Once you overheard how he congratulated his friends daughter for being at top of her classes, which is why you aspired to be like her. He never acknowledged it. Ever.
He was everyone's favorite host and a truly wonderful friend. But at home, he was just a stranger who forgot how to be a dad. Living with his constant neglect taught you that relying on anyone else is a liability. Every major lesson and coping mechanism you had, you had to figure out on your own while sitting in his shadow. You became hyper independent because you had to be, not because you wanted to be.
Over time, that self reliance changed into an unshakable preference for solitude. You wanted to be alone because your own presence was stable and most importantly predictable.
Never be a liability.
Never be a burden.
Even in school you'd always try to be the secure friend. Nevertheless, you'd still fail every single time because of your clumsiness. You were grateful that you still made a lot of friends back then. The experience felt like the high school dream, filled with the reality of a father who was largely absent. While others envied that level of freedom, the truth was hidden behind a story that he simply offered endless love.
"Girl, I wish my dad wasn't so strict. You're the lucky one."
You still remembered laila's, your best friends, words back when you hugged her goodbye after telling her that you'd stay for a while because you couldn't dare to ask for them to drive you back home. That wasn't their job and you didn't have the right to weigh her parents down like that.
What if they would tell her to stop meeting up with you?
The jealousy from friends was met with a smile, staying out late and navigating the quiet hours of the early morning alone. To those looking in, it appeared to be an ideal situation with an unbothered parent, but the situation was actually a way of turning indifference into a more comforting narrative.
Trust.
Place your trust in no one but yourself.
A lesson you had to learn the hard way. Multiple occasions that thought you the most important rule you set for your life. As long as you had yourself, you knew that you'd always find a way out.
You always failed though.
You wished you weren't so naive.
No one taught you not to.
It's not that you thought that your dad appreciated or cherished you. You were almost sure that he thought of you as an annoying chore.
Something that he had to look after even in times he didn't want to.
It wasn't until you met Jack Abbot that you felt seen.
Dr. Abbot was known as one of the most capable and reliable attending's of the pitt. That was one of the main reasons he was a highly respected man in his workplace. With his consistency regarding his job and his determination to save people no one really had anything to say against his performance at night.
Even the hospital corridors buzzed like a beehive whenever he strolled past, as the night shift nurses practically tripped over their own feet just to catch a glimpse of his devastatingly handsome smile and towering, silver fox charm.
The rest of the floor could swoon all they wanted, but you weren't buying what Jack Abbott was selling. Your walls were up, you actively dodged the breakroom gossip, and honestly, the man barely registered on your radar. Plus, you had a golden rule: never, ever date a coworker.
That professional boundary was exactly why your first encounter with the handsome new attending had left a bitter taste in his mouth. At least, that's what you assumed. It was only your second week as a night shift pediatric nurse, and the quiet rhythm of the neonatal unit was your sanctuary.
Standing in the soft glow of the nursery, you cradled a fussy newborn, swaying your body in gentle loops while humming a low melody. Slowly, her sharp little cries died down into peaceful snoring. A fond smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at her blissfully satisfied expression, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss against her forehead.
But the warmth vanished the second you glanced up at the viewing glass.
Standing right there on the other side was the attending, watching your every move with an intensely curious and amused gaze. It was fucking irritating. Your smile instantly vanished.
Wasting no time, you carefully tucked the baby back into her bassinet, grabbed your clipboard, and marched toward the exit.
As you stepped out into the hallway, you caught him shifting his weight, clearly about to deliver some charming remark. You didn't give him the chance. You walked right past him, offering nothing but a sharp roll of your eyes as you left him standing in your wake. A satisfied smirk crawled onto your face. It was likely the first time he'd ever been shut down so abruptly.
You just didn't like doctors, most of them were egocentric and arrogant, and entirely too full of themselves. It was honestly a funny irony choosing to work in a hospital, but keeping arrogant attendings in check was just an added bonus of the job.
It had been your dream to be able to provide the care for those who were suffering. Knowing what your childhood looked like you decided to take matters in your hands and give the little babies exactly that what you had been deprived of. You were thankful that you made the best out of your trauma which also made you stronger as a person.
Now, let's move on to the second encounter!
By the time Friday night came around, the sparkling veneer of the hospital had faded entirely, replaced by the heavy, hushed reality of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
Standing among the rhythmic beeps of the monitors, you looked down at the tiny fighters in your care, and an all too familiar ache tightened in your chest. It was a heavy kind of anger that you kept locked deep inside. A resentment at the sheer unfairness of it all. They weren't even a few minutes into this life, yet here they were, already paying a brutal toll and enduring hardships they did absolutely nothing to deserve.
Why?
Swallowing down the pent up frustration, you forced yourself to breathe, deliberately channeling that fiery protective instinct into gentle care as vou admired their impossibly small forms. They were so fragile, yet so incredibly resilient.
You turned around, forcing yourself to swallow the suffocating lump in your throat and blinking back the hot tears prickling your eyes. Wanting nothing more than a hasty retreat to a quiet, empty hallway, you looked toward the glass window, only to freeze.
No fucking way.
The hallway wasn't empty.
Standing right there, watching you through the glass with an entirely indifferent expression, was Dr. Abbot. The sheer annoyance hit you like a wave, instantly clashing with the grief already tight in your chest.
Why was he always here?
It felt like every single time you wanted a quiet, unguarded moment with the babies, his shadow was looming over the unit. Already deeply upset by the fragile state of the newborns around you, you gritted your teeth, walked out of the room, and prepared to breeze past him again.
Before you could take a second step into the corridor, his low voice cut through the hum of the monitors. "You know, nursing requires a gentle touch, but thinking too much about their suffering usually just leads to burnout."
He spoke with that classic cadence, entirely self assured, dripping with the tone of a man who believed his own observation was a gift to the room. You couldn't give a shit about what he thought. So you stopped dead in your tracks. The sheer audacity of his unsolicited wisdom on a night like this made your blood boil.
You whipped around, your eyes flashing. "And I'm sure your extensive wardrobe of tailored suits gives you a Ph.D. in exactly how I should feel, Doctor Abbott."
He didn't look angry, or amused, or even slightly jarred by the venom in your voice. "I merely state what I observe. How you choose to digest it is entirely your business."
Your walls slammed shut, and the anger boiled over into pure malice. "Then observe this," you stepped closer, your voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Stay out of my way, and stay away from my unit. Some of us are actually here to care about these patients, not to treat the ICU like our personal runway."
With those words you left him standing alone under the fluorescent lights, not caring about the bridge you were actively burning.
What you didn't know was that your demeanor had evoked something entirely different in him.
Instead of coming across as off putting, your refusal to back down only made him respect you.
He saw a genuinely honest person who possessed the rare strength to talk right back to an attending.
Jack wasn't a man who looked for easy comfort, he was someone who constantly needed to be on his toes to feel alive. He craved the adrenaline, and the challenge, which was precisely why an ex-military veteran like him had also attached himself to the local SWAT team as a tactical physician. He liked a little friction, and he definitely liked him a difference.
Amused and completely unbothered by the harsh words you had just thrown his way, a sharp smile tugged at his lips as he made his way back up to the ED. He strode right into the busy hub of the pitt and immediately sought out his best friend, Robby.
"Just had an interesting encounter down in the neonatal unit," he murmured, leaning against the central desk with a look of pure entertainment in his eyes.
Robby paused his data entry, looking up from his computer to stare blankly at him. It wasn't often that the usually guarded attending looked this intrigued, and he couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have happened on a routine Friday night shift to make his best friend smile like that.
A few days later.
Dana, the seasoned charge nurse who kept the entire floor from collapsing, was busy sorting through a stack of patient files. Jack leaned casually against the counter, tapping his fingers against the clipboard in a relaxed motion. "Hey, Dana," Jack began, keeping his voice smooth and entirely conversational as he gestured vaguely toward the pediatric wing.
"The new pediatric nurse on nights, what's her story?"
Dana stopped short, her sharp eyes flicking up from the files to fix him with a deeply skeptical look. She folded her arms over her chest, immediately on guard. "Why do you want to know, Jack?"
"Just keeping tabs on the staff," Jack replied smoothly, offering a brief and completely unbothered shrug that gave absolutely nothing away. "Always good to know who we're sharing the floor with during a chaotic shift, that's all!."
Dana stared at him for a second longer, trying to read between the lines, but Jack's poker face was
impenetrable. Sighing, she went back to her paperwork. "She started a few weeks ago," she said, her tone professional. "And honestly? She's doing a great job. She's sharp, and her reliable nature is exactly what we need around here. To be frank, a nurse with her level of competence could really be an asset up in the ED if things get hairy."
Dana paused, tapping her pen against the desk as she looked back toward the pediatric unit. "I don't really know her all that well on a personal level, though. She almost never does personal talks during a shift, stays locked in her zone, takes care of her patients, and she is exceptionally good at dodging any nosy questions from the rest of the staff."
Jack gave a slow, thoughtful nod, digesting the information. "Good to know," he murmured. He offered Dana a polite nod of thanks, turned on his heel, and walked away into the hushed hallway.
It was your twenty-first birthday.
You were sitting on the floor of the laundry room.
It was the only place in the entire building where you could finally hear your own thoughts.
But the brief peace shattered when the heavy door swung open, and the sharp scent of a fresh high end cologne cut through the laundry detergent. You looked up, your hand immediately flying to your face as you dead palmed your forehead in pure disbelief. "Of course it's you."
Abbott stood in the doorway, completely unfazed by your hostility. In fact, seeing your utterly annoyed expression only brought a fond, amused smirk to his face. Walking right past your spot on the floor, he stepped over to the automated scrub dispenser machine behind you.
He casually swiped his premium staff badge against the electronic reader, and within seconds, a fresh, perfectly pressed pair of hospital scrubs rolled out of the slot. Being a top attending definitely had its perks. "Must be nice to have the vending machine actually like you," you commented dryly, not even looking back at him.
"The rest of us usually have to fight it for a clean set."
Instead of taking his new scrubs and leaving, he surprised you. He walked over, adjusted his frame, and sat right down on the floor. He deliberately left a respectful distance of about two people between you, careful not to cross a line or crowd your space. He leaned his back against the wall, looked straight ahead at the spinning washing machine, and broke the silence. "I'm Jack." You bit your tongue, the urge to roll your eyes stronger than ever as you stared at the floor.
He was such a pain in the ass.
Why didn't you like him?
Was it his annoyingly handsome face?
"Y/N," you mumbled under your breath.
Jack gave a slow, respectful nod, absorbing the sound of your name. "I work up in the ED," he offered quietly, his deep voice carrying a rare, relaxed undertone.
"I know," you replied, your tone clipped and dry.
Anyone with working ears on this shift knew exactly who he was and where he ruled. He leaned his head back against the tiled wall, letting out a soft breath. "I usually come down to this room when I just need a clean break from the chaos."
"Don't lie," you shot back automatically, a cynical edge to your voice. "You go to the roof-" The words cut off sharply in your throat.
You froze, your stomach dropping into a sudden, icy pit of regret. You instantly snapped your head away, staring intensely at the opposite corner of the room. Shit. The memory flashed vividly in your mind: a particularly brutal night a week ago, right after one of the newborns had passed away on the operating table.
Heartbroken and needing air, you had snuck up toward the helipad stairs, only to see him standing at the ledge through the heavy glass doors, staring out at the city skyline alone in the dark.
Now, he was going to think you were a total stalker.
Tensly, you braced yourself for the inevitable ego driven smirk, waiting for him to drop some arrogant, teasing comment about you watching him in secret.
But the punchline never came.
Instead, Jack just let out a soft, amused chuckle.
He casually raised both hands in the air, his expression entirely open and warm. "You caught me," he said softly, a genuine glimmer of playfulness in his eyes.
A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of your lips before you could stop it. Catching yourself, you quickly looked back down at the floor.
That was one of the things you learned about him.
He never embarrassed you.
It was new to you.
Maybe that was the reason you slowly fell for him.
Nevermind, back to the story!
"How old are you?", he asked out of nowhere. You raised your eyebrows and looked into his eyes. For the first time you noticed how clear his hazel eyes were.
Much younger than you.
"I turned 21."
He paused. "When?"
"Today", you said in a low voice, lowering your gaze again.
"Congratulations!", he replied in a suprised tone.
He certainly didn't expect this when he came down here. He only imagined how excited you probably were to get over your shift and celebrate with your friends and coworkers.
Little did he know that your plan was to go home as quickly as possible and rest.
No one knew anyways.
"Yeah, whatever."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
The cold rain was already relentless by the time your shift finally ended, and now you stood shivering beneath the flimsy metal awning of the bus station. Teeth chattering, you squinted through the downpour at the blurred timetable, only for your stomach to drop into a familiar, hollow pit.
You had missed the last bus by exactly four minutes. If only you hadn't stayed behind those extra moments to cuddle the tiny, fussing girl in room four.
"Fuck!" you cursed out loud, the word swallowed by a sudden, blinding flash of lightning as the storm raged heavier overhead.
The harsh reality of your bank account stared back at you. You couldn't afford a car.
Immediately after graduation, you had scraped together every single penny you owned, throwing it all into a steep apartment deposit just to put as much distance between yourself and your dad as humanly possible.
Pressing your freezing palms hard against your eyes, you tried to force your brain to find a solution. If you called an Uber now, the surge pricing in this storm would completely ruin you.
You wouldn't be able to make rent by the end of the month, and you were already living right on the razor's edge. Walking was the only option left.
As a freezing drop of rain snuck down the back of your neck, you let out a bitter, humorless laugh.
Was this God's twisted version of a birthday present for you?
You started the long trek down the side of the street. It was a fifty minute walk back to your apartment, and under normal circumstances, you wouldn't complain about a little cardio. But tonight, the freezing wind bit straight through your clothes, you didn't have your jacket, and within seconds, you were entirely soaking wet.
The rain hammered down with a harsh, punishing pace, blurring your vision as you hurried up, knowing full well that you would catch a miserable cold if you didn't get out of the rain soon. As you trudged past a familiar intersection, a dangerous thought crossed your mind..your dad's house was only twenty minutes away from here.
For a split, desperate second, you actually debated turning around and heading toward his porch, until the memory of his voice echoed vividly in your head.
ÂťYou ain't shit without me, Y/N.ÂŤ
ÂťYou'll come back crawling and begging for a roof over your head.ÂŤ
Fuck no.
The phantom words stung worse than the freezing rain. Your jaw clenched, and a stubborn heat flared up inside your chest.
You would never, ever beg a man for anything.
That was your third promise.
You blinked furiously, trying to clear the sheets of freezing water from your eyes, realizing too late that you could barely see two feet ahead of you.
Through the hazy blur of the storm, the blinding glare of headlights cut through the dark as a white truck pulled onto the shoulder of the road, splashing water onto the curb just a few yards ahead. Instantly on high alert, you picked up the pace, determined to pass the vehicle as quickly as humanly possible.
But as you drew parallel to the cab, the passenger window rolled down smoothly, revealing none other than your attending sitting behind the wheel, calmly motioning for you to get inside.
"I don't need a ride!" you shouted over the howling wind, your voice cracking slightly from the chill.
"Get in, kid." Jack commanded, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. Ignoring him completely, you threw your chin up and started marching right past his bumper.
Before you could even finish the empowering thought process in your head, the air was knocked straight out of you. In one swift, dizzying motion, you were hoisted off your feet and thrown right over a broad, rock solid shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Damn it, let me go!" you shrieked, your fists uselessly hammering against his back as the freezing rain continued to pelt your short legs.
"You're freezing," Jack remarked dryly, entirely unfazed by your thrashing as he casually strode around to the passenger side. As he yanked the heavy truck door open, you gripped the frame, glaring down at him upside down. "This is highly inappropriate for an attending!" you shouted.
Jack let out a dark, mocking scoff. "And cursing at your attending in the middle the street isn't?" You tried to scramble backward out of his iron grip, but with effortless, practiced precision, he deposited you firmly into the plush leather passenger seat.
Before you could even reach for the door handle to make a run for it, the door clicked shut, sealing you inside the heavily insulated, warm cabin. A second later, Jack jogged around the hood, climbed into the driver's seat, and closed his own door.
Jack let out a deep, steady breath, settling back into his seat as he turned his gaze entirely onto you. "This is kidnapping," you snapped, your teeth clicking together from the cold as you glared at him. "I can literally call the police on you right now."
He didn't blink. He just gave you that calm, unbothered look that always drove you crazy. "I'm not kidnapping you, Y/N. I only want to take you home on your birthday. Or wherever else you want to go. You shouldn't be out in this storm."
You let out a heavy, defeated sigh, your shoulders slumping against the expensive leather. "Fine. If you insist."
You sat there waiting for him to put the truck in drive, but he didn't move. He just looked at you expectantly, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. You furrowed your brows in deep irritation. "Don't expect a thank you. This is completely forced."
Suddenly, Jack shifted his weight, leaning across the center console and moving directly into your personal space. Your eyes widened in instant panic. You pressed your back flat against the passenger door, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"I won't give you a kiss!" you gasped, your voice rising in pitch. He didn't stop.
He kept coming until his face was only inches away from yours, so close you could feel the subtle warmth of his breath against your cold skin. He didn't reach for you, though. His hand swept right past your shoulder, his fingers wrapping firmly around the seatbelt strap. "I would never do anything that you didn't consent to," he murmured, his low voice vibrating right through you.
He pulled the belt across your chest with a slow, deliberate click, locking you safely into the seat before smoothly pulling back into his own space.
You instantly whipped your head away, staring desperately out the passenger window into the sheets of heavy rain. You closed your thighs tightly together, trying to squeeze away the sudden, betraying electricity that had just shot straight through your lower abdomen.
You tried to breathe through your mouth, desperately trying to purge the clean, intoxicating scent of his cologne from your nose. Fuck. You swallowed hard, your mind racing in sheer panic.
Were you really that desperate?
You quietly muttered your address, and Jack shifted the truck into drive, smoothly pulling out into the dark street. The heavy silence of the cabin was quickly replaced by a soft click as he turned on the radio, filling the space with a low, slow melody that vibrated gently through the speakers. Leaning your head against the headrest, you closed your eyes and let out a long breath, unconsciously humming along with the tune as the absolute exhaustion of the night shift finally caught up to you.
Gradually, your tensed shoulders began to relax. A deep, radiating warmth began to seep through your clothes, and you realized he had switched on the heated seats to help you thaw out from the storm. The heat was comforting, easing the tight knots in your back, but the sudden comfort only left your mind wandering down dangerous paths.
You sighed in content, but the warmth had your thoughts drifting to how incredibly stiff and pent up you had been lately. Between the endless shifts and the stress of your new apartment, you hadn't let your guard down in months. Your thoughts drifted to the man sitting just inches away from you, his quiet presence suddenly feeling entirely too loud. Wait, Jack? What the fuck?
Your eyes snapped open, your heart doing a sudden, panicked flip as you desperately tried to scrub the thought from your mind. "You okay?" Jack asked, his deep voice breaking the silence. You glanced over at his side profile, the faint green glow of the dashboard casting sharp shadows across his jawline. He looked entirely focused on the road, completely oblivious to the mental crisis happening in the passenger seat.
"Mhm," you hummed softly, forcing your voice to sound entirely casual as you quickly leaned back against the seat and stared out at the passing streetlights. The 15 minute drive blurred past in what felt like a matter of seconds, the truck finally slowed to a stop outside your apartment building
You hadn't even realized you've fallen asleep.
Somewhere between the relentless rhythm of the windshield wipers and the low hum of the engine, your body had simply given in. The storm outside had become white noise, the warmth inside the car wrapping around you like a heavy blanket after spending the evening soaked to the bone.
"We're here, sweetheart."
His voice reached you before you're fully awake. It slipped through the haze softly, and for a second you weren't even sure you actually heard him.
Your eyelids felt heavy as you slowly forced them open, blinking once until the blurry shapes in front of you began to sharpen.
Sweetheart?
Did he just call you sweetheart?
As you shift in your seat, something heavy slides slightly from your shoulder.
Your eyes dropped.
His dark blue coat.
Your brows knitted together immediately. The oversized fabric clutched your body and hugged you like you had it on for the entire night. You didn't even notice when the weight was put on you.
"When did.." you murmured, still staring at the coat. "When did you put this on me?"
"Didn't want you getting sick."
You looked back at him. "That wasn't my question."
"You were out."
"I really was", you admitted silently.
For some reason, the thought of him noticing you shivering, quietly taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders without waking you, settled somewhere uncomfortably deep inside your chest.
"..Thanks." I guess. "It took you long enough", he scoffed.
You rolled your eyes. "Don't make me take it back."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think you'd survive five seconds without it."
"Oh, please."
"You were shivering."
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
Outside, thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. Inside the car, neither of you moved and eventually, you let out a slow breath. "I should probably go."
"You should."
You reached down, your fingers searching lazily for the buckle of your seatbelt. Nothing.
You tried again.
Another attempt.
A quiet chuckle escaped him. "You missed."
"I know where it is", you argued harshly.
"Mhm."
"I do, Doctor Abbot." You shot him an unimpressed look. Before you can protest again, he leaned across the center console. The movement was slow enough that you saw it coming, yet somehow you're still completely unprepared for just how close he suddenly was.
His hand fell away from the edge of your seat, and he settled back into his own, clearing his throat almost imperceptibly before running a hand over the back of his neck. "You should get out."
His voice was steady and you decided not to move. Instead, you just looked at him.
For the first time all evening, Jack Abbott refused to meet your eyes. His attention stayed fixed stubbornly on the rain racing down the window, watching droplets collide and disappear beneath the relentless sweep of the wipers. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the muscle feathering beneath his skin before he exhaled through his nose like he was trying to regain control over something neither of you has spoken aloud.
He felt it.
And now he was pretending he hadn't. Something about that realization settled heavily in your chest and it annoyed you. Who did he think he was?
You should have left.
Open the door, appreciate him for driving you home, hand him back his coat, and disappear upstairs before either of you did something you'd regret. Instead, your body moved before your mind has the chance to stop it.
It's reckless.
Ridiculous even.
Probably the stupidest decision you've ever made.
But you couldn't seem to care. You leaned across the center console again, closing the distance he had so carefully created. His brows knitted together ever so slightly as he finally looked at you, surprise flickering across his annoyingly gorgeous face.
"..What are you-"
You didn't even think about letting him finish and your fingers curled around the front of his collar, gripping the tight fabric firmly enough to pull him the slightest bit closer. His eyes widened not dramatically, but enough that you caught it and for the first time since you've met him, Jack Abbott looked genuinely caught off guard.
Ha!
Your heartbeat was so loud you're convinced he can hear it and you slowly breathed against his soft looking lips. Should I? You finally closed the final inch between you.
Your lips met his with more certainty than you actually felt, silencing whatever he was about to say. For one suspended heartbeat, the storm outside faded into nothing more than a distant murmur, the rain forgotten entirely as the world seemed to narrow to the impossible closeness between you.
He was so incredibly warm. You kissed him harder, slowly putting your right hand on his neck wanting him closer to you. His scent was intoxicating as you decide to take it a step further, climbing into his lap without breaking your lips apart. He puts one of his large hands around the back of your head, slowly building the tension between you two up, breathing against you.
As you moved closer you realized how intoxicating his scent was, like a drug that you couldn't get enough of. You rubbed against his lower abdomen, grabbing ahold of his silver curls, pulling it back and hearing him let out a low moan. You whimpered against his mouth as you asked him for more.
"This isn't right", he muttered against your swollen lips, making you kiss him again. "Shut up", you whispered, ignoring his words completely. "It's my birthday wish", you demanded, tensing up as he lowers his gaze.
Would he grant you your wish?
"You wanted this."
He barely gave you time to process before crashing his lips into yours again, one hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip roughly. His tongue swiped along your lower lip demanding entry, which you willingly granted him. With a low hum of approval he licked into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours feverishly as he tugged you even closer by your hip, making you feel his hardness against your thigh. He was kissing you feverishly, like a man starved, all the pent up frustration from seeing you walk around his house in scraps of clothing finally being released.
"Mhm, taste so fuckin' sweet baby." He murmured between filthy kisses, one of his large hands coming up to palm your left breast, making you arch into his palm.
"Jack-" you gasped, earning a low chuckle from him.
"Such a needy thing," He breathes heavily,
"You
want more, baby? Tell me what you want, use your words." You shivered at his words, your voice coming out more whiny than intended.
"Touch me, please."
Never begging a man my ass.
He groaned at your pleading tone, lust filled hazel eyes completely focused on your expression as his hand on your hip drifted lower, skimming over the waistband of your pants. "Well since you're asking so nicely." he murmured, voice dropping an octave, as his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts to teasingly trail his fingers along the edge of your underwear."Then how can I say no?"
He pulled away slightly to take in your flushed face, your tousled hair from his hands and kiss swollen lips, the sight making his cock twitch in his pants. "Lift your hips for me sweetheart." He urged, and you complied almost a little too eagerly, swiftly lifting your hips off the counter to help him tug your shorts and panties down in one go.
He let them fall onto the ground unceremoniously, before quickly grabbing your thighs to spread your legs further apart, almost letting out a strangled moan at the sight of your already glistening folds. "So fuckin pretty." His right hand ran up your thigh in a slow caress, making you whimper out his name at his teasing touch
"Impatient?" His smirk was downright filthy, as his finger was drawing a straight line up your folds, gathering your slick at his fingertip before holding it up in the dim kitchen light for you to see. "Look at that.. he drawled, mockingly holding the glistening digit up, your cheeks growing hot in embarrassment, "all that for me? You always get this wet when a man twice your age touches you?"
You whined in utter humiliation and desperation, before weakly pleading. "Stop teasing, please." you spread your legs wider for him, in hopes of making him loose his self control "I promise I'll be good, daddy."
The cold air hitting your wet pussy was making you shiver involuntarily. His smirk turned predatory at that, his slick finger delving between your folds immediately again, making you arch your back and let out a broken whine.
"Gonna be good for daddy, yeah? If you wanna be good you should start by keeping those pretty little noises down. Gonna wake the neighbors if you don't." He smirked, adding a second finger, pumping a little faster into your clenching hole before adding. "Unless you want them to hear." He watched you with a smug grin as you struggled to keep quiet with the way his fat fingers were fucking into you, drawing embarrassingly loud squelching sounds from your pussy.
All you could do was pray that the neighbors were All you could do was pray that the neighbors were well asleep and that they didn't wake up easily, but it was really hard to care much when Jack's thick fingers felt so good spreading you open. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood, when he pressed his thumb into your clit, a broken whine you couldn't suppress leaving you.
"Feels good, huh? Bet I can make it even better." He rasped, before ducking down and replacing his thumb on your clit with his tongue, repeatedly flicking against the bundle of nerves. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the pleasured cry you couldn't stop from escaping, your hips jerking helplessly into his mouth, trying to meet the rough pumps of his fingers.
You were reduced to a quivering, whining mess with the way he was fucking his fingers into you while suckling on your clit simultaneously, your hands flying down to tangle in his silver hair and press his face into your dripping cunt even harder and he just let you, shamelessly moaning into your cunt. The vibration sent a jolt of heat to you, almost sending you over the edge, as his fingers found that mushy spot inside, that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled back, back arching violently as you came all over his face, white flooding your vision, muffled moans of his name falling from your kiss swollen lips.r After your cries died down and he was satisfied with the mess he made of both you and him, he came back up, lips and chin glistening with a mixture of his spit and your juices. He was looking way to smug for someone who's half face was glistening with slick, and damn if that didn't turn you on even more.
He withdrew his hand, licking his fingers clean with that same infuriating smirk, before wiping his chin with his shirt. "That's one." He teased, making quick work of his shirt, which he unceremoniously dropped onto the ground to join your discarded clothes. Your legs were shaking, voice hoarse when you spoke. "That was..fucking incredible." Jack only smiled, eyes darkening as he pulled over your top. "Damn right it was. Got some more experience than those collage boys.
They don't deserve you ma. Don't even know how to handle a pretty thing like you."
Cocky bastard.
He was right though, they didn't. Most of the boys you've been with couldn't even make you come.
His hands trailed up your sides appreciatively until reaching your tits, large hands squeezing both at the same time, making you gasp out his name.
"Got some pretty fuckin' tits, ma. Gonna let me suck on em', yeah?" You nodded breathlessly, blushing at both the nickname and at the way he was shamelessly talking about your tits.
He didn't waist any time and closed his lips around one stiff bud with a filthy groan, sucking harshly while his hand kneaded the other one. He was being real noisy with it too, not bothering to hide the slurping sounds he made and the pained groans that slipped out of him as he started palming himself through his pants. All that had you rubbing your thighs together all over again, to get at least some kind of friction, heat pooling in your stomach as your poor pussy clenched around nothing.
Jack was too busy to care, mouth now latching onto your other tit, sucking and licking on your hardened peek as he squeezed the spit-slick one with his other hand like he was on a mission to make you cum just by squeezing your chest. He pulled back with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple before dripping down.
"Mmh love those tits. Fuckin perfect." he murmured, his tone making you bite your lip subconsciously. Jack's hand was still on the buldge in his pants, stroking in a slow tantalizing rhythm while taking in your fucked out and completely disheveled appearance, the thought that he was the reason you looked like this making his cock ache even more. You were growing impatient by the second, your poor pussy begging to be filled, still clenching around air.
"Please put it in, Jack."
"Well, fuck princess, can't say no to that now, can I?" Your throat went dry at the sight of it, the sheer outline of his cock through his boxers making your insides churn. You were staring wide eyed and he noticed, cocking a brow, before pulling his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You were convinced that everything about this man was huge now, not just his muscles, his shoulders and his toned arms, and you should ve expected it, really.
One look at him and everyone and their mom could tell that this man is packing, in more ways than one. "Quit starin' ma, turn around." His deep voice commanded, pulling you out of your haze and you complied a little too quickly, turning around with wobbly legs and bending over the kitchen counter, presenting yourself to him on a silver platter. Jack whistled lowly behind you, one of his calloused hands coming up to spread your ass cheeks, his mouth watering at the sight of your drenched folds, while his other hand started tugging his boxers down. He took himself in his hand slowly stroking, once, twice, before dragging his tip along your entrance, smearing precum, as you whined. Your body was acting pure instinct as you tried to push yourself back on him to maybe get the tip to slip inside, but clearly Jack was not having it, landing a mean slap on your ass that echoed through the quiet kitchen.
At the back of your mind you wondered if the old lady across the hall was asleep, but you were quickly brought back to reality by another slap that made you yelp. "Fuckin' impatient girl. You this needy for my cock?" He dragged his length through your folds, slicking himself with your juices. "Then take it." And with that he started slowly pushing in, inch by agonizing inch, making you moan so embarrassingly loud, it sounded downright pornographic. The man behind you just chuckled, bringing a big hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds that were escaping you.
"You wanna wake them?"
"Bet they wouldn't be too happy if they found out their little friend was fucking her attending." You just whimpered in response, the entire situation was just too fucked up to be real, but his fat cock too fucking practically splitting you in half from behind. Tears were trickling down your cheeks at the stretch, but the pain was quickly dissolving into pleasure. You started scratching his back open.
You were screwed. Disgusting. But all that didn't matter anymore when he started moving, first making you scream again. "Fuck- fuckin' tight pussy ma. You gotta relax for me, yeah?" All you could do was quietly moan against his hand, your brain completely empty because of the way he was splitting you open. And when his pace picked up and his hand fisted in your hair to pull your back into a mean arch you almost lost it. Your eyes rolled back as the wet slapping sounds of damp skin on skin combined with his soft panting and quiet grunts echoed through the kitchen, almost making you cum on the spot. "Fuck, relax baby-" he rasped, his mean pace not faltering,
"You're literally choking my dick." All you could do was stifle a whimper in response, already completely brainless from the way he was pounding into you.
His hand came down to press into your lower back, forcing your back into an even deeper arch, allowing his cock to reach your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your hole clenched around him, making him chuckle.
"Found it, huh?" he picked up the pace, fat tip kissing your cervix repeatedly, the wet sounds echoing through the kitchen as his hand reached between your thighs to press down on your clit. You were seeing stars, the combined rough thrusts of his hips and the friction on your clit having you right on the edge.
ÂťCum for me, doll.ÂŤ
"Mama!"
You broke all three of your promises.
Fast forward through a blur of morning sickness and dizziness and a life altering realization: you were pregnant. That single, unforgettable night with your attending on your twenty-first birthday had changed everything. By the time you found out an abortion wasn't even legal, leaving you with no choice but to carry the pregnancy to term.
You didn't tell Jack about the baby.
He would never find out.
Right?..
âŚ
a/n: please let me know if you want a continuation
summary: the lads make john a hinge profile against his will, and to everyoneâs surprise, he matches with you within ninety seconds
cw: mdni, fem!reader, age gap (30/43), idk how hinge actually works tbh, john price the feminist, alcohol, insecurities, fluff, smut, oral f rec, piv (14.4k)
John has been irritable for months and it's getting worse.
He knows it the way you know a tooth is starting to rot from the inside, tongue prodding at it every hour.Â
On Wednesday, he reamed Johnny out for being three minutes late to the briefing. It was the kind of reaming that had everyone's eyes turned down into their coffees and files while Johnny stood in front at attention, toes squared, ears hot.
John went on and on, red-faced, telling him that his 'admin's a disgrace', and that he'd better 'get a fuckin' grip before you're explaining your timings to your old CO'.
Somewhere in the middle of it â around âdisgraceâ â John heard himself.
He finished the dress-down anyway. Ending on a firm threat of a year-long inventory assignment.
It was rough enough to watch that when the room cleared out, Simon hung back. He stayed in his seat, leaning back with his arms folded, eyes following John as he aggressively organized his paperwork at the front of the room,squaring stacks that were already square.
"You need somethin', Riley?" John asked, never looking up.
Simon's mouth was twisted beneath his balaclava as he weighed his options. He wasn't especially eager to be John's second victim of the day, but it'd been miserable for weeks with no stop in sight. In the end, he decided to be straightâ
"Y'need'a get laid, boss."
John's hands immediately froze.
That unyielding anger came up his chest right on schedule â insubordinate, out of line â and then couldn't quite find his footing in it because the truth was a trapdoor just under him.
His eyes flicked up and across the room, ears warming up just like Johnny's had an hour ago.
"Bloody ornery, you are," Simon went on. "'ave been."
Simon wasn't wrong, John knew that.
The work winds them all too tight â adrenaline that can't be spent, images that don't erase, choices made under duress that keep them questioning at three in the morning. And everyone's got a valve that lets the steam out. Johnny shouts his out at the football. Kyle has somewhere to be lately that he's cagey about, and Simon has whatever Simon has, no one asks.
And John drives home, shuts the door, and the house is quiet, his walls holding all the built-up pressure.
Ten months since his usual I'm-Home-Hookup found herself a steady bloke and stopped answering his calls. He'd told himself the whole time it was casual right up until it ended, when he learned it had actually been load-bearing.
And was that affecting his mood? Maybe.
His eyes narrowed on Simon and his jaw ticked at the hinge. He threw his chin toward the open door.
"Fuck off out've my briefin' room, Lieutenant."
Simon's chair scraped across the linoleum when he stood, sighing through the cloth over his face.
"I jus' thinkâ"
"OUT."
The door clicked shut behind him, and John stood in the silence for a moment.
Then he squared the stacks again.
ââ
Johnny never volunteers to bring the beer, yet here he is at half seven with a box of glass bottles rattling on his shoulder, grinning under the porch light. Behind him, the headcount runs long by one. Three men when John only agreed to two. Kyle with a canvas bag full of crisps. Simon at the back, hands sunk in his pockets.
"Thought it was just you and Garrick?"
"Aye, well." Johnny shoulders past him into the hall, close enough that their shirts drag. "Simon heard there was football."
"Simon doesn't care about football," John retorts as the rest of them push their way inside.
"I care 'bout football," Simon lies through a simper no one can see, wiping his boots on the mat.
Unfortunately for John, his team is undoubtedly adept at what they've trained in and he doesnât always catch when thereâs fuckery afoot.
Under his nose, in his very own home, Johnny distracts him with talk about the match while Kyle lifts his phone from the side table just beside his elbow. Simon waits an appropriate amount of time before slipping away to the kitchen to guess the passcode, which he manages in one go.
"Gonna have to talk to him 'bout thatâŚ" Kyle mumbles as he swipes to the App Store.
"He textin' anyone?" Simon cranes his neck over Kyle's shoulder. "He used tâsee thaâ one bird⌠wot was her nameâŚ?"
"Leah," Kyle answers flatly. "Laura?" he second-guesses as he thumbs in the passcode again to approve the install: Hinge Dating App. "M'not lookin' at his texts, mate. Be lucky he doesn't RTU us just for this. Plus, I think he said she started seeing someâ"
"ây'know, Cap," Johnny's voice cuts through, a warning for the men in the kitchen. "I can get ye another beer, y'don't haveâŚ"
Simon and Kyle glance up from where they've leaned against the counter and freeze when John appears in the doorway, face screwed with suspicion. His eyes flick between the phone in Kyle's grasp and the faces lit behind it.
His initial thought is that the phone's got a nice, durable case, proper practical. His second thought is to start patting down his pockets with his free hand â which all turn up empty.
The room's gone still, a collective held breath to see which way the tension'll break.
"That's my phone."
"It is," Kyle agrees carefully.
Johnny appears at John's shoulder, squeezing past into the kitchen. "Cap, before you startâ"
"When'd you nick it?" His eyes accurately settle on Kyle, the slickest of the bunch.
"Doesn't matter when, sir. We justâ"
"It matters to me." John puts his empty beer bottle on the table and uses both hands now to pat down his pockets a second time, not quite believing his own team got the drop on him. "Professionally speakin',â he mumbles.Â
"Wot really needs addressin' is your passcode," Simon grumbles. "0-0-0-6?"
"Christ," Johnny snickers.
John chooses to ignore them and holds his hand out, palm up. But Kyle doesn't fork it over. Instead, he looks back at the screen and watches the progress ring around the icon close in on itself.
"What're we doin' right now?" John presses, stepping closer.
"Jus' take a seat, boss," Simon suggests, gesturing to the kitchen table just as Johnny yanks a chair out, beaming something mischievous.
John looks at the chair, then looks at Johnny.
"Think I'll stand."
"Suit yourself," Johnny spins the chair around and drops into it, arms folding over the back.
Kyle checks the screen one more time before turning it around. A new little white icon sits on John's home screen, Kyle points at it. John squints to read the little letters beneath it.
"What's Hinge?"
"It's a dating app," Kyle answers and places the phone on the table.
A dating appâŚ.
Grown adults sorting through each other like they're shopping. Swipe, tap, Add to Cart. He's heard the lads chat about it for years â the 'ghosting', the games â and always thought: thank god that's not me.
Under the simmering contempt, the idea of typing hello to a stranger who might simply never reply (left on read, whatever ungodly hour of the soul that phrase was invented in) shoots something cold through him.
There's a beat of hesitation before his eyes snap to Simon, the scowl on his face carrying the weight of Wednesday's interaction.
"This is you, then?"
"Team effort," Simon corrects without a flicker of shame.
"It's no' the dodgy kind of app, it's for relationships," Johnny explains. "Says so in their slogan: 'designed to be deleted'. You make a profile, upload a few pics, answer someâ"
"I know how online dating works, MacTavish."
Johnny squints. "Do ye, though?"
"You've been rank for months, sir." Kyle tells it plainly. "Whole teams sayin' it."
John feels like heâs been put on a rinse cycle in the wash. His nostrils flare as he snuffs his irritation back down his chest lest he prove them right in his own kitchen.Â
"So that's what all this is? A Friday night welfare check?"
"It's no' a welfare check," Johnny defends poorly, voice cracking at a pitch too high.
"It's a bit of a welfare check," Kyle shrugs.
"Right." John reaches for his phone. "Well, thanks for the concern, lads. Truly. Warms the heart."
Kyle slides it just out of reach. "Just give it a shot, sir," he implores. "Try it for the weekend. If you still hate it, I'll delete it and we'll never bring it up again."
John's chin tucks to his chest and he glowers at him from under his deeply furrowed brow. "You'll delete it now," he orders, except these men have never listened to him off the field.
"I could," he agrees, wrestling a smirk. "And you can keep spending your Friday nights with us."
It's meant as a joke. It doesn't land as one.
Because John looks around at the three of them and knows in a few hours their engines will fade down the street and that hulking quiet will pour back in, the one he keeps calling peace.Â
So⌠he pulls out a chair.
Simon pushes off the counter and Johnny's grin pulls wider.
"Go on," John surrenders, falling into the seat with a sigh. He does not look at any of their faces because whatever's on themâs going to make him cross.Â
Chairs scrape and Kyle settles down at Johnâs arm, Simon looms over them from behind, all crowded around the one screen.
The basics go quick â name, age, pronouns. Kyle finds his rhythm working through the questions.
"Drinks? Socially. Smokes�" Kyle seesaws his head a bit. "We'll say no."
"I smoke cigars," John protests.
"That's a personality trait, not a habit." Kyle scrolls. "Height?"
"Six-two," Johnny says immediately.
"He's six-foot," Simon corrects.
"Aye, and on the app he's six-two."
Kyle selects 6'. "Occupation?"
That one hangs in the air a bit longer than the rest, and John doesn't quite know why. His hands turn palm-up on the table with the question.
"Consultant," Simon offers.
"Civil servant," Kyle tries.
"Military," John answers irritably off the edge of a scoff.
Three sets of eyes come up off the phone â Johnny's eyebrows go high, Kyle's mouth opens to argue, Simon tilts his head just enough, as if to say: if you say so.
"It's not a state secret that I serve," John says, eyebrows pulling close with confusion.
Kyle types it despite whatever he's got hanging on the tip of his tongue. And in the little silence afterward, the obvious question finally comes to mind.
"What've you lot got on yours, then?"
The simple question sends a tidal wave of overlapping chatter and excuses over the table.
"Ah, wellâ" Johnny starts.
"I actuallyâ" Kyle says, at the same time.
"Different app," Simon adds, under both of them.
"âsee, it depends," Johnny goes on, trying to gain volume over the others, "I like to keep the profile fresh. Rotate the pics, the bioâ"
"âdon't have one," Kyle is saying over the top of him, "because me and Amara areâ well, it's not official-official, but it's a thing, soâ"
"Been usin' Feeld," Simon finishes.
When the wave recedes, the full picture comes into view: Johnny reinvents himself on a cycle, Kyle has Amara, mentioned now for the first time ever. And Simonâ
"What's Feeld?" John asks.
"No," Kyle says before the question has its punctuation, quick and stern, head whipping back and forth. âAbsolutely not. We'll talk about that another time."
"It's not for you," Simon adds.
"Right," he mumbles, taking a pull of his beer, settling back against the chair. He inhales and looks off at the window. "M'glad it's amateurs running my love life."
"Enthusiasts," Johnny corrects.
The rest goes quicker.
"What kind of connection?" Kyle reads. "Options are: Long-term. Short-term. Short-term, open to long. Long-term, open to short."
"Short, open to long," John answers without hesitation.
Johnny opens his mouth but Simon glares at him just as quickly through his ragged eyeholes, and he closes it without a word.
His profile photos have to come off the lads' phones since John's camera roll offers nothing but screenshots of maps, car parts, and three random pictures of the K9, Xena, from another unit on base (heâs been trying to snatch her for his own team for months).
He watches the photos of himself go by and it's a strange census, seeing a year of himself entirely through other people's eyes. Makes him queasy, so he takes another bitter gulp to wash the feeling out.Â
There's a short argument about the proper order the pictures should be presented, Johnny wins.
After, Kyle starts explaining what a good prompt does, how to choose one. He hardly gets any words out before John's holding his hand out the same way he did half an hour ago.
"I'll do these myself."
This time, Kyle hands the phone over.
The lads drift to the far end of the table to finally give John the space they've neglected to all night.Â
Fresh beers are cracked open and a bag of crisps demolished as they fold into their own conversations. The match theyâve been ignoring comes first, then Amara, whom Kyle spends five minutes refusing to elaborate on, and somewhere in there Simon mentions an oddities shop heâs been meaning to stop by.
John sits with his reading glasses on, typing slowly, brows low in concentration.
When he finally sets the phone down, all three of them quickly move behind him.
"So, their profile comes up on screen," Kyle reaches over to demonstrate. "Have a look, read the bio. If you wanna chat to her, tap the heart. If you don't, hit the X, and you'll never see her again. Simple."
The first woman is on a beach holding a cocktail the size of a fishbowl. X.
"Okaay," Kyle drawls, mouth pulling straight. "Sure. Was there a reason, orâŚ"
"No."
The next woman is at a festival covered in glitter and feathers. X.
So is the one after. X.
A woman in her work scrubs. X.
A woman holding a child. X.
A woman in a bikini on a lake (his eyes linger). X.
It's not that they're not lovely. Some of them probably are. But every picture is a performance â arms out, teeth out, look how much fun I am. Advertisements.
"The fish," Johnny mourns as another goes down, a woman on a small boat holding a big trout up. "Cap, she was fishin'. You love fishin'!"
"Wasn't her fish," he grumbles under his breath.
"Whose fish d'you reckon, then?"
"Bloke she cropped out," Simon says, and John tips the neck of his beer toward him.
"Give me criteria," Kyle pleads, both hands on the back of John's chair, gripping with restraint. "I can work with criteria."
"He's calibratin'," Simon says. "Let 'im work it out."
Simon's giving him too much credit. He's not calibrating. He's not reading these women, he's not even really looking at them. Each X is just the whole premise being declined, proof accumulating that he was right about the app all along, and if the profiles run out, well, he tried. Right? The lads witnessed it. He can get back to his peace with a clearâ
His thumb stops and hovers, then pulls back to the outer edge of the phone case.
Huh.Â
There you are.
Up a trail somewhere, hills of green grass rolling behind you, hood half-blown off, one hand trying to catch it. You're laughing at whoever's taking the picture, smile wide.
John's not sure he's ever seen eyes twinkle before, but that must be what yours are doing, shimmering even under overcast.
You're very pretty.
For the first time, John taps the profile open.
30. Executive Assistant. 4 Miles Away. Short-Term, Open to Long-Term.
Executive Assistant, so you likely work too much. That's familiar to him, something he understands inside-out.Â
There's a photo of you in office clothes at what looks like a retirement party, smile an edge more saccharine than the one on the hill.
Another of you criss-cross on the floor, a black and caramel cat stretched out and content in your lap, belly-up. Shirt low cut, cleavage to feast on. He is sixty percent gentleman about how long he looks at it.
And at the bottom:
The best way to ask me out is by: using words.
I recently discovered that: I'm better in person than I am on here.
John huffs an amusement through his nose. He spent more time on his profile than he thinks you spent on yours. Seems like you're tired of the same things he's already tired of, one night in.
Behind him, the lads have gone silent, holding their breath.
John taps the heart and his screen goes bright with a wash of confetti, both your photos ringed together:
IT'S A MATCH!
"Oh, shit, she already matched with you," Kyle cranes his neck closer to inspect.
"Gimme that." Johnny plucks the phone from John's hand. "No way," he scoffs. "Fuckin' fit. A bit young for you, Cap, aye?" He looks at John, then back at the screen like the two won't reconcile in his brain.
"Careful," John warns mildly.
Johnny hands the phone back, muttering something in Scots only Simon could translate.
John doesn't hear much of it anyway. He's already looking at your photo again.
Better in person.
Yeah. He'd bet you are.
"Right, sir," Kyle says. "Now we wait. Midday tomorrow the earliest. Message her any sooner and it reads keen."
"It'd be accurate," he deadpans.
"There's rules, Cap," Johnny says. "No messagin' straight away, no double-textin', keep a wee bit of mystery."
John turns in his chair with a scowl to look up at the three of them.
"So, you're tellin' me a woman says she's interested in you and you⌠make her wait?"
Silence.
"I mean, when you put it like thatâŚ"
"Yeah, s'a bit fuckin' rude, innit?" John derides, turning back around.
He's already typing, screen tipped away.
"Sir," Kyle pleads. "At least let us read it."
"This is a two person conversation, not a five piece."
He presses send and quickly pockets the phone.
ââ
Four miles away, a phone lights upâŚ
ââ
Your windows are open to the last of a long evening, warm air breezing through the sheer curtains. Youâre finally on the couch. Shower taken, its heat still damp in your skin. A glass of off-dry riesling teeters precariously on the arm, cold from the fridge and sweating through its stemless glass.
Twix is a puddled tortoiseshell furnace against your thigh, one paw twitching through a dream, her purr winding down as she drops deeper. And on the telly, Last Christmas is on. You've seen it a dozen times, that's why you leave it â it's mindless.
The second glass goes down easier than the first, tart on your tongue, blooming warm in your belly and over your cheeks.
Somewhere in the lull, your thumb opens Hinge, a reflex to being bored. You don't really expect anything from it anymore.Â
A man holding a fish, sunglasses on. X.
A man whose photos are all group shots. X.
A man who is 6'2" and it's his entire personality. X.
Your thumb knows the rhythm without you.
The next profile slides into view and you pause, thumb hovering.
He's handsome in that sort of rugged, classic way. His beard is salted at the edges, lines beside his eyes creased deep, cheeks faintly rosy. He's mid-laugh at what looks like a Christmas party, red and green tinsel drooping off the beams behind him; head slightly tipped, one heavy hand flat on the table. He's not cackling, you can tell it's more reserved, but it's probably still more than he usually offers.
John. 43. Military. Four miles away. Short-Term, Open to Long-Term.
The one thing you should know about me is: I'm gone a lot for work. But when I'm home, I'm home.
Most men bury the catch in the fine print, but he's leading with it.
You don't know yet whether that's honesty or efficiency. You suspect that with him they might be the same thing.
His second photo is of him on the tailgate of some enormous vehicle, fatigues taut over his thighs, thumbs hooked through his bulky khaki plate carrier, looking up from under the brim of his hat.
Two truths and a lie: I've never seen Star Wars. I have a lie-in every Sunday. I've had tea with a warlord.
The sky is pink with the morning in his third picture. He's thigh-deep in a lake, turned away from the camera entirely. (You're noticing it's a common theme that he does not look at the camera for any photo.) The sunlight catches the breadth of his back and shoulders, cotton molded around muscle.
Don't hate me if I: call instead of text. It's quicker.
You giggle just enough that Twix's ear rotates toward you in reproach.
It's kinda cute when older men put more effort into their profiles.
But the alarm is already going off somewhere in the back of your skull â too good, probably old photos, probably has a wife â it has never once failed to ring. But you're two glasses in, and the heart really costs nothing even if the conversation seems off.
You tap it, and put the phone facedown on your thigh.
On the telly, Emilia Clarke is busy falling for a man you happen to know has been dead the entire film. You mouth one of his lines along with him, not really invested, wine warm in your chest, Twix breathing slow against your leg.
Then your phone buzzes against you once, and you ignore it, because you have rules about lunging for male attention. But then it buzzes again, and, well, you just turn it over to have a look. Maybe it's your mum, you don't know!
HINGE: You and John matched!
HINGE: 1 New Message
You open it.
Evening. Not much good at using the app, but I really wanted to chat to you. How's your Friday night?
You hum to yourself curiously. Not an innuendo or emoji in sight.
i actually volunteer helping the elderly with technology, happy to walk you through it.
friday's been average. wine and a movie on the couch. how's yours?
You put the phone back down and focus on the film, but his reply comes within the minute.
Ouch. Friday's alright. The lads invited themselves round for the match. Still here, unfortunately.
you're messaging me with guests in the house? terrible host.
They invited themselves. Hosting rules don't apply.
What movie are you watching?
You glance at the telly where a dead man is mid-song and weigh lying about it.
You could be watching anything. You could pick something more interesting, something with a deep lesson, educational, historical, something niche to come off cool and worldly.
you're not allowed to judge me.
Judging is sort of my life's work, but I'll do my best.
You snort. Twix relocates to the far cushion in protest.
it's called 'last christmas'. i don't know why it's on in july, but i've probably seen it twelve times. it's good background noise.
The reply takes slightly longer this time. You picture him all big hands, small phone, and then stop picturing him, because that's how it starts.
Twelve times? Must be decent.
it's objectively not. the love interest is dead the entire film lol
Dead?
it's a twist. it's festive!
You and I have very different definitions for "festive". I've got a few questions. But I'll save them.
You smile.
so, your lake photo. did you catch anything that day?
Not a thing.
hours in freezing water for zero fish?!
The fish aren't the point.
do tell, what's the point?
The mist off the water. The quiet. The no one expecting anything from you.
It's the first real answer a man has given you on this app in, like, six months.Â
You feel oddly like you've been handed something and should keep your hands still so it doesn't spook.
that actually sounds really peaceful.
i've never been fishing, but i do love nature in the mornings. i have a trail by me that i like to trek early on weekends.
That the trail from your photo?
it is! my best friend actually made me go that day, i wasn't in the mood. complained the whole way.
Doesn't show.
Good photo of you.
Beautiful, actually.
You stare at the screen and feel warmth tickling your nape, sliding lower, molten and slow.Â
Every instinct you have reaches for deflection.
oh! thank you. the wind did most of the work lol
No it didn't.
â and he just takes the deflection off you, like being returned something you've dropped. You press the cool curve of the wine glass against your cheek and remind yourself, sternly, that this is a stranger on the internet.
well, for the record your photo's not bad either. handsome smile.
Somewhere past ten, you notice the conversation keeps not ending.Â
how long have you been on hinge?
It's my first night, actually.
first night???
Profile's about two hours old.
yikes, so i'm just the practice woman then, huh?
Practice implies I'm planning to do this again.
ââ
John's still at the kitchen table, reading glasses pushed up into his hair now, beer gone warm at his elbow. The lads have migrated to the living room doorway â close enough to monitor, far enough to pretend they aren't.
He knows they're watching, and he's been watched by better.
What he can't seem to manage is his fuckin' face â it keeps doing things beyond his control, and every time your reply comes he has to reel it back to neutral, and he can tell by the quality of the silence behind him that he's not reeling nearly fast enough.
"He's smilin' again," Johnny murmurs, elbowing Simon in the ribs.
"Shameless," John mumbles, without looking up. "All of you."
He's typing when the floor creaks jus to his left. When he glances up, Johnny has drifted to his shoulder under the pretense of collecting empties.
"Need another, Cap?"
"I need you three feet back, MacTavish," he replies, thumbs tapping away.
A minute later it's Kyle from the doorway, "If she asks about hobbies, don't lead with the cigars. They poll badly amongst females."
"'Females'?" John grimaces, face down, thumbs still at it. "Say it with me Garrick, 'women'."
Then Simon, who hasn't moved or spoken in twenty minutes, asks, "Wot's she sayin', then?"
John rolls his eyes and sets the phone face-down, pushing himself up out of the chair.
"Time to go, lads," he says with an obviously fake smile, gesturing his arm out towards his front door. "Goodnight."
"It's no' even eleven oclock!" Johnny complains.
"Then the night's still young. Go on, fuck off."
They go â bottles gathered, snacks cleaned up, Simon herding Johnny down the hall as heâs still negotiating.
Then their engines fade down the street, and the quiet pours back in, right on schedule. Except tonight it arrives and there's a phone lit on his kitchen table with your name on it, and the quiet â for the first time in a long while â has to wait.
He locks up, kills the TV, then drops into his armchair with the phone already unlocked.
did the football finish? who won?
He glances at the dead telly. Hasn't a clue.Â
Couldn't tell you.
omg lol you had ONE reason for guests tonight!
I got distracted.
by what? đ
I think you know by what.
Nothing comes back for a minute. He pictures you on your couch, that cat beside you, deciding what to do with it â and it occurs to him, mildly horrifying, that he's enjoying this. The wait. The little emoji with the halo, transparently unrepentant. He finds himself smiling at the ceiling like there's something written on it.
anyway!
Anyway.
He'll allow it: retreat granted. There's no rush.
The cat in your photo. Yours?
yes! thatâs twix. she's a menace.
Good name.
she prefers men that ignore her.
Then we'd get on fine. I'm very good at ignoring cats.
It goes on just like that: easy.
You ask if he's a morning person and learn he's up at five most days by choice; he learns you consider five the middle of the night.
He talks about the Brecon Beacons â the actual Beacons, the ones he loves, not the ones that nearly killed him at twenty-two. You tell him you've always wanted to go, and he catches himself already planning the route he'd take you. Then quickly chastises himself.Â
How's the average Friday held up?
certainly improved
Mine too.
He puts the phone on the arm of the chair and sits in his quiet house, and for once it doesnât feel so desolate.
ââ
The following morning he's up at five. He starts drinking his coffee at the counter, looking out the window over the sink, the sorbet summer sky bleeding morning.
He thinks of you before he can stop himself. Asleep, presumably, five being the middle of the night and all. Then he takes the coffee out to his back step for some fresh air.
He wonders if he was any good with the messaging last night. It's the longest he's ever sat with his phone in his hand, period. Let alone chatting with someone. There's no debrief for it, that's the trouble. No one to tell him whether âI got distracted.â read as charming or desperate.
He runs the entire two-hour exchange back over and over and finds no actionable errors, but remains unconvinced.
He goes for his run at six. The route climbs uphill around klick seven, and somewhere on the hill he thinks about your photo, your smile, your mouth. He wonders what you smell like, what you sound like when you're being sarcastic.Â
By noon he's under the Land Rover draining the old oil, and he catches himself pondering what you might do on a Saturday. Whether you slept in properly. Whether the cat allows it; he grew up with one himself and knows how demanding they can be when they're ready for a feeding.
He hasn't messaged yet and neither have you.
He couldn't say exactly why he's held off. Something the lads said about being keen, and rules, and mystery lodged somewhere he can't reach to dig it out. He's not normally a man that takes doctrine from Johnny MacTavish, and yet⌠here he is.Â
It's a stupid fuckin' rule.
The afternoon goes long and gets quiet in the old way.
The house at four o'clock has a particular acoustic he knows down to the plumbing, and today, for the first time, he notices himself noticing it. It never used to be so obvious. Years of Saturdays like this one and it took his phone going quiet for half a day to show him the loneliness so plainly.
By the evening he's got Chinese takeaway at the kitchen table, eating it straight from the carton, chopsticks shoveling fried noodles down his gullet while he does the crossword from the morning paper in his head.
That's when his phone lights up for the first time all day, buzzing three times in succession â he absolutely hates how quickly it's in his hand.
spent six hours wedding dress shopping with my best friend. i need a glass of wine and a lie down.
thought of you on the tube home
He reads the second message again.
Thought of you.Â
Heâd been drafting the same admission since noon and something in his chest going catastrophically hot.
are you still up? i know sundown is bedtime for your generation.
And there's the sarcasm.Â
Outside the window, the sun is â he checks â still up. Barely. He's got that going for him, at least.
Just in time. Was about to take my dentures out.
Thought about you as well.
He types the second line fast before he can be a coward about it. If you can say it, he can say it. Fair's fair.
I do have a question now though. It's not your wedding we're shopping for, is it? That'd be proper inconvenient for me.
lol no! maid of honor. today was purely supervisory.
don't really see myself getting married anyway.
the dresses were stunning though!
Heâs picking up on a pattern. Three messages arriving like one exhale â the vulnerable thing said flanked with distraction.Â
Nothing wrong with that.
Successful trip then? Or is there another six hours coming?
successful! she found it. there were tears and champagne.
what about you, how was your saturday?
Heâs had a day spent purposefully not doing the one thing he wanted to do.
Quiet. Nothing worth typing.
hm. sounds like you should ring me thenâŚ
He looks at that one for a moment and blinks, the inside of his cheek finds itself between his teeth.
For all their blabbering, the lads did not warn him about this bit. Not that he can't speak on the phone, he prefers it. You're essentially quoting his profile back at him. But he's been thinking about something since roughly the fourth time you crossed his mind today, and a phone call isn't the ask he's been building up to.
Could do.
Truthfully, though. I was just working up the courage to ask you for a drink.
Courage. He's used that word in citations, for men who ran toward gunfire, heroes. Now heâs using it to describe the act of asking a woman on a date, and the genuinely undignified part is that it's regrettably accurate.
Your reply takes a minute. He watches the dots start and stop, and start again. God, he's been shot at with less suspense.
Then your message comes through and it's just a number. Ten digits. It buzzes in his hand once more.
for logistics.
He stares at it for a beat and then he's up out of his seat. Takeaway abandoned, at the fridge with his phone still in one hand, snapping the cap off a beer on the lip of the counter, and then he's out the back door into the garden where the evening's gone navy and the airâs still warm from the day.
He saves your number first. Then he stands there a moment, beer sweating in one hand, thumb over the call button in the other.
ââ
Youâve just tipped the bottle over your glass when the phone starts buzzing against the counter.
Unknown Number. Local.
âJohn?â
âEveninâ.â
Fuck.Â
His voice lands an octave lower than you were braced for. A honeyed gravel that seeps into your ear and slides thick over your spine, pooling somewhere behind your ribs.
You set the bottle down before you drop it.
âSo you actually do ring,â you manage.
âSaid so on the profile, I think.â
âI half thought it was a bit.â
âI donât really do bits.â
âNo,â you say through a grin, picking up your glass and drifting toward the couch. You drop your voice into a gravelly impression of him: âYouâre a very serious man.â
The laugh that comes down the line is quiet â more breath than sound, warm at the bottom of it, like youâve caught him somewhere he doesnât usually go.
âThat meant to be me?â
âItâs uncanny, I know.â
The line goes quiet a moment â the good kind, neither of you rushing to fill it â and in it you catch the sounds of his side: a whirl of breeze, the faint ring of a glass set down on iron. Heâs outside. You picture a tidy yard with tall dark hedges, a big man pacing slowly with a beer.
âAm I interruptinâ the wine?â
âThe wine and I are happy to share the time.â
âGood.â There's a pause that you can hear his smile in. âI have a beer out here. Seemed only fair weâre both suffering the same.â
âAre we having our drink right now? Is this it?â
âNo,â he says immediately, unamused even â which is very amusing for you. âThis one doesnât count.â
The speed of his reply sends something fizzing under your sternum. You tuck your feet up under yourself and take a slow sip.
âNo?â you tease.
âI had imagined Iâd see your face.â
âBeen imagining, have you?â
You are very glad he cannot see your face right now. Cheeks warm and strained, you press the cool of the wine glass briefly against them in turns
âNothinâ mucky if thatâs what youâre gettinâ at.â
âMm, no, 'course not. Youâve been a proper gentleman. Havenât even thrown me a cheeky pick-up line.â
âI could workshop somethinâ for you if youâd like.â
âNo thanks,â you giggle into your glass. âIt was a relief when I opened your first message and it wasnât a riddles-three about your dick.â
You can hear his scoff and recoil on the other end.
âIs that what itâs come to?â
âUnfortunately.â
Thereâs a short silence youâd swear is him coming to terms with the modern world, and you bite down on a smile.
âRight,â he says, and there's a controlled shift in his voice. âMy question...â
Your stomach does a free-fall, nauseating and fluttery, fifteen again on the Detonator at Thorpe Park.
âMm?â you hum around a sip, deeply casual, a woman entirely unbothered, curled so tight around the phone that Twix doesnât have a leg to lie on.
âThereâs a pub about halfway between us, Lamb & Flag. Iâd like to take you for that drink tomorrow. Will you come?â
Then you remember what tomorrow is and sigh, immediately irritated with your whole family.
âUgh, I want to say yes,â you sulk. âBut Iâve got Sunday dinner with my family tomorrow. My mum would hunt me for sport if I flaked.â
âFair. Wouldnât want that on my conscience.â
âI could do a weeknight? After work?â
Thereâs a pause on his end.
âIâd rather not promise you a weeknight,â he admits. âI rarely get away on time, and Iâm not startinâ this by standin' you up.â
You go quiet for a beat, you were ready for the usual âahh, well, weâll figure something outâ. But instead got a man mindful of your time; a unicorn, really.
âAlso fair. Andâ and thoughtful.â
âFriday, then?â he tries hopefully, you catch the small lean in his voice.
âFridayâs perfect,â you agree. âItâs a date!â
âIt is,â he agrees, smiling.
The conversation should end there but it doesn't.
You learn things no profile has a field for; that he talks slower than he types, that he hm's real low in his throat when heâs considering something, that when you make him laugh it rumbles, so rough at the bottom that you feel at the back of your knees.
Somewhere past the hour mark you stop scrutinizing the call for red flags and just talk, and you only notice youâve stopped when Twix jumps onto the couch and you realize youâve been lying down for a while, phone balanced on your ear like youâre seventeen.
Eventually, you yawn.
âRight,â he says, and you can hear him moving, standing up by the way he tries to muffle a stiff groan. âThatâs my cue.â
âAw, no! Iâm fine, really.â
âItâs late, love. And youâve got your family tomorrow.â
âTrue. And youâve got⌠whatever it is old men do on Sundays.â
âLie-in, according to my profile.â
âHa!â you bark, vindicated alone in your living room, having forgot about his little 'two truths and a lie'. âThatâs the lie, I bet. I donât think youâve ever had a lie-in in your life.â
A low sound of amusement rolls down the line. âGoodnight,â he says, declining to confirm.
âNight, John.â
You sit a minute in the amber shine of your lamp after the line goes dead, phone loose in your hand.
ââ
Sunday morning, you text him at 8:12 AM.
good morning. how was the lie-in?
Wouldnât know. Been up since five.
the lie confirmed!
He doesnât dignify it. You donât expect him to. You grin at your phone while you wait for the kettle to boil.
Your mum will later describe you, over dinner, as âsuspiciously cheerfulâ.
The day swallows you â the drive, the roast, your mumâs questions, your brotherâs kids. Itâs near ten when youâre finally home, shoes off, replying to the last thing heâd sent that morning.
survived. my mum sends her regards to whoever put me in a good mood. her words.
Regards received. Sleep well.
ââ
Monday morning, Johnâs at his desk with his coffee going cold because somewhere between the canteen and the walk to his office, his phone buzzed, and it was you and he hasnât stopped looking at it.Â
good morning :) big meeting today. does this say âpromote meâ or âshe triedâ?
[ PHOTO ATTACHMENT ]
You, in your hallway mirror â chin tipped, black short-sleeve blouse with a wide collar exposing the smooth skin of your upper chest and collar, grey pencil skirt stretched over the curve of your hips and thighs, one knee bent like youâd just been lowering your foot from fitting on your heel.
His eyes are stuck on the soft-looking flesh just above and between your knees when a rap lands on his door and forces a cough from his throat.
Johnny eases it open with Kyle behind him holding a folder, Simon's behind them both, holding nothing, not even a pretense.
His phone goes face-down on the desk at a compromising speed, shifting to sit up straigher.
Simonâs eyes go to Johnâs hand over the phone, then to his face before he leans in the doorway with his arms folded.
âMorninâ, Cap. Good weekend?â Johnny asks, falling into the side chair in front of the desk with a theatrical groan.
âFine.â
âAye? Do anythin'?â He smiles, waggling his eyebrows. âAnyone?â
âYouâve got thirty seconds to develop a work reason for being in my office, Sergeant.â
It's an empty threat and everyone in the room knows it.
Kyle sets the (empty) folder down and steps back behind Johnny. âHowâs it going, sir? Did you have any luck with Hinge?â
John could make them work for it. Heâd planned to. But all three of them are standing in front of him trying so hard to look casual itâs a wonder none of them have pulled something.
"Have a date Friday. Drinks."
Johnny is ready to blast out of his seat, but Kyle shoves him back down by the shoulders, digging his fingers into the pressure points on either side of his neck until he relents with a hiss.
"That's great. Same woman or�"
"The same."
âGood, good, good,â Johnny says, and means it â John can hear that he means it, he can also hear the restraint he's keeping from unloading shite advice.
âWe'll stop buy Saturday for the debrief,â Simon says, already turning around, and Kyle picks the folder back up like it had a purpose all along, and they file out the way they came.
"I'm not debriefing you on my date. Don't come!" John calls to them half-heartedly, but the door's already shutting on top of his words.Â
He turns the phone back over.
Promote you, he types.
You look lovely.
Your reply comes before heâs picked his pen back up.
well now the meeting feels easy. thank you x
He gets on with his morning, but by noon he suspects he's looked at that damn photo a dozen times.
ââ
The rest of the week goes standard. Your Tuesday runs long and his Wednesday runs longer, and the messages carry throughout it all. His texts arrive before your morning alarm even sounds, your replies go mid-commute â nothing heavy, just remaining in each other's orbit of interest as Friday chugs slowly into view.
Thursday night, near nine, he rings you, having first texted to ask if he could, which youâre beginning to understand is just how heâs built. Itâs a short call by your new standards with him. He only wanted to confirm youâre still on for the pub, but he had you grinning into your pillow until you fell asleep.
âââ
You leave work at five on the dot, and youâre in front of your open wardrobe by six.
The little black dress comes off the rail first. Goes back. Comes off again. Back. The floral one gets as far as your shoulders before you pull it off over your head and drop it on the bed, where Twix immediately sits on it.
The silky baby blue halterâs been hanging on the door since you bought it. You put it on like you hadnât already decided and do the tie at the back of your neck twice before the bow sits flat and neat. You pull on some jeans and rummage the closet for your chunky heels.Â
You press some strawberry perfume to your throat in the mirror and try to comfort the nerve-ridden woman in the reflection.
âItâs just a pub,â you tell her.Â
She doesnât seem convinced.Â
âââ
The pub is exactly the kind of place you imagine he'd frequent â quiet, all old mahogany and low brass lamps, no telly anywhere. You claim a stool, hook your heel over the rung, and decide not to order anything yet simply because it just feels polite to wait.
You're fifteen minutes early which means you're left alone with your anxieties.Â
The last of the sun lies across the bar top in warm stripes, and you trace one with a finger while you wait.Â
Youâve done this before, and it almost never goes how the phone promises. There was the guy whose photos were six years out of date. The one who spent both drinks talking about his ex and then sent a payment request for half the tab. The one who, two hours in, hadnât asked you a single question about yourself. And John has been too good to be true for a week, and you know how that saying ends. Tonight is where you find out how, find out he really is just a man between deployments looking for entertainment and a shag.
It felt good, though. All week. Being excited about something. Youâd forgotten the feeling.Â
You pick at the hangnail on your thumb until it stings.
You donât have to wait much longer for him.Â
He casts a shadow when he comes through the door. Broad. Tall. Smart olive polo fighting for its stitching across his chest and where it grips into his biceps. Heâs tidied his beard in comparison to his photos, hair less kempt in a purposeful way.
He scans the whole room before he finds you and stops looking anywhere else. He smiles tight and restrained, pleasant, but like heâs pacing himself, and by the time he crosses to you, your tongue has gone dry and whatever youâd planned to open with has shriveled away.
âHey,â he says.
âHi,â you smile.
He smells clean, a bit like pine and amber, and faintly like thereâs tobacco somewhere on his collar.
âYouâre early,â he adds, almost pleased.
âSo are you.â
âIâm always early.â His eyes drop to the empty bar top in front of you, then come back. âYou havenât ordered?â
You shake your head once, legs shifting to cross. âI wantedâ I was waiting for you.â
The lines beside his eyes deepen and he holds out his hand, says your name for the first time, and his hand swallows yours â big and dry and calloused across the palm where yours is soft â and you hold on a beat too long. He doesnât mention it. You add that to the list of things you like about him, which is getting embarrassing for something four minutes old.
âWhatâll you have?â
âUhm, whatever youâre having,â you decide.
He signals the bartender with two fingers and opens his mouth â and thereâs a brief second where he looks at you first, and you notice for the first time that his eyes are blue, and you get stuck, and it seems so does he. By the time he looks back, heâs lost the name of the beer heâs drunk here a dozen times.
âTwo of the, uhâ the local,â he manages.
You pretend not to notice. He knows you did.
He pulls out the stool beside you, and more of his cologne wafts around you as he sits, turned to face you, legs spread, one knee pointing between yours.
The pints arrive wet from the tap, and for a second neither of you says anything at all. You trace a bead of condensation down your glass.
âFunny, isnât it,â you offer, sheepish. âWeâve talked every day for a week, and the second weâre actually in front of each otherâŚâ You trail off, cheeks warming, eyes fixed on the fizz jumping over the rim of your beer.
âYouâre nervous?â he asks, a cheeky lilt on it.
âA bit, yeah. Arenât you?â
âNot at all.â
You squint at him. âI donât know if I buy that.â
âHm.â He takes a sip that lasts a little too long, and the tips of his ears have gone pink.
Your cheeks are doing about the same. You drink your beer â cold, hop-bitter, helping â and let him have his lie. Itâs a generous lie anyway. Itâs a lie shaped like a man trying, and youâve been handed far worse shapes.
âSo,â you start. âI havenât asked why youâre even on Hinge. You donât seem the type.â
âIâm not,â he chuckles, and offers nothing beyond it.
You wait. He just sips his beer. You hike a brow.
âThatâs it? Thatâs your answer?â
âWell, it wasnât my idea. The lads put me on it.â
âThe lads â your guys from work?â
âYeah.â
âThey what, talked you into it?â
âNo.â He turns his glass a degree. âThey nicked my phone and made the profile behind my back.â
âAnd what made them do that?â
He takes a moment with that one. He could give you a cover story â you can almost watch him weigh one â but then he doesnât.
âTheir assessment,â he laughs to himself, âwas that Iâd been⌠cranky. Needed gettinâ out of the house.â
âCranky?â you repeat, delighted.
âTheir exact words were a bit different.â
âHm.â You look at him â at ease, half a smile living in his beard, one arm resting along the bar. âYou donât seem cranky to me.â
âYeah, well. Guess they were right, then.â
Your neck goes hot and you have to look away from him. âWell,â you manage. âThey do good work, your committee.â
He huffs into his pint, and lets you recover.
âOkay, next one, then. Military.â You tip your glass toward him. âWhat do you actually do?â
He sets his beer down and you can see him carefully choosing which door to open. âWhat dâyou want to know?â
âI donât know. Whatâs your day look like?â
âDepends on the day. Paperwork, mostly. Meetings.â A beat. âSometimes we go away.â
âAway?â
âAway.â
âFor how long?â
âAs long as it takes.â
âDoingâŚ?â
âWhatever they need me to,â he says easily. âSânot me being mysterious. Iâd tell you if I could.â
âThat must be so strange, though. Having this wholeâ like, most of your life you canât talk about.â
âYou get used to it.â Then, because youâre still looking at him expectantly, not filling the space the way people usually do: âThereâs loads I can say. Ask me what six weeks of rain in a jungle smells like. Or what a month in the desert does to your skin.â
âWhatâs a month in the desert do to your skin?â
âNothing good, love,â he answers, shifting to face you better. âThe beardâs load-bearing.â
You laugh into your beer, and it makes the next one easier to ask.
âDo you like it? Like, the whole life of it?â
He goes quiet on that one. Longer than heâs gone quiet on anything else youâve asked. You can see him thinking on it.Â
âItâs what Iâm best at,â he says finally. And then, mostly to his glass: âItâs all Iâve known, really. Been doinâ it since sixteen.â
You turn that over. Thereâs a whole life folded up in that sentence and you notice you want to ask about all of it, which is not a thing youâve wanted to do with a man in a very long time.
The second beers arrive, and the conversation stops keeping to lanes â his lads and your best friend, the wedding in October, the neighbor whose bins are apparently a whole saga. Youâre midway through the story of your work feud when a birthday party arrives loud and glittering behind you, and John, without so much as glancing down, reaches down and hooks his hand under the edge of your stool, and pulls.
The whole thing drags six inches across the floor with you on it, your knee sliding neatly between his, close enough now that his voice drops to match the new distance. Youâre looking up at him, pulse tapping somewhere that has your thighs pressing together.Â
âGo on,â he encourages. âShe said what?â
It takes you a moment to find your place, but you go on.
The bar only gets louder from there, the birthday table multiplying, and when a booth opens up in the back corner, John tips his chin at it.
âGo grab that,â he says, turning back to the bar. âIâll get another round. Want the same?â
âActuallyââ and you hesitate out of nothing but habit, out of years of a manâs face going tight when you complicate an order, ââcould I do a vodka cranberry this time? I could get the roundââ
His brows furrow with something akin to bafflement, brief and genuine. âYou can have whatever youâd like,â he says, and suddenly you feel silly, your hand crossing to grip your elbow.
âNoâI know. I justââ
âWhatever youâd like,â he repeats, gentler. âAndââ he grimaces, like what heâs about to say pains him deeply. âDonât ever offer to pay on a date with me again. Properly wind me up, that will.â
âS-sorry,â you shake your head, like you can rattle the habit loose.
âNone of that either,â his eyes have gone crinkled at the corners, warm all the way through, and he raps two knuckles soft on the bar top like the matterâs settled. âVodka cranberry. Go, sit.â
âActuallyâ Iâm gonna go freshen up quickly. Two minutes.â
And you go, biting down on a smile, ears hot â embarrassed and looked after all at once, which is apparently a combination that works on you.
The bathroom is cooler than the bar and a quiet that leaves your ears ringing. You reapply some lipgloss and wash your hands and look at yourself in the dirty mirror, buzzing warm at the collarbones, eyes shiny, mouth half-curved.
Itâs going well.
Itâs going suspiciously well.
And every time itâs gone well before, this is exactly when you started hunting for the catch. So you dry your hands on the rough paper towel and leave before you can start.
Heâs in the booth when you come back, settled against the wall side, the last of the evening gone from the windows and the lamp above him glowing gold over the table. Your drink is waiting â pink, iced, a lime wedged on the rim â set neatly across the table at the seat opposite.
You look at the seat opposite.
Then you slide in beside him instead. Your thigh a heated inch from his, reaching across to relocate your drink.
You donât look at him, but you can tell Johnâs a bit curious of the arrangement. His arm comes up and settles along the back of the booth behind you, and it oddly feels like it was always going to end up here, his thumb grazing the bare skin of your shoulder. He picks up his beer with the other hand.
âComfortable?â he asks, low, and with entirely too much satisfaction.
âI am,â you say, and the first sip of the vodka cranberry is cold and tart and sweet all the way down, blooming behind your sternum right where his voice has been landing all night.
The booth is easier than the bar, somehow â closer, quieter, the birthday party more muted â and the talk drifts wherever it wants, his low laugh arriving against your shoulder through the arm behind you. At some point the lull comes; ice softening in your glass, his thumb resting an inch from your shoulder. And maybe itâs the vodka, or the arm, or the running list of things you like about him that youâd need both hands to count nowâ
âHow long ago was your last relationship? Like a real one.â
He takes a deep breath before answering. âHonest answer?â
âPreferably,â you giggle softly, and he smiles â most of it lost in the beard, enough that you wonder if there are dimples under there.
âLonger than what sounds good out loud,â he admits through the pull of it.Â
âSay it out loud anyway.â
âI was thirty-two. So, almost ten years ago.â
âTen.â
âMm.â
âA whole decade.â
âYou can stop countinâ the years to me at any time, love.â
âSorry, sorry.â Youâre grinning. He is too. âItâs just, quite the gap in romance.â
âIt went quick,â he says, and itâs a joke, and itâs also not. âWhat about you?â
âEnded about a year ago, we were together four.â
âMm.â
âIt was fine. Amicableâ mostly,â you shrug.Â
âMostly,â he repeats â not pushing, just setting the word down where you can see he heard it.
âMostly,â you confirm, and leave it there.
The ice ticks in your glass. And the next questionâs been sitting in your chest, so you take it out while youâre brave.
âCan I ask something and you not be offended?â
âStartinâ well,â he says, nodding on for you to continue.Â
You settle further into the booth and your shoulders press against his warm arm behind you, his fingers brushing over your shoulder. You lean your head back, turned to his face.Â
âWhatâs changed? Between thirty-two and now that youâre trying dating?â You mean just to ask the question, but you find yourself rambling on. âBecause if the honest answer is nothing, and this is justâ a-a hookup with, like, really good manners, thatâs fine. Genuinely. Iâd just rather know now.â
âFair,â he says. âAsked myself the same thing this week.â
âYeah? And what was the answer?â
âIâm tired of the quiet,â he starts, pausing as his eyes drift away in thought. They come back to you just as quick. âUsed to come home to it like a reward. Now it just feels⌠empty.â
Something in your chest slides sideways.
âSo, no. Not a hookup,â he continues with a breath. âBut I canât promise youâd be happy with the alternative either. I can be gone longer than Iâm home.â His thumb brushes along your shoulder, once, like an apology.
âGuess I wouldnât know unless I gave it a go.â
You say it lightly, and the exhale he lets out has a smile riding on it â and something in his shoulders comes down, some held thing you didnât notice until it let go.
âNo,â he agrees, low. âYou wouldnât.â
Youâre suddenly aware of the distance between you â or the lack of it. Somewhere between sitting down and the vodka youâve ended up awfully close: near enough to count the grey threaded through his beard, to catch the beer on his breath, near enough that the light between you has stopped reaching the space. Near enough that you can feel the heat coming off him, and your heartrate has picked up on it before the rest of you has.
His eyes flick down to your mouth. Quick â half a second, there and back â but you catch it, and it lands low in your stomach and stays.
Neither of you leans back.
And the pub carries on behind you â glasses clinking, the birthday table shouting, a till drawer slamming â all of it arriving from somewhere far off and dreamlike.
You move closer. Barely. Imperceptible. Your pulse is in your ears now, drumming out the last of your senseâ
âYou know,â you say, quiet, pitched for the six inches between you and nobody else, âyou can kiss me. If youâd like.â
âOh, yeah?â
âMhm,â you grin.
âWell,â he says, matching your volume, low enough that it lands somewhere below hearing, âI was going to be a gentleman about it. Wait til I walked you out.â His gaze drops to your mouth again, slower this time, no secret. âBut if youâd rather have it here in the booth, I wonât argue.â
âI suppose I could be patient.â
âMm,â he says, and doesnât move.
Somewhere in the world, presumably, time is passing.
His jaw shifts.Â
âIâll go pay the tab,â he decides.
And youâre both up and out of the booth quick, and you watch him stand at the bar with his back to you, shoulders set, and you press one cool knuckle to your own cheek and find it burning.
You two make it out the door.
The nightâs gone hazy and July-thick, and you get maybe four steps down the side of the pub with his hand a light at the small of your back before you glance up at him and he glances down.
Whatever was left of patient dies right there on the pavement.
He moves you.
One hand finding your hip, the other your jaw, and then your back meets brick, warm through the thin of your blouse and against your bare shoulders, and his mouth is on yours.
Whatever mindful version heâd planned for the end of his gentlemanly walk out must have been spent in the booth â this is the interest. The kiss opens on a low rumble out of his chest, one you feel travel through his ribs into yours, and his tongue slides against yours, all beer and him, and you grip the front of his shirt with both fists just incase the wall behind you vanishes.
He kisses you thoroughly, his beard catching along your chin, a chafe you know youâll feel tomorrow. A thigh slots half between yours, not pushing, not touching, but itâs not any less inviting. You could bare down on it, get the friction your body is craving, heâd let you, but you restrain yourself. His thumb strokes a slow line along your jaw in obscene contrast to what his mouth is doing â and it blooms down through you, fervid, liquescent.
He pulls back just far enough to breathe â forehead near yours, both of you loud with catching your breath â and when you open your eyes his are dark.
âVery gentlemanly,â you croon.
âI walked you out first, yeah?â he says, unrepentant.
You giggle against his mouth, and he claims it for himself with one more gentle kiss, and then he steps back a seemly distance, hand smoothing once down over his beard, shoulders resetting, breath evening out, everything going back in its place except his eyes.
âWalk me home?â you ask.
âI drove. Iâll give you a lift.â
You look up at him, all vodka-warm and enjoying yourself. âWell, just so you know, I share my location with my best friend and she knows exactly what pub Iâm at, and has your name and photo, soââ
âGood,â he replies, no hesitation. âSmart girl. Keep it that way.â He finds his keys, fishing them out of his pocket. âIâm taking you straight home. You have my word.â
He draws an X over his heart, your lipgloss shining at the corner of his crooked mouth.Â
ââ
The car smells like-new â clean upholstery and faintly of engine oil, everything squared away, nothing rolling around in the footwells.
The drive is short. The radio murmurs. His hand rests easy on the gearstick a few inches from your knee â close enough that you spend two full streets aware of nothing else â and the streetlights slide over him in slow bars, catching the grey at his temple and the small satisfied set of his mouth.Â
The kiss is still thrumming under your skin like a struck glass, low in your belly, at the back of your knees â and you catch yourself doing the thing you swore off doing: imagining forward. Him in your doorway. Him in your kitchen on the weekend. Him coming home from wherever away is and it being your door heâÂ
You look out the window. Four miles has never taken so long.
He pulls up outside your building and sets the handbrake, and the engine idles, and neither of you move.
The dashboard glow makes everything blue.Â
You want to ask him up. That's not the question; that got settled somewhere around the second kiss in the alley, possibly earlier, possibly around the moment he walked into the pub, or whatever. But there's the other thing you can't evict from your head: do you really want to sleep with him on the first date?
"So," you say.
"SoâŚâ
You look at him â streetlight in the grey of his beard, arm along the wheel, heâs in absolutely no hurry to resolve you.
"Did you have a good time tonight?"
His head turns. There's a beat where he just looks at you, and you watch him physically decide not to make a joke of it.
"Yes. Best night I've had in a while," he says.Â
"Would youâ" and god, you're thirty years old and your heart is doing this anyway, "âwant to see me again? Like this?"
"Was already plannin' to ask you to dinner." A small crease starts at the corner of his eye. "Was workin' out whether to do it now or ring you tomorrow, so I didn't seem overlyâ"
"Keen?"
"Keen," he confirms, gravely, like the word's been a burden to him all week.
And that lands warm and the relief does something reckless to your mouth, which is that it stops guarding it.
"Okay. Then I'm going to say something, but you can't look at me while I say it."
âRight.â He scrubs a hand over his twitching lips and looks out the windshield, obedient.
"I want to ask you up."
"Mm."
"And I'm having a whole debate about it."
"I can hear it," he says. "Been losin' to the engine for about a minute now."
"Justâ,â you sigh, ââshut up." But you're smiling at the dashboard. "It's justâ I spent all week wondering if this was a hookup thing for you. And you answered that, and I believe you, I do. But there's this small, paranoid part of me that's like, well, that's exactly what a man would say at the pub, isn't it? And then there's this other, stupider part that thinks if you come up, you'llâ" you take a deep breath, your fingers hooking into each other on your lap, and make yourself finish it, "âthink less of me. First date and all."
He's quiet for a second, lips pursing.Â
âCan I look at you now?â he tries.
âYeah.â
"You want to know where I'm actually at?"
"Truly just desperate for a man to be honest so I know what headspace to put myself in."
âAlright.â He shifts to face you, wrist still hanging over the wheel. âI want to come up. Badly, if you want some extra honesty.â
The badly goes straight between your thighs.
âOkay,â you manage. âNoted.â
âI havenât lied to you once tonight. And Iâm takinâ you to dinner whether I come up or not.â
âAnd, likeâ you wouldnât thinkââ
âThink less of you?â He frowns, like the mathâs not mathing. âFor doinâ the same thing Iâd be doing? Together?â
âWhen you put it like thatâŚâ
âFor what itâs worth, Iâm sat here havinâ a version of the same debate. Been out of this a long time. Didnât want you thinkinâ thatâs all I came for. So if youâd rather I kiss you at the door and drive home, Iâll do that and consider it a perfect evening.â
And maybe itâs the ease of him, the total absence of pressure youâre always braced for on nights like this, that settles it for you.Â
âWould you like to come up?â
ââ
The stairwell smells of somebody's late dinner and warm dust, the day's heat still trapped in it, and you take the stairs ahead of him to the second floor.
John is a gentleman.
John has been a gentleman all night.
John gives himself the length of one flight of stairs off the clock â the sway of you in those jeans, the shift and give of you with every step, the smooth line of your bare shoulders under the halter's little bow â and by the landing he's a gentleman again, and if you felt his eyes like a brand on you, and by the half-smirk you throw over your shoulder you did, neither of you says a word about it.
Your flat smells like you â the perfume he got to know at the pub, but underneath it, clean laundry, a candle burned down sometime this week â and a blur of black-and-caramel bolts across the living room and vanishes down the hall before he can so much as get a look at her.
"That was Twix," you say, her paws still pattering away. "She'll start her background check and circle back."
"Sensible."
And then the two of you are standing in your living room with the whole carâs worth of honesty sitting in the middle of the floor, and you look at him, and look at the kitchen, and say:
"Do you want a drink? I have wine. Or, um. Tea? I might have a beer fromâ"
"I'm alright," his mouth pulls at one side.Â
"Water? I'm gonna have water."
"Then I'll have water," he says like heâs surrendering.Â
He watches you go â and he could laugh, not at you, but because he knows exactly what heâs looking at. The two of you agreed in plain English on why heâs standing here, and now youâre in your kitchen filling glasses neither of you want, and wiping down a counter that, from where heâs stood, was already clean.Â
So he gives you room. Settles against the arm of the couch, takes a slow lap of your shelf with his eyes â you and a woman he guesses is the October bride, you on a hike somewhere sunny, you and Twix bravely on the balcony â and he wants you the whole time, low and patient, in his back teeth, but doesnât move on it.
 Your pace. Your move.
You come back with the waters, and hand him his, and hold your own in both hands like you might drop it. He takes a sip, looks at you over the rim of it.
âYouâre nervous,â he says.
âNot at all.â
âMm.â He nods slowly, deeply unconvinced and taking a page from your own book. âDonât know if I buy that.â
He watches it land, watches the laugh come up out of you before you can stop it, head tipping back, throat bare, and half your nerves seem to leave with it.
He likes that.Â
He sets his glass down. Then, gently, he takes yours out of your mid-fidget hands and sets it down too â he tips your chin up with one knuckle, and kisses you.
Easy-like, cold from the water, cranberry still faint on your tongue, your breath catches once against his mouth and then lets go. Your hands slide flat up his chest and stop over his heart â which is going quicker than heâd care to admit, and he feels the exact moment you find it out, the little hum of discovery you make.
When you pull back to look at him, whatever nerves were left in you are gone from your eyes, and theyâre twinkly a lot like the first photo he ever saw of you.Â
You take his hand off your waist, lace it through yours, and guide him backward toward the short hall.
In your bedroom he finds the tie of your halter at the back of your neck and pauses with the ends between his fingers, silk warm from your body. One pull and it gives, the fabric sighing loose, and he follows it slide down with his eyes first, then his mouth â the slope of your throat, over your shoulder, then the soft skin below your ear that tastes of strawberry perfume and salt. His beard drags over your neck and a shiver flows through you so he does it again, slower. You shiver harder, fingers curling into the front of his polo.
Good.
You tug the hem of his shirt up and he reaches back, pulls it off over his head one-handed, and drops it somewhere heâll look for later. He unhooks your bra just as easily, and when your palms spread into the coarse hair over his bare chest and down his toned stomach, the muscle jumps under your fingertips, he hears his own breath go rough.
âOkay,â you say, a little wonder in it. âWow, yeah, thatâsâŚ.â
âMm?â
âNothing. Justâ I knew military, just didnât realize⌠this much military.â
âLodging a complaint?â he askes, amused.
âDefinitely not.â
The rest goes gradually â his belt, your jeans peeled down warm thighs with his calloused palms flat against your skin the whole way, a hop and a giggle when the denim catches your ankle and he steadies you by the elbow â and then youâre bare in front of him, lamplight pooling gold along your shoulder, your hip, the soft curve of your stomach. He stops with his hands at your waist and looks.
âSay something,â you murmur, half a laugh, shy at last under the attention. âYouâre oggling.â
âI am.â His thumbs press slow arcs into your hips. âGive me a minute. Been picturinâ this since Tuesday and I did you no justice.â
You pull him down onto the bed by way of an answer, and the mattress sinks with a soft complaint, and then itâs just skin â so much warm skin, soft everywhere heâs hard, giving under his hands, smelling of perfume and the clean sweat July dampens into everyone.
He stretches out alongside you, one heavy thigh over yours, and takes his time. The curve of your waist. The full weight of your breast, thumb dragging over your nipple until it peaks and your breath stutters. The inside of your thigh, where the skin is finest and the heat pools. You move under his touch the whole time, restless and rising, fingers in his hair, at his shoulders, and the small sounds you make land somewhere at the base of his neck and prickle there.
Then he shifts down the bed, kisses the soft of your stomach, the plush crease of your hip, and looks up the length of you.
âCan I?â
âYouâ yes,â you breathe, trembling feebly. âYes, obviously, you donât have to aââ
His mouth is on you before the sentence ends.
Youâre sweet and slick against his tongue, already so wet the first slow lick slides easy, and the sound you make is high and caught somewhere low, thigh twitching against his ear, one hand flying to his hair. He hums â feels you feel it â and settles in. No rush. Long soft strokes of his tongue until your hips learn the rhythm and rise to meet it, then his lips close warm around your clit, sucking gently, and your whole body pulls tight.
âOh my godâ okayâ okayââ
âMm.â
âDonât be smugââ and your voice climbs off the end of the sentence as he slides two thick fingers into you, curling them, tongue still working, and whatever the rest of that scolding was, he never learns it.
âCould do this all night, sweetheart,â he murmurs against you, and feels the words land in a shudder. Your breathing changes. Your thighs start trembling, your hand fists in the sheets â and he keeps the pace exactly the same until youâre pulling at him. Hair, arm, anything you can reach.
âJohnâ Johnâ comeâ I want you. Now,â you whine, âPlease.â
He comes up the length of you slow, mouth mapping stomach and sternum and throat on the way, and settles over you on one forearmâ
"I should've said this in the car," he starts, eyes on yours. "I don't have a condom. Wasn't assuming tonight would end up here."
"I don't have any either. I actually checked the drawer before I left tonight." You push his dampening hair back off his forehead. "I'm on the pill, and I trust you. But I'd still feel better if you pull out. Is that okay?"
He nods assuredly. "Then I'll pull out," he says flat and plain. "You have my word."
"You and your wordâ" but you're smiling, and then you're not smiling, because he's already moved and taken himself in hand and dragged the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in you, and notched against your entrance, and the smile falls open into something much, much better.
He pushes in slow, watches your face the entire way â he couldn't look elsewhere if a grenade went off â your brows drawing up, your lips parting around a breath that doesn't finish, your nails biting little crescents into his forearms â and fuck, the feel of you: scalding, soaked, tight enough that he has to stop twice, jaw clenched, sweat sliding at his temple, feeding you his cock an inch at a time and pulling back, then giving you more; the slick easy give of you around him unspooling something in his stomach.
"Talk to me," he murmurs, gravel-low. "Alright?"
"Yes." Your voice has gone breathless and small and blissed. "You'reâ godâ"
"Christ, youâre snug," he exhales shakily, eyes finding yours. âRelax for me, baby. Breathe.â
"I am breathâoh. Ohâshhitâ"
Johnâs seated all the way, hips flush to your backside, and both of you go quiet â a shared beat of stillness, you fluttering around him hot and full, his body coming down, forehead dropping to yours, ten months of silence pulling a sound up out of his chest that he couldn't have stopped if he knew it was coming.
Then you shift your hips, experimental, a slow grind up against him, and that stillness is over.
He moves slowly; long level strokes dragging all the way out so you both feel every hot stretch of the return, your breasts pressing soft against his hairy chest. Your heels slide up the back of his thighs and he budges his hips closer, holding deep and pressing the head of his cock into your furthest wall. Your hands squeeze the meat between his shoulders and his neck as he pushes a small squeal out of you.Â
"I wonât," he murmurs against your jaw. âI wonât move.â
"âokay maybe move a littleâ"
He breathes something restrained through a smile. "Make your mind up, darling," he grunts.Â
âItâs hard toâ mmmâthink like this,â you half-moan against his cheek.Â
âDonât think, then.â
Itâs all your talking that undoes him more than anything, he realizes distantly. Heâd forgotten there was a version of this with laughing in it; a version with a woman eagerly gripping him and grinning against his cheek in the second before a moan carries her voice away â and every time you say his name, breathed and broken, something in his chest cinches another notch tighter.
He draws back and drives home again, and whatever youâd been about to answer with comes out as a punched huff.
You donât think.
He feels the difference in you immediately â your body dropping the manners, hips rising to meet him harder than heâs giving it, heels dragging him in by the thighs on every stroke, a low frustrated sound building in your throat when he keeps the same controlled pace. Youâre not asking for anything. Youâre taking it in inches, greedy and unaware of yourself, nails dragging down the small of his back, pullingâ
âHarder?â he asks against your ear.Â
"Yes, please."
He hooks your knee up over his hip and opens you widerââSo polite.ââand gives it to you deeper, his weight behind it, your headboard cracking against the wall. You go loud and lovely underneath him, clutching, slick heat and plush skin and your nails scoring lines down his back that he hopes, viciously, will last long enough to admire.
He works a hand between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, riding the motion youâve bkth created.
"That'sâ Johnâ Youâre gonna make me come," you sob.Â
"I know. I feel you. Squeezin' me likeâ Christ. Go onâfuck."
He watches it arrive before you do, a shiver running ahead of the wave; your spine arches up off the bed, your cunt clenches around him in long pulsing, aching, waves â it takes you under, and you pull him with you. Â
He holds you, murmuring filth and praise in equal measure against your earâ
How goodâ
How gorgeousâ
Youâre mine now, you know that? Hm?â
Itâs watching you eagerly nod along with his babbling that finishes him. He lasts maybe ten more strokes on borrowed time, heat gathering alacritous and irrevocable at the base of his groin â and he rears back onto his knees, pulling out of you with a growl that tumbles from his throat, fist working his cock over, soaked with you, spilling hot across your stomach and hip in thick ropes, head hanging, shoulders heaving, your thighs still bracketing his knees.
When he lifts his head, youâre already looking at him.
Glowing down to your chest, lips parted and kiss-swollen, wearing him low on your stomach â and neither of you says anything. Neither of you looks away either. His chest is still heaving. Your knee presses in against his side, and the corner of your mouth starts to curl, and his does too, helpless about it.
He comes down on his side, careful of the mess heâs made of you, one arm heavy across the pillow above your head. The curtain breathes at the window beside the bed and the night comes in and cools the sweat on his back, and he can see your heartbeat going hard at your throat, the rise and fall of your stomach not yet settled. He gently fits his thumb against your pulse, just to feel it going.Â
He kisses you, your mouth lazy under his, and then your temple, and the crown of your head, and you make a low, boneless sound and turn your face into his hot neck, and the two of you just lie there breathing each other in, tangled and settling, your finger drawing slow shapes on his forearm.
"John?" Small, against his throat.
"Mm?"
"Would you mind grabbing me a cloth? Bathroom's just across the hall."
He's up before the sentence finishes, annoyed at his own carcass the whole three steps to the door, ten months out of practice and it shows, he used to know this part, the part where he takes care of you before you have to ask.
You bathroom is small and smells of your shampoo, fruity, herbal. He runs a flannel under the warm tap, wrings it out, catches his own eyes in the mirror over the sink â wrecked hair, beard ruined and shiny with your lipgloss. He turns, craning his neck spotting a blooming red scratch coming up nicely at his shoulder.
He comes back and cleans you up properly, kneeling on the edge of the bed, one hand steady at your hip while the warm cloth moves over your stomach â thorough about it, frowning slightly the way he does when heâs concentrating â and you watch him do it propped up on your elbows with an expression he can't quite read and doesn't need to. It's warm, whatever it is. And itâs aimed at him, so.
"You're staring," he says, not looking up.Â
"You're tidying me."
"Should've done it before you asked." He folds the cloth, sets it on the nightstand, and stretches out beside you again, this time gathering you into his chest. "Out of practice."
"I'll allow it," you say, magnanimous, settling your cheek against his pec. "The rest was very in-practice."
He huffs into your hair.
Your fingers trail idle through the hair on his chest, down over old pinked scars, and you ask him about them â whether the jagged line at his shoulder hurt, what caused the puckered one under his ribs â and he answers more honestly than he means to, your weight settling heavier against him as the adrenaline drains.
There's a soft thump from the hallway, then, and a moment later a small shape appears in the doorway â sits, tail wrapping her feet, and surveys the wreckage: the trail of clothes, the stranger man in the bed, you draped over his ribs.
She stares at John.
John stares back.
"We have an audience," he says.
You look over him to see your cat, "Twix, John. John, Twix."
Twix holds his gaze a moment longer, supremely unimpressed, then steps delicately over his discarded shirt and exits the way she came and he feels you giggling before he hears it, the shake of it against his chest.
"That went well," you say, overly pleased.Â
âYeah?â
âMhm.â
"Well, consider me chuffed."
Some comfortable minutes later he feels you surface a little out of the drowse, feels your breathing change, going careful; feels your face arrange itself against his skin before you speak.Â
"You don't have to stay, by the way." Light. Smooth as eroded stone, polished by use, he imagines. "If you'd sleep better in your own bed. No pressure either way."
And there it is â the same maneuver from your texts, the honest thing dressed up so you can't be caught caring â except this time he can feel your heartbeat while you run it, quick against his ribs, betraying the whole performance from inside.Â
He keeps his hand moving on your arm, slow, so you know nothing's landed wrong.
"I'll head home," he says. "Not because I want to," he clarifies.
âNo?â you ask.Â
"Believe me. This is about the last place I want to leave." His hand doesn't stop, slow up, slow down, steadying you through it. "I'd like at least one proper dinner between us before I go makin' a habit of your bed."
You lift your head off his chest and look at him â hair wrecked, eyes searching his face for the trick â and he lets you look as long as you need to because there's no trick to be found. He meant it.Â
âAlright," you agree.Â
âYeah?â
âYes. Dinner sounds nice.â
"Mm," he hums, contented. He presses a kiss into your hair and untangles himself, face scrunched with visible reluctance, and dresses while you watch from the bed with the sheet gathered loose around you.
At the door he stops.Â
"C'mere."
You come to him in the sheet, and he kisses you properly, one hand cupping your face, thumb at your cheek. You go languid against him. He takes his time. Long past politeness. Long enough that leaving starts to look renegotiable, and he breaks away before he starts.Â
"Gânight," he says, low, still holding your face.
"Goodnight."
"I'll ring you about dinner tomorrow."
ââ
The flat is quiet. But it's a different quiet than the one you left this morning and you stand in the middle of it grinning.
Twix reappears at the edge of the counter and stares.Â
âI donât need the lecture, Iâm grown,â you tell her and start walking back to the bedroom, you hear her little jump to the floor and her feather steps catching up with you, âI can have sex. I deserve it, even.â You drop into your bed with a sigh. âYouâd understand if you still had ovaries.â
Omg I love your works so much and I just saw your bts post on the trend of where like husbands come up behind their pregnant wife and lift their bellies to like help with the weight (?) and I would love to request if your could write one for svt (thank youu)
warnings: mdni, 18+, fluff, husband! svt x reader, pregnant! reader, softness, comfort, pet names, etc.
A/N: Y'all, I know nothing about pregnancy lmao, so your girl tried. [not proofread yikes]
SEUNGCHEOL - You were irritated, but not really, actually, maybe. Your hormones seemed to be flipping back and forth between the little annoyance of feeling your lower back ache by just standing, and the awe that you were actually growing a baby inside of you.
Right now? Annoyance prevailed, and your waddles throughout your home didn't help convey your simmering feelings.
You huffed, puffed, and pouted your way to the kitchen in search of something that could soothe you. You were hoping to find sweets, maybe dessert, but much to your added aggravation, you found nothing.
You bristled, already thinking about the offense you'd feel having to drive yourself to the nearest grocery store, and the fact that you'd have to see people while feeling like the size of a whale.
And that's how your husband finds you.
You were stewing in your thoughts, arms crossed with an adorable pout that makes him want to provoke you into something worse, just because he found it so cute - but survival instincts kicked in first, and he gently moved closer. "How are my babies doing?"
Seungcheol asks this while hugging you from behind, his palms sliding under your round stomach, and automatically picking up the extra weight without a second thought.
Your dull ache minimizes, and so do your negative feelings, your body naturally relaxing into your husband's. "It'd be better if you order dessert to our house in the next twenty minutes."
Your husband laughs, his kiss sweet against your shoulder as he nods his head in agreement.
Whatever you want, he's happy to provide, but he's going to hold you the whole time.
JEONGHAN - Jeonghan is staring at you, but that's pretty normal.
He always seemed to stare at you even back when you two were just dating, but now that you're pregnant with his kid?
"You could take a picture, y'know?" You teased. You had just stepped out of the shower, still naked, as you met Jeonghan's eyes through the mirror.
He was looking at you with soft eyes, a little smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe that led to your shared bedroom.
"And who said I haven't?" Jeonghan mused, earning an affectionate eyeroll from you. You felt normal, just bigger, rounder - especially in the stomach and breasts, but that was a given. Your body was changing, growing, and it made sense why your husband would stare lovingly.
He always told you that you were glowing, but you're pretty sure it's just him developing dad-brain. So, you shake your head, continuing your after-shower routine as your husband watched.
But it wasn't long before his self-control waned and he came up closer, grabbing your full hips as you combed your hair. His hands rubbed, massaging your hips, your waist, up to your breasts - giving them a squeeze. "So pretty," he praised, and your cheeks flushed as he dipped lower towards your round stomach.
When he lifted your belly softly, his arms flexed, holding the weight you carried daily now as his kid grew and his eyes softened even more.
"I love you."
JOSHUA - Ever since you got pregnant, you couldn't get your husband's hands off of you. He had become glued to you like your own personal bodyguard who had to have his hand on you somewhere, anywhere, at all times.
You wanted to go grocery shopping? Joshua had his large hand on your lower back, slowing his steps to your adorable waddle as you insisted on pushing the cart yourself.
You were washing dishes after a lovely dinner for the two of you? He's drying the clean dishes right next to you, his biceps brushing your shoulder every few seconds like your personal bubble was his.
He'd always accompany each touch with a compliment, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you. It had seemed your pregnancy had only made him more smitten as time went on, and you were definitely not complaining. Especially when he'd twirl you around in his arms, his hands coming down to your stomach to caress as he pointed his next compliments to his child with soft eyes.
He'd tease your kid that they needed to be nice to you while you carried them, and like your kid could hear their dad, you felt your baby stretch into your ribs. "Oh, already doing the complete opposite, they must be yours." You teased, and Joshua rolled his eyes with a happy grin.
"More like they're like their mama, stubborn." He bantered, and his hands lowered, lifting your growing stomach with ease. His forearms flexed, and the weight on your hips eased, letting you melt back into your husband's chest with a happy noise.
"If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure you told me you liked my stubbornness." You mused, and Joshua's little scoff of laughter tickled your neck before he gave the curve of your ear a soft peck.
"Yeah, and I will be lucky if my kid inherits anything of yours. Whether it's stubbornness or just your love, I'll love you both with all my heart."
JUN - Jun's love language had always been acts of service.
It didn't matter if he came home from a long, exhausting day at work; the moment he saw you, he'd drag you onto the couch with him, your feet pulled onto his lap, and ask you to tell him about your day as he started to massage the curve in your foot.
That was just who your husband was. Caring to a default, and he'd become even more doting when you two had found out you were pregnant.
Suddenly, it went from foot massages to him insisting he could take care of the chores. He'd already taken out the trash, you had deemed that a "boy job", and as you moved into your third trimester, he had become more stubborn in taking on your chores too.
It was like you were some delicate flower when you only felt like an elephant with how much your body changed as your baby grew, and Jun was nothing but loving every step of the way.
He never complained when you stole his pillow to use under your back when you two slept; he never said anything when you woke him up at three am, craving something that brought you out of your sleep and close to tears until he gave you a soft kiss, letting you know he'd get it for you, no matter what time it was and how much sleep he had.
He'd do anything for you, so when he notices that you hold your stomach every now and then, a little discomfort displaying on your face, he turns to the internet to figure out what's going on.
He finds his answer in the first link he's shown, and his eyes soften as he realizes just how much you had to deal with, even when he tried to make everything easier for you.
So, he does his best to help more.
It becomes routine for him to seek you out whenever you two are home, or even when you two are out and about - he'd simply bring you close, kissing your shoulder briefly before he picked up the extra weight in your stomach with his two hands.
It never failed to make him grin as you melted in his arms, sighing in relief as he held you, and he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him before you two continued with whatever you had been doing prior, but not before you gave him another kiss as a thank you.
HOSHI - "Just five more minutes," you sighed. Your eyes were closed as you spoke the words, your body tilting more into Hoshi's as you held onto his forearms. You could feel the veins that ran down to his wrists, and the way his forearms flexed along with his biceps as he held you close.
You could probably fall asleep just like this, standing up, with Hoshi holding your stomach. It's a relief you didn't know you needed during your pregnancy until your husband was telling you he wanted to try something out.
Supposedly, one of his friends mentioned this trend for pregnant women, and Hoshi all but perked up like a dog hearing their favorite words.
If there was anything, anything at all, to help you during your pregnancy, he was going to do it. He'd scoured the internet for tips for new parents, he read baby books in between work, and when he was home, he cornered you like you were going to run from him as he gave you a look that made you raise your eyebrows sceptically.
But as soon as his strong arms wrapped around you, holding your stomach, and letting the dull ache from your lower back disappear? You were putty in his hands.
"We could do more than five minutes, my love," Hoshi said softly, right by your ear, and a shiver ran up your spine as you felt his fingers flex, squeezing you affectionately. "I can do this all night, I mean- you've been doing this every day for the last six months. Let me take over for you."
WONWOO - When you approach your husband, Wonwoo's entire attention reverts to you. His eyes soften, taking in your lovely smile, the glow that he liked to claim was there way before you ever got pregnant, and then finally to your growing stomach.
His heart skips a beat, fluttering in his chest with a warmth that leaves him lost for words, before his eyes flicker back up to yours. "Hello, my love," He hums, and you get a kiss before you can greet him back. "What can I do for you?"
Ever since you got pregnant, Wonwoo had been adamant about providing for your needs even more than he already did. He was the one to go out at any time of the day for whatever your pregnancy craved. He was the one to bring your legs up to his lap, massaging your muscles until you were putty in his hands. He was the one he wanted you to turn to for anything, regardless of whether you were pregnant or not.
So, when you ask him to hold you with flushed cheeks, he can't help but smirk at such an easy request.
"Of course, my love." But before he gets the chance to reach for you, you're shaking your head, a giggle escaping as you move his hands lower.
"No, hold me here, my love."
And then it clicked, and his smile grew as he stepped closer to you.
"Oh?" He hummed, and his hands caressed your growing stomach with soft rubs, lowering until he could lift the extra weight with ease, and the relief was immediate for you. Your lips parted with a cute little "oh!" and your gasp came out before you could stop it.
His large hands barely had to flex to hold your stomach, and he watched with an amused grin as your shoulders sagged in happiness, your hands resting on his chest as you shuffled closer to your husband.
"Just for a few minutes, please." You were so cute asking him with wide blinks, and he couldn't help but lean down, kissing you with a slow kiss that had you melting even further into him.
"Anything for you, my love. I can do this all day."
WOOZI - Woozi was hovering. He was always hovering around you ever since the two of you found out you were expecting. It was like he was in fight or flight mode, trying to be there for you as a partner, but not sure how he could help you the best.
He seemed to have a permanent furrowed brow, his lips set in determination for something you werenât entirely sure of. It was like he waiting for something, anything, with a tense body that actually distracted you from the way the baby inside your stomach was stretching its little limbs against your rib cage.
Motherhood, how magical.
Seven months along, and you felt like a whale. Your breasts were fuller, your stomach was rounder, your hips ached with your lower back - and there was your husband, hovering like you might let out a warrior cry before running away to leave him dazed and confused. It made you snort, rolling your eyes affectionately as you folded the clean laundry.
âIf youâre going to be a helpful baby daddy, at least make yourself useful.â You teased, and your lover blinked, staring at you, dumbfounded for a moment.
âHuh?â
âCome here, make your hands useful for me.â You nodded your head in one direction, beckoning him closer as you folded a towel. You figured heâd either help you fold or help you put away the folded laundry. What you didnât expect was for him to stand behind you and easily lift your stomach, instantly relieving you of the weight you carried every day now. âOh!â
âDoes this help? I saw it somewhere.â
Your head tilted back, your body naturally leaning back towards him. âOh my god, never let me go.â
âNever dreamt of it.â
MINGHAO - You were grumpy, and you honestly didn't even mean to be. It was just everything.
You felt bloated, a little hot, a little overstimulated, a little tired, and a lot hungry. Pregnancy had been smooth sailing until you reached your third trimester, but after that, you felt a little crazy. You were ready to get a full night's sleep without a mountain of pillows to assist. Or better yet, if you didn't have to waddle everywhere. You felt like a penguin about to go exploring just to make it to your kitchen.
And you had decided no one could ever complain about back pain other than you. Your child was something you truly felt was testing your body as its own personal martial arts studio, or gymnasium, and you were ready for it all to be done.
The little app you had for your pregnancy said it was the size of a large cantaloupe, and you could feel it. Your hips and lower back ached, and that was just from standing still. So, yeah, you were grumpy, and your husband seemed to be getting the brunt of your sassiness as he greeted you with a smile.
"How are my beautiful loves?" He hummed, stepping into the kitchen to get closer to you.
Normally, you'd match his grin, give him a kiss, but all you could do was pout, stopping him in his tracks as you gave him a pointed look. "Don't even play with me right now."
Your husband was lucky you had missed the way he bit his lip to hold in his laugh, or you'd surely explode in your feelings.
Pregnancy, in his eyes, had made you even cuter than before, but he might be biased since it was his kid you were carrying. "Tell me what you need, let me take care of you." Hao mused, and you couldn't help but melt a little at his words, even if your pout remained the same.
"If you could carry your kid the rest of the way, I'd appreciate it." You didn't mean to be sarcastic, but your emotions had been a whirlwind since you woke up, and it came out before you could stop it.
Luckily for you, Minghao was your husband, and his smile only grew fonder as he moved closer. He took your words literally, and his hands wrapped under your stomach, easily lifting it, and relieving your little aches as he gave a little laugh. "Always. You just need to ask, my love, and I'll do anything for you."
Only your husband could turn your mood around in less than three minutes.
MINGYU - It has become somewhat of a routine between you and Mingyu when it was time for you to get up from wherever you may have been sitting previously.
Whether you were relaxing on the couch in the living room or simply getting out of the car, it had become increasingly more difficult now that you were pregnant. You felt bloated more towards your third trimester, and it took a lot of energy to move if you didn't get some kind of assistance.
It wasn't that you were unable to do things on your own; it was more that your face would pinch into a little wince whenever you did. The weight of your kid pressing into your ribs or back is enough to make you suck in a sharp breath and for your husband to almost insist you spend the rest of your pregnancy bedridden.
Which, if anyone knew you, that would be ridiculous - so you came up with a compromise.
Your husband, Mingyu, would become your anchor. He was always hovering around you anyway, mumbling about "need to protect both my loves." So, it became instinctive to reach for your husband's hand when getting around.
You still waddled and still insisted you could do it yourself, but nevertheless, your hand would go to his, and you were rewarded with kisses to your temple once you were standing on your own two feet.
"I know you can, but let me take care of you anyway," Mingyu murmured, and before you could rebut, his warm hands slid around your waist and underneath your stomach, lifting the weight from your hips and giving you further relief.
All sass left your body as you sighed, relaxing into your man's strong arms with a dreamy smile that matched his. "Fine, but don't let me go then."
"I wasn't planning to."
DK - Computer? How do I get my very pregnant wife out of the bathtub? She won't leave.
DK was kneeling on the right side of the bathtub, eyebrows furrowed with slight worry as he watched you. You had been in this tub of water for an hour, and you were pruning. "C'mon, Baby, get out, and I'll dry you off. Any longer, our baby is going to turn into a mermaid."
This made you snort, your lips curving up as your eyes flickered to the swell of your stomach poking out of the water. You were eight months pregnant and bath time was the only time the small ache of carrying his kid was relieved off your back and hips.
You waddled, you slept with eight pillows, and you were tired. You honestly weren't sure if you could lift yourself up, which made another round of sleepy giggles erupt from you as you stared at your husband with love. "Baby, I might just sleep here."
You watched with amusement as Seokmin brought his phone out, typing into the little screen with another furrow of his eyebrows, and you snorted at his search.
"Help me?" You asked with a grin, and Dokyeom was already snaking his hands around your hips, using a firm but gentle touch to help you. He didn't care if his clothes got wet; he was always happy to be your anchor as you leaned on him.
When you stood up, his hands naturally caressed your tummy, still in awe at how strong you were to carry his kid. And when he lifted your tummy a little, carrying the extra weight, your lips parted.
"Oh!" Dokyeom found a new favorite pastime for you, other than bath time, and he was perfectly happy with it - he wanted the extra practice before he carried his kid everywhere anyway.
SEUNGKWAN - It was no surprise that the moment your husband came home and saw you, he'd launch into a rant about his day like he'd been dying to since the moment he had to leave your side. You and he were truly best friends and lovers all wrapped up in one. You were the first person he wanted to tell anything to, and you felt the same.
It was a routine at this point that if one of you came home, you'd drag the other onto the sofa, giving a play-by-play of the day with the utmost seriousness. You got the gossip, the missed funny moments, everything - and when you became pregnant? Well, now it was a party of three.
But instead of your husband leading you to the couch like normal, he'd simply drop everything as soon as he crossed through the door and dropped to his knees before you. It had progressed to you barely getting a kiss in greeting before your baby, who snuggled into your ribs with a little annoyance for your comfort.
Seungkwan would simply kiss your growing stomach, his eyes sparkling as he flickered from your tummy to you, then back to your fuller stomach. "Have you been being nice to your mom while I was away?" He would hum, and your eyes rolled affectionately as you fought to keep your smile at bay.
"No, your little tangerine actually has been tiresome since you left - I think they know you're gone, they get restless." You teased, and Seungkwan's eyes sparkled brighter, his lips pressing another kiss to your tummy as he shook his head.
"Well, we can't have any of that." His hands move under your stomach, lifting the extra weight and relieving your hips of the little ache you got from carrying his child throughout the day. You sighed happily, and Seungkwan grinned up at you. He was still on his knees, carrying your stomach gently, and his hum was soft as he launched into his day.
He told his growing family all about his workday right in the middle of the entrance way, never once letting go of your stomach as he talked more to your belly than to you.
Eventually, you three would make it to the sofa, but for now, if he could hold you both, he didn't mind the bite in his knees as he kneeled on the wooden floors, his heart full and warmed with love.
VERNON - You don't even realize Vernon is watching you until he's suddenly right behind you.
You're seven months pregnant with his child, and it's beginning to take a toll. Mornings have become more difficult to roll out of bed. You've got at least six pillows tucked into you to try and ease the discomfort your lower back pings to you, but it's still there. It's become this little ache that accompanies you even when you waddle throughout the house.
Yes, waddle. Vernon says you don't waddle, but his opinion is now irrelevant while you carry his kid.
That's why you don't even notice him step behind you as you clean off the table. Dinner was done, and Vernon had insisted you rest while he cleaned up everything, but old habits die hard, and you're a little winded after a few swipes of the table.
"I told you to rest," Vernon murmurs softly and gently, and you're about to retort back before his hands slide around your round stomach, lifting the weight and immediately rendering you speechless.
"Oh!" You're mouth drops, and the back ache is momentarily gone as your husband holds you up.
It makes Vernon grin to see you like this, and he kisses your shoulder as you melt back into his body. "That's it, let me take care of you, Mamas."
DINO - Ever since you got pregnant, your husband has been online more than usual.
It's usually accompanied by a furrowed brow and multiple looks in your direction, but you figured he was trying to learn as much as he could about being a first-time parent. All you cared about were the actual doctor visits and the little app on your phone that told you your baby was the size of a mango today.
The thought was hard to process, but it made you motivated to eat fruit when you saw the message, so you found yourself pacing through your kitchen. You brought out fruit, the cutting board, your favorite knife, which you believed could probably cut through anything, and got to work making two bowls.
And it wasn't because you were eating for two. You rolled your eyes at the silly thought, your lips curving into a grin before you flickered your eyes to your left, where your husband had followed you.
That was the other thing: if your husband wasn't at work, he seemed to be your personal shadow, following you into each room, regardless of whether he had been in the middle of doing something.
You could feel him approach quietly, and you hummed as you put the same fruit equally between the two bowls. "I'm making you one, too."
You can hear him set his phone on the counter, his body coming closer from behind, before you feel his lips brush the back of your neck. "I saw something online-" and just as you go to ask him for more details, his large hands slide under your stomach, lifting the extra weight with ease.
The relief to your lower back is instant, and the knife falls onto the cutting board as you gasp. You can feel yourself melt in relief, leaning more into your husband as Dino grins against your shoulder.
"Does that feel good?"
Your little happy noise you make with an eager nod makes him hold you closer, his smile growing fonder by each second that passes.
ëë° - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ⥠. Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
ditzy!reader getting in the smallest lil fender bender & hysterically crying while you call the cops (praying they donât send sammy). coincidentally, they do. sammy's face drops when he sees you "baby? what happened mama, what's goin on?" as he opens your door, helping you fan your face. your makeup is smudged and you hold up your hand to sammy with a sad "look!" :(
now if most men saw that your nail was broken after losing a bumper on the car they bought you, they'd have a less than caring reaction. but not sammy, he's all pouts and kisses. bringing your hand up to his eyes and inspecting the rigid crack in the sunlight, "oh, sweetheart i'm sorry." it's genuine too, which is what makes ben & cooper howl with laughter behind him. sammy doesn't even notice, too caught up in cooing at you "did'ya hurt anything else? yeah, no, i know, nail's the biggest priority ,my poor baby."
you cling to his chest as you bawl, and sammy knows you need him just as much as he needs to do his job. "okay baby hang on, lemme get a look at the car," but you won't dare let go of his arm; too shaken up and overstimulated. "okay, okay, 's alright, gimme your hand and walk with me" while he walks around the car checking for any other issues. after assessing for any other issues, sammy sits you back in the drivers seat and checks your head and face for any injuries. sammy with his big, strong hand brushing against your forehead and resting his fingers against the sides of your neck to turn your head gently, "i know, i know, i'm sorry honey, just gotta look you over real quick"
after plenty of kisses and comfort, sammy stands and gestures to ben, "wouldya take my girl home, please?" and ben knows better than to question sammy when he sees this look across his face. after you get in the car, you watch as sammy approaches the man you got in the accident with. "You always drive like shit? Huh?" he looks so big, so handsome, so protective... so husband. <3
@animangacreators challenge #58: egg hunt
prompt #07: make an original creation featuring an animanga with a scene including an egg OR a character painting
â.ËËŕż pairing | ot6 x 7thmember!reader ŕźâ§âË.
synopsis | when your members find out you don't think its possible for you to cum during sex (thanks to your lackluster ex), they set out on a mission to prove to you that not only is it possible but there's many different ways to do so.
details | nsfw (MINORS DNI), pure smut, piwon as varying degrees of dominant (from softdom!jongseob to meandom!theo), reader is quite inexperienced, dry humping, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, squirting, mutual masturbation, voice kink, edging, overstimulation, punishment (not for reader), light dom/sub dynamics, power dynamics, f/m/m, f/m/m/m, time constraints, light humiliation, rough sex, creampie, throat-fucking, choking, orgasm denial, fluff (more probably)
⥠length | 21k âĄ
đŠâĄđŞ note || well this was quite overwhelming to write and it is quite the ride ÂŹâżÂŹ the "plot" of this is barely a plot but the smut is smutting || also, canât believe itâs been one month of this blog already!! thank you sm for 450 followers you all are so appreciated <3 now enjoy the pure filth as a gift (apologies in advance for any typos that might have still made it through, i physically cannot proofread this any more)
âWait, heâs never made you cum before?â
Your chopsticks freeze halfway up to your mouth thatâs hung open awkwardly as you process the words that have just come out of Intakâs mouth. You look up from your bowl of noodles to see six pairs of eyes staring at you in varying levels of shock.
Thereâs a pause, and when no one moves to take this conversation in any other direction, you put down your chopsticks and close your mouth, clearing your throat as an embarrassed heat flushes high on your cheeks.
âWell, no,â you admit awkwardly. âI meanâ yes. I have. By myself, I mean, just not by my ex or anyone else.â
Youâre not sure how the conversation had diverged to you. One minute you were all talking over one of those reality dating shows Keeho had put on for everyone to watch over dinner (a strange choice, but whatever), then somehow the topic had shifted to first times and whether they were successful at bringing their partners to completion (this discussion was mainly between Theo, Keeho, and Intak), then someone was mentioning your name and asking you something you donât remember, and youâd just made a throwaway comment about how, âHe never did it for me anyway so this discussion is pointless to me,â to get them off your back (you were more focused on scarfing down your noodles), and now here you are.
âWait,â Intak speaks again, blinking like his brain just couldnât compute this piece of information. âSo the guy that you were in a relationship with for two years,â he starts, then pauses to look at you, as if trying to make sure you were understanding the gravity of the situation, then continues, âhas never made you come? Not once?â
You shake your head, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Itâs a little embarrassing, sure, but isnât it normal for most women to not finish during sex?
âNot ever?â Keeho asks this time, his brows pulled up behind his fringe. âWhat about anyone youâve ever been with. Ever.â
You drop your chopsticks into your bowl with a clatter. âNo,â you say firmly. âWhy is that so surprising?â
âBecause itâs ridiculous,â Theo states easily, leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed.
You shrug. âI donât see what the big deal is. Isnât it normal to just fake it and move on?â
Intak makes a noise like heâs been severely offended. âNo!â He cries. âI always make sure she comes. Always.â
You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. The quiet ones, Jiung, Soul, and Jongseob, are still watching you like hawks, and you can tell from their eyes that theyâre in accordance with the other three.
âThereâs no way,â you say. Youâve been through the motions of sex before. Itâs wildly uncomfortable, too slippery, and too rushed. âYouâre telling me you can all make your girlsâ finish?â
Thereâs a chorus of agreements from all of them, some more enthusiastic than others.
You blink, taken aback at the unity. ââŚEvery time?â
Another round of assent and youâre left with the thought that maybe somethingâs just wrong with you.
âMaybe I just donât like sex then,â you conclude, your brows pinching as you think back to the handful of times youâve given yourself up to your ex partner and only come out of it regretful.
âThat could be true.â
All eyes turn to Jiung, whoâs sitting on the single chair leaned back casually, looking straight at you with a clinical eye that leaves you feeling a little too exposed. You squirm in your seat on the carpeted floor, grateful for the refuge in the slight coverage the coffee table provides you.
âBut,â Jiung continues. âWeâve met the guy you were with. He didnât exactly ooze generosity.â
âThatâs true.â Jongseobâs voice pulls your eyes to where heâs sitting right across the table from you, hands braced on the floor behind him as he leans back. His eyes are calculating in their own way as they weigh on you. âIf your experience was with him then I wouldnât be too surprised.â
You fidget with your hands in your lap as your eyes flit over your members. âWell,â you start, then stop, mulling over your words for a moment. âMaybe thereâs something wrong with me then.â
âThereâs nothing wrong with you.â You almost flinch at Soulâs voice, sharper than youâre used to from him. Heâs on the floor to your right, peering at you with wide, wondering eyes. âYou said youâve just never orgasmed with him, right? You can finish when itâs just yourself?â
You fluster at his blunt words but nod. âYeah.â
âSo itâs not like you canât come or anything like that,â Keeho chimes in from the couch behind Jongseob. âYour ex just didnât know how to treat you right.â
You pout, feeling a little affronted. âHey, he wasnât a bad person.â
âBad in bed though,â Theo adds with a snicker.
You roll your eyes at him, picking up your chopsticks to have something to do with your hands. âI just canât imagine coming from sex. Itâs so⌠uncomfortable. Invasive.â
âOh honey,â Keeho says, tone sympathetic. âHe really didnât know how to treat you right then. It doesnât have to be invasive either. Thereâs so many more ways to come than just penetration.â
You stare at him, your brows climbing up your forehead. âThere⌠is?â You knew of a couple methods but the way he says it makes you feel like you were missing out on a lot more than you thought.
Intak makes a noise like heâs just been punched by the words. âYou donât know?â He asks, like heâs truly horrified by your lack of knowledge. Then he looks at Theo beside him and rattles him by the arm. âHyung, she doesnât know!â
Theo shoves him off with a hand on his forehead. âRelax.â Then he turns back to you and his next words throw your brain into the void. âWe could show you.â
Thereâs a palpable silence as those words hang in the air, leaving behind something heavy lingering in its wake.
âTaeyang,â Jiung scolds, turning to Theo with sharp eyes. âYou canât just spring something like that on her.â
âNo, wait,â you find yourself saying. As daunting as whatever Theo has in mind seems, you canât help but be curious. âIâm interested. Hypothetically.â
You can see everyone exchange looks, a weave of silent conversations that you ignore in favour of just looking at Theo, who holds your gaze back with a knowing smirk on his lips. He doesnât say more though; he waits for you to steer the conversation.
âWhatââ You start then stop again, clearing your throat when everyoneâs eyes fall back to you. âHypothetically, what would something like that entail?â
Theo leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his smirk pulling wider. âHypothetically,â he starts, a little teasing, and you falter under his stare. âWe would each show you a different way to make you come. Prove to you all the ways that you can finish during sex and that you were missing out on with your ex.â
You blink at him as the words process. The thought of them showing you makes something crawl under your skin, something youâre not able to name. Your eyes flit over all them, all of them who are watching you carefully. âThereâs six of you though.â
Theo raises a brow. âYes?â
âYouâre saying thereâs six different ways?â You ask, trying to wrack your brain for all the other ways your ex has tried besides penetration and outer stimulation (which was more just poking around than anything). Youâre not very adventurous on yourself either, so you come up empty. âHypothetically,â you tack on as an afterthought.
âWell, hypothetically, we could keep that a secret until we get to show you.â Theoâs smirk is inching towards something more dangerous, something that makes your heart stutter. âHypothetically,â he continues, tilting his head at you, âwould you like us to show you?â
And suddenly, this doesnât feel very hypothetical anymore. You can see it in the way theyâre all just waiting for you to either take them up on this âhypotheticalâ or put them out of their misery and brush off the conversation.
You think about it. Really think about it. You canât deny the way all this talk has your body prickling with curiosity and heated anticipation at the thought of them showing you, whatever that might be.
You glance between them, your close friends of the past six years, the people youâve practically grown up with, the ones you not only work with but call your own. Intak is leaned forward in morbid curiosity and hanging onto your every word, Jongseob is feigning nonchalance but you can see the faint blush on his cheeks, Keeho watches you with a heat that he doesnât even bother to hide, Soul is more curious and earnest than anything, Jiungâ though calm on the outsideâ looks like heâs ready to devour you with just his eyes, and Theo is an enigma youâre too scared to even try to decode. You can tell theyâre all waiting for the word, whichever it may be. But you donât feel scared by their anticipation despite the daunting way their gazes settle on you. Youâre surprised to feel something pulling at your gut, something wanting and present.
But above all, you trust them with everything. You can trust them with something like this.
So with a shaky breath, you nod. âYes.â
Itâs like the scene in front of you pauses on a reel. No one breathes.
âJust hypothetically?â Theo asks you slowly.
âNo,â you answer without hesitation. âNot just hypothetically.â
Thereâs a few sharp exhales like breaths that have been held in for too long, someone mutters a low curse from somewhere on your right, and the air shifts again into something heated with anticipation.
âOnly if everyone is okay with it,â you add, because you donât want to pull anyone into anything they donât want just for your sake.
âAre you kidding me?â Intak scoffs, a boyish grin pulling on his face. âI may or may not have thought about this already before.â
Jiung reaches over Theo to smack Intak over his lack of decorum.
âItâs fine,â you say, a small, awkward smile pulling on your lips. Youâre taken aback by Intakâs sudden confession, but it doesnât deter you. It makes you even more curious to see just what heâs wanted with you. âIâm, uh, looking forward to what you guys have to show me. But Iâm still not sure I believe that you guys can make me⌠you know.â
Jongseob smiles at you, leaning forward to lean his elbows on the coffee table. âLet us worry about that, okay?â His voice is lower, a little huskier, and it already has you a little flustered.
âCute,â you hear Soul mumble under his breath from your right and you glance at him to see heâs staring at the flush on your cheeks.
You clear your throat, sitting up straight to regain some semblance of control over your body. âHow do we do this?â
âWeâll make a list of what weâre going to do to you,â Keeho starts, making sure to let the words linger for a little just to see you squirm. âAnd then weâll pick what weâre each best at so you can get the best of the best.â He glances around the room to gauge opinions. âSounds good?â
Everyone agrees with more enthusiasm than youâre prepared for and you feel your heart start to thunder in your chest. Not from fear, but from excitement. If what they say is true, and they can get you to come without fail, youâre in for a night that could make up for all the mediocre sex in your life and open your eyes to things you might not even be aware of.
âThatâs that then,â Jiung says as he pulls himself up to his feet and walks over to your direction. Your heart jolts as he leans down to pick up your bowl of abandoned noodles, and you feel a little ridiculous that youâre already so affected. Jiungâs eyes flicker over your face thatâs a few inches from his, and the corner of his lips tick up for a split second. âWhy donât you wait for us in your room? Weâll figure everything else out.â His deep voice is hushed in a cadence that you can almost feel brush over your skin and leave goose flesh in its wake.
âSure,â you say, cheeks heating when your voice cracks halfway.
You scamper up to your feet to evade his amused chuckle and rush towards the stairs leading up to your bedroom.Â
Theoâs hand comes out to catch your arm before you can move past them, pulling you back. Heâs standing now, looking down at you with a serious pinch of his brows. âHey.â His voice is quieter, only for you to hear. âYouâre really okay with this? It might be a lot for you to handle.â
You feel whatever nerves thrumming under your skin ease away at his concern. âIâm sure,â you say with a smile, squeezing his hand over your arm. âI trust you. I trust all of you.â
That eases the tension out of his shoulders and his frown melts into a smile. âGood,â he says, then his eyes flash into something darker and his smile appears sharper than it was a second. âNow go get yourself ready.â He leans in and breathes the next words practically on your lips. âAnd I promise you, youâre not leaving that room until youâve come six times. And if the others fail, Iâll step in and make it up for them.â
You swallow, feeling the words sink to the base of your gut and fill it with fire. If just a few words can already push you towards ruin so quickly, youâre not sure whatâll happen when they actually get their hands on you.
đŠâĄđŞ
Youâre not sure how long youâve been waiting with your heart in your throat and your limbs feeling like livewire. You sit at the head of your bed, back pressed to the headboard and knees pulled up to your chest.
Youâre starting to wonder with each passing second just what youâve signed up for. The nervous excitement is still there, of course, at the prospect of possibly being properly pleasured by someone elseâs hand other than yours for a change but you have no idea what to expect. Your experience with sex didnât measure up even a fraction to what youâd built up in your head and you just canât imagine how your boys are possibly going to mend that disappointment.
But they seemed eager to show you otherwise, all of them. And you trust theyâll do well on their word even despite your lingering doubts.
So you take grounding breaths as you wait, sat comfy in a pair of sweats and a simple tee, until the handle to your door twists.
The door opens a fraction and Intakâs wide eyes peer in. âCan I come in?â
Your shoulders ease when you see that itâs just him and you wave him in with your hand. âJust you?â You ask, hoping only you can hear the waver in your voice.
âJust me,â he confirms, shutting the door behind him and making his way over to stand by the foot of the bed. âWe decided on it just being a one on one thing. We didnât want to overwhelm you with too much.â
You donât even realize that was something you were worried about until you feel your chest loosen at the knowledge. âOh,â you say with a grateful smile. âThatâs good, actually. Thanks.â
He smiles back, soft and sweet. âOf course. This is supposed to be all about you. We wanna make sure youâre feeling good and not stressed out.â He tilts his head at you, a habit of his that youâve always been endeared by. âHow are you feeling?â
You bite down on your lip as you try to figure out how to put your feelings into words. âFidgety? Nervous but⌠excited? I donât really know what to expect, so I donât know what to feel,â you admit sheepishly, then sit up straight with a sudden realization. âWait, should I have changed into something prettier orâŚ?â
He chuckles and shakes his head. âNo, donât worry about any of that. Keeping our clothes on will be just fine for this first⌠session, if thatâs what weâre calling it.â
Your stomach flips when you realize that things are about to start and that Intak is here to be the first one to go. âAh,â you say in realization, then frown. âWait, clothes on?â
His sweet smile makes way to a smug smirk as he knees onto your bed and climbs on, settling to sit on his feet in front of you. âYes,â he says, and youâre starting to realize how real everything is becoming with him sitting right in front of you. âUnless you wanted to see me with them off,â he adds with a cocky little grin.
You scoff at his flirty antics, something youâre all too familiar with. And the familiarity of it eases you down, surely something heâd meant for as he places a comforting hand on your ankle, rubbing slow circles there with his thumb.
âI didnât make the rules,â you point out, feeling your body slowly settle under the small, soothing touch. âI donât think I have any power here to decide.â
âThatâs where youâre wrong,â he purrs, then wraps the span of his hand around your ankle. âYou have all the power here. Weâre just here as vessels for your pleasure.â
Your brows raise as you bite down on your lip to smother your laugh. âThat sounds awfully serious coming from you, Takki.â
But thereâs no joke in the way Intak stares at you. Without warning, he yanks you forward by your ankle, pulling you flat on your back as he climbs over you, ignoring your yelp of surprise. He settles between your legs without delay and braces his hands on the bed on either side of your chest. He hovers over you, peering down at you with an intensity to his eyes youâve seen him with only when it comes to figuring out complicated choreography.
âIt is serious,â he tells you, low and smooth, and before you can respond his lips are on yours.
The kiss is slow and steady, more careful than youâd expect from Intak. But you find yourself melting into it with a soft sigh, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down.
He settles down on his elbows as he presses deeper into the kiss, his body lowering down against yours. And thatâs when you can feel it, the solid outline of his growing erection pressing against your thigh.
The weight of it against you shoots heat right to your core and makes you falter into the kiss. Curious, you push your leg up to press against the bulge and it gets a grunt out of his lips against yours.
He lifts up from the kiss, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at you with furrowed brows. âI wasnât lying when I said Iâve thought about this before. Been wanting to do this for a long time now,â he says, his voice rough with desire.
He shifts his hips to line his erection right over you then presses firmly down, making you gasp at the pressure against your already throbbing core.
âYou have?â You ask breathily when his words process. You roll your hips up to search for more of the pressure and Intak indulges you, rolling his hips down in a delicious grind that has your body bowing up the bed.
His hands move down to grab you by the hips and push them down against the bed, much to your dismay when it detaches you from the heat of him.
âOh yeah,â he breathes, looking just as ruined by the sight of you as youâre starting to feel by him.Â
He keeps one hand holding you down as the other slides under your shirt, warm as it slides up to your chest. His eyes flash when he finds you bare under the shirt and wastes no time to grasp the soft mound, making a stuttered breath fall from your lips as his finger pushes down on your sensitive nipple.
âAnd now I finally have my chance,â he mutters, dark eyes drinking up every twitch in your expression as his finger rolls over the stiffening peak, sending little sparks of pleasure from your chest down your spine. âI might not get to fuck you but Iâll take anything I can get.â
Before you can ask him just what it is heâs set out to do to you, he kisses you again. This time itâs fast, heated, impatient; everything you actually were expecting from him.
He wastes no time before heâs prodding into your mouth with his tongue. You accept him with a soft moan, a sound that has him pulling your nipple between his fingers and has another yelp rip from your throat that he drinks up with his persistent lips.
You didnât realize just how quickly you could get turned on from just some kissing and a few careful touches. But you can feel the arousal pool in your gut and in your underwear.
To say you were surprised was an understatement, but that wasnât on the forefront of your mind. All you were thinking was that you needed to feel more.Â
As if he was reading your mind, Intak grinds down his clothed cock, fully hardened now, right into your needy heat.
You whine at the pleasure that rolls steadily through you, the sound drowned out by Intakâs soft breaths as he devours you whole with his tongue.
This already feels so much better than any night with your ex and youâre feeling a little high from it all. Your hips buck up in frantic little rolls that Intak meets with hard grinds of his own, sending steady shocks of pleasure through your lower body.Â
His other hand slides up your shirt to join his other hand in kneading your breasts, the pressure spreading pleasure through your entire body as he continues to grind against you.
You can feel yourself getting heady already under Intakâs hands and you happily welcome it. You didnât think it could be so easy to get you so strung up without even having to take off your clothes, but here you are.
You can feel the coil in your gut wind tighter with each press of Intakâs throbbing erection against your aching core, can feel the slick gathering in your folds. It has you whining into the frantic kiss and has your hands clawing into his biceps.
He pulls from the kiss with a wet smack, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours as his mouth falls open to let heavy breaths pass through. He presses his forehead down to yours, his eyes fluttering as he tries to keep his focus intact while his hips keep rocking into yours.
âF-Feels good,â you whisper up to him, gasping at a particular harsh press.Â
âYeah?â He pants, using his hands to shove your shirt up above your chest.Â
You hiss at the cool air that brushes over your sensitive nipples. Intak groans at the sight of you, his hips stuttering for a moment before they pick back up at a more frantic pace. He wastes no time to latch his mouth onto your nipple, his hand working the other one as he starts to swirl his tongue around the stiff bud.
You moan at the wet warmth of his tongue on the sensitive flesh, arching your chest further into his mouth. You didnât think your chest was this sensitive, but it has your hips bucking eagerly up against his, every single sensation over your body climbing down and pinpointing down to your clit.
âIntak,â you gasp, whining sharply when he pops off your nipple and switches to the other one, flicking his tongue rapidly over it.Â
You can tell by the way that his hips are starting to lose rhythm that heâs nearing his edge. And, surprisingly, you are too.
âIntak,â you try to warn him but heâs not listening, too far gone as he continues to mouth at your chest, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to chase his pleasure between your hips.
You bury your hand in his hair, pushing him further into you as you drive your hips sharply up against the hard ridge of his cock, and it takes just a few more hard presses of his erection squarely against your cunt for you to teeter on the edge.
Intak notices, and at the same time that he pinches your nipple with his hand, he bites gently down on the one in his mouth and tugs.
The sharp pleasure that bursts from your chest in tandem with a hard grind of his cock against your core has you tipping over the edge. You tense all over as your mouth falls open into a high whine, before your body jolts and trembles through your first orgasm.
Intak follows you right down, whimpering into your chest as his hips stutter through his own orgasm, giving a few more sharp grinds before his body goes slack, weight dropping fully onto you.
His head rolls on its side on your chest, your nipple popping out of his mouth as he heaves for breath. You lay there, twitching and reeling from your high.
A few moments of silence pass as you stare up at the ceiling, trying to even out your breaths and process the fact that Intak has just made you cum for the first time that wasnât by your own hand.
Reluctantly, Intak lifts himself up and looks down at you with a crooked smile. âWell? Didnât I say I never leave my girls unsatisfied?â
You let out a breathy laugh as you meet his twinkling eyes. âUh huh.â Just with a little bit of grinding, he managed to hold true to his words. Youâre both impressed with him, disappointed with your ex for not even holding a candle, and disappointed with yourself for doubting him. âThat was⌠better than I thought.â
He hums, leaning down to peck your lips before he pulls himself up and off of you despite the whine you let out when his warmth is ripped away from you.
âSorry,â he says sheepishly as he adjusts himself in his sweats. Heâs wearing a dark pair so itâs difficult but you can still see the darker shade of the wet patch over his crotch. It has a pathetic shock of heat pulse through your core at the thought that that was there because of you. âI canât stay for long. The others are waiting.â
âRight,â you say as you fix your shirt, pulling it down over your chest. Youâd nearly forgotten there was a line of boys out there in the living room waiting for their turn to make you eat your words. ââŚI donât stand a chance, do I?â
He chuckles at that, turning to walk through the door. âNot at all,â he says, turning his head and throwing you a wink over his shoulder. âGood luck.â
Then heâs gone, and youâre left laying there wondering whoâs nextâ whatâs next. It almost frightens you how quickly you find that tightness in your gut livening up again as you go through all the possibilities in your head.
Youâre not left wondering for long before Jongseob steps through the door, looking pretty normal for the most part. But you see the light shake in his hand as he holds up the large bottle of water he brought in with him.
âJiungâs orders,â he says as he walks over to your side and uncaps the bottle. He doesnât hold your gaze for long before his eyes flit to the bottle heâs holding out for you.
You feel a warm wave of familiar fondness for your maknae as you take the bottle of him, feeling a little relieved that itâs him instead of someone like Jiung or Theo. Youâre not quite ready for whatever that might be just yet. Or Keeho for that matter.
You pull yourself up to sit, wincing from the sensitivity between your hips that still lingers. âThanks.â You take the bottle from him and drink, grateful for the wash of cold as it soothes your heated insides.
Heâs a little awkward on his feet as he shifts on them, waiting for you to put the bottle aside on the nightstand before he speaks up. âYou doing okay?â
You huff a little laugh as you lean against the headboard, looking up at him. âUh huh. Just didnât think Iâd be proven so wrong, so quickly.â
He raises a brow at you as a teasing smile pulls at his lips. âOh, so is our little experiment done then? Weâve proven you wrong already?â
âNope,â you say, finding a surprising sense of confidence in his presence. âYou guys promised me six ways. I better get six ways.â
His smile widens into a grin and you get a glimpse of his cute little snaggle tooth. His nerves seem to ease away as he falls into the rhythm of your familiar back and forth. âOne orgasm in and youâre already calling the shots?â He taunts, climbing onto the bed and bracing himself with his knees on either side of your thighs. He hovers over you, taking your chin to lift your gaze up to him. âBold. I like that on you.â
You blush at his sudden change in demeanour but you canât lie; itâs spurring your spent body back to life quicker than youâd expected.
âWhat about you, Seobie?â You ask, placing your hands on his thighs before sliding them up to his hips over the smooth fabric of his track pants. âWhereâs all this confidence coming from?â
His thumb brushes against your lower lip as a small smirk plays on his lips. Heâs the picture perfect image of cool and collected, just like he is on stage. Itâs a hell of a sight up close to you under the dim of your lamp instead of flashy lights. It feels more personal, like he crafted this confidence just for you.
âI guess you bring it out in me,â he admits, pressing his thumb against the plush of your lip.
You let your tongue flick out and kitten-lick against the tip of his finger, letting it linger there for a bit. His eyes darken and he takes a careful breath in before letting it out in a sigh that sounds a bit strained.
âIf only I got to take my time with you,â he mutters under his breath, and the words leave you wondering.Â
âIs there a time limit?â You ask him when his hand falls to the side of your neck.Â
âYeah,â he says, brushing his thumb up the hollow at the side of your neck. â15 minutes.â
You stare at him for a moment. ââŚThatâs it? That doesnât feel like enough.â
He grins in response. âWell Intak did it in time. You donât think the rest of us can?â
âWell, noâ I donât know,â you huff, a little flustered. âWhat happens if we donât finish in time?â
âThen you donât get to come and I get a bruised ego,â he says then drops both his hands to your waist. He slips his hands under your shirt then slides them up your already tingling skin, pulling the shirt up as they go. âWe canât have that, can we?â
Electricity and heat zip down your spine in tandem when his hands donât stop and your shirt lifts up over your chest, exposing your skin to the cool air. You lift your arms up to make it easier for him to pull the shirt completely off of you.
You sit there, half-bare under Jongseobâs prying eyes as he tosses the shirt aside somewhere on the floor. You can see him tenting against his pants as he shuffles off of you, his hands reaching for the waist of your sweats.
âMay I?â He asks politely but itâs undercut by the way his eyes remain locked on your exposed breasts.Â
You donât feel shy under his gaze though. You almost feel revered by his appreciative stare. You lift your hips in silent assent and he takes the cue to slip the sweats off of your legs and tosses them to join your shirt.
Heâs quick to pry apart your legs and settle on his knees between them, his eyes finding a new target to lock onto; the wet patch on your thin cotton panties.Â
âShit,â he mutters under his breath, reaching to grab himself over his pants and squeeze as an attempt to quell his arousal.Â
You flush under his attention now, feeling a little too exposed. Your legs twitch to close but he keeps them apart with a hand on your knee.
He brings the hand down, and with a feather light touch, he runs his thumb against the thin fabric, sliding a line of pressure up your centre that has your walls fluttering. You hiss when his thumb finds your clit and presses down, still a little sensitive from your first climax.
âYouâre so wet,â he muses before moving his thumb down and pressing against where your entrance would be. He groans at the wet sound from the pooled mix of your release that Intak left behind and the arousal thatâs starting to leak under Jongseobâs ministrations.
âJongseob,â you whine, pressing your hips up in search of more than just light touches.Â
He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with a lazy smirk. âImpatient. Youâre already eager for more? What, Intak wasnât enough for you?â
You shudder at the way his words chastise you just the right amount to have you needy for his approval. But you donât want to give in that easily. âMaybe,â you say, rolling your hips up again to press against his hand. He doesnât pull away. âBut isnât it your whole job to give me what I want?â
He retaliates with a harsh press of his thumb against your clit with a scary precision given that he canât even see it. It has you yelping and jerking away from his hand. âYouâre lucky Iâm not Taeyang,â he says, and the warning hits you in the gut. âOr that mouth on you wouldnât get off so easily.â
You donât get a chance to interrogate him before heâs hastily shoving aside the fabric of your panties and exposing your heated folds to the cool air. Jongseob squeezes himself again with a low grunt when he sees the slick mess there.Â
âYouâre drenched,â he huffs, under trance by the sight of you for a moment before he snaps out of it and swiftly pulls off his shirt, leaving your mind blanking momentarily.Â
You rarely see him shirtless, but when you do, itâs a treat to see. Especially now.
Then heâs shoving down his pants and boxers down to his thighs and grasping himself, stroking tightly as he watches your gushing folds, and your mind goes blank again.
Heâs pretty; thin but long and curved and flushed at the tip, milky pearls of arousal leaking at the head with each drag of his fist.Â
Youâre snapped back to focus when he grabs your thighs and pulls you down on your back, lowering himself between your hips.
âWait,â you say quickly, and Jongseob pauses immediately to look up at you, just letting himself hover while he waits.
âYeah?â He asks, brows furrowing in concern.
You swallow, a little embarrassed and underprepared. âAre you⌠going to put it in?â
The concern washes away and he chuckles fondly. âNo. Thatâs not for nowt,â he says before he lowers his body down to brace on his elbows on either side of you. Then you feel the heft of his cock press down on your folds, a pressure that has you both sighing. âJust this,â he says, lowering his eyes on yours.
You feel him throbbing against your clit, hot and solid against your sensitive folds. It feels nice, but youâre still left confused. âJust this?â You ask, the doubt clear on your face. You donât see how you could possibly come from that.Â
But the smirk that grows on Jongseobâs lips tells you otherwise. âJust this.â
Then he shifts his hips so he slides down your folds, and when the head of his cock catches against your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through your core, you think, oh, thatâs how.
His smirk stretches to a lazy grin when he sees the realization in your eyes and he drags himself back up, the friction giving you another shock of pleasure. âYou like that?â He asks, then takes a sharp breath in through his teeth when he drags back down.Â
You nod, your hands clutching onto the wiry muscles of his bicep.Â
His movements are slow and methodical; each drag meant to place pressure against you just right and string you up slow and steady, a stark contrast to the frantic chase with Intak.
âDid that asshole ever take his time with you?â He asks you through grit teeth and it takes a second for you to process that heâs talking about your ex.
âN-No,â you answer through a gasp when his tip prods sharply into your clit on a thrust up. âH-He wasnât really⌠ah, patient.â
He clicks his tongue. âNo wonder he couldnât make you come,â he mutters bitterly before he shoves himself off of you.Â
Youâre about to protest but then heâs sliding your panties down your hips, cursing at the way strings of slick connect to it as he pulls them off your legs. He doesnât let himself linger on the sight of you fully exposed as he gathers both of your legs and throws them over one of his shoulders. Before you can question him, heâs sliding himself in between your thighs, right on top of your folds, and using the slick mess there to start fucking your thighs in a steady rhythm, his tip pushing deliciously against your clit with each thrust.
You moan, deep breaths falling through your lips at the stimulation. The sight of him poking through your thighs and the hood of your cunt with each thrust leaves you feeling heady. âFuck, Seobie,â you whimper. You watch the way he leaks from his slit, dripping down onto your pelvis and pooling there.Â
His hips falter when he hears the name fall from your lips, then braces himself with his arms around your legs, then starts to fuck against your cunt with a fast pace that has you both panting.
You can feel the coil in your gut wind tight again with each drag of his hard length over your throbbing clit. The sight of his face, flushed and blissed out with hooded eyes fixed on your face, has your head swimming. Youâve never seen him look that intense before, even when it comes to work, and it makes you falter realizing just how different this side of him is from what youâre used to.Â
Itâs a thrilling revelation that has you quickly approaching your second climax.
âSeob,â you say through a hitched breath.Â
âYeah?â He asks, getting a dark little grin on his face as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering shut at the heaven between your thighs. âGonna come for me already?â
âYes,â you gasp, your hands fisting into the sheets as your body bucks up with each impact of his rough thrusts.
âGonna make you cum,â he says through grunts, though youâre not sure if heâs talking to you anymore. âGonna make you cumâ unlike that bastard. Couldnât evenâ fuckâ couldnât even touch you right. Probably couldnât even find your clitâ the fucker.â
Heâs muttering the words to himself as his thrusts grow faster and more disjointed. But itâs doing nothing less to bring you over the edge.
His dark eyes fix on you again with something akin to bitterness among the desire. âCome for me then,â he says, then adjusts so the head of his cock angles to drive right into your clit with each sharp, pointed thrust, sending burning pulses of pleasure with each push. âCome for me like you never came for him.â
Your second orgasm hits you before you know it and you come with a yell of his name and your body arching off the bed. Jongseob follows after with a few more frantic thrusts, spilling ropes of hot release over your stomach.
He doesnât stopâ he keeps going, drawing you both down from your highs before rocking to a slow stop just before he can drive you into overstimulation. He keeps your legs hugged to his chest as he recovers, breathing heavily as his eyes take in the sight of you painted with his release.
Youâre not sure if itâs your post orgasmic haze dreaming it up but you think you see a hint of possession with the way he eyes you. You donât get to dwell on it before he presses a kiss to the side of your calf and slowly releases you.
Itâs when heâs cleaning off your stomach with his shirt after having fixed himself up that you realize you havenât gotten to kiss him.
âJongseob,â you say, still splayed out on your back and stealing back your breaths.Â
He pauses and looks at you with his brows raised. âHm?â
âKiss me.â
The sudden request has him blinking to process and then blushing abashed, like he hadnât just come on your stomach. âOh. You want to?â
âNo,â you say flatly. âThatâs why I asked.â
He smiles sheepishly before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, short kiss. You hum in content when he pulls back, smiling up at him. âThank you,â you say, then tap his chin playfully. âBetter than anything heâs ever done for me, combined.â
That has him blushing even brighter and he looks away with a shy little laugh. He finishes wiping you down then pulls the blanket thatâs been shoved to the edge over you, giving you some cover before he goes.
âDo I really have to worry about Taeyang?â You ask him before he closes the door behind him.
Jongseob looks back at you and gives you a grin that does nothing to ease your worries. âYouâll just have to wait and see,â he says, then shuts the door behind him.
You groan to yourself, dropping your head back on the pillow. You shouldâve gone into this by making them tell you all of their plans in detail so you wouldnât have to be kept on your toes. But you canât deny that it does make this more exciting.
Because even though youâve already come twice, you have to squeeze your legs shut to soothe the way your core starts to spur back to life at just the possibility of the kind of danger that Theo might bring with him.
Itâs Soulâs soft voice that pulls your eyes from the ceiling and towards him as he steps into the room a few minutes later.
âHi,â he says as he makes his way over. He looksâ normal. Nothing off the ordinary; no nerves, no eagerness, just plain intrigue as he peers at you laid out under the blanket. He wastes no time to jump onto the bed and sit on his knees by your legs.
âHi,â you reply fondly, watching his hand as it lands on your covered knee and just holding there as a simple form of physical connection. A common occurrence with him, and it's no different even in this situation. Everything about Soul, everything that he does, always has you feeling endeared towards him.
âAre you tired yet?â He asks, round eyes flickering over the shape of you under the covers.Â
âYes,â you answer, but then think otherwise as you take stock of yourself. âNo. Eh, I donât know.â
That gets a little giggle out of him, his thumb digging gently into the notch in your knee. âI hope not. Thereâs still a lot more planned for you.â
You let out a slow breath at the reminder. âYeah,â you pause, then look over at him. Soul has always been an honest one, so you take your shot. âAre you going to tell me what youâre going to do?â
He gives you a simple nod, then says, âIâm going to eat you out.â
Your face burns at the bluntness but you canât say you didnât expect it. Though it seems like there was no rule to keep things hidden from you; Intak and Jongseob probably just wanted to see you squirm.Â
Your eyes fall to his pretty pink lips and youâre already envisioning them on you. Even knowing whatâs about to happen, youâre still just as on edge as you were with the others.
His hand shifts to grab the edge of the blanket that lay by your side, not yet pulling. âIs that okay?â He asks you, polite as ever.
Youâd never imagined Soul, the innocent looking boy you've smothered with your affections for years now, to be here before you, asking you if youâre okay with him making you come on his tongue. Itâs disorienting enough to leave you craving it.
âYeah, itâs fine,â you say, hoping you donât sound as eager as you feel.
But Soul has an eerie way of reading people. He catches on, you can see it in the twinkle of his eye, and with an excited grin, he pulls the blanket off you.
You have to resist the urge to cover yourself by digging your hands into the sheets. Soulâs eyes practically sparkle as he looks over you, a little like heâs caught in a trance.Â
âPretty,â he mumbles quietly, like it wasnât meant to be said aloud.
You squirm when all he does is stare for a few more moments. You nudge your knee against his leg to pull him out of his daze and he spurs back to life, shuffling to kneel between your legs, his hands crooking under your knees to push them up and hold them apart.
You squirm some more when his eyes lock onto the wet mess between your legs and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
âShota,â you whine, nudging your foot against his arm. âDonât just stare.â
He giggles but doesnât move his eyes. âSorry,â he says as he climbs down onto his chest, pulling your knees over his shoulders. His lips hover just over your core, breaths brushing over you and sending prickling sensations through you as he speaks. âYouâre just so pretty. I canât help it.â
You swallow back the moan that bubbles in your throat at his words. âWait,â you say before he can do anything else.
He looks up at you now, brows raised. âHm?â
âCan you take your shirt off?â Youâre feeling a little too exposed with him fully clothed and you very much not. But also, the sight of Soul shirtless is a treat. It would be a shame to let those muscles he takes such good care of go to waste in a moment like this.
Heâs smiling despite the blush that climbs high on his pale cheeks. He pulls himself up, yanks his shirt off in one go, before quickly settling back into position.
You mourn the sight of his abs being so quickly hidden away but then his arms are coming around your legs to hold you down, one hand settling palm-down on your lower stomach, and you canât complain anymore when youâve got his muscled arms in your view in all their veiny glory.
He laughs softly at your appreciative eyes. âBetter?â He asks with a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.
You sigh at the warmth it spreads up your leg. âVery.â
The smile remains on his lips as he trails his way down your thigh with warm kisses. You feel teeth graze lightly against your skin with each press that his tongue flicks out to soothe over, effective in the way it has you squirming where you lay as he inches closer to your waiting heat.
But just before he can reach it, he switches over to the other leg and youâre left sighing in frustration, your hips bucking up without your permission.
You feel his amused giggles against your thigh as he gives it the same attention as the other.Â
But as you watch him, so intent in the way he winds you up slowly just like Intak and Jongseob have done, youâre left to wonder just how much youâve been missing out on. Being tended to so carefully, it makes you feel a little floaty.Â
Before you realize it your hand lifts from where youâd dug them in the sheets by your side and reaches to slide into his soft blond hair.
His eyes flutter at the touch and he abandons your skin in favour of leaning into the touch for a moment but you canât complain, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. It has a warmth bloom inside your chest, snug and soothing.
But then the warmth shoots right down to your gut when he turns and attaches his lips to your clit without warning.
You hiss at the sudden pressure, your fingers digging into his scalp. You glare weakly into the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks up at you.
âStill sensitive,â he says against your clit, making you twitch.
âNo shit,â you huff, breaking into a moan when his tongue flits out and starts to press firm circles around the bud. Your body tenses as your mouth falls open with harsh breaths, your hand tightening in his hair. Â
Soul takes in every shift in your expression with his eyes as he drags his tongue down before letting it circle around your entrance.
He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, the vibrations sending you whimpering. He abandons his careful ministrations in favour of flattening his tongue against you and drinking up every bit of the mess thatâs been left behind from your previous encounters.
Your hips push up to grind against his face but his hand on your stomach keeps you easily pinned down as he has his way with you.
Breathy moans from your lips spill out from the rapid flicks of his tongue against you and the way his little grunts spread little embers of sensation right through your core.
You only just notice the way his own hips are grinding into the mattress and the knowledge that heâs that turned on from just pleasuring you has your head reeling.
The blunt tip of his tongue pushes against your entrance, but it doesnât stop this time; it pushes in with ease and leaves you gasping.Â
âSh-Shota!â Your hand pushes down on his head of its own volition, trying to push him as deep in as he can go.
You feel it deeper than you expect it, the wet muscle prodding and sliding against your pulsing walls. When he groans, you feel it inside you.
His arms canât restrain the way youâre squirming anymore with how hard your bodyâs starting to tremble. Every sensation feels like itâs dialed above ten with sensitivity. You donât feel uncomfortable to have something breaching inside of you like all those times before with your ex; it actually makes you feel relieved and not like youâre being invaded. And you feel like youâll lose your mind if it doesnât stay in, doesnât move.
So when you start to roll your hips up to fuck up against his tongue, Soul lets you, and pushes his tongue in tandem with your movements.
And when the tip of his nose rubs right against your clit with every movement, your control is gone.
Youâre not sure what sounds are leaving your mouth but you donât care, you just keep chasing the pleasure, keep fucking yourself up on his tongue, practically riding his face.
You start to fear youâre suffocating him and when you try to pull back, Soul buries himself right back into you. Heâs whining against you, his eyes lidded and glossed over as he drowns himself in your cunt, and the rocking bed reminds you that heâs just as into this as you are.
Itâs the combination of that, the pussy-drunk look on his face, and the way his tongue caresses your walls with each thrust that has your thighs clamping down on his head as you ride out your third orgasm right on his face.
Soulâs body shudders with a loud moan into you as you come around his tongue and he drinks you right up, not letting a single drop go to waste. He licks you through the high before he detaches from you with a soft kiss to your clit that does nothing to ease the tremors still rocking through you.
He lifts his head and you nearly moan at the sight of him; cheeks flushed, lower face drenched with you and eyes glazed over, looking practically drunk off of you and ready to devour you whole again.
âJesus, Shota,â you mutter, having to raise your eyes to the ceiling to keep yourself from losing your mind again at just the sight of him like that between your thighs.
He responds by climbing up your body and kissing you eagerly.
You tense, taken aback by the sudden taste of yourself but youâre quickly coaxed into the kiss by his eager lips and tongue. You melt into the kiss, snaking your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down on you. He follows, pressing every inch of himself against you.Â
Youâre stopped short when you feel the half hard length of him pressing on your thigh along with a noticeable dampness on his shorts against your bare skin.
You pull back from the kiss, looking up at him with wide eyes. âDid you⌠come from that?â
He doesnât even look the least bit embarrassed as he nods and dives right back for your lips.
Youâre powerless to stop him; too boneless to do anything but you canât say you want him to stop. He dives eagerly into your mouth again and you meet him with a languid pace of your own, not that he minds.
You can feel your mind start to float away again as his hands eagerly wander over your body, grabbing and kneading every curve of your flesh as they pass, paying special attention to your chest.
Heâs hardening quickly against your thigh as he eagerly bucks his hips against you, seemingly lost in his mind just seeking out any bits of pleasure.
You reach down for his erection, to help him out like heâs helped you, until heâs yanked up off you.Â
You mourn the loss with a panicked noise, trying to reach to drag him back to you. But your hands drop right back down when your eyes clear and you see Keeho holding Soul back with an arm around his throat.
Soulâs hands fly up to Keehoâs forearm as he blinks out of his own haze and comes into realization of whatâs happening. His face flushes when he sees Keeho, who looks annoyed but no less amused. âHyung,â he croaks, a little nervous.
Keeho raises a brow at him, a scolding look. âYouâre way past your time, Shota,â he states before snapping those piercing, heated eyes to you.
Your heart jolts when you see the way his pupils are blown open in a heavy desire that pushes your breaths back down your throat.
âAnd youâre stealing mine,â Keeho adds, all amusement gone as his voice deepens into a threat.
Keeho releases Soul and Soul quickly scampers off the bed, grabs his shirt, and practically runs out of the room without another word.
But your eyes are stuck under the heavy weight of Keehoâs and you feel your body thrumming with a fresh wave of nerves.
His lips quirk up into a small smirk but thereâs no mirth there. âHaving fun?â He asks as he climbs onto the bed, on his knees so he hovers over your trembling body. When you donât respond, he clicks his tongue. âI asked you a question, pretty girl.â The implication of what might happen if you donât answer settles dauntingly in your head.
âYes,â you quickly answer, and he smiles as he moves to lift your legs before settling to sit between them. You tense at the thought of picking right back up without a chance to recover from Soul. âW-Wait, I need some time.â
âToo bad,â he says easily as he reaches over to grab one of your pillows. âThatâs something I donât have right now.â
Without your control, your body shuffles away from him, like itâs trying to protect itself from the danger behind Keehoâs words. But his hand clamps down on your thigh and he pulls you easily back towards him.
âWhere you going, pretty?â He asks you with a sly grin that has you squirming. âDonât worry. You wonât be complaining in a few minutes.â He pats the underside of your ass. âUp.â
Your brows furrow. âWhat?â
He sighs before he hooks his arm under your waist and lifts you easily, shoving the pillow he grabbed under your hips before dropping you back down.
The way heâs able to handle you so easily has your stomach flipping and your eyes locking onto the way the material of his shirt stretches around his bicep as it flexes when he moves.
He notices your leering and grins, using his hands to push your legs apart. This new angle, hips propped up on the pillow for better access, has you feeling even more exposed. Your legs try to close on their own but Keeho quickly pushes them apart, clicking his tongue. âKeep âem apart for me,â he says, leaving you no room to disobey, so you donât.
His eyes lock onto your cunt, and if possible, his gaze darkens. âCute,â he says, glancing up at you. âJust like the rest of you.â
You avert his gaze, flustered, and he chuckles fondly. Youâre not sure where all your confidence has gone. You suppose itâs different with Keeho, your leader, as opposed to your younger members.
âCute,â he repeats before pressing his palms to the inside of your thighs, heavy and warm. âHave you taken anything inside yet?â
You swallow, feeling a little embarrassed to have to say the words aloud but youâve been laid bare and exposed to your friends in so many ways already so it really shouldnât feel so awkward anymore. Yet still.Â
âShotaâs tongue,â you answer in a thin voice, and he hums in acknowledgement.Â
âDid it feel good?â
You take in a shaky breath, your walls clamping around nothing like theyâre remembering the feel of Soulâs tongue stretching them.
Keeho notices the way you flutter and chuckles. âThatâs a yes then.â His palms start to slide down a path on the insides of your thighs slowly. âHas it ever felt good like that before? Having anything inside?â
You canât bring yourself to say it, so you shake your head no.
The look in his eyes softens as his palms rest just outside of your heat. âEveryone treating you well so far?â He asks you, rough voice dulled into something gentler.
Your lips are helpless to the small smile that tugs on them; even now, Keeho upholds his leader role. Heâs always been the one to look out for you and it puts you at ease to know that itâs no different now.
âVery,â you answer honestly. âBetter than I couldâve imagined.â
âGood,â he says, mirroring your smile and leaning down to press a soft kiss to your knee. âThis whole thingâs been about showing you how you should be treated. Sounds like weâre on the right track.â
You hum when his hands gently knead the flesh of your inner thighs. âYeah. Guess I was wrong to thinkâ fuck!â
Your thoughts as yanked right out of your head when Keeho pushes a thick finger inside of you all the way to the hilt in one smooth slide.
You look up at him with wide eyes. âKeeho!â
The grin on his lips is careless and predatory as he watches the way his finger sinks into you so easily. âSorry baby, but I donât have that much time left thanks to Shota.â He keeps his finger still as his other hand comes down and presses the thumb lightly against your clit, making you jolt. âGood thing youâre so sensitive.â
Thatâs all he says before he starts to pump his finger into you while his thumb circles your clit in quick, tight circles.
The touch to your clit feels more painful than pleasurable from the sensitivity, and it has you trying to buck away as high, frantic whines leave your lips, but Keeho is quick to hold you down with his forearm.
âShh baby,â he whispers, pressing another kiss to the inside of your trembling knee as he continues to abuse your cunt with his quick pace. âItâll feel better soon.â
And heâs right, because even though it burns, the pain slowly embers away into a pleasure that has you bucking up to his finger rather than away.
Keeho, whoâs watching your expressions with a laser focus, grins when your features smooth down with pleasure. âThatâs it, good girl,â he whispers and the words go right to your head and fill it with a hazy fog. âSo good for holding out. Think you can take another one for me?â
Your breaths come out with little whines as you nod, eyes starting to go bleary.
âSay it for me,â he urges gently. âNeed to hear you, pretty.â
You blink rapidly as you try to push the word through the fog in your head and out of your mouth. âY-Yes,â you breathe, voice weak. âCanâ nghâ take another.â
You feel his finger inside of you slow then feel the blunt tip of another start to press in with the next thrust. Just the two fingers feel almost overwhelming, a rougher feel than Soulâs tongue, but your walls, relaxed from three orgasms, take him in without protest.
Keehoâs thumb on your clit falters when he sees how easily you take him in. âThatâs a good girl,â he coos, then pushes both fingers as far as theyâll go.
You whimper, feeling them so deep inside you, deeper than anything youâve felt. And youâre left wanting more.
âMore,â you plead, your hips rolling up to feel them press deeper despite already pushed all the way in.Â
You think you see Keehoâs eyes flash with hunger but your mind is far too gone right now to pay close attention.Â
âFuck,â he grunts under his breath. âIâm gonna need you to myself sometime.â
Then heâs fucking his fingers into you relentlessly, his thumb spurring back to life over your clit to match the reckless pace.
Youâre thrashing and moaning unabashedly, though you donât have much control over any of your reactions anymore. Your hips buck up pathetically to meet his pace but heâs far too fast for you to keep up with. He has you feeling like liquid fire as he takes you apart with just his fingers and you can tell thereâs no way youâll last even the next three minutes, far too sensitive to every stimulation.
Then he does something you donât quite understand. He stops, curls his fingers inside you, then resumes in a way that has the tips of his fingers abusing a spot inside of you that has you feeling the fire all over your body, has you arching off the bed as you scream out his name.
âThatâs it,â he whispers, doubling down and pumping his fingers even faster.
But now thereâs a new feeling in your gut, something youâre not familiar with at all and something strangely like you might be releasing things you very much donât want to.
Your hands claw at Keehoâs arm that holds you down, trying to push him off but heâs like iron. âK-Keeho!â You cry through a trembling voice, trying to warn him with wide eyes.
But he doesnât stop, keeps his heated gaze on your panicked face. âDonât fight it,â he tells you. His fingers are relentless against that spot inside of you and has you barreling to something much faster than youâre prepared for. âJust give into it. I got you, baby. Come for me.â
Thatâs when it happens. Liquid, a lot of it, spraying out of you as your body jerks violently through your orgasm.
This one pierces through you harder than the others, electric fire that has your vision white and mind blank for how long, you canât tell, but you just know that youâre gone.Â
It takes you a while to piece yourself whole, barely though. When your vision slowly strings itself back together, itâs to the sight of Keeho staring down at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed and soaked from his chin to his shirt to his forearm with his fingers still buried in you.
Youâre struck with the terrifying thought of what you might have just done and you feel yourself grow cold with mortification.
âOh my god,â you whisper, feeling tears prickle at your eyes as you try to scramble away from him. âIâm sorry, shit, Iâm so sorry, I donât know what justââ
But before you can get far, Keeho grabs your hips and pulls you right back to him, leaning over to crush his lips to yours in a hard, searing kiss.
You yelp in pain at the hard clash of teeth and you barely get to process the kiss at all before he pulls back enough to mumble into your lips. âYou just squirted,â he says, like he canât quite believe it himself.
You blink up at him as he stares you down like he wants to ruin you all over again. You had no idea that you could even do that, or that it could be brought out of you so quickly.
Keeho grins at your shock before sealing his lips back over yours, swallowing your little whine of surprise. âIâm keeping you,â he mutters into the kiss as he digs his teeth into your lip. âJiung can go fuck off, Iâm gonna make you squirt for me again.â
You donât get to protest that you canât until another voice behind Keeho intercepts.
âCan I now?â
Itâs Jiungâs voice, deep and irritated, as you hear it close in.
Your eyes fly open to see Jiung stood over you two by the bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesnât look happy. He looks impatient, brows furrowed and jaw clenched.Â
Keeho still doesnât pull away from you; his fingers dig deeper into your hips and he kisses you more insistently like heâs trying to take as much as he can before youâre taken away from him.
âKeeho,â Jiung says in a tone that promises threat. Itâs a tone that does dangerous things to your brain.
Keeho pulls back from your lips reluctantly, gaze locked onto you as he tells Jiung, âShe squirted,â like itâs pertinent information.
It must be, because you see Jiungâs hard expression falter with shock before settling down into something more intense.
âOkay,â he responds slowly. âNow move.â
Keeho rolls his eyes but slowly pulls himself up to his knees, reluctant to let you go. You can see him straining against his sweats and realize with a start that he hasnât come.
âYou havenâtâŚâ You start but break off when both of their eyes fall on you.Â
Keeho shakes his head with a lazy grin. âDonât worry about me.â He pauses then turns to Jiung. âActually, can I stay and watch?â
Jiung doesnât hear him, heâs too busy taking in the mess that is you. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze drag down your skin like a tangible force.
âHm?â He asks, distracted. When he processes the words, he pulls his eyes off of you but it looks like it takes him great effort to.Â
Keeho rolls his eyes and adjusts himself with his hand, wincing a little. âMind if I stay?â
Jiung watches him quietly, considering, before he looks back at you. âThatâs up to her.â
You freeze under both of their gazes. As much as the thought intimidates you, you canât help but feel thrilled by it. Besides, you would feel a little guilty sending Keeho off without any relief even if he can handle it on his own. Everyone else has finished with you, so it would only be fair.
âFine by me,â you concede, and Keeho lights up.
Jiung interjects before Keeho can celebrate too early. âYou canât interfere,â he says sternly, then points to the reading chair in the corner of the room. âGo sit there.â
âSo bossy,â Keeho muses but heâs still grinning as he clambers off the bed and makes his way to his assigned spot. âJust pretend Iâm not even here.â
A hard task, considering the fact that you can still see him at the edge of your vision and he has a perfect view of the scene. But the concept of a third party still has your head spinning in a new direction.
Your attention is dragged back to Jiung who climbs onto the bed and sits himself at the end with crossed legs. You pull yourself to sit up on shaky limbs, still recovering from your intense climax, folding your legs over your chest for some semblance of cover.
Youâre grateful that Jiung doesnât look like heâs ready to pounce anytime soon, eager for the chance to recover for whatever he might have in store for you.
That makes you wonder what it is that Jiung chose for his turn. Youâre well aware of his dislike for physical contact so youâre not sure how to picture him in this setting.
Though the way his dark eyes settle on you, ready to tear you apart with just his gaze alone, has you questioning everything you know about him.
âYou havenât been drinking your water,â he says plainly, and even just that simple observation, the thought of him being upset with you in any capacity, keeps you on your toes.
Itâs his voice, you think, that drives you crazy; a deep timbre that invades every corner of your head and settles at the base of your chest. Like it crawls everywhere around you and holds you down under its submission without your say.
You snap out of your trance when he narrows his eyes impatiently at you, flushing. âOh.â You look over at the bottle that remains nearly full.
Looking at it makes you realize just how parched you are so you snatch it and swig down nearly half the litre. You think you might hear Jiung mutter something along the lines of, âTold you idiots to make sure she stays hydrated,â to the side of the room.
You place the water back down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You feel better despite the physical weight of your body trying to lull you down but your mind is still wide awake and on high alert.
You turn your attention back and see that Jiung is still watching you intently, now leaning back casually on his palms. The silence has you itching to break it and ask him about the question thatâs lingering in your head but youâre a little intimidated by his gaze.
âSpit it out.â
You nearly jump from his sudden voice cutting through the silence. âHuh?â
âI can see youâre thinking something,â he says, tilting his head slightly. His face is impassive; youâve never really been able to tell what heâs thinking during quiet moments. But he has no problems reading you. âWhat is it?â
You bite down on your lip as you wrap your arms defensively around yourself. âYou donât like touch,â you start.
He raises a brow before nodding slowly. âThatâs true.â
âSoâŚâ You continue, struggling to hold eye contact. âHow does this work then?â
Youâre not sure what to make of the slow smile that climbs up his lips. Itâs not one of his bright, sunny ones. Itâs a quieter, more calculating slant of his lips that has you wishing youâd just kept shut.
âSimple,â he answers. âIâm not going to touch you.â
Now youâre confused, but more than that, youâre disappointed. âWhat?â
âYou heard me,â he says, and youâre not sure if youâre imagining his voice deepening by the second. âIâm going to talk you through touching yourself.â
When he sees the blank look in your eyes, his smile widens, almost fond but more so like he enjoys watching you flounder about.
âIâm going to tell you what to do,â he continues, âand youâre going to do as I say. Okay?â
Youâre starting to realize where this is heading and the thought floods you with embarrassment. âYouâre just going to⌠watch?â You ask, then glance over at Keeho whoâs watching the scene unfold with rampant attention as he traces his thumb lazily over his clothed erection.
âSure,â Jiung answers, pulling your eyes back to him. âIf thatâs what you want.â
Youâre reminded of what Intak had told you; that youâre the one who holds the power here. You havenât exactly tested how much of that is true but now youâre starting to think itâs a viable option for you whenever youâd like it.Â
Itâs that knowledge that has you straightening with a newfound courage. âOkay.â
His brows raise at you, that tiny smile still on his lips. âYeah?â He asks, and itâs a little bit infuriating that heâs still looking at you like youâre a cute, clueless little thing.
âYes,â you say firmly, meeting his eyes. âNow are you going to get on with it? Isnât your little time limit ticking away?â
His jaw ticks at your sudden pushing. âI have some leeway, considering some peopleââ He throws a sharp eye over to Keeho, ââdonât have manners.â
âHey,â Keeho cuts in, indignantly. âShota was eating my time.â
But he goes ignored as Jiung focuses back on you. âFix your pillows and lean back. Get comfortable.â
A part of you wants to defy just to see what he does but you find yourself falling prey to the cadence of his voice yet again. Youâve always been a sucker for it. More often than not, youâve completely zoned out to just listen to the sound of voice rather than what heâs trying to explain to you in the studio, leaving you in an awkward situation when he catches on. You think maybe this is his way of getting back at you with it somehow.
Once youâve stacked all your pillows behind you, you lean back and settle down, your knees still pulled up to your chest. You donât find yourself withering under his gaze anymore, not when you know just the sight of you is having an effect on him too by the way heâs starting to tent in his grey sweats.
âGood,â he comments offhandedly, his eyes moving down to your legs, or rather, trying to see past them. âOpen your legs.â
When you hesitate, he shoots a sharp look up at your face that has your legs immediately pushing apart to reveal all of yourself to him, your knees bent at your sides.Â
You see his Adamâs apple bob as he swallows and hear the faint shake of his breath when his eyes catch onto your core, still glistening. Itâs starting to pool with a new wave of arousal thatâs brought on by just the sound of Jiungâs voice.
His eyes move away with effort and rake up your body, stopping at your chest. âAnyone touched them yet?â
Youâre still a little blindsided by how casually heâ all of them, reallyâ talk about all of this but you figure itâs about time to just get used to it. âIntak and Soul.â
He hums. âExpected. Play with them.â
It takes a second for you to process the command but when you do, itâs like your hands glide up your body on their own. Youâve never thought to stimulate your chest before on your solitary nights, but now that you know itâs a valid option thanks to Intak, that youâre sensitive there, youâre not opposed to it. Youâre just not prepared for your first time touching yourself there to be in front of Jiung.
You take the soft mounds in your hands and squeeze gently. Youâre surprised to find it a pleasant sensation under your own touch but it might also just be from the two sets of eyes watching your every move.
âPlay with your nipples,â Jiung tells you, shifting slightly in his seat. His eyes are locked onto your hands. âUse your thumbsâ yeah, just like that.â
You sigh softly as your thumbs circle around the already stiff peaks, feeling the soft burn of the stimulation spread throughout your chest. You take one between your fingers and tug gently, drawing a soft whine out of yourself. You nearly miss the way Jiungâs cock jumps against the confines of his revealing sweats.
You try and fail not to let that go to your head as you drag your eyes up to his face, the one so threaded with focus on you itâs nearly maddening.
âJiung,â you say, voice breathy already.Â
He doesnât move his eyes. âHm?â
âTake off your hoodie,â you tell him, and that gets his attention. âWanna see your tattoos.â
You preen internally at the light blush that rises on his cheeks. Like you expected he would have to, he obeys. He tugs the collar of his purple hoodie up and pulls it off himself in one smooth go, tossing it to the corner of the bed.
Your hands falter on yourself as your eyes rake over the ink on his pale skin; vines and leaves adorning the sides of his ribs, butterflies tracing over his abs and trailing tantalizingly down beneath the boxers peaking out of his sweats, and the crescent moon placed centre in his chest.
âPretty,â you find yourself saying and learn then that Jiung blushes down his chest.
âTake one hand off,â he says hurriedly, like heâs trying to take the situation back under his hand. But you can see the way that his chest has started rising a little more with each breath.
You obey regardless, dropping your right hand in your lap.Â
His eyes move back down to your core. âSpread it open,â he says. âWanna see everything. But donât touch your clit.â
You lick your lips nervously, feeling your cheeks burn, but you move your right hand down and slide two fingers between your folds making sure to avoid your aching clit. The heat of your own skin is a nice reprieve until you scissor the fingers open, spreading yourself apart and exposing to the cool air.
You can hear his breath hitch as his jaw clenches at the sight. âYouâre gushing,â he mutters to himself, an observation youâre well aware of but has you squirming when you hear it aloud. âTake some of it. Circle your clit. Lightly.â
You expected him to make you tease yourself more but with the choppy breaths heâs taking and the short sentences, you sense heâs starting to lose patience. Or lose time. Either way, you donât deny yourself the pleasure.Â
You collect some of the arousal with both of your fingers then drag them up to your clit. You keep your touch light as you circle slowly, sighing deeply at the touch.
You hear a soft grunt to your left and glance over to Keeho. Youâd nearly forgotten about him, but the sight of him has your fingers faltering. He has his hand down his sweats, stroking himself slowly. His head is thrown back against the back of the chair, hair messy over his forehead, cheeks flushed, plush lips bitten red and parted as he pants sharply. His eyes are hooded slits as they watch your hand work yourself, fisting his own cock to match the slow pace of your fingers.
Your gaze is pulled back to Jiung when he snaps, âEyes on me.â His own eyes are impossibly dark and his jaw is set tightly. âDonât look at him.â
You give him a small nod, whining softly as you focus back on moving your fingers steadily over your aching clit. Itâs hard to not notice the way Jiung is straining against his pants.
âJiung,â you say through a breath, lifting your eyes back to his face. âTouch yourself.â
Your command takes him aback. You can see the conflict in his eyes to put himself in a vulnerable position to not only you, but with Keeho in the room too.Â
Sensing his hesitation, Keeho pipes up. âCâmon, Jiung,â he says, voice light despite the strain. His breaths are audible through his words. âYou gotta do what she says.â
So you really do have the power here.
You raise your brow challengingly at Jiung and he finally relents, letting his arousal win, though not without sending you a hard look first.
He leans back on one hand before letting the other slip down into his sweats. He grasps himself in a hard squeeze that has him tilting his head back and letting out a low groan. You want to trace the way that his throat shifts around another groan with your tongue.
He rolls his head to the side to focus his gaze back on you. He doesnât do much with his hand, just lets it rest there and squeeze himself every few seconds.
âHow many fingers did Keeho use on you?â He asks. His voice sounds heavier with arousal.
âTwo.â
âPut one in. All the way, and donât stall.â
You can see the impatience worn clearly on his face in furrowed brows and hardened edges. Without delay, you divert your hand and push your middle finger into yourself in one smooth slide. Even as it presses all the way in you find yourself mourning Keehoâs longer, thicker ones.
âGood girl,â Jiung praises and it goes straight to your cunt, making it pulse around your finger. âIn and out, slowlyâ yeah, just like that.â He looks in a near trance at the way your walls suck your finger in with each languid thrust, leaking steadily around it.
You see his hand start to move now as he starts to stroke himself slowly to match the pace of your finger.
You find yourself cursing those grey sweats for blocking your vision.Â
âStop,â you tell him, and he pauses his hand with a confused albeit annoyed look on his face. âI wanna see you.â
His jaw ticks but he doesnât hesitate this time. He lifts himself a little, pushing his sweats and boxers down just enough to reveal himself before taking his cock back in his hand and squeezing. âBetter?â He asks you sardonically.
Yes, you want to say but your voice is stuck in your throat. Because the sight of him, long and hard and a pretty shade of pink as it strains with arousal, has you nearly moaning.
You push your finger into you a little quicker without thinking and Jiung takes that as his answer. âSlow down,â he snaps, and when you do, adds, âPut another one in.â
You push your ring finger in to join, moaning softly at the stretch but it still feels nothing like Keehoâs. When Jiung gives you the go, you pick up the pace again, a little faster by his order.
You try to prod around to reach for that spot that Keeho had practically torn you apart with but you canât. Jiung notices the frustration on your face and laughs softly. âWeâll get there. Use your other hand on your clit. We need to get another finger in first.â
You bite down on your lip to hold in your whimper. Your other hand, which was just sitting limply against your chest at this point, falls quickly to press tight circles against your clit.
Everything youâre doing to yourself feels better than youâve ever managed to make yourself feel in the past. Maybe itâs because of the soft grunts and moans and the slick sounds of skin against skin coming from the corner of your room where youâre forbidden to look at; maybe itâs because of the way that Jiung sits pretty in front of you, fisting his own cock to the sight of you getting yourself off; maybe itâs because of the way that he mutters soft praises to you every few moments and urges you to go faster, slower, deeper, shallower; maybe itâs not the commands at all but just his voiceâ but all of it brings you closer and closer to another daunting climax.
âPut another one in,â Jiung tells you, his breaths coming harder around his words. Thereâs a thin sheen of sweat on his skin as he works himself in tandem to your pace. âNeed to get you properly stretched out.â
The implication of those words falls past you as you start to press your index finger in with the others, the stretch making your body tense and your other hand falter.
It burns a little but it burns good. The amount of slick still spilling out of you makes the way in easier, and soon youâre steadily pumping three fingers in while your other hand works your clit again, short moans tumbling out of your lips.
Jiungâs breaths are even more laboured as his fist speeds up over himself, his eyes starting to glass over. Heâs fighting against them as they keep trying to flutter shut. Heâs starting to sound a little ruined too as he speaks. âHook your fingers up,â he says, then continues at your confused look. âThe spot that you were looking for. Hook your fingers. Up.â
You follow his instructions and crook your fingers, but you still canât seem to reach it. How Keeho had managed to find it with such scary precision, you desperately want to know.
âI-I canât,â you whine, hating the desperate sound of your voice but you can feel yourself close, so close, but you need that final edge to push you over. The stimulation to your clit isnât enough anymore, not after everything youâve felt tonight.
Jiung starts to look a little panicked as his eyes flick over to your nightstand, and you realize heâs probably running out of time.
âOkay,â he says, his hand pausing over himself when he sees your eyes well with frustration. You see the way his cock twitches as itâs neglected but he ignores it in favour of focusing on you. âI canât touch you, but just listen to my voiceââ
âThat wonât be necessary.â
Your head snaps to the left. The sight of Theo standing against the doorway with his arms crossed has a sinking feeling intruding the arousal in your gut. Everything stops, like the moment is waiting with baited breath for Theo to take it under his command.
Youâd nearly forgotten that Theo was still to come. And when you realize the only thing that could possibly be left for his turn, your body freezes over.
âTaeyang,â Jiung says after recovering from his surprise. âI still have a few minutes left.â
Theo pushes himself up straight, shutting the door behind him with his foot as he makes his way in. He doesnât acknowledge Keeho, whoâs also stopped still and staring with wide eyes, as he makes his way over to the bed. Thereâs a small smile on his lips, lazy, like heâs only mildly interested in everything thatâs happening.
âI gave you plenty of extra time,â he tells Jiung while keeping his disinterested eyes on you. âAnd you still failed.â
You bristle under his stare but heâs quickly moving on to focus on Jiung, whoâs looking more nervous now than irritated.
âI told you I shouldâve gone earlier,â Jiung mutters through grit teeth as Theo circles around the bed to hover over Jiungâs back.
âDoesnât matter anymore, does it?â Theo asks coolly. He leans over Jiungâs shoulder and looks down where Jiung is still holding himself in a tight grip. âDid she tell you to touch yourself?â
Jiung doesnât answer verbally, only nods.Â
âHmâŚâ Theo lowers his head to rest his chin on Jiungâs shoulder, making him flinch at the sudden contact. âMaybe that was the problem. Maybe you shouldâve focused more on her and less on yourself.â
Jiung works his jaw in frustration but stays still. âYou said we should listen to her.â
âShould,â Theo repeats with a grin. âThe âwhen necessaryâ was implied.â
âTaeyang, I swearââ
Theo doesnât let him finish. âYouâre done with her,â he says, easy and stern, as he lifts himself off of Jiung, leaving the other boy wide eyed and incredulous.
âAre you serious?â He snaps, looking up at him with a glare.
âVery. You know the rules,â Theo answers as he makes his way back around to stand at the side of the bed, between you and Jiung. âGet behind her.â
Jiungâs brows furrow, matching your own confusion. âWhat?â
Theo simply smiles at Jiung as he reads him his fate. âYouâre gonna get behind her so I can fuck her on you. And don't even think about coming.â
You feel your insides churn as the words settle, your hands, after unsheathing from yourself while their attention was off of you, curling into the sheets. Everything Theo is saying is so⌠casual. But heâs talking about fucking you on top of Jiung. Thatâs far from casual and far from anything youâre prepared for.
But the look on Jiungâs face tells you heâs having it worse. He pales, throat tight as he asks, âWhy?â
âPunishment,â Theo says, like itâs obvious. âWe set out on a mission here to show her everything she was missing out on. And you failed. So, punishment.â He leans down, invading Jiungâs space and leveling his condescending gaze inches away from his. âAre we clear?â
You can see Jiungâs face twitch as he restrains himself from lashing out. But then he nods, an act of quick submission that takes you by surprise. You start to wonder just what kind of hold your oldest member has over not just you, but the rest of the group.
Then Theoâs eyes are on you where youâre curled up, trying to shield yourself away from whatever was unravelling in front of you.
âIs that okay with you?â He asks you, voice momentarily shedding that commanding edge.
Honestly, you donât care what happens anymore as long as you get to come again. Even if the thought of Theo being the one to fuck you to it is daunting, with his domineering aura and seemingly sadistic tendencies. But the part of you thatâs still loose in the head from everything thatâs happened tonight finds you wanting to give yourself over and let him take care of you, let him show you what youâre missing out on, by his words. Even if it was at the expense of Jiungâs sanity. Youâll pay him back later.
âFine by me.â
A heavy silence fills the room as the confirmation of whatâs about to happen settles in the thick air.Â
Until Keeho breaks it with a pouty whine of, âWait what about me?â
Heâs still sitting on the chair, splayed out with his legs spread, elbows on the armrests while one hand squeezed around the base of himself. Heâd shoved his pants down so you can actually see just how painfully hard he still is, almost purpling at the tip. Your mouth nearly waters at the thought of running your tongue along the thick vein that you can see protruding along his underside from where youâre sitting.
Theo catches your eye with a questioning brow raise. Itâs up to you, he says silently with them.
âHe can use my mouth,â you blurt without thinking, taking yourself by surprise.
Theoâs eyes flash in shock but his lips quirk up in a proud little smile. âOnly when I say you can,â he tells Keeho, before gesturing him over.
Keeho nearly stumbles as he makes his way over to settle at the edge of the bed before shedding himself out of his clothes. You donât get long to appreciate the valleys of his tan skin, taut over smooth planes of muscles before youâre distracted by Theo.Â
Theo, whoâs taking off his shirt and has everything else fade away from your focus when you catch a glimpse of the inked crown on the side of his rib cage.
When Theo notices the room in still motion, he rolls his eyes. âWhat?â He asks, raising a taunting brow at Jiung. âDo I have to order you to do everything now?â
Jiungâs lips twitch down in a scowl. âNo,â he says smoothly despite the sharpness in his eyes. He goes to pull his sweats back up but Theo grabs his ankle and yanks him forward, sending Jiung sprawling on his back with a panicked grunt.
âOff,â Theo says sharply down at him, leaving no room for protest as his hand squeezes tightly around his ankle.
Jiung stares up at Theo with wide eyes, red heat climbing up his neck. You donât miss the way his cock jumps, and neither does Theo.
But Theo shows him mercy and lets go of him, letting him scramble out of his layers and shuffle to the head of the bed where you are.
Your limbs lock up when Theo turns his full attention to you. He reaches forward and wraps his muscled arms around you to pull you forward as Jiung settles behind you. You relish in the warmth of Theoâs skin before heâs placing you so that your back is laying against Jiungâs front while heâs laid back the pile of pillows you made earlier.
You gasp softly when you fully settle against him, feeling Jiungâs erection prodding at your lower back, stiff and hot against you. You hear Jiung hiss softly softly at the contact behind your head.
His skin is warm and a little damp against your back but the feeling of him behind you, his presence just there, is almost grounding. His hands come up to hold your waist but Theo is quick to interject.
âDonât touch her,â he says sharply and Jiung immediately fists his hands into the sheets.
You hear a chuckle to your right followed by Keehoâs teasing, albeit a little strained, voice. âIâve never seen him so obedient.â
Theo glances over to share a playful grin. âYou just donât know how to handle him yet.â
âEven after all these years," Keeho muses dramatically. âMight have to take a lesson or two from you, Taeyang.â
âCan you two shut the fuck up?â Jiung snaps in an uncharacteristic show of short temper.
You havenât heard him like that in a couple years, but hearing his deep voice right by your ear now, rough and sharp as he speaks, is doing things to your body you donât want to address.
And of course, Theo catches the way your eyes flutter and you inhale sharply, and you nearly wither away under the devilish grin that curls on his lips. âI knew it,â he says.Â
You turn your face away from him. âKnow what?â
He grabs your chin to turn your gaze back at him. âDonât try to hide,â he warns. âItâs a good thing Iâm feeling selfish right now or Iâd let him help me ruin you.â
The thought of both Theo and Jiung working you over the edge together has your walls fluttering. And of course, Theo notices that too.
âDirty girl,â he taunts as he climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees in front of you.Â
From this close you can see the outline of him, large and heavy, through his loose pants and heâs not even fully hard yet. Your body thrums with nerves at the thought of having to take that size inside of you.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asks you, smug when he sees the way you eye him. âDonât think you can take it?â
You grit your teeth, meeting his taunting gaze with a sharp one of your own. âIsnât time ticking, Yangie?â
He takes your chin in his hand, shoving his thumb into your mouth and holding your tongue down. You whine at the sudden intrusion, trying to clamp your mouth down but heâs firm in the way he tugs down and holds you open. âI think that should be the least of your concerns right now.â
Jiung pipes up in your defence behind you. âAre you saying youâre not biding the time limit?â Heâs tense behind you, his voice still tight the way he speaks to Theo.
Theoâs eyes lift to Jiungâs over your head. âIf it werenât for me, none of this would be happening,â he says, and thereâs no response from Jiung. Theo looks back down to you, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth, threatening to nearly gag you. âI think I should get a little leeway for that, shouldnât I?â
You just glare back at him in response. Youâre not sure what it is about him, but he brings out the defiant nature in you. Maybe you just want to see how far you can push.
Theo smiles down at you before pulling his thumb out. âCute.â Then heâs shoving two of his fingers back in your mouth, deep enough to actually have you gag this time before pulling out halfway and just letting them sit over your tongue.
You blink through the tears that have risen and see that all amusement is gone from Theoâs eyes, leaving cold indifference.
âDo you plan on mouthing off again?â He asks you, in an eerily gentle voice.
You think you might die if things get strung out too long; youâre still aching from not getting to finish from your time with Jiung.
So you shake your head no and Theo pulls his fingers from your mouth. âGood girl,â he says, then moves his hand down to push those fingers into your cunt.Â
You gasp sharply, pushing yourself back on Jiung at the sudden invasion, your legs trying to lock shut but Theo keeps them apart. You can feel Jiungâs cock kick against your back but youâre more focused on Theoâs fingers stretching you, shorter than Keehoâs but thicker.
Theo hums, watching your walls squeeze around him as he scissors his fingers open like itâs something clinical, completely ignoring the way youâre whining and writhing at the burn.
âItâll fit,â he decides before pulling his fingers out.
You let out a shaky breath of relief, your head dropping back on Jiungâs shoulder.
Jiungâs body is taut with restraint behind you, his breaths coming out harshly against your left ear. Heâs like stone against your lower back, hot and pulsing. You shift back a little, pushing yourself against his erection and you hear his breath hitch with a quiet whine only you can hear.
âDonât,â you hear him whisper under his heavy breath.Â
It all goes unnoticed by Theo whoâs busy working himself out of the rest of his clothes. And you forget all about Jiung when youâre met with the sight of Theo whoâs thick enough at only half mast to have your legs clamping shut in fear.
âYouâre not going to fit,â you say quickly, panicked as you try to shove yourself further into Jiung.Â
âFuck, stop,â Jiung grunts behind you as he grabs your waist and holds you down to keep you from brushing against him.
Theo doesnât chastise him but he does point you with a sharp look as he takes a hold of himself, stroking slowly. âYou can take it,â he says, using his free hand to pry your knees apart again. âYouâve been preparing the whole night for it. Itâll fit.â
âStill,â you whine, feeling your head rush as you watch him thicken in his grasp.Â
Youâre still squirming yourself out of Theoâs grip despite him getting increasingly annoyed.Â
âJiung, hold her legs open.â
You hear Jiung scoff over your ear. âI thought you didnât want me to touch her.â
One sharp look from Theo has Jiung reaching around you to grab you under your knees and pull your legs apart, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to Theo.
You turn your face into Jiungâs neck to hide, still trembling in his hold. You canât help but feel a little humiliated being pried open like this in front of them, tears starting to prickle at your eyes.
The press of soft, plush lips against your jaw has you peeking out to see Theo an inch from your face and looking down at you with a softer edge to his still heated gaze. âIâm not going to hurt you,â he assures you. âYou trust me, donât you?â
Your eyes flutter closed as you try to take ahold of your uneven breaths. This is your Theo, the one who gives you the sweater off his back when youâre cold, the one who gives you his seat when everything else is taken, the one whoâs always the first to make you laugh when youâre down. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, blinking away the tears.
âYeah,â you breathe, peering up into his eyes, easing down at the soft smile that grows on his lips. âI trust you.â
He lets his eyes linger in yours, searching for any more signs of distress. When he doesnât find any, he leans forward to press his lips to yours.
The kiss is gentle, grounding, caringâ everything your Theo is.
But the soft spell is broken when you feel the blunt head of his cock against your clit.Â
He swallows the moan right from your lips before he lifts from the kiss, meeting your wide eyes with his that have lost the softness in them.
âYouâre gonna take it for me, âkay?â That stony edge to his voice is back and you find yourself falling under its weight.
You nod quickly and Theo kisses you again, hard and searching as he drags the head of his cock down to your entrances and pushes.
You pull back from the kiss, tossing your head back over Jiungâs shoulder as you let out a broken cry. The stretch of him is nearly unbearable and all encompassing. And itâs only just the tip that breaches into you.
Theoâs forehead drops to your shoulder with a strained grunt, his own body going taut. âFuck,â he hisses, overwhelmed by how tight your walls are around him.
Your eyes blur with tears as you blink up at the ceiling, breaths stuttering past your lips.
âJust breathe,â you hear Jiungâs soothing voice whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against it as he speaks. âBreathe. You got it.â
You follow his voice, follow his instructions as he guides you through taking Theo to the hilt. You open up slowly, swallowing deep breaths to let your body relax and open up for him. The sweet words from Jiungâs lipsâ that's it, youâre doing so good for us, so good, just keep breathing, such a good girlâ guide you through the paces until Theo buries himself fully inside of you with a deep, shuddering sigh.
âAtta girl,â Theo whispers in your other ear, pressing a quick kiss to it. His voice is rough, strained, and somehow still condescending. âTold you you could take it.â
You whine softly in response because your ability to speak, or think even, is muddled out by the full feeling of him practically tearing you open from the inside. But despite it all, itâs a stretch that has you pulsing around him, like your walls are trying to keep him buried inside of you and keep you full.
Theo grunts at the way your body just sucks him in. His hands brace tightly against your hips before, without a warning, he starts to pull out.
The feeling is just as intense, has you crying out and has tears slipping down your face. But heâs not so patient this time. He pulls out in an agonizing drag until just the tip remains before he slowly pushes back in in that same, torturous drag.
It continues like that, until your cries of pain fade into short, rapid moans as the stretch burns away into pleasure.
Your eyes are blurry and your mind is half there, but you can still make out Theoâs strained words clearly. âTaking me so well,â he says through a grunt as he snaps his hips into you at a pace thatâs steadily increasing. âFit so nice andâ ah, fuckâ like you were made to take me.â He drops his forehead to yours, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming over his skin as his blown eyes bear down on yours. âWerenât you?â
Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth so you whine in response, eyes fluttering.
âYeah you were,â he breathes then pushes into you with a sharp thrust that has you moaning sharply, your hands scrambling to grab onto his arms. âJust made for my cock.â
His hips start to speed up, making sure to drive all the way into you with each thrust. Your body bucks up with each snap, sending you rocking steadily on top of Jiungâs cock.
Jiung is barely holding on behind you; his hands shake as they try desperately to keep you open for Theo, his breaths laboured as they fall rapidly from his lips, his cock throbbing under each rock of your body. It takes great effort to hold back from coming, but heâs already far too close to the edge to where he knows it wonât be possible to hold back for long.
He peers over your trembling body to look up at Theo, his eyes prickling with tears from how painful itâs becoming to hold back.
âTaeyang,â he whispers, and the way Theoâs eyes snap from yours to his, fiery charcoal burning into his own, has him nearly toppling over the edge. He hopes the pleading look on his face is enough to get his question across. But the devil doesnât make fair deals and Jiungâs got one holding his fate.
âNo,â Theo tells him before he turns back to you and starts driving his hips even faster, tossing Jiung right into his own personal little hell as he lays there, neglected and forced to just take.
Theo feels nearly manic at the sigh of both you and Jiung under him, crying for him. But the sight is just too pretty and your walls are so warm as they swallow him in with each rough thrust, that he feels too high off of the power to let it go just yet.
Your eyes are unfocused on him, mind truly well and fucked out after the hours of constant stimulation. Thereâs a steady stream of moans and whines and babbles of please, please, pleaseâs from your lips that heâs sure youâre not even aware of that spills into the thick air between you.
It goes straight to his cock, pulsing inside of you. But he holds back; heâs not close to done with you yet.
âYouâre so noisy,â you hear Theo scold you lightly.Â
You canât process much except for the heavy pressure pounding between your hips at a steady pace and the strokes of fire that spreads from it.
But you hear the command clearly as he glances over at Keeho to your right. âDo something about it, wonât you?â
Before you know it, there's a blunt pressure prodding between your lips. As if on instinct you turn your head and let your jaw fall open to accept Keeho into your mouth, throbbing and salty on your tongue as he starts to shallowly fuck into your mouth.
His face is strained as he looks down at you, eyes wide and glazed over in pure lust. He fists a hand into your hair and holds you in place as he starts to pick up the pace, though itâs already stuttering.Â
âMânot gonna last long, pretty,â he pants, hissing with each thrust in. âFuck, youâre so warm.â
You moan around him at a harsh thrust from Theo, a sound that has Keehoâs cock twitching in your mouth.
âFuck,â he snaps, his hand gripping tightly into your hair and sending sharp prickles of pain through your scalp. âFuck it.âÂ
Then heâs driving his cock deeper into your mouth at a rapid pace, nearly hitting the back of your throat with each thrust and leaving you gagging each time. But he doesnât stop, just drives into you, pushing your head into him as he fucks into your warm, pliant mouth. âTake it, take it, take it.â
He comes with a loud, strained moan, pushing your head into his pelvis as he pushes all the way in and spills down your throat, cock twitching as it pulses around him.
Itâs the way that your head goes floaty when his cock cuts off your air and youâre forced to swallow his cum, and the way that Theo circles his thumb around your throbbing clit, that does you in.
Your body thrashes in Jiungâs hold as your orgasm rips through you. You moan loudly around Keehoâs cock still buried in you as you come over Theoâs cock, tears streaming down your face and your nails digging roughly into Theoâs arms.
You feel Theoâs pace falter as you tremble through your climax, coughing when Keeho finally pulls out of your mouth.Â
Youâre pretty sure youâre dead where you lay atop Jiung, still rattling from the orgasm as you come down from it.
But Theo doesnât even give you the chance to recover from it before he resumes fucking you into the mattress, Jiung too by proxy, at the same rough pace.
Oversensitive and overwhelmed, you start clawing at Theoâs arms again, your body thrashing without your control. âT-Taeâ!â Your voice breaks off before you can finish. Youâre not sure when youâd started sobbing.Â
âFive,â Theo grits through his teeth, eyes still swollen black with desire and lust-drunk mania. Heâs panting from the effort of fucking into you at the same, maddening pace. âPromised you six. Youâre gonna come for me again.â His breaths are short, and his hips are starting to stutter, but he doesnât slow down.Â
You try to protest and tell him that you canât, but then heâs wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing down on the sides with his fingers and you get that floaty feeling in your head again, like youâre lifting out of your body. Your bodyâs starting to feel numb but you also feel everything all at once and youâre not even sure where youâre last orgasm ends, if it even did, and the next one starts, but youâre coming again, body quivering, eyes rolling back, jaw falling open in a silent cry.
The sight tips Theo right over the edge with you as he fucks into you hard, one, twice, three times before he shoved himself all the way in and paints you deep within your walls with hot ropes of his release. He plasters himself down on you as his body gives out but his hips are still grinding into you, rocking his cum deep into you.
Youâre not sure when you had passed outâ or, did you pass out?â but when you blink your eyes slowly open youâre met with Keeho and Theoâs concerned faces peering down at you.
As soon as your eyes open, their faces wash over in instant relief.
âThank god, sheâs fine,â Keeho says, dropping his head low and sighing in relief.Â
Theo turns to Keeho and whacks him on the back of his head. âI told you I didnât fuck her dead, you idiot.â
Keeho yelps and lifts his head with a glare. âWell, what else was I supposed to think, she went out!â
Theo just glares back at him in silence.
Okay, so you did pass out. But you donât feel quite awake just yet either, at least not physically. Your bones feel like ten tonne bricks, thereâs a sticky soreness thrumming between your hips, and every movement takes a Herculean effort as you try to shift.
The pair of arms wrapped around you, trapping your arms under them, prevents you from moving. You try to shift again but the arms clamp down even tighter and a tiny panicked gasp hits you behind your ear. Jiung.
Thatâs when you feel itâ the thick dampness splattered along your back and Jiungâs softened cock pushed against the small of your back.Â
âHey.â Your focus snaps back onto Keeho as he brushes your hair out of your face. âAre you okay?â
You blink up at him. Besides the heavy limbs, the sore throat, the somewhat bearable ache between your legs, and your syrupy mind, you feel fineâ good, even.
âYeah,â you say, taking all of you by surprise at how croaky your throat is.
Theo turns back to glare at Keeho. âYou went too hard on her.â
Keeho whips his head to him, flabbergasted. âYouâre one to talk!â
âGuys,â you groan, trying your best to blink yourself out of the fog thatâs making your brain feel like soup. âQuiet, please.â
âSorry, sorry,â Keeho amends quickly. âCâmere, letâs get you in a bath.âÂ
He reaches forward to pick you up but Jiungâs arms clamp down on you again and yanks you right back down, refusing to let you out of his arms.
Theo and Keeho both turn to Jiung, identical expressions of shock worn on their faces at the uncharacteristic show of clinginess.
âJi?â Theo asks, reaching past you to touch Jiung but you feel Jiungâs face bury into your shoulders.
Your mind snaps almost fully awake when you feel his lashes flutter against the skin on your neck, damp with tears.
âI didnât mean to,â you hear him mumble into your shoulder in a tiny voice.
You know what it means, but you let Theo and Keeho figure it out on their own. Theo gets to the answer quicker, a fond but teasing smile pulling on lips.
âYou just couldnât hold yourself back, could you?â He teases, reaching over to affectionately scratch at Jiungâs head but Jiung buries his head further into you and away from the touch.
âI tried,â you hear him whisper. ââM sorry.â
You feel a wave of fondness wash over you at how small he sounds. Heâs never this clingy, never this whiney, and it makes you want to bury him in your arms despite the fact that you can still feel his cum drying against your back.
Keeho seems to feel the same sentiment as he surges forward and somehow wraps his arms around both you and Jiung.Â
âHeâs so cute,â Keeho coos and that seems to snap Jiung out of it a little, his usual grumpy tone back into his voice as he tells Keeho to fuck off.
You canât help but giggle at their antics, a sound that has everyone stop short and stare down at you.
Your laugh fades out at the attention. âWhat?â
Theoâs smile is soft as he pulls the blanket off of the floor and throws it on top of you. âNothing,â he says, tucking the blanket around the three of you.
âI didnât think cuddling was offered,â you mumble, but being sandwiched between Keeho and Jiung is something you really canât complain about.
âYou get the full package,â Keeho says, running his hand through your hair, fingers gently scratching down your scalp.
You hum under the touch, eyes fluttering closed. It makes you almost want to purr. âI donât remember paying for a full package.â
âYouâre not paying us at all,â Keeho states.
âShould I?â
He whacks you atop the head with the hand that was carding through your hair and you nearly whine at the loss of his fingers digging into your scalp. âWeâre not cheap whores,â he scolds you lightly.
âNo, but you sure act like âem,â you say then snicker at the affronted look on his face.
âYou seemed into it though,â Theo points out as he climbs back into bed, damp towel in his hand and sweatpants back on. You didnât know when heâd left.
Your cheeks heat at the accusation. âKinda hard not to be,â you mutter, turning your face into the pillow.Â
You inhale sharply when you feel the hot towel press against your back.
âSorry,â you hear Jiung mumble before he makes quick work of wiping down your back then between your legs, making sure to be careful but even the slightest touch has you twitching and whining.
You feel better wiped clean, comfortable enough to where you start to doze off. But a sharp poke to the forehead has you blinking your eyes open and glaring at Theo, whoâs hovering over you with an arm braced between you and Keeho.Â
âWhat?â You snap.
He raises a brow at you. âWell?âÂ
âWell what?â
âDid we prove you wrong or what?â
You groan as you try to roll away but he drops himself on your chest, effectively trapping you. âDo I really have to say it?â
You feel Keehoâs lips brush against the apple of your cheek, can practically hear the smile in his voice. âIt would be nice.â
You sigh deeply. You figure itâs the least you can do, considering the fact that theyâd just turned your world upside down. And probably ruined sex with anyone else for the rest of your life.
âFine,â you huff, trying to come off as gravely inconvenienced but the grin on Theoâs lips has your own smile growing. âYes, you proved me wrong. Six times over.â
Theo chuckles, breath brushing over your lips as he rests his chin on your chest. âYouâre welcome,â he says cheekily and has your eyes rolling fondly.
âSoâŚâ Keeho trails off, pulling your eyes to him. Heâs trying to smother down his up-to-no-good smile, but failing miserably. âWho was your favourite?â He asks, because of course he would.Â
You scrunch your nose, pretending to think. âDefinitely not Theo,â you settle on, glaring lightly down at Theoâs still smug face. âHeâs an asshole.â
Theo pouts dramatically, not even bothering to be actually offended. âIs that any way to treat the guy who just gave you six orgasms?âÂ
âWhat is wrong with you?â
Jiung, whoâs still tucked into your side, bristles at that. âWhy are you taking credit for all of it?â Jiung grumbles into your shoulder, refusing to detach from you.
âAgain, none of this would have happened without me,â Theo answers like itâs just the simple truth.Â
You roll your eyes, exasperated. âOkay, then next time weâll just leave you out of it completely.â
You donât even get the chance to process your own words before the door to your bedroom is slamming open and Intak, Soul, and Jongseob come crashing down to the floor in a pile of messy limbs, cursing and clawing at each other as they try to untangle themselves.
Intak elbows the other two away and lifts himself up above them, looking up at you with the eyes and eager grin of someone whoâs just been told they were nominated for a Grammy. âNext time?â
Jongseob and Soul stop clawing at Intak to look up at you, waiting for your answer with bated breath.
You blink at them, then turn to Theo, whoâs looking at you with the same curiosity. Jiung and Keehoâs eyes burn into the sides of your face.
You donât even have to think twice as youâre dropping your head back on the pillow and smiling up at the ceiling, a deep satisfaction settling in your chest much like the dull, aching one between your legs.
ᯠan â i couldn't resist making a part 2, i just had too many ideas for it so i used all of them. can be read as standalone!
PART 1 â MASTERLIST
âWhat are those marks around your wrists?â
Your hand, with your chopsticks and dumpling and all, gets snatched by Shota from across the booth. His hand practically engulfs yours as he twists it this way and that to eye the little red scuffs around your wrist.
Your face burns as you recall black rope and warm hands. Jongseob tenses where he sits beside you, thrown askew by the question in the midst of chewing his noodles.
You scramble for an answer. âI wore my bracelet too tight,â you say, averting your eyes when Shotaâs gaze lifts to your face.
âThis is rope burn,â he states.
Your stomach twists with nerves. Of course Shota would recognize it; from what Jongseob had told you he was the one to show Jongseob the ropes (metaphorically⌠and physically, you suppose).
When Shotaâs eyes shift to Jongseob and his brows raise, the corners of his lips lifting in a knowing little smile, you know thereâs no point in hiding.
âAh,â he says with a giggle, lowering your hand to the table but not yet letting go. âFinally got your fantasy, huh Seobie?â
Jongseob bristles in your peripherals. âShoââ
âDidnât I tell you to use those fur lined cuffs I gave you?â
Jongseob goes silent, and when you glance at him, you see his eyes wide and skin a little pale.
âShit,â he mutters, his eyes flickering down to your wrist. âI completely forgot that you gave me those.â
Shota clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. âItâs okay, the damage isn't too bad.â He brushes his thumb over the reddened, still sensitive skin. âI have some cream that can help with this that I can lend you.â
You stare at him, feeling completely out of depth with this whole conversation. Are they really talking about your BDSM escapades out in the open like this? In a family Chinese restaurant? Nevermind that your first dalliance into this world was only two nights ago.
âUm, yeah,â you answer, flustered. Shota only seems to find your squirming amusing. âThat would be nice.â
He lets go over your hand, giving you a sweet smile that feels anything but nice. âEat,â he tells you, then turns back to his soup.
You reluctantly lift your dumpling into your mouth, chewing on it mechanically as your mind continues to race. You almost didnât accept Jongseobâs invite to dinner tonight, still feeling a little off kilter with what happened.
It's not regret, but⌠now that youâve seen Jongseob in his element, seeing him like thisâbeside you, talking to Shota about games and their schedules like he doesnât tie people up in his free timeâmakes you feel off balance.Â
And itâs not just him, Shota is driving your brain up a wall too. Your first thought when you sat down across from him in the booth tonight was what he might be like in that setting.
He must be dominant, right? If he was the one to teach Jongseob all of⌠this. Wait, what would teaching even look like? Would Shota have been the one to tie Jâ
âSo, did you two make an agreement?â
Shotaâs voice brings you out of your dangerous track of thoughts. But it sends you down another, more confusing one.
âA what?â You ask.
Jongseob tenses beside you again and Shota raises a brow, looking over at him. âWas there any preparation at all that went into this?â
âIt sort of just⌠happened,â Jongseob answers meekly, poking at his noodles.
âSo there was no checklist?â
â...No.â
The sigh Shota lets out makes you feel like you did something wrong.
âOkay,â you say, placing your chopsticks down. âContext?â
Shota turns his attention to you, twirling his spoon between his fingers. âWell it's mostly informal but it's good practice to fill out a list and establish rules and boundaries before going into a scene,â he explains, and sends your brain deeper into your destructive thought train. âBut it seems like someone got a little too trigger happy.â
Jongseob groans, his chopsticks clattering to his bowl. âI know, I know. I shouldâve been more careful.â
âYou should have,â Shota chides in a tone that does nothing to ease your gutterbrain. âEspecially considering it was her first time.â
You squirm in your seat, a nervous laugh bubbling in your throat. âThis all sounds very⌠formal. Honestly, I was just expecting kinky sex.â
An older man in the booth to your right shoots you a dirty look but you ignore him.
Shota makes a disapproving sound. âItâs not just thatââ
âYes, yes, donât worry,â you cut him off with a wave of your hand. âSeob already gave me the whole spiel.â
âWell, at least he did something right.â
Jongseob makes an offended grunt, thereâs a bump under the table, and then Shota jumps with a pained yelp.
âBrat,â Shota mutters under his breath, reaching down to rub his leg.
You glance between the two of them, thinking that maybe youâre starting to understand a bit of their dynamic but the question still remains.
âHow?â You ask, then scramble to elaborate when they both turn to stare at you. âI mean, like, how? When? You two.â
Shota breaks into an amused laugh. âHe walked in on me and my ex. Then he stayed and watched. And thenâŚâ He trails off, turning to Jongseob with an impish grin.
Jongseobâs face turns a bright red. âItâs not important,â he huffs, lowering his head over his noodles to curtain his hair over his face as he picks up his chopsticks again. âMy bad for not consulting you before we did anything.â
He means it as a sarcastic jibe at Shota, you know that, but the thought that hits you makes you dizzy. Of them consulting over you.
âWell if you do it again, make sure you do it right,â Shota says before turning back to his soup.
The words slip from your mouth before you can do anything to stop them. âOr you could just teach me.â
They both pause, their eyes shifting to you again, and you get hit with the urge to drop down under the table and hide.
âYou want to do it again?â Jongseob asks, brows raised.
You bite down on your lip. Honestly, the answer was clear to you from the moment you stepped out of his apartment that night.
âI do,â you admit quietly, slipping your hands under your thighs to keep them from trembling at the excitement at the mere thought of it. âI wanna know what more there is to all this.â
Shota hums, tilting his head slightly as he considers your words. âThereâs been a couple things Seob has been wanting to learn but it would require a third party⌠We could kill two birds with one stone,â he murmurs, thinking aloud.
You have to refrain from squirming under his gaze. âIâm down. If you guys are.â
âYes,â Jongseob says almost immediately, then clears his throat and straightens. âI mean, yeah. Iâm down.â
Shota gives him a judgemental brow raise, but heâs smiling still. âThen itâs settled,â he says, turning his grin to you. âIâll send you the checklist tonight.â
đŠâĄđŞ
The âchecklistâ ends up being a comprehensive list of kinks, most of which you have to look up to even know what it is, many of which you didnât even know could be a kink, and some of which makes you put your phone down on your couch to take a deep breath.
Shota had made a grouchat with the three of you and sent the list almost as soon as you left the restaurant that you hadnât seen until you arrived at your apartment.
Itâs good to know heâs just as eager as you; you hadnât been able to stop thinking about it since you hugged them goodbye.
So you spend the entire night doing a deep dive into the internetâs reserve about BDSM and all the kinks on that list before you fill it out, nevermind that you have work in the morning.
By the time youâve filled out the list, checked off what youâre all for, what youâre curious about, and whatâs completely off the table for you, itâs nearing 5am. And despite the late hour, Shota still responds to you just a few minutes after.
sho-kun: ŮŠ(ËáË*)Ů âĄ
sho-kun: we already know what we want to try for our scene. do you want me to tell you or do you want us to keep it a secret?
The thought of them discussing what they want to do to you should not make you feel as insane as it does.
You reread the text, chewing on your lip. On one hand, youâre dying of curiosity and this feels like something you should be fully preparing yourself for. Knowing what they have planned would help.
Itâs not fine. Itâs not fine at all, because the four days wait until Friday spans longer than four days have ever spanned and youâre losing your mind with anticipation.
Jongseob and Shota had both sent over their checklists shortly after you did, just so everyone is on the same page (you learn that thereâs not much that Shota isnât into whereas Jongseob is more reserved), and youâd spend hours, days since then just thinking about what it might be from those lists that they have in store for you.
You know rope will be involved somehow, or some type of bondage, with the shit that Shota was giving Jongseob for not doing it right. Your wrists burn at the thought of being bound up again. The marks are gone and completely healed over; the cream that Shota leant you worked miracles.
What does it say about you that you miss them?
They almost felt like a claim, one that youâd given willingly and one that you hope to give up again soon, and not just to Jongseob.
The thought of it, of being claimed again, leaves your skin prickling with an anticipation that keeps you company on your drive to Jongseobâs place.
Theyâd decided to do it there for the sake of familiarity for you given that your first time had happened there.
Another thing that drove you insane; them referring to your âfirst timeâ being your escapade with Jongseob as if you had given your virginity to him. Your BDSM virginity, maybe, but itâs still enough to feel dizzy about. Like youâve only just started on the road to kinky corruption with them in the passenger.
You only get one knock in before the door swings open and Shota stands before you with a bright grin.Â
âYouâre right on time,â he chirps, stepping aside to let you in.
You blink, stepping in through the door. âWere you waiting by the door?â
He shrugs, taking your wrist and bringing you over to the couches as soon as youâre free of your shoes. âYes,â he says, then gently pushes you down to the couch. âTea?â
You pause, half expecting to have just been swept to the bedroom by now. âUh⌠Iâm okay.â
Jongseob appears then, rounding the couch to place a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of you. âHave some tea,â he says, looking down at your hands. âYou seem nervous.â
You clench your fists, realizing just then that theyâd been trembling, and give a sheepish smile at the knowing grin that Shota gives you.
âYeah, okay,â you concede, reaching for the mug.
âWhile you do that, we need to go over a few things,â Shota says as he places himself in front of you, sitting on the coffee table and slipping his phone out of his pocket.
Jongseob takes a seat beside you with his own mug, sipping idly as Shota starts off.Â
He pulls up your list and goes on to recite it all to you, asking you at the end if anything has changed since you filled it out. You answer with an emphatic no, then he reminds you of the traffic light systemâgreen for go, yellow for slow, red for stop. Then he insists that you only use his real name and to not call him Soul by any means because itâs apparently a real moodkiller for him then makes sure you bring up any boundaries you might have.
But honestly, youâre too focused on the heat of both their bodies surrounding you and trying not to get too wet from just having a conversation about kinks.
âIf you couldnât tell, heâs a real stickler for rules,â Jongseob hums beside you once Shota has finished his spiel and stood up from his seat.
âSomeone has to be,â he states, tossing a lazy kick to Jongseobâs shin. Then he turns to you and gives you a smile. âTonight, you will be blindfolded and gagged.â
You choke on your sip of tea and Shota quickly takes the mug from you, Jongseob scrambling to pat your head and back as you climb yourself down from your fit of coughs.
âIâmââ You cough again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. âOh.â
âSorry,â Shota says sheepishly. âSensory deprivation was on your list. Weâll let you have your hearing since it will be your first time.â
You swallow, feeling a distant ringing form in the back of your head. âO-Okay. Thatâs fine with me.â
âAnd temperature play.â
The ringing becomes louder as you just stare at him.
He tilts his head at you. âThatâs all okay, yes?â
You nod, maybe too eagerly, because you hear Jongseob laugh beside you.Â
âCome on, Shota,â Jongseob says, standing and offering you his hand. âI think sheâs getting a little excited.â
You flush as you place your hand in his. âCan you blame me?â
He pulls you up to a stand in front of him, and his face is so close to yours that youâre hit with the sudden realization that after all this, you havenât kissed him yet.
He must come to the same conclusion; his eyes flicker down to your lips and lingers there. âNot at all,â he murmurs, the tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lip.
Then you feel a solid wall of warmth behind you, two strong hands coming down to your hips and pulling you back. You gasp softly as your back hits Shotaâs firm chest.
His breath hits the bare skin of your neck as he speaks, low and husky in a way youâre not used to from your usually sunny friend.
âLet's get one thing clear,â he says, turning to let his lips brush your ear. âIâm in charge tonight. Got it?â
Your breath hitches, the low pulse of need thrumming to life between your hips. You glance up at Jongseob to see him watching you both intently.Â
Shota must catch wind of your unspoken question because he chuckles, fingers digging firmly into your clothed flesh. âJongseob is in charge of you,â he says, turning to look over at him. âBut not of me. Thereâs a couple things I need to teach him tonight. Isnât that right?â
Jongseob swallows, giving a slight nod as his answer. The difference between him that night a week ago and now, a little meek and reserved and not the one in charge of the room, has your brain whirring at the prospect of seeing him in a new light.
The breath rushes out of you in a quick swoop. âOh.â
Shotaâs hands slide off of you, only to come back a second later to wrap a black satin fabric over your eyes.Â
You startle at first, but you feel Jongseobâs hand quickly grasp yours as Shota fastens the blindfold, tying it firmly at the back of your head.
âOkay?â Shota asks you once itâs done.
You nod, then yelp when youâre suddenly lifted off your feet.
Thereâs strong arms that hoist you up into a princess carry, Shotaâs you assume, and then youâre on the move. You clutch a fistful of his shirt, the heat of his body seeping into you and adding to the steadily growing heat that already festers inside you.
It might be a little ridiculous considering that only your sight has been taken away, but you can already feel yourself teetering into that mindspace, the one that lets you give up your own body in favour of just feeling.
Soon enough, your back hits soft, fuzzy fabric. A towel you think, but it's big enough to span down to your feet where you lay.
Thereâs movement that you hear around you before a pair of hands settle at your waist.
âIâm going to take off your clothes,â says Jongseob, before his hand slides up your shirt to sit against the bare skin of your stomach. âOkay?â
You give a quick nod, letting him maneuver you as he pulls your layers off you. Soon, youâre laying there, fully bare and trying to fight the urge to curl into yourself.
Youâve already laid yourself out for Jongseob, but itâs a different feeling to know youâve got a bit of an audience now.
You hear, and feel, a chunk of weight drop beside you on the bed with metallic clanks.
Your stomach twists as you recall the handcuffs and linked chains you saw that night in Jongseobâs bathroom.
âIâm going to tie your arms down,â Shota says, picking up your wrist in his hand. His thumb brushes soothingly over your hammering pulse point. âYou wonât be able to move them.â
He pauses, as if waiting for your denial, but when there isnât any you feel something like a soft coat of fur wrapping around your wrist.
âFur lined cuffs,â Shota chuckles when he sees the pinch between your brows.
âRight,â you mumble, cheeks heating when you feel the cuff tighten around you. âThe ones Seob forgot about.â
âSorry,â you hear him pipe in from somewhere at the end of the bed but Shota quickly shushes him.
âYou live and you learn,â Shota states, wrapping another cuff around your other wrist. âThatâs why he has me.â
You let out a shaky breath as he brings both your hands over your head, tying your forearms in parallel to one another with rope that youâre already familiar with the feel of. He checks with you to make sure they arenât too tight before fastening your tied arms to the headboard by the cuffs at your wrist.
You test the restraints, giving your arms a tug only to find that thereâs no room for movement. A pulse of heat shoots straight to your core at the thought of being left completely at their mercy, and you quickly press your legs together to quell some of that growing pressure.
It must grab their attention because you hear amused chuckles coming from both of them.
âWas she this needy last time?â You hear Shota ask as he moves away from the bed.
âJust about,â Jongseob says, closer to you now than he was before. âShe was soaked by the time I finished tying her up.â
A quiet whimper catches at your throat, the pressure between your legs worsening by each second that they spend just talking about you like youâre not there.
Thereâs hands at your thighs then, prying your legs apart. You gasp at the sudden pull, twitching to close your legs again but the hands, Shotaâs you think, keep them apart.
âStay still,â you hear him grit, his fingers digging into your flesh.
You settle with a quiet whimper, letting your muscles relax. But then there's something wrapping around your thigh, another one of those fur lined cuffs you think but larger, and fastening down firmly. Thereâs another one also being wrapped around your other leg; which can only mean theyâre both working together to tie you down completely. Your head spins when you hear the clinks of more chains as they get attached to the cuffs at your thighs, the other ends of them getting attached to the headboard on either side of you.
Your skin heats at the realization of your positionâbeing opened up and left exposed like this, completely open and pliant under their mercy.
Shivers climb through your body; you canât see them but you know their eyes are roving over you.
âSheâs already wet,â Shota murmurs, sounding completely in awe. His hand on your thigh slides down stopping just at the apex of your inner thigh, so close to where you really need him, before clamping down on your flesh.
âTold you sheâs excitable,â Jongseob says from your left.
You whine, shifting under the restraints. The ones at your legs are just as unforgivable as the ones on your arms, forcing your legs to stay raised and folded at your sides.
âShhh,â Shota coos before lifting his hands off you. âWeâre just getting started. You can be patient, canât you?â
His voice sounds so sweet, so soothingâbut you know his words arenât a gentle request. Theyâre a demand, a poison no matter how much he douses it in sugar.
âThereâs one more thing you need to do for me before we can keep going.â
He moves away again before coming back just a moment later. A weight drapes over your neck, something soft like those lined cuffs.
âW-What is that?â You stammer, tremors wracking through your breaths as you feel him slide it under and around your neck.
âA collar,â he says, lifting your head with one hand to click it into place with the other. âI donât let anyone sub for me without wearing it.â
The weight of the collar, thick and present around your neck, makes your head feel like it's being stuffed with cotton. Claimed, you think to yourself. It's a nice feeling, like itâs official that youâre under his care now. Both of theirs.
There must be a ring at the front, because you feel the collar tug up and your head lifts under the pull.
âColour?â Shota asks quietly and you whimper out a quiet, âGreen.â He lets go and you melt back down to the bed. âGood.â
Something small and plastic gets pressed into your palm. âA clicker,â Jongseob explains as he adjusts your thumb to rest over a button on the tiny remote. âYouâre going to be gagged so you wonât be able to talk. This is your safeword. When we ask for your colour, click it three times for green, twice for yellow, once for red. Click it once at any point and the blindfold and gag come off.â His voice is slow and soothing, like heâs accounting for the fact that your brain might already be going soupy. âUnderstand?â When you nod, he hums in approval and instructs you to click it in all the patterns to test.
Once that is settled, he moves back and Shotaâs hand comes down to press against your jaw. âWeâre going to gag you now. Open.â
âWait,â you say, turning your head towards his direction. Thereâs still one more thing thatâs been buzzing around in the back of your mind. âYou said you were going to teach Jongseob something... What is it?â
You can hear the smile in his voice as he answers. âRestraint,â he says, then pushes the silicone ball gag in your mouth before you can ask any more questions.
Once thatâs fastened, their hands leave youâcompletely trapped and under their mercy. You donât think youâve ever felt an exhilaration like this.
âPretty,â Shota murmurs above you, before you feel the weight of his palm press between the valley of your breasts. It slides down your body, so slow it leaves you squirming.
You tremble under the warm touch that stops at your naval. You want it to go lower, but you fear wanting anything right now isnât much of an option.
But, to your surprise, your wants go answered anyway. Because his hand slides down lower and two fingers pass through your slick folds.Â
The sensation, and the obscenely wet sounds, make your body jolt and your legs try to uselessly snap shut. The restraints keep you still, tied in place.Â
You whine when his fingers start to slide slowly back and forth, just feeling for you, but your sounds come muffled around the gag.Â
You hear his soft chuckles, breathy as he says, âSo wet already.â He uses his slick fingertips to circle your clit, sending sparks of heat from your core through your body. âI wonder how long your bodyâs been wanting this,â he muses, sliding his fingers down to tease at your entrance.Â
âSheâs a natural,â you hear Jongseob murmur above you. His voice sounds affected, strained. âJust born to submit, arenât you?â He hums, before you feel his hand cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh.Â
Thereâs a steady stream of whimpers and short breaths that spill from your stuffed mouth, your body already taut with the band in your belly growing tighter by the second. Youâre already wound up from all the lead up. You know you wonât last long.
âYouâre close already,â Shota observes, trailing his fingers back to rub torturously light circles around your clit. âBut you canât come until I tell you. Got it?â
You let out a whine of protest at that but Shota only giggles.
âGood,â he says before he lifts his hand off of you entirely, leaving you whining again for lack of the stimulation youâre throbbing for.Â
Your entire body jolts when something cold and wet presses to the space between your clavicles. Ice.Â
Then it trails down, slow and steady leaving prickles of cold trailing in its wake. The sensation feels more intense than it normally would, like you can feel the cold all over your body instead of at just the immediate contact point.
Your body trembles helplessly under it as it makes its way down to your bellybutton, circling there for a moment before straying even lower.Â
Panicked little whines start leaving your throat as it travels further. It stops at your pelvis.Â
âColour,â you hear Shota say, his voice even breathier than before.Â
You take a shaky breath trying to settle your trmoring body but itâs a fruitless attempt. You click the button three times.Â
The ice moves lower, gliding down to press against your clit, and you wail at the sharp spike of cold, burning pleasure that shoots through you.Â
And it moves even lower, the ice melted down to a small thing that Shota presses against your entrance, then pushes in.
Your body jerks against the restraints, chains clinking at the movements as the overbearing cold breaches inside your heated cunt. Though it melts quickly, trickling out of you in steady streams, but Shota doesnât wait for that.Â
Instead, he pushes two fingers into you, a burning stretch against your walls that rivals the sharpness of the cold, and starts fucking them in and out at a rapid pace that has a hot pleasure wash through you over the cold.Â
The sensations become all too much for your body as it thrashes and trembles under the stimulation, barreled to your orgasm at an alarming speed.Â
You try to warn him, but it all comes out as muffled gasps and whines.Â
âClose already?â Shota asks you, voice low and gruff, almost judgemental in tone as he continues to piston his fingers into you.Â
You try to respond but your muffled words get cut off into a sharp moan when you feel another cube of ice press against your nipple.Â
âYou can hold out a little bit,â Jongseob muses as he circles the ice around the bud, teasing it to a stiff peak. He doesnât keep it in one spot for long before moving it to your other nipple, working it just the same.Â
You jerk under the cold sparks that shoot through your chest, yelping when you feel Shotaâs thumb start to circle your clit. âI donât think she can,â he says, then crooks his fingers just right to start punching against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you with each thrust.Â
A panic seizes through you when you realize that you really canât.Â
Your body tightens all around as youâre practically shoved to the edge, coiling tight with the band of pleasure in your gut pulling taut.Â
Shota seems to feel a little merciful. âCome for me,â he says, and thatâs all it takes for your orgasm to punch through you, body wracking with violent shakes as the intense tremors wrack over you.Â
It lasts for a while but Shota guides you through it, slowing his fingers gradually to wind you down while easing the pressure on your clit. When you drop down to the bed, boneless and panting and crying into your blindfold, his hands finally move off of you, as does Jongseobâs.Â
Youâre not sure how long you lay there, shaking from the aftershocks and trying to stay present. You can already feel your grasp on your mind slipping, falling into a space where you canât do much except float in sensation.Â
An arm sliding under your waist brings you back just a little as it lifts you up. You feel a pillow slide under your lower back before youâre settled on top of it.Â
You make a sound at the shift in position, a wordless ask that Shota answers.Â
âDonât worry,â he says, pressing his palm against your cheek. You turn at the touch, seeking the warmth of his hand as you nuzzle into it. He giggles fondly, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone. âThis is just for our next part.â
You pause. What now?
He seems to catch on to your hesitance, digging his thumb affectionately into your cheek. âDonât you worry.â Then his hand is off of you, his voice redirecting from you. âSeob?â
Thereâs a dip in the bed in front of you, the warmth of a body settling close. Then thereâs a pressure against your cunt, hot and thick and velvety as it slides through the slick and you gasp, hips twitching when it presses against your clit.Â
Jongseob teases his cock against you like that for a moment, leaving you whimpering and twitching from the sensitivity that still persists, before he finally pushes into you with a choked groan.Â
You moan around your gag, your fist tightening around the clicker as he settles all the way in you, stretching you full to the brim with his hardened cock. Â
He stutters when you clench around him, feeling him twitch inside you in response.Â
âFuck youâre tight,â he hisses, his hands bearing down on your thighs.Â
Then he goes still, seated deep into you at an angle that makes you feel like heâs brushing against the deepest parts of you.Â
âGood,â you hear Shota murmur before he starts tinkering with something at the bedside table. âRemember when I said I was going to teach him restraint?â
It takes a moment for you to register through the fog in your brain that heâs speaking to you. You make a hitched sound in response.Â
âHeâs going to stay just like that,â he says, moving closer to you. You canât see him, but you can feel his presence hovering over your body. It makes your skin tingle alive again with anticipation. âFor thirty minutes. Heâs not allowed to move, and neither of you are allowed to cum. Okay?â
Dread pools in your gut. 30 minutes? Well if itâs just this and heâs not fucking you, you donât see what the trouble would be. But you know deep down that it wouldnât be so easy.Â
âColour?â He asks, and you donât hesitate at all before you click three times. âGood girl.â
You jerk at the sudden prick you feel on the skin at your chest. Itâs hot, not burning, but a single point of an intense warmth just between your breasts.Â
You make a questioning noise that cuts off into a sharp breath when you feel another prick just under the last, bigger this time. The warmth lingers for a moment longer, before you feel whatever it is harden on your skin and cling against you like a second layer. Wax.
Thereâs nothing more for a long moment, like heâs gauging your reaction. But then it comes back all at once as a long stripe poured from the middle of your chest down to just above your belly button.Â
Itâs so much more intense, a sharp warmth that blooms through your body and has you rattling against your chains. You whimper, body clamping down around Jongseob without control and he lets out a choked grunt, his fingers digging sharply into your thighs.Â
âYouâre sensitive,â Shota muses, sounding all too amused by your reactions.Â
You gasp at the sudden cold of ice that starts gliding down your skin beside the stripe of wax that slowly dribbles down your skin, hardening on the way as the branching stripes thin out.Â
It continues like that for a long while, a flash of cold somewhere on your skin before a burst of warmth that follows. Thereâs no rhythm or reason to when the cold or the warmth is coming and where it might be, leaving your body dangling over the edge with anticipation.Â
Itâs enough to have you shaking again, an unmoving thing around Jongseob who throbs and twitches inside you relentlessly, but remains otherwise still.Â
âYouâre shaking so much,â Shota coos, a mocking concern as he slides his hand down your quivering thigh, his touch leading dangerously close to where you and Jongseob are connected. âAnd youâre creaming so much again. Too much?â
You shake your head hastily; the thought of all this stopping sounds worse than the twenty or however many minutes you have left of going without cumming.Â
He laughs. âSo eager,â he teases, then pushes his finger against your clit and starts circling it in quick, tight circles.Â
Shota preens at the sight of your body bristling under the simple touch. Not only does it affect you, but it affects Jongseob, whoâs face twitches at the feeling of you pulsing around him, pained as he holds himself back from chasing your heat.Â
Shota doesnât relent, just drives you closer to another orgasm with his finger and makes your body convulse so much that it has Jongseobâs breaths come out ragged, his hands tightening on you with restraint.Â
But just before you can tip off, he pulls his hand off of you and cuts off your stimulation. The tension in your body melts away in a snap, Jongseob sighing in relief when you finally go still.Â
Shota doesnât let the ease last. He picks up the pitcher of wax and dribbles another stripe across your torso, up until your nipple. The stripes and splatters of black wax settle on your bare body like a mural of his filthiest dreams. Heâs been wanting to do this for so longâand finally, heâs found his muse.Â
He feels himself throb under his jeans, straining for some form of relief. But he ignores it in favour of latching onto your clit again, driving you towards the edge yet again.Â
âSh-Shota,â Jongseob whimpers, trembling with the effort of not giving into his bodyâs desire to just fuck into you. He clutches at your hips, trying to hold you down and keep you still but Shota can see the way your cunt still flutters around him.Â
Shota clicks his tongue, still thumbing at your clit as he fixes Jongseob with a disapproving look. âIt hasnât even been halfway yet. Stay still.â
Jongseob drops his head with a ragged breath, his nails clawing into your hips.Â
You whimper around the gag, your hips trying to roll up with a mind of their own over Jongseobâs cock. Youâre trying to say something around the gag but it comes out muffled and dismembered. Your body tenses with the threat of release and Shota takes his hand off of you again, leaving you right on the precipice.Â
You drop with a sob that wracks through your entire body and Shota almost feels bad. Almost.Â
He places the pitcher down and instead reaches to dip his hand into the bowl of ice. He doesnât pick any up, just brings his drenched hand over you and flicks the cold water, chuckling when your body flinches as the cold droplets hit.Â
Seeing you squirm might just be his new favourite thing.Â
He knows it's cruelâkeeping you so on edge that you tremble and cry even without being under direct stimulation. It only makes him want to push you harder.Â
He reaches for your clit again, spurring your body back to life under the steady stream of stimulation. He canât tell if your whimpers are pained or pleasured anymore.Â
It doesnât take much time to wind you up to your edge again, and againâhe leaves you hanging every time. His chest twists at the loud sob that leaves your mouth. Your tears have soaked through the blindfold, leaving salt tracks down your cheeks that he wants to lick up.Â
âPretty,â he mumbles, pinching your clit between his fingers. Youâre pretty when youâre ruined.Â
You whine, hips bucking up desperately against Jongseobâs weakening hold. Heâs panting now, eyes bleary, the flush on his face climbing down his neck.Â
Shota knows youâre at your limits. Thereâs still nine minutes left. He could be nice. OrâŚ
He grabs a cube of ice, pressing it to your nipple as his other hand goes back to your clit and flicks at it, rapid and unforgiving.Â
He grins as he watches you cry out around the gag, your orgasm ripping through you with such an intensity that the bed creaks and rattles under your thrashing body, restraints rattling dangerously.Â
Jongseob lets out a sharp cry before he doubles over, trembles wracking through his body.Â
Shota watches, with a sick sense of satisfaction, as Jongseobâs cum seeps out around where heâs still buried in you.Â
He clicks his tongue, pulling his hands off of you and dropping the shrunken cube of ice back into the bowl.Â
âAnd we only had eight minutes to go,â he sighs, smirking when your body tenses up at the reminder of his rule.Â
A shudder passes through Jongseobâs body. Shota reaches over and grabs his chin, yanking his gaze up. He looks up at Shota with wide, panicked eyes.Â
âS-Sorryââ He starts, but Shota cuts him right off.Â
âPunishment,â Shota says, letting go of him to start undoing your binds. âYouâre gonna do it for me.â
He laughs to himself when he sees Jongseob tense up in his peripherals but he ignores him for now as he continues to take off your restraints one by one, lightly massaging your limbs as he goes to bring the feeling back into them.Â
Jongseob isnât the biggest fan of punishment. Nothing intense, at least. But thatâs whatâll make it so fun for Shota to watch.Â
He takes off your gag, rubbing your jaw gently with his fingers as your mouth immediately snaps shut, soft whimpers spilling unbound now. He pulls off your blindfold and smiles when he sees your distant gazeâglassy-eyed and so far gone.Â
âWeâre not done here, pretty,â he says gently, reaching down to grab the D-ring at the front of your collar, tugging it to jostle some of your consciousness back.Â
You blink your eyes slowly, brows furrowing as the words process slowly. âMm?â
It seems words are beyond you now. He smiles, grabbing the corner of the towel laid under you and using it to swipe off the drool around your mouth.Â
âI have to punish you. You came before I told you you could.â
His painfully hard cock twitches when a fresh wave of tears well in your eyes. âI tried,â you sniffle, sounding so desperate.Â
He swipes away your tears as they fall, leaning down to press a soothing kiss at the apple of your cheek. âYou did,â he says, gently enough that your emotions settle just a bit. Heâs not totally cruel. âBut you still broke a rule. So did Seobie. I canât let that go unpunished. You understand?â
You let out another sniffle, lips trembling as you give him a tiny nod.Â
He grins, feeling nothing short of proud at just how compliant you are. âGood girl. Colour?â
âGreen.â
Heâs a little surprised at how quickly the answer comes, but he doesnât let it go to waste. He slides an arm under you, lifting you to sit up.Â
Jongseob has already shifted himself to sit at the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the sheets as he waits. Shota lifts you up, maneuvering you to lay on your stomach across Jongseobâs lap with your ass perched up.Â
Once youâre settled how he wants, Shota steps back to sit himself on the chair set by the bed with a perfect view as he watches Jongseobâs eyes rove over you, nervous hands settling at your lower back and thigh.Â
âEight for every minute you couldnât give me,â Shota says, leaning back as he undoes his belt. He hastily undoes the buttons and zipper of his jeans, slipping his hand in through his layers to grasp at himself and sighing at the pressure heâs been craving for so long now. âMake sure she counts them,â he says through a heavy breath, settling into the chair.Â
Thereâs only a little bit of stalling as Jongseob whispers something to you, his hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass in a soothing gesture.Â
The first crack of Jongseobâs hand coming down against your flesh is softer than Shota would have liked. But it still makes his cock jump, just as the way your body does at the impact.Â
A small, whimpered, âOne,â leaves your lips, almost too quiet for him to hear.Â
But the sound is so helpless and timid that he has to squeeze himself at the base to hold back from reaching his peak too quickly.Â
The next one is still too gentle, so Shota shoots Jongseob a sharp look that Jongseob only glares back at before he brings his hand down on you harder.Â
You let out a broken, âthree!â Your body is already starting to quiver again.Â
Jongseob smooths the reddening flesh with his palm, giving you a moment of relief before he brings his hand down again.Â
You let out a sob as you count the next number. and Shota starts to stroke himself to the sounds of your sniffles, head rushing with your broken voice.Â
By the time it comes to the last one, your entire being is trembling with both pain and an aching need that grows yet again between your legs.Â
Your fists tighten around the sheets, head rolling to the side to be met with the sight of Shota sitting there with his fist working himself, his manic eyes locked onto you.Â
Your eyes meet through the blur of your tears as Jongseobâs hand comes down on you for the final time, harder than any before, and you let out a loud cry, your spent body only being able to tremble and nothing more at the sharp ache it leaves behind.Â
It takes you a moment longer to remember your task. âEight,â you whimper, the tension in your body slowly melting when you feel Jongseobâs hands lift off of you.
Shota stands, making his way over as he tucks himself away. You notice even through the blur that heâs still hard under there. The ache between your legs grows more prominent, the itch to be filled and fucked properly still present despite it all.
âGood girl, angel,â Shota coos, his arms coming around to lift you off of Jongseob and lay you on your back. âYou took it so well. Letâs get you cleanââ
âMore,â you cut him off in a quiet mumble, starry, hazy eyes blinking slowly up at him.Â
Shota pauses, glancing over at Jongseobâs puzzled face before looking back at you. He tilts his head, not sure if heâs heard you right. âWhatâs that?â
He feels his dick jump in his confines, still not fully taken care of, when you part your legs like youâre offering your mess of a cunt up to him.Â
âWant you to come,â you breathe.
Shota feels dizzy. Here you are, an utter mess and complete wreck, offering yourself up for his pleasure. Heâs more surprised that you have enough of a mind to still think about him. And that you still have anything left to give.
He swallows, wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. âYeah?â He asks, eyeing your fluttering pussy still leaking with your previous orgasms, and Jongseob.Â
âPlease?â You ask in a small voice.Â
Shotaâs restraint crumbles. He shoves down his jeans and boxers in a haste, freeing himself and wasting no time to sink himself into your warm cunt.Â
A guttural groan rips from the depths of his lungs as he doubles over, hands bracing down at the sides of your head. Your smaller hands wrapping around his wrists, your eyes looking up at him with a gaze so filled with reverence and trust, Shota nearly cums on the spot.Â
He doesnât recall anyone else ever looking up at him like that, no matter how much care heâd put into them. Truly, thereâs never been anyone like you. And he knows in that moment, thereâs no way heâs letting you go.Â
He pulls out enough until his tip remains, sighing at the tight slide, before he pushes all the way back in with a hard snap that thrashes your body up and leaves you moaning, the sound unobstructed and so sweet.Â
He fucks you with a vigour he hasnât felt before, veins thrumming with a near animalistic want to have you coming undone on his cock.Â
He drinks you inâthe way you moan, the way your face twitches with pleasure, the way your eyes water at the intensity of his thrusts, the way the ring of the collarâhis collarâstill around your neck clinks with every movement. And he loses himself in all of it, in fucking you until you come for him for the third time with a cry of his name.
He stutters at the sound, at your cunt pulsing around him before he starts pounding in even harder, grunting as he feels his high closing in.Â
âFuck, pretty,â he pants, his pace becoming clumsier by the second. âSo good for meâtaking me so good. Wanna make me feel good, donât you?â
You mewl, nails digging in around his wrists as you sniffle. âWanna make you cum⌠feel goodâŚâ
âFuck, you are,â he gasps, slowing down to deep, grinding thrusts that has him digging into the deepest parts of you. âYou areânngh, so good, pretty, soâgood, fuck!â
He pulls out, fisting himself rapidly until he cums over you, thick white ropes painting over the black stripes of the wax still clinging to your body.Â
The sight makes him dizzy all over againâyour painted body, a curation by him. He wants to take a picture, to preserve you just like this all pretty and fucked out and painted by him. But youâre starting to drift away, and he canât let you get too far.Â
He tucks himself away with dazed movements, hesitant to let this moment end as his body still buzzes from⌠everything. He reaches down for you. âSeob, start aââ
âKiss.â
He pauses, hovering over you with his brows raised.
You blink up at him, movements still syrupy slow as you reach for his arm. âKiss?â
Warmth blooms in his chest; his subs usually never get intimate in this way with him. And thereâs not a bone in his body that wants to deny you.
He leans down and presses his lips to yours, unable to keep the smile off his face as you kiss him eagerly even if your movements are a little uncoordinated and clumsy.Â
Your hand claws into his shirt as you try to pull him closer and it takes a Herculean effort for him to pull back, chuckling softly down at you.Â
âLater, pretty,â he says, gently prying your hand off of him and placing it at your chest. âI gotta get you cleaned up.â
But youâre not listening to him. Instead your eyes move over his shoulder and he looks up to see Jongseob still watching, almost entranced.Â
When it becomes clear what youâre asking with your eyes, Jongseob bristles forward and practically shoves Shota aside to seal his lips over yours.Â
Shota giggles at the eager sight, stepping back with a pat to Jongseobâs shoulder. âStay with her, Iâll be back.â
He moves away when itâs clear youâre not even listening, moving to the bathroom to draw together a bath. He makes sure to use all of Jongseobâs fancy shitâextra bubbles, some scented oil, and a few candlesâto set the mood.Â
When he comes back out, he finds you curled into Jongseobâs chest, the both of you in different states of consciousness. Itâs a sweet sight, and he really doesnât want to break it up, but he knows you canât be comfortable under all of the wax and other stuff.Â
So he goes over, pulling you both back to present as he comes into view. âCome on, letâs get you in the bath.â
He reaches down to take the collar off of you first, but you swat at his hand, curling away from him with a protective hand over it. âNo,â you huff, turning to bury your face in Jongseobâs shoulder.Â
Jongseob looks amused as he smiles lazily up at Shota. âLooks like you got yourself a keeper,â he teases but thereâs a fondness to his voice as he looks back down at you.Â
Shota canât help but grin. âLucky me.â
Bringing you to the bathroom isnât much of a task, but getting you under the shower (because Jongseob is the kind of guy to have a bathroom with both a shower and a tub) to wipe off the waxes and other substances is, because you refuse to let go of him to the point where Jongseob has to step in and hold you still.Â
Getting you into the bath is much easier when Shota tells Jongseob to get in with you, considering your refusal to let him go by latching onto his arm.Â
The unusual display of clinginess doesnât come as much of a surprise given the intensity of the scene. But itâs cute, so Shota has no problem as he sits himself on the lip of the tub and washes your hair, every touch bringing you closer and closer back to the present.Â
âYou guys are crazy,â you mutter after a while, head lolling back onto Jongseobâs shoulder.Â
Shota smiles, dumping the jug of water over your head as retaliation and giggling while you yelp and sputter, wiping at your face.Â
Jongseob snickers, tightening his arms around you. âIf weâre crazy, so are you. You asked for everything tonight.â
âYeah, but,â you flush, sinking further into the water. âI didnât think it would be like that.â
A quiet panic starts growing in the pit of Shotaâs stomach, the loofa nearly slipping from his hand. âYou donât have any regrets, do you?â He has to ask because he canât have it happening againâ
âNo,â you say sharply, breaking off his dark trail of thought, and that quashes away the doubts that started growing in Shotaâs head. âNot at all.â
He sighs in relief, smiling as he takes your arm to lather the soap over your skin. âGood.â
The moment lulls after that, the sounds tinkling of water, soft breaths, and the rose scented air keeping you company.Â
âSo,â you start again, eyes lighting with a twinkle that makes Shota preen even before you finish your thought. âSame time next week?â
He eyes the collar still around your neck, glancing up at Jongseobâs hopeful, inquiring eyes. âOf course,â he answers, grinning as he loops his finger through the collar and tugs you closer. âYouâre mine now.â
synopsis ⸠you make a surprising discovery in your friendâs bedroom. you didnât realize confronting him about it would put you in such a⌠bind.
requested ⸠many people :â)
ᯠan â jongseob being the secret freak in piwon? of course i was going to hop on that
READ PART 2 HERE â MASTERLIST
âJiung, open the damn door. I need to pee!â
âWell, so do I!â
You grunt out in frustration, banging on the door again but you get no response. âDamn it,â you mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for having that last beer as you look around the hall.Â
Jongseobâs door is cracked open. If you remember right, he has his own bathroom attached to his bedroom.Â
You donât bother asking for permission; youâre well past those niceties and heâs too caught up in kicking Keehoâs ass in Mario Kart.Â
So you abandon your post by the powder room and shove your way into his bedroom frantically.Â
You only pause for a second to take in the surprisingly neat aesthetic of his room. But then your bladder pulses threateningly so you abandon your admiration and beeline to the door adjacent to the entrance.Â
As soon as you open the door, your stomach falls and peeing becomes the last of your worries.Â
You shouldâve just waited for Jiung.Â
Because there, hanging from the curtain rod where curtains should be, are ropes and leather binds andâand fur-lined handcuffs?
Theyâre all black, some with silver hoops and rings, and the only thing going through your mind is who is stowing their bondage shit in Jongseobâs room?
Your first thought is immediately Soul, but then Soul would probably hang them around his apartment loud and proud.Â
Theo? No, also loud and proud.Â
Keeho doesnât strike you as the type and Intak wouldnât be the one doing the tying, unless he had them on the ready for his partners to use on him.Â
Jiung⌠is a bit of an enigma but he would be the type to lock this stuff away in a safe somewhere if he had people over.Â
Jongseob doesnât have any other friends so that just leaves you with⌠Jongseob.
Your stomach falls again.Â
Is Jongseob a secret fucking freak?
The thought shakes you so violently that you jump back and slam the door shut.Â
You feel cold. And hot. And like youâre dizzy and about to fall. You need to get out of here.Â
So you book it out of his room, crashing right into Jiung as he steps out into the hall.Â
âWoah!â He exclaims, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you up to your feet when you nearly go tumbling down with him. âBathrooms free, you canâare you okay?â
You blink up at his concerned eyes as he flattens his palm against your forehead.Â
âYou look a little pale. Are you nauseous?â
You swat him away, stepping back and brushing yourself down as heat rises to your cheeks. âIâm fine,â you huff, shoving past him to go back into the ruckus in the living room.Â
Jiung follows after you. âDonât you need to pee?âÂ
But you donât hear him anymore, your eyes immediately landing on where Jongseob is trying to sabotage Keeho by reaching over his own controller to fuck with him.Â
He looks so bright and cheery, giggling all sunshine and rainbows.Â
Definitely not like some sort of bondage master.Â
âNoona?â Soul asks from where heâs sitting on the couch. He holds a fresh beer can up to you in a silent offer.Â
You shake your head, slipping into the free spot beside him and Theo, on your other side, immediately takes his chance to throw his legs on your lap.Â
Your eyes stay on Jongseob. And your mind stays on thoughts of those ropes. On those ropes, in Jongseobâs hands. What he would do with them, who he would do those things to.Â
Safe to say, you go into a silent spiral. One that keeps you so preoccupied that you donât even notice it when everyone has gotten up to leave.Â
âHey,â Keehoâs voice rings, fingers snapping in front of your face. âWeâre gonna head out. You stay here until youâre ready to drive home.â
You blink out of your daze, tilting your head up to look at him. âHuh?â
âJongseob has your keys,â Theo says from behind him. âHeâs under order not to give them to you when you donât look like youâll throw up on yourself.â
You open your mouth to protest but Keeho starts shoving Theo to the door where Jiung, Soul, and Intak are already wrapped up and ready to go.Â
âWait, I can go home!â You try to argue and pull up to your feet, but a hand, slim and surprisingly strong, pushes on your shoulder to sit you right back down.Â
âYouâre staying,â Jongseob says from behind you, before turning his attention to bid the others goodbye as they filter out of the apartment one by one.Â
And then youâre alone. With Jongseob.Â
Jongseob, the apparent bondage master.Â
Jongseob rounds the couch to tidy up the bits of his living room that are still left askewed even after the group effort to clean up.Â
And you watch him, his nimble fingers as he deftly fixes the position of his knick knacks on the coffee table and tv stand.Â
Heâs always been good with his hands. You wonder if itâs becauseâŚ
âI saw your bondage stuff in your bathroom,â you blurt against your will.Â
Jongseob freezes where he stands. Then he looks over his shoulder at you, and although he doesnât look nearly as affected as you expect, thereâs a tinge of red at the tips of his ear.Â
âWhat were you doing in my room?â
âHad to pee.â
He raises his brow. âDidnât think to ask me first before going in there?â
You swallow, curling in on yourself at the reprimanding look in his eye. Does he look at hisâ stop.Â
âSorry,â you say, then tack on like your brain just wants you to make everything worse than it needs to be. âMaster.â
He glares at you before he moves on to fix the cushions of his couch. âYou think itâs funny,â he says, watching you purse your lips to smother your giggle from the corner of his eye.Â
âNo, not funny,â you say, wrapping your arms around your knees. âJust⌠shocked. You donât seem like the type. Youâre all shy and nerdy, ya know.â
Well, now that you think about it, it really always is the shy, nerdy type, isnât it?
Jongseob seems to agree, if the little smirk he gets on his lips is anything to go by. âBelieve what you want,â he says before moving on to his attached kitchen. âTea?â
âIâm good.â
Heâs being surprisingly casual about this. The Jongseob you know, or thought you knew, would stumble and babble his way through an embarrassed explanation.Â
But the way he just owns it is⌠a little headspinning. And it gets you thinking.Â
âSo, are you a dom or a sub?â
You expect that to be his ticket to kick you out of his apartment.Â
But he answers with a calm, âI usually dom.â
âAh.â
The whistle of the kettle takes over the silence as youâre left to your wandering thoughts.Â
âCan I try?â
Thereâs a clatter of glass against countertop then a sharp curse before a puzzled, âWhat?â
You rise to your knees on the couch, turning around to face his baffled expression on the other side of the counter that divides his kitchen and living room.Â
You didnât even mean to ask it. But you canât lie that your curiosity is killing you. You want toâno, need to see him in action.Â
âYou heard me,â you state, folding your arms over the back cushions. âI want to try.â
He narrows his eyes at you. âThis isnât something you just try. Bondage is complicated, itâs not just some sex thing that youâre probably thinking it is.â
âOkay, then teach me.â
âAre you serious?â
âDeadly.â
He stares at you for a moment that stretches long enough to make you think that maybe this was a bad idea and you should just get up and run away.Â
But then he starts walking over to you, slow and leisurely as he eyes you to gauge just how serious you are, and the fact that it makes you feel a little bit like prey keeps you glued to your place.Â
He stops in front of you, placing hands on either side of you on the cushions. âDo you understand what youâre asking for?â
You swallow, unable to speak as you stare up at him, frozen under the intensity of his gaze. âYes?â You not-so-answer.Â
âYou want to try bondage?â He asks, raising a brow. âYou want me to tie you up. Is that it?â
You take in a shaky breath, squirming in your spot. âI-I guess I just want to see you in action.â
âAs a dom?â
ââŚI suppose.â
âAnd youâre willing to be my sub?â
You pause. You didnât think about it like that. But now that you are thinking about it, the answer couldnât come quicker.Â
âYes.â
His brows raise, like he hadnât expected such an emphatic answer. But a smile, small and satisfied, lifts on his lips.Â
âDo you trust me?â
This answer comes instinctively. âI do.â
His smile lifts higher. âGood,â he pauses, letting his eyes roam over your face for a moment. âAnd if things get⌠sexual?â
You frown, puzzled. âIsnât bondage sexual?â
âNot inherently,â he says, folding his arms against yours and lowering just enough so you can feel his breath brush against you as he speaks. âIt can be therapeutic for a lot of people. A way to relax, let go of power and responsibility.â He raises a hand to brush a stray strand of your hair back, his fingertips a light breeze against your prickling skin. âAs the dominant, itâs my job to guide my submissive safely into that mindset. To let them relinquish power to someone they trust so they can just⌠be.â
Maybe itâs the cadence of his deep voice, or the soft way that he speaks, or the gentle way that his thumb caresses your cheek. But you think you can already feel the kind of power he can hold. The kind that brings people under. Because even just listening to him now, like heâs guiding you through this conversation, you feel some of the threads of your own control slip into his hand.Â
âSometimes itâs just that,â he adds quietly, his finger tracing down the slope of your jaw before resting under your chin. âSometimes itâs more.â
You feel stuck under his gaze, warm and all encompassing.Â
âItâs whatever you want,â he mumbles.
More. Your brain screams at you.Â
âI want more,â you say.
His fingers wrap around your chin in a grip that doesnât feel as considerate as his words. You wonder distantly if youâve gotten yourself caught in a trap.Â
âGood,â he murmurs, thumb digging into the divot under your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part for him. âI was wondering when the day would come.â
You donât get the chance, or have much of a mind, to process what that might mean because youâre quickly reminded of your bladder issue.Â
âBathroom,â you say, and itâs so abrupt that he stares at you before breaking into a soft laugh.Â
He lets go of you and steps back, but that cocksure smirk of his lies waiting on his lips. âMeet me in my room.â
You take your time in the bathroom to reel in your racing mind and your racing heart.Â
Youâre about to fuck one of your best friends. At least, you think you are. You didnât think it was something you wanted but now that you know itâs an option, itâs all that you can think of, all that you find yourself wanting as you pad down the hallway to his bedroom.Â
His door is cracked open. You donât hear anything on the other side.Â
You expected him to be the type to have on a playlist. Well, maybe he does whenever he goes vanilla. Does he do vanilla? Or is he strictlyâokay, now is not the time.Â
You shake your head, taking a steadying breath as you reach for the doorknob and step into the fate youâve stumbled yourself into.Â
Thereâs rope on the bed. Four neat coils of sturdy black rope on the bed, just waiting for you. No sight of leather or silver rings or handcuffs.Â
Jongseob stands across the bed, leaning back against his dresser as he coils a fifth length of rope around his hand.Â
He looks up at you when you step through the door, smiling at the blank look on your face.Â
âSit,â he tells you, nodding over to the empty space he left for you at the foot of the bed.Â
Even just that simple command has your head reeling. Are you really that easy?
You make your way over on weak knees, sitting yourself down and looking up at him across from you.Â
And suddenly this all starts to feel real and not just some distant fantasy that brewed in your head borne out of childish curiosity.
He leaves you stewing in your anticipation for a few moments longer as he wrings his hands around the rope, letting his eyes rake over you. Even the way he looks at you exudes a quiet sense of control. Itâs not obvious, but itâs there. You feel it in the way he doesnât let his eyes stray from you even once, no inkling of nervousness or otherwise from his end.Â
âDo you know what a safeword is?â Is what he finally says to you.Â
You watch the way his fingers work around the rope before he holds it casually at his front, waiting for your answer.Â
âYes,â you say quickly when you realize youâve taken too long.Â
He chuckles, a little amused. âAre you feeling shy?â
âNo,â you snap, shuffling in your seat. You pout when he raises a disbelieving brow at you, twisting your hands in your lap. âJust didnât think youâd actually agree.â
âWe donât have to go through withââ
âI want to,â you cut in.Â
He stops, nodding as he licks his tongue over his smile. âOkay. Then in the case that you do want to stop at any point, we need a system. Do you know the traffic light system?â
âI do.â
He nods, moving over to place the final coil of rope with the others on the bed. âExplain it to me,â he says before moving back with his hands in his pockets.Â
You donât know how heâs being so casual about this. But his nonchalance to it all makes you feel hot, makes that pressure between your hips grow present.
âWhen you ask me for a colour, I answer with green, yellow, or red,â you start, and only when he nods do you continue, âGreen for go, yellow for slow, red for stop.â
âGood,â he says with a smile, and even just that bit of approval makes your heart flutter. âDo you know what shibari is?â
âI do.â
âThatâs what Iâll be doing to you tonight.â
You glance to your left at all the coils of rope heâs got splayed out beside you. âSo no leather, no chains?â
âNot tonight,â he says and that implication goes lost on you when he leans against his dresser, nods his chin at you, and says, âTake off your clothes.â
Your breath hitches, cheeks burning hot. Right. This is happening.Â
You take a steadying breath before you rise to your feet, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You meet his eyes a final time before you pull it off your body.Â
His gaze stays locked on you as you undress, and you wouldnât think he was affected at all by his impassive expression if it werenât for the tinge of red on his cheeks and the hard bob of his Adamâs apple.Â
You leave your clothes at the corner of his bed, not yet meeting his eye as you wait for further instruction.
âGood,â he breathes as he makes his way closer, reaching around you to pick up a coil of rope that he unwinds and folds in half. âTurn around.â
Again, the simple instruction leaves you feeling more affected than you should. You do as youâre told regardless.Â
âHold your arms up and out,â he murmurs, humming in approval when you do.Â
You feel him step closer, the heat of his body like a physical weight against your bare skin. Then he reached around you to wrap the first length of rope around your upper chest, tying it at your back. Itâs firm against your skin, but not uncomfortable or scratchy like youâd expected.Â
You feel his finger slip between your skin and the rope before tugging to test its sturdiness.Â
âNot too tight?â He asks and you shake your head.Â
âNo,â you mumble. âIt⌠actually feels nice.â
His palm presses into the side of your waist as he reaches around you to pick up another coil of rope. âThatâs good,â he hums before the warmth of his hand is gone and the new stretch of rope comes around you.Â
Each new knot and loop that he adds to your body leaves you feeling more and more like youâre slipping further under his hand. You start to understand what heâd been trying to explain; the expulsion of power, and the appeal behind the notion.
All you can do is stand there as he puts together what can only be explained as a harness around your chest and your shoulders in intricate, symmetric shapes. He moves around your body here and there to check his knots and keep track of his work, all concentrated and stern the way he works his nimble fingers around you.Â
He takes this seriously. It makes you feel more at ease.Â
âColour?â He asks you when heâs done with your chest, and it takes you a moment to get your senses together to answer.Â
âGreen.â
He hums then uses his hands to bring your arms down. He picks up the third coil of rope and uses it to tie your upper arms down to the loops made at the sides of your upper torso, elbows bent to bind your forearms and hands together at your back.Â
His work is sturdy. Thereâs not much space for any movement when you give the binds an experimental tug.Â
âYou okay?â He asks when he notices you wriggling.Â
âY-Yeah, justâŚâ You flush, relaxing under the ties. âImpressed.â
He smirks softly as he comes to stand in front of you, hooking his finger under the rope between your breasts and tugging lightly to test it. His eyes take you in, lingering at your chest before he reaches for another rope. You feel hot all over, exposed like this under his prying eyes.Â
The heat of his hand brushes against your thigh. âPart your legs a little for me,â he says gently, and you quickly comply, watching him as he snakes the rope around your legs and hips, framing your ass and your cunt, circling around your upper thighs.Â
It takes great effort to hold in your noises when you feel his hands nearly brush against the intimate parts of you. Thereâs no doubt youâre wet already, way too turned on than you should be with just some rope around your body. But you donât need him to know that.Â
He does the fifth and final rope in intricate knots to connect the ones between your chest and your thighs, wrapping everything up in a neat little design that you canât really see.Â
When heâs done, he moves to stand in front of you, letting his eyes drink you in.Â
âYou look pretty like this,â he murmurs, hands brushing down your body before settling at your hips.Â
You make a soft, inadvertent noise when his fingers hook under the rope just to feel and appreciate his work.Â
âHowâs it feel?â He asks you, one hand sliding up your body to cup under the swell of your breast.Â
Itâs a simple touch that makes you want nothing more than for him to keep touching you, to take advantage of you in a state like this. Like youâre presented to him, all for his own pleasure.Â
âFeels good,â you murmur. âGreen.â
He hums, satisfied. He moves his hand up, kneading your chest before pressing his thumb into your nipple. You gasp at the sensation as he starts to languidly circle it to a stiff peak.Â
âYouâre a lot more pliant than I thought youâd be,â he muses, lifting his other hand to give your other breast the same attention. âI thought Iâd have to teach you some manners.â
You swallow down a moan but it comes out in a whine anyways when he pinches your nipples, tugging at them once before his hands settle on your waist again.Â
âWanna be good,â you manage to say, and the way he smirks at you gives you the ridiculous urge to drop to your knees and call him master.Â
âYeah?â He asks, tongue flicking over his lower lip. âWanna be a good girl for me?â
The words rush to your head and make your needy cunt throb. You nod immediately, never mind the fact that itâs probably pathetic how quickly youâre giving into him.Â
His fingers dig into your flesh between the ropes. âUse your words, pretty girl.â
âYes,â you say immediately. âWanna be good for you.â
âGood,â he whispers, eyes darkening as they rake down your figure again. âLets start by getting you on the bed, hm?â
You nod and he moves around you, taking hold of the knot between your shoulder blades to steer you onto the bed, guiding you to the head of it before he handles you onto your side.Â
You go willingly, not that you have much of a choice under all the binds. But you welcome the lack of choice, the lack of a need to do anything. Because Jongseob is there to do it for you.Â
âCan I take a picture?â He suddenly asks you. You follow him with your eyes as he rounds to the foot of the bed, his eyes not leaving you once. âA Polaroid. Just one without your face. If you decide you donât like it after everything then you can burn it.â
The thought of Jongseob wanting to have you immortalized like this does questionable things to your mindset. And you donât hate the idea of seeing what you look like through his eyes.
So you agree. âYou can.â
He doesnât waste time, digging out his camera from his dresser before he steps back into place.Â
âSay cheese,â he teases once he lifts the camera, pointing his lens at you.Â
You giggle softly, complying despite it being completely useless as he snaps the picture.Â
You blink your eyes clear of the flash as he rounds the bed and places the camera and printed film on his bedside table.Â
Distantly, you wonder just how many pictures he has like that in his collection.Â
You donât get much time to mull over it when he knees his way onto the bed. It hits you that heâs still fully dressed in his dark slacks and oversized black button up, and youâre only in rope.Â
It feels a little humiliating. And it only makes you more wet.Â
Without another word, Jongseob puts his hand on your hip and rolls you as far onto your back as he can given that your arms are in the way.Â
He seems completely mesmerized by the sight of you on his bed like this, eyes greedy as they drink you in.Â
âI couldnât be more glad for someone invading my privacy,â he mutters under his breath, sliding a hand under your thigh to part your legs.Â
You hiss at the cold brush of air as youâre exposed. He only grins when he catches sight of the state youâre in.Â
âLooks like Iâm not the only one either,â he chuckles.Â
You mewl in embarrassment, turning your head to bury into his pillow but he catches your chin, turning you not-so-gently to bring your eyes back to him.Â
His smile is gone, replaced by a stern, hard look that does nothing to help the mess between your legs.Â
âEyes on me,â he tells you, right before he passes two of his fingers through your slick folds.Â
The feeling it sends through you feels all the more intense than it normally would from something so simple.Â
You gasp, body jerking under your binds when his fingers swipe through again to gather your slick. When your head tries to fall back, his grip on you tightens to bring your rolling eyes back onto him.Â
That hard expression stays on his face as he watches you intently, taking in every shift in your expression.Â
âColour.â
It takes you a second to process but you whimper out an emphatic, âGreen.â
He hums, then uses his slick covered fingers to start circling your clit.Â
Your body trembles under the sensation, short moans leaving your lips but you donât make the mistake of trying to look away from him again.
He lets go of your chin, opting instead to hold up your thigh when your legs try to close.Â
âYouâre dripping so much already,â he says with a small smirk, eyes shifting back down to your twitching cunt. âJust from being tied up?â
You whine, starting to writhe as his fingers pick up the pace, flicking rapidly against your throbbing nub. âCanâtânnghâhelp it.â
âOf course you canât.â He laughs, short and low. âKeep your legs apart.â
You donât get much time to process the order before he lets go of your thigh, his hands shifting so the thumb of his left finds its way to your clit while the middle of his right starts teasing at your entrance.Â
Your legs move to close at the sudden onslaught of simulation but one of his hands comes down on your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has you yelping, a stinging sensation left lingering on that sensitive skin.Â
âWhat did I say?â He snaps at you and you whimper, forcing your legs open, struggling to keep your bleary eyes open and on him. âGood.â His hands move back to your cunt but they remain still. âColour?â
You swallow. Your entire body trembles but itâs nothing if not excitement and anticipation for more.Â
âGreen,â you breathe and his fingers spur back to life, thumb circling your clit in quick, tight circles as his finger starts pushing into your hole.Â
You donât bother trying to stifle the whines and gasps that tumble from your lips, knowing heâd probably reprimand you if you tried.
Your body lies taut under the ropes, twitching and writhing uselessly. Itâs just like you wanted; youâre left pliant for him to use however he likes.Â
His finger sheathes fully inside of you, staying pushed in for a moment before he starts to slowly fuck it in and out. The filthy sounds from how slick you are makes you want to turn and hide and close your legs, but you donât.Â
You stay good, keeping yourself open for him as he fingers you towards your climax with an almost clinical focus with his eyes latched onto the way your pussy swallows him in.Â
âFucking gushing around me,â he mutters, slowing his fingers down just to watch how your slick gathers at the base of his knuckles.Â
Then he pulls out and instead pushes two of his long fingers all the way in.Â
You moan, head rolling back, but he doesnât reprimand you this time, too focused on fucking you with his fingers. He doesnât stop this time, working his way up to eventually push three fingers into you.Â
The stretch is mind-numbingly good, better than anything youâve been able to do to yourself and far better than anyone else has ever done for you.Â
Maybe it's the situation. Maybe itâs the position he has you in. But whatever it is, it drives you to your climax faster than normal.Â
You clench around his fingers, and he sees it in the way that you flutter around each thrust that youâre close.Â
âClose already?â He asks with a crooked grin, seeming all too pleased with himself. âI just got started.â
You whine, hips jerking under him when his thumb presses into your clit. âS-Seob, please, donât stop, âm gonnaâŚâ
Your words give way to high, frantic whines as he pushes you right to the edge.Â
Only to pull away as soon as you were about to tip off.Â
You cry out in frustration when the warmth of his fingers pull away and youâre left empty and pulsing around nothing.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry,â he says, looking down at you with a smile that is anything but warm. âDid you think you were at liberty to tell me what to do?â
Your veins run cold at the sudden shift in his tone. Itâs icy, just like his gaze as he looks down at you. Itâs rampant with a hunger of his own, but itâs a hunger to see you ruined than to fuck you the way you want.Â
He clicks his tongue. âGuess you do need to be taught a thing or two.â
Before you know it, youâre on your knees. He uses the robes to grab and move you, pushing your face down into your pillow with one hand on the rope between your shoulders while the other drags your hips up.Â
He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, at the sight of you being presented to him like this.Â
âYou were made to be put like this, werenât you?â He coos, large hand cupping your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.Â
He hooks his fingers under one of the ropes framing your cunt, tugging at it to pull you flush against the hard ridge of his boner through his slacks. He grinds forward with a breathy groan, pushing him further into you.Â
âFeel that?â
You whimper, rolling your hips back for more of that pressure but he only pulls back with a chuckle.Â
âYouâre a needy thing,â you hear him mumble, followed by the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone.Â
You wait with bated breath as you listen to the shuffle of clothes, aching more and more with each second that goes by that your needy cunt goes neglected.Â
âSeob,â you whine when nothing still happens.Â
âThought you wanted to be a good girl, hm? Good girls are patient.â
You let out a frustrated breath that borders on a sob, turning to bury your face further into his pillow as you lay there, waiting.Â
Until you feel the blunt head of his cock press right against your clit.Â
You bristle, but his hands bear down on your hips to hold you still as he clicks his tongue. âYouâre flighty. Colour?â
âGreen,â you muffle out, not even bothering to hide the desperate tone in your voice.Â
He chuckles at it, starting to guide his cock through the slick mess of your folds though not yet sating your ache to be filled.Â
But you donât dare make a peep about it, afraid that he would just string it out even longer if you did.Â
So you just take it as he traces his tip through every crevice of your cunt, pushing against your entrance just to pull away and guide himself down to your clit, circling you there, then gliding all the way back up to the base before repeating it in a torturous routine.Â
Itâs a mind reeling game that leaves you panting and quivering and dripping for five, ten, however many minutes as he just teases you like this.Â
It doesnât matter that heâs desperate to sink his aching cock into the warm, velvety walls that are literally weeping for him. He needs to know that you understand just how this works.Â
When it seems that you do, when youâre just whining mindlessly and drooling into his pillow and just taking his teasing with no complaints, he finally gives in.Â
He presses in, just until the tip, and pauses, watching as your pliant body seems to liven back up under the stretch, bristling under the binds.Â
You whimper his name so softly, but thatâs all that comes. No begging for more, no trying to fuck yourself back on to him. Just simple reaction to whatever heâs giving you, with no other choice but to just take it.Â
âGood girl,â he breathes, manic at the prospect of breaking you in so easily, before he lets himself sink all the way in.Â
You moan, loud and broken at the feeling of finally being stretched to the brim.Â
Thereâs no more waiting. He starts fucking you with intent, holding on to the knots keeping your arms together as he drives his cock into you at a steady pace.Â
Heâs long and curved perfectly to brush against that sweet spot in you with each precise thrust, pushing you closer to your lost climax quicker than you couldâve hoped for.Â
You lay there and take it, sobbing his name into the pillow as you take every bit of overwhelming pleasure.Â
He breathes your name, quiet and reverent as he fucks you at a relentless pace. âSo good,â he gasps, his free hand coming around to tweak at your nipple, his pace never once wavering. âTaking me so well, arenât you?â
âGood,â your mumble and he has to strain to hear your muffled, fucked out voice. âFâr you.â
It makes him manic.Â
His cock pulses inside your gummy walls and he curses, his pace starting to falter. âFuck, pretty, âm gonna cum,â he breathes. Heâs about to pull out, picturing the image of his cum trickling against your back, a stark colour against the black ropes, when your voice cuts in.Â
âIn meâŚâ You muffle through your sobs. âSeobâin meâŚâ
And fuck, who is he to deny a pretty beggar?
He groans, plastering himself to your back, both hands clutching onto your tits as he drives his cock into you with a renewed force.Â
âCum with me,â he breathes into your hair, and itâs enough to have you pulsing around him, enough to have him spilling inside of you.Â
He collapses from the effort, grunting as he milks every bit of himself into you, arms coming down to wrap around your waist as he rocks you both through the high.Â
The moment stills, a tangle of breathless bodies and heated air.Â
He wants to just lay there and bask in the afterglow, but he knows he has work to do, especially when he feels you go limp in his arms.Â
Slowly, he pulls out, hissing from the sensitivity before laying you on your side and lifting off of you.Â
But as soon as he detaches from you, you bristle with a whine, eyes going wide and panicked as they search for him through the blur.Â
âSeob? No, donât,â you whimper, reaching out to clutch at him.
Oh, youâre gone.Â
He immediately lowers himself down, tucking his body over you and brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. âIâm right here, pretty. Not going anywhere. Just gonna get these ropes off of you, okay?â
It takes a moment for the words to process, but when they do, he goes to work, making sure to stay as physically connected to you as possible even if it is just a clumsy press of bodies.Â
The ropes come off of you one by one, and he drops them to the floor without care. It doesnât even bother him that heâll have to wash them again today.Â
He soothes his hands over your arms when he gets them free, almost mourning having to undo all his workâyou looked so pretty under all of itâbut he hopes heâll get to keep his picture at least.Â
Actually, he hopes heâll get to have you like this again. But thatâs a worry for after, because youâre starting to doze off already and he canât have that just yet.Â
Once youâre free of the ropes, he gently tugs your body to lay on your back, the movement shaking you awake.Â
âDonât fall asleep on me yet,â he says, watching you blink your eyes open for him. âGood, just like that.â
He smiles fondly when you drop your face into his chest, scratching into your hair affectionately before he reaches over you for the wet wipes he keeps at his bedside.Â
Cleaning you up is a bit of a task when you keep flinching away and swatting at him but once itâs done, he tucks you against his chest and under the blanket.Â
âYouâre a freak.â
Okay, maybe youâre not that under.Â
âOh yeah?â He asks with a cocky grin. âYou seemed to like it though.â
You lift your head to glare at him, your previous daze seeming faraway. âIâm sorry, has anyone not liked that?â
He shrugs. âSome donât.â He doesnât know what to make of the slow blink you give him. âWhat?â
âYouâre a slut,â you say simply.
He laughs, knowing you well enough to know itâs not malicious. A little judgemental, maybe, but heâs judged you about your sex life before so heâs not one to speak.Â
âI suppose I am,â he says sheepishly, dropping his head back to look up at the ceiling.Â
ââŚWhatâs with the cuddling?â
âAftercare.â
âAh.â
âHate it?â
You shuffle further into his arms and he takes that as your silent answer. He holds you close, relishing in your warm skin against his.Â
After another silent moment, his eyes drift over to the Polaroid that waits at his bedside table. He itches to reach over and take a peak. But he wonât untilâ
âYou can keep the picture,â you tell him, like youâre reading his mind. âBut you show it to anyone and Iâm telling Shota his best friend is a huge freak.â
âShota?â Jongseob snorts. âWho the hell do you think got me into this in the first place?â
Thereâs silence. Then you bristle, pushing yourself off of him to sit up and stare down at him with wide eyes. âWhat?â
âHonour code,â he says cheekily, pretending to zip his lips shut. âFreaks donât divulge each other's freak practices.â
You drop back down beside him with an exasperated sigh. You shouldnât be that surprised. âDo I even want to know?â
He hums, chewing on his lip as a distant thought forms in his head. âMaybe another time.â
Synopsis: A new night nurse starts in the pitt and Jack takes an instant interest in her, not in a good way.
Warnings: mean jack, age gap, reader is mid to late 20s, sunshine reader, shy reader, anxious reader, eventual smut, smut, 18+, MDNI, angst, fighting, slow burn, co-workers to enemies, enemies to lovers, blood, gore, medical inaccuracies, pittfest, panic attacks, mentions of suicide, PTSD, grief, widower jack, mentions of past military trauma, violence against medical staff, reader is described to be shorter than Jack, reader has hair past shoulders.
đŚ - fluff
đ§ď¸ - angst
đĽ - smut
Can be read as individual, standalone blurbs, but will be written with a timeline in mind.
