clove

How could he not when you've been so good to him? So obedient and willing to do anything he asked just for his touch? It's how you got here—on your knees in front of your brother's best friend. A man you've been secretly flirting with behind your brother's back for half a year. A man who hasn't made it easy to get to this point, constantly teasing and tempting you while keeping you at arm's length.

Jungkook leans back against his couch, toying with a lollipop in his tattooed hands. His rings shimmer in the dim lighting.

"Do you like strawberry?" he asks nonchalantly, eyes glancing forward and out his floor-to-ceiling window. It's nighttime; the city lights and moonlight flood the living room. It's the perfect amount to see but still be slightly in the shadows.

Jungkook begins unwrapping the candy, the crinkling of the plastic loud in the quietness. Your eyes flicker from his face to his hands and watch with rapt attention to the way his fingers move.

"Yes," you reply.

"Good," he answers and looks down again. "Want a taste?"

You nod while he discards the wrapping on the floor.

"I didn't hear you, baby," he chides softly, twirling the lollipop between his fingertips.

You swallow and peer up at him. "Yes, please."

He puffs out a chuckle, then, with his eyes still glued to yours, brings the candy to his mouth. His lips wrap around it and sucks gently, hollowing his perfect cheekbones and savoring the taste. Your heart pounds in your chest watching him.

You fidget in your position, hands wrinkling your short shorts and feet rubbing together anxiously. You've been seated on your knees long enough that you know the aching will start soon; however, you push away the feeling to be good for Jungkook.

You're not very experienced in this field, having only used toys to pleasure yourself. You've read erotic stories and read people's experiences, but you've never been in one yourself. You try to appear more confident than you feel. You're not going to ruin the first chance you get to be with him in this manner. You've worked too hard.

Jungkook pops the lollipop out of his mouth and angles it toward you.

"Your turn, pretty girl," he says.

You lean forward slightly, poking out your tongue and swiping at it once. The sweet flavor is delicious.

You're not sure how to make sucking a lollipop sexy, so you do what he just did; you wrap your lips around it and suck.

When your eyes begin to shift down, Jungkook tugs your chin higher with the lollipop stick.

"Eyes right here, baby," he commands gently. Your sight moves back to his. He smiles that handsome smile that makes your stomach flip. It's a reminder of why you've been obeying him; you love to see him pleased.

He tugs the candy from your mouth.

"Tongue out," he instructs. Once you do, he taps the lollipop head against your tongue several times. Then, he swirls the flavor onto it. Your saliva begins to pool, and you start to shut your mouth to swallow, but Jungkook reaches out to hold your jaw.

"Keep it open for me," he says. He slowly removes his hand, wanting to see if you'll listen despite the desire to close it.

You do, forcing down the urge and staring into his brown eyes as spit begins to drip down. You're embarrassed, but seeing Jungkook's eyes darken makes you less so.

Jungkook feels his blood rushing south at the filthy view.

"Swirl your tongue then suck on it," he demands.

You follow his orders, tongue circling the candy a few times before enclosing it between your lips. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck. Jungkook stares down like he's in a trance.

He shifts the stick slightly and marvels at how you follow it, refusing to let the lollipop go. He tests it again, angling it sideways and watching your head turn.

He bites his lower lip and slowly tugs the stick closer. You follow. All the way until your face is nearly touching his clothed crotch.

"Fuck, baby," he sighs out. "You're gonna suck my cock just like that, yeah?"

He tugs the candy from your mouth and places it on the nearby coffee table. After, he quickly shoves his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

Your mouth dries, lips parting and eyes widening at the sight of him. He's bigger than you thought, and you wonder how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth.

"Take off your clothes; let me see you," he says as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock.

You hurry to rid yourself of your outfit, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

"Beautiful," Jungkook comments, roaming his eyes up and down your body while he slowly strokes himself. "All for me?"

You nod, then remember earlier and quickly add, "Yes. My body's yours."

Jungkook grins. He brings a hand up to your head and applies a small amount of pressure. You adhere to his silent request, lowering your face to his awaiting dick. Liquid leaks from the slit and slips down his bulbous tip.

"Then let me have it," he answers and pushes his cock against your lips.

Your mouth opens to let him in, heart racing from excitement and worry. You want to make him feel good; you want to suck him so well that he'll always remember you.

"Suck it just like the lollipop, baby," he reminds, voice tight as he tries not to be rough. He's aware of your inexperience, but fuck, did your lips look heavenly around that lollipop. And now that he has your mouth on him, it's even harder to hold back.

"Fuck," he hisses when you do as he says, eyes moving from yours to your perfect lips. They're tight around his shaft.

"Keep sucking," he says and fists the hand on your head with your hair. He gently pulls you up, then sinks you down. Again and again until you pick up the rhythm and move yourself.

You bob your head as you stare at him, jaw beginning to ache. His chest heaves faster, and his eyes start to close. You've seen many sides of Jungkook, but never this one. How many more can you uncover tonight?

Remembering what he did previously, you slide from his cock and grip the base. He's heavy and thick in your palm. Jungkook's eyes open to watch you.

You offer a small smile before you kiss his tip, imagining it's the candy. Jungkook moans quietly.

Satisfied with his reaction, you stick your tongue out and tap his cock against it a couple of times. Then, you swirl your tongue over his head and take him in your mouth again. However, what you don't expect is for Jungkook to curse and thrust up.

His cock hits the back of your throat, which causes you to gag. You pull off of him and cover your mouth.

"No, no, no, pretty girl," Jungkook calls out and pulls you closer. "Don't get shy. I wanna hear you choke on my cock."

His words send heat down to your core. You've never been spoken to like that before, but you want to hear it again.

"W-What else?" you bravely ask.

Jungkook stops your descent and raises his brows.

"What else do I want you to do?" he wonders, a small smirk forming on his pink lips.

"Y-Yeah," you answer.

He chuckles and tucks your hair behind your ears. "I want you to let me fuck this pretty throat, so you can feel me for days."

He leans down so his face is inches from yours. If his words hadn't stolen your breath already, his lustful gaze would've done so.

"I want you begging for more," he continues and wraps a hand around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, but the act has you rubbing your legs. "My cock in your tight pussy; maybe even in your ass too. I want your body to be mine. Completely."

Your mouth opens to reply, but you don't know what to say. Jungkook stares at you patiently, but you never answer. He tilts his head to the side and jerks you gently to grab your focus.

"How's that sound, baby? Mine to use."

You nod eagerly. Fuck, you want him to consume you. You want to feel his touch on you permanently.

"Words," he reminds a bit sternly.

"Yes, sir. Yours to use. Forever."

"Sir?" he repeats with amusement. "Sir makes me feel old, but maybe I am to you, huh? My best friend's little sister."

You shake your head, worried you just screwed up your chance after all this time. He's seven years older and wouldn't have a problem finding someone else.

"Sorry, Jungkook, I—"

He squeezes his hold on your throat. "Perhaps I'll make an exception."

Easing his grip, he flicks his gaze to your pouting lips.

"You said you were mine?" he asks.

"Yes," you reply.

"Wrong," he scolds and puts slight pressure on your neck again.

"Y-Yes, sir," you correct.

He hums approvingly. "Then show me."

Jungkook pulls you down on his cock, moving his hands to the sides of your head. He's no longer patient. Your words and mouth have got him so worked up, he needs to come now. No more waiting. No more gentle sucking. He meant what he said. He wants to hear you choke on him.

Your hands fly to his thighs as he drags your mouth up and down his thick shaft. His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag. The obscene noise consumes your hearing.

"Breathe out your nose, pretty girl," Jungkook says, head thrown back on the couch cushion. "Doin' so good for me."

Jungkook moans as you let him use your mouth. You're so warm and slippery, he can't help but want you deeper. Jungkook forces you farther south, letting his cock push past the back of your throat. He groans out while you sputter, nails digging into his thighs.

He holds you for a second longer before pulling you off him. You're coughing with slobber coating your chin. You're a mess, but Jungkook doesn't see it like that. He loves how willing you are to make him feel good.

"Fucking hell, baby. You were made for this," he says and starts pulling you back down.

You quickly suck in a deep breath before your eyes close as you let him thrust his cock back between your lips. His praise fills you with pride.

Jungkook's close. It won't be long until you're swallowing his load. He shifts to the edge of the couch, keeping your mouth on his cock. Then, he snakes a hand down to pinch your hardened nipples. You yelp, causing your throat to constrict for the slightest moment.

Jungkook moans at the feeling. He grabs your waist and pulls you onto your hands and knees. Your tongue massages the underside of his shaft as he repositions you.

"Hah, yeah, that's it. Play with my cock while I move you around," he encourages.

He leans over, making you take him deeper, and glides two fingers through your drenched folds.

"You're so fucking wet, baby," he practically groans. "All from just sucking my cock?"

You hum around him, hips jerking slightly from the new sensation.

When Jungkook slides a finger inside, you moan loudly. You try to pull off his cock, but his body is blocking you.

"Nah, stay right there," he says and bends over more to keep you caged in. "Your mouth is gonna stay there until you make me cum."

Your hands squeeze his thighs while his play with your pussy. He curls the finger then tugs upward gently, stretching your virgin hole and making you cry on his dick.

"My baby's pussy's so tight," he hums and pumps his finger in and out. "Can't wait to ruin it."

Tears prickle your eyes, and you force yourself to calm down. His touch is sending you over the edge, but you need to get him off first. You hollow your cheeks, suck, and begin to bob your head as much as possible in the tight space.

Jungkook slaps your ass roughly, pushing you lower and making you gag. He smirks at seeing your ass jiggle and does it again. Smack. Smack. He repeats this until your ass is stinging and red.

"I'm close, baby. Keep going," Jungkook says and leans up to grab your head again. He snaps his hips upward, groaning your name and cursing.

You open your watery eyes so you can watch him come undone. The moment Jungkook looks down at your face, spurts of hot liquid fill your mouth.

"Oh, fuck, baby girl," he grunts, shoving your head all the way down. You sputter again, hands lifting in the air and back curving.

"Take it all," Jungkook says, twitching in your mouth.

Just when you're about to tap his thighs, he pulls you off.

"Swallow," he demands as soon as you're free. You do as he says, then gulp down air. Jungkook pets your head while you catch your breath.

"You okay?" he asks after a moment. "You did really well."

You smile and look up, eyes wet and mouth coated in drool. "Yeah?"

He laughs and carefully pulls you up to lie on the couch. Your back is on the cushions, and your legs fall on either side of his. You take a moment to wipe your mouth.

"Yeah, pretty girl." He rubs your calves, eyes flickering down to your exposed, glistening cunt. His cock jerks at the thought of sinking into it.

"You gonna let me ruin this pussy now?" he asks, grabbing the back of your knees and easing them forward.

"N-Now? Don't you need to wait?" you question, eyes wide.

Jungkook shakes his head. "Your cunt is practically begging for my cock. Don't you feel it?"

He hooks one of your legs over the back cushion, then grabs one of your hands. He moves it down between your thighs and presses your fingers over your wet folds. You suck in a gasp. You've been wet before, but never this much. You're nearly dripping onto the couch.

"See? You're soaked. It needs me. You need me," Jungkook says. He releases your hand to grab his length, stroking it to get it hard again.

"W-What about a condom?" you ask, recalling reading that it helps reduce the risk of pregnancy and infections.

Jungkook caresses his free hand against your cheek tenderly. "It's best if you feel me without it; it'll be so much better for you, baby."

You whisper an "okay" and move your gaze down to watch him pump his dick, following the up and down movement of his hand with your eyes. He's grown in size quickly.

"I-I don't know if you'll like it," you confess timidly.

Jungkook looks at you in puzzlement. "How come?"

You glance away. "I don't think you'll fit all the way."

"Babe." He laughs, bringing the head of his cock to your entrance. "I'll make it fit; don't you worry."

He glides the tip through your drenched slit, repressing his moan from how easily he slides through. Your hips jerk at the feeling. Your body needs more, but you just don't know it.

"Even if I didn't, you'd still feel good around me," he adds. "So, what do you say? Is your body still mine?"

You swallow your nervousness and nod. "Yes, sir."

"That's my good girl," he praises before pushing his tip past your tight hole.

Your whimper, knees closing around his body. Your walls squeeze shut, and Jungkook moans.

"Relax, baby, or it'll hurt more," he says and shoves deeper despite the resistance.

You cry and claw at the couch. His cock's so thick that your walls are stretching to their max to fit him.

"It's okay," Jungkook coos, and reaches down to play with your breasts. He squeezes them tightly, causing your back to arch off the cushions. Jungkook twists your nipples while his cock slides in another inch.

Another mewl falls from your lips at the stinging. You start pushing at his hips, but he grabs your hands and pins them above your head.

"You can take me, baby girl. Relax, yeah? I'm almost in all the way," Jungkook says softly. You nod, glancing down to see how much there's left. However, knowing you're watching as he penetrates you makes Jungkook go a little feral. He slides in half an inch, then slams the rest in, jerking you up on the couch.

You cry out again and throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut and walls fluttering around his dick at the intrusion.

"I know, baby, I know. It's so big in your tight little cunt," Jungkook says almost mockingly. "But I got it to fit, yeah? And you took me so well. Look."

He cradles the back of your neck and lifts you slightly. His hips press against yours; his dick is completely buried in your warmth. Your heart pounds in your chest, knowing his fat cock is nestled inside you.

"It'll feel even better when I move," Jungkook comments and eases out an inch just to slide it back in. You whimper again.

Jungkook does this repeatedly, again and again, until he's nearly pulling all the way out. Your cries turn into moans; your eyes roll back from the pleasure you now feel. Each drag of his veiny cock pulls you closer to your climax. Though even when you come sobbing his name, Jungkook doesn't stop. He won't stop until he's drained every last drop of his seed in your belly—even if that means you'll be a limp, weeping mess in the end.

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics more anonymously and privately. ^-^

divider by @cursed-carmine <3

Huffing and puffing wasn’t really going to get you anywhere, but it seemed to be all you could do. 

You stood in the front of the locked and empty rooms of the empty offices with your pinned clothes heavy in your hands. The fabric brushed against your arms, smooth and slippery, the deep red silk and gossamer catching the light with every small movement. It was luxurious but temperamental, a material that shows every flaw in your carefully thought out construction and left no room for error. It felt like it weighed more with every passing second you stood there, a physical and fiery manifestation of your frustration.

The dress you’d painstakingly pieced together was bold, maybe too bold. Its structured bodice was accented with dramatic, asymmetrical pleats that swept across the waist, creating an almost sculptural effect. The skirt fell in layers of sheer gossamer, each edge meticulously hand-cut to achieve a feathered look. A high slit ran up one slide, a daring choice that you were now second-guessing. The pink pins holding the seams in place glittered like stars against the dark fabric, mocking your hesitation. 

You look at them adorning the dark red cloth you were too scared to commit to sewing and lay it along the railing. The fabric shifted under your fingers, the pins catching faintly against the cold metal. Peeking over the railing, you spot a few lingering bodies below. 

Some students were laid drooling over their laptop while others were hunched over their own projects, sketching feverishly over a large canvas while others mixed colors on palette paper, their motions hypnotic in their repetitive intensity. 

The quiet hum of activity down there felt a world away from your current dilemma. With a deep sigh, you turn back toward the locked door. It was impractical to expect any professors to be available half past eleven, you knew that. But the weight of the project deadline pressed heavily on your chest, and with each passing minute, you felt less and less certain about your choices.  

But you did know who would be here. 

Kim Hongjoong. The name alone conjured up mixed emotions, a slurry of intimidation, exasperation, and maybe even a touch of admiration. He was infamous among the design students, and not just for his critiques, which could cut sharper than a rotary blade. He had a presence that made people twice, you among them. Short in stature but larger than life, he carried himself with a confidence that felt earned, his sharp cheekbones and ever-present black eyeliner giving him the air of an untouchable rockstar. 

His hair had been a slew of colors since you’d met him, but this winter, he’d settled on a jet black with red undertones, which despite the color, always remained slightly tousled, as though he’d been running his hands through it all day.

His wardrobe only added to the mythos. He was able to conjure the most colorful of garments, decorated to sparkle and dazzle in the light of both the sun and the moon, but you don’t think you’d seen him in more than a neutral palette which was mostly comprised of blacks and grays. Always paired with his clothes were the chunky black boots that completed his ensemble, their thick soles giving him a boost of height.

You’d never seen him during the day without a scowl plastered on his face. You could still recall the infamous time he’d been forced to attend an early morning orientation for incoming freshmen. He’d slouched at the back of the studio, glaring daggers at the clock, the bags under his eyes visible even from where you were standing. 

You peek into the small workspace he’d claimed as his own, the door slightly ajar. The air inside was tinged with the faint smell of coffee and paper, and you could hear the faint scratch of a pen against a sketchpad. He sat hunched over his desk, his focus so intense he didn’t seem to notice your presence. A steaming mug of coffee sat dangerously close to the edge of the table, threatening to topple over with one careless motion.

At night, when the campus quieted and the studio lights buzzed softly, Hongjoong seemed to come alive. He became a force of nature, especially at night, when caffeine coursed through his veins like electricity when he ran up and down the design building, completing projects.  

“Have you put it on?” His voice cuts through the quiet like a needle pricking fabric. 

“What?” you blink, caught off guard.

“Have you put it on?” he repeats, finally looking up with one arched brow. He clicked his tongue when you didn’t answer immediately. “Don’t tell me you’ve come asking for help before you’ve even put it on. That’s the whole point of that assignment,” he says, gesturing with his pen matter-of-factly. 

You knew that, of course, you knew that. “Okay,” you drag out the syllables, trying to keep your irritation in check. “Well, I haven’t put it on yet, but I was hoping you could just take a quick look at the way the material drapes—”

“While it’s on a hanger?”” he interrupts with a sharp scoff. “Please, waste my time some more, why don’t you?”

Despite his words, he pushes back his chair with a dramatic scrape, the roll of your eyes so desperate for the movement, grabbing his coffee as if it were a lifeline. He takes a long sip before striding toward you with his usual caffeinated energy. His movements were quick and precise, almost jittery, as though his body could barely keep up with his thoughts. 

“Alright, let’s see this supposed masterpiece,” he says, motioning impatiently for you to hold up the garment. 

You lift it carefully, letting the deep red silk and gossamer catch the light. The fabric ripples like liquid fire as it unfolds, the sharp contrast of the pink pins accentuating the bold pleats and dramatic silhouette. He circles you, his eyes narrowing as he takes in every detail, scrutinizing it as though searching for flaws to latch onto.

“It’s… loud,” he finally says, the words falling flat and unimpressed. “The color’s trying too hard. Red’s predictable, it’s like you’re screaming for attention without saying anything meaningful.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. You blink, taken aback by his bluntness, but something inside you flares at the dismissal. 

“It’s not just red,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s crimson, and it’s deliberate. The color represents power and femininity. It’s bold because it’s supposed to be, because women and their bodies aren’t quiet or soft or something that should blend into the background.”

He pauses mid-stride, his gaze snapping back to you. He doesn’t say anything, but the slightest quirk of his eyebrow betrays that you’ve caught him off guard. Still, he recovers quickly, letting out a scoff as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“And the slit?” he counters, his tone dripping with skepticism. “What are you going for there? A wardrobe malfunction on the runway?”

“It’s intentional,” you fire back, the words coming faster now. “It’s about movement, fluidity. The female body is dynamic, not static. The slit isn’t just a detail, it’s part of the message. Restriction isn’t the goal here. Freedom is.”

His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think you see something flicker in his sharp eyes. A glimmer of respect, maybe, or even admiration. But just as quickly, his expression hardens, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh as if this entire conversation is testing his patience. 

“Fine. You’ve got a thesis. Great. But a thesis doesn’t mean anything if it doesn’t translate when someone’s wearing it,” he says, voice clipped. “Right now, all I see is fabric pinned to itself. You’ve got a lot of talk, but if you want me to believe it, you need to prove it, sweetheart.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding. Fuck, he was attractive. The way he looks at you, half-annoyed and half-curious, makes you want to both jump him and prove him wrong. 

“Put it on,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He gestures toward the dress with a tilt of his head. “Let’s see if your ‘power and freedom’ actually works when it’s on a body, or if it’s just pretty words.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting back a retort as you grab the dress. His gaze lingers on your for a beat longer than necessary before he turns away, retreating back to his desk with a nonchalant air. But the slight tension in his shoulders gives him away. He’s curious, whether he admits it or not. 

As you head towards the changing room behind his studio space, your grip on the dress tightens. You’ll show him. You’ll make him see this isn’t just pinned fabric, that this is art, your art, with meaning. 

I’ll make him eat his words. 

You remove your clothes in a haste, slowing down to pull the open-pinned dress over your head. 

When you walk back into his studio, Hongjoong only sighs. 

“Tell me, is it meant to be wearing mismatched underwear or is that just your vision for it?” 

Okay, completely bare it was. Without breaking eye contact, you slip off your bra and through the open sleeves of the dress, throw it onto a rack of blank canvases. You struggle with your underwear a little but soon enough are able to pull it out through the slit in the skirt and toss it in the opposite direction. 

A stubborn expression graces your face, and you look at Hongjoong, waiting for him to put together his thoughts, almost as if he’s wasting your time. 

Hongjoong’s sharp eyes rove over the garment with an intensity that could make anyone squirm, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Standing there, completely exposed save for the patches of silk draping select sections of your body, you square your shoulders and tilt your chin up, daring him to find fault now that it’s on.

For a moment, he says nothing. His focus shifts from the sculpted bodice to the pleated waist, and then to the high slit. His gaze lingers on how the fabric clings to your frame, the deep crimson catching the light and cascading like molten lava with every slight movement. You feel the air shift, the weight of his silence thick with thoughts he hasn’t voiced yet.

“Well?” you challenge, your voice cutting through the quiet. “Don’t tell me you’re speechless. I thought you had an opinion on everything.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk, but he catches himself and crosses his arms instead, his fingers tapping against his bicep. “It’s better,” he concedes begrudgingly. “The structure works when it’s actually on. The bodice fits tighter than I expected—clean lines, good tension. The pleats don’t overwhelm as much as they did on the hanger.” He pauses, stepping closer to inspect the skirt.

“But,” he continues, his tone sharp enough to slice, “the slit still feels unresolved. It’s daring, sure, but right now, it looks more accidental than intentional. If you’re going for movement, then the fabric needs to tell that story. Right now, it’s just... there.”

You feel your jaw tighten, his critique grating against your nerves. “It does tell a story,” you snap. “The slit isn’t just for show. It’s about exposing what’s hidden—revealing strength and vulnerability at the same time. The asymmetry makes it human, imperfect. Isn’t that the point of art? Or would you prefer it to be sterile and safe?”

Hongjoong’s expression flickers, just for a second. There’s a brief moment where he looks almost stunned, like he wasn’t expecting that. 

Hongjoong, if nothing, was not safe or sterile in his approach. Ever. But he recovers quickly, letting out a derisive snort as if your words hadn’t fazed him.

“Again, strong words,” he says, stepping back and leaning against the desk with his ever-present air of annoyance. “But words aren’t enough. You’ve got to prove it in how it moves, how it lives on a body. Anyone can wax poetic about their choices, but that’s all you’ve been doing since you walked into my studio.” He gestures at you, his hand slicing through the air. 

“Walk. Show me.”

You blink, taken aback by his demand. “What?”

“Walk,” he repeats with a roll of his eyes, as if he’s bored by the back-and-forth. “Let me see how the fabric flows, how the slit actually works in motion. If you’re so confident in your ‘strength and vulnerability,’ then let the dress speak for itself.”

For a moment, you consider arguing, but the fire in his gaze dares you. So you take a step forward, feeling the silk brush against your legs. The high slit shifts with every movement, revealing flashes of your skin in a way that feels deliberate and powerful. The pleats ripple like waves, catching the light in a way that accentuates their sculptural form. You walk the length of the room and back, your movements growing more confident with each step.

When you stop in front of him, Hongjoong’s gaze lingers for a beat longer than necessary. His expression is carefully neutral, but the tight line of his jaw and the faint crease between his brows betray his thoughts. He’s impressed though you doubt he’ll ever admit it.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice deliberately flat. “It’s... better than I thought it would be. You’ve got something here, but it still needs refinement. The slit works when you walk, but what happens when you stand still? It loses some of its impact. And the pleats—”

“Oh my god,” you interrupt, throwing your hands up. “You’re impossible to please, you know that? You nitpick everything like it’s your life’s mission.”

“It is my mission,” he snaps back, his tone sharp and bordering on unkind. “Do you think anyone’s going to coddle you when you’re presenting at a runway show? They’ll tear you apart if it’s not perfect.” 

He walks over to his own collection of rolls of textiles, flicking through them, and finally, picking out one of a pale white glittering gossamer, not too dissimilar to yours. He strides towards you, the roll in hand, muttering something under his breath. 

His deft hands unravel the gossamer, too impatient to even cut it away from the rest of the roll as it tumbles away from him, and he swiftly wraps it around your waist, cinching it tight and pulling a gasp from you. His fingers graze your hips as he works, his touch firm and efficient. The thin fabric molds to your curves, creating a snug band that accentuates your waistline. 

Still behind you, he turns you to face a long mirror that’s propped up against a supply box. You can feel the heat of his body so close to yours, the scent of his cologne filling your senses.

"See? This creates a more defined waistline," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. "It adds structure and draws the eye in." His fingers trace the edge of the gossamer, brushing against your skin. You shiver at the contact, a jolt of electricity shooting through you. 

Hongjoong steps back, surveying his handiwork with a critical eye. He adjusts the fabric, tugging it here and there until he's satisfied. "Much better," he declares, nodding approvingly. The sharp edges of his demeanor seem to dull, and the air between you grows into something more softer. He’s observing you now, not with his usual critique or irritation, but with something quieter. Almost… admiring.

“Wow, didn’t think you were capable of a compliment.” And just like that, the moment shatters, like a dropped pane of glass. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong’s expression hardens. His jaw clenches, and he unravels the gossamer from your waist and gathers it at your wrists, wrapping it tightly around your arms and binding them behind your back.

"What are you doing?" you gasp, a thrill of excitement mixed with apprehension coursing through you as he secures the makeshift bonds. At your voice, the grip of the gossamer only tightens. 

"Helping you see your design through a different lens," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he finishes tying the fabric. "What’d you say you wanted to do? ‘Expose what’s hidden’, huh? Why don’t I help you with that?"

He spins you around to face him, his hands gripping your bound wrists as he presses you back against the wall. The silk and gossamer bunch between your bodies, creating a delicious friction that makes you gasp.

"Look at you," he breathes, his eyes dark with desire as they roam over your face. "I think you’d be surprised to know how much you’re actually lying to yourself, sweetheart."

His free hand trails down your body, skimming over your breasts and skimming over the bodice of your dress. He teases one stiff nipple through the thin fabric, rolling it between his fingers until you're writhing against him.

"Where’s that ‘strength’?" he asks, pinching the sensitive bud harder. "Where’s that ‘power’? Because, right now, all I see is this little girl who does a lot more barking than biting."

His touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You can feel the heat of his skin through the gossamer as he caresses your bound wrists, the silk whispering against itself with each slight movement.

The high slit in your dress allows his fingers to easily access the heat between your legs that feels like it’s burning, and he takes full advantage, tracing teasing patterns along your inner thighs before brushing against your sensitive clit. You gasp and buck your hips, craving more of his touch.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. "You like being at my mercy, don't you? Like knowing I could do anything I want to you. All that talk from before, where’d it go, sweetheart?"

His fingers plunge deep inside you, filling you completely. You moan wantonly, the sound echoing through the empty studio. He starts to thrust, fucking you with his hand in a quick rhythm that has you seeing stars, leaning your body against him.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers like this," he praises, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. "I bet you'd look even better on my cock, wouldn't you? Stretched wide and begging for more."

His dirty words only fuel your arousal, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge with each thrust and touch. He must sense it too, because he suddenly pulls his hand away, leaving you aching and desperate.

He slips the dress down your shoulders, suddenly growing careful, making sure the pink pins don’t prick you. Once it’s off, his attitude briskly returns as he kicks it to the side and ties the uncut gossamer back tightly around your wrists. 

Standing completely bare in front him, even without the layer of the see-through gossamer on your dress, has you inexplicably submissive. In the reflection of the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself, and you look utterly pathetic. 

The guttural tone of Hongjoong’s voice brings your attention back to him. "On your knees," he commands, pushing you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. "I need to be in your mouth."

With shaking legs, you obey, sinking to the floor and looking up at him through hooded eyes. He unbuckles his belt and shoves down his pants and briefs, freeing his cock. He isn’t long, but fuck, he was thick, his pretty pink tip already glistening with precum. His dick bobs in front of your face, and eagerly, you look up at Hongjoong, eyes begging him to keep going as your pussy drips freely onto the floor of his studio.

"Fuck, well aren’t you treat,” he says, palming your warmed cheek, taking note of the pliant look in your eyes. “Open wide," he says, fisting his hand in your hair and guiding you towards his length. "Show me how much you appreciate my help, sweetheart."

You part your lips, letting him push the thick head of his cock past them and into the drooling heat of your mouth. He groans, the sound reverberating through his chest as he begins to thrust, fucking your face with long, deep strokes.

The gossamer around your wrists tightens as he pulls you closer, using it like a leash to control your movements. You can feel it biting into your skin, the slight itching pain mixing with the intense pleasure of having your mouth filled with his cock.

"That’s it, take all of me," he grunts, pushing deeper until you gag around him. "Fuck, I knew this pretty mouth would look good wrapped around my dick. Isn’t it so much better this way, sweetheart? No more ‘searching for power in your femininity’, just sucking me off like the good slut you are."

And all you do is moan around him, completely in agreement. The fire, the challenge, the need to prove him wrong have all disappeared, and maybe it was the sleep deprivation or maybe it was the stress of the upcoming deadline or maybe you just needed a good fuck, you think. At this point in time, you didn’t care.

He sets a cruelly quick pace, pistoning in and out of your throat without mercy, stopping every five or six thrusts to let you catch your breath. Tears have begun to stream down your cheeks as you struggle to breathe around his thickness, but your pussy only grows wetter with each thrust, the pool of your arousal growing on the studio floor. 

His degrading words just turn you on more, and to get some relief, you press your thighs together in an attempt to create any sort of friction.

Catching this, Hongjoong thrusts into you, letting his throbbing dick sit heavily in your throat, unmoving. "Look at you, choking on my cock like the desperate little whore you are," he taunts, one hand coming up to grip your jaw and force you to meet his gaze. "You love this, don't you? Love having your mouth used for my pleasure."

You can only whine in response, the sound muffled by the thick length resting over your tongue. He takes advantage of your silence, using it as an excuse to push even deeper, and you’re able to feel the heat of his heavy balls against your chin.

He tastes so good and you’re beyond gone, so in response to his words, you collect some saliva in your mouth and swallow around him messily. Hongjoong’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a low fuck.

"Such a good little cock sleeve," he praises, his voice thick with lust. He thrusts into your throat deeply a few more times, cock twitching when you gag around him. "Bet this cunt of yours is getting nice and wet, isn't it? Getting all slick and ready for me to wreck."

His words send a jolt of pure need straight to your core, and you can feel yourself getting even wetter, if that was even possible at this point. Hongjoong must be able to feel it too, because he suddenly pulls out entirely, leaving you gasping and panting for air.

He stands still observing you again, and in the idle moments, your eyes flicker over the mirror. If you looked pathetic before, you looked like a total slut now. Yet, you didn’t find yourself minding at all, awaiting Hongjoong’s next order.

He tugs on the gossamer, hauling you up and dragging you to the nearest flat surface, which just happens to be where he was working prior to your coming in. 

He pushes you over the worktable, bending you roughly at the waist and forcing your sensitive nipples to press against the surface. The fabric of the gossamer bites into your wrists, but you barely notice, too focused on the feeling of his thick cock pressing against your ass.

"Look at that pretty cunt," he growls, one hand coming down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "So wet and ready for me. You want this, don't you sweetheart? Want me to fuck you hard and raw like the little slut you are?"

He reaches around to tease your clit, fingers sliding easily through your soaked folds. You moan wantonly, pushing your hips back against him in a desperate attempt to get more friction.

"That's it, beg for my cock," he commands, rubbing slow circles around your aching nub. "Tell me how much you need it."

"I need it," you whimper, voice shaking with desperation. "Please, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me and make me forget about everything else. Please, Hongjoong."

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. Where’d all that fire go?" he murmurs, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. "Where had it gone before when I was fucking your throat, hmm?"

You hear the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open, then the blunt head of his cock is nudging against your entrance. He teases you with shallow thrusts, never quite entering you fully, just brushing against your opening and making you beg for more.

"Please," you whimper, arching your back in a desperate attempt to take him deeper.

"I think you can beg some more, sweetheart. I’m not feeling so… convinced yet," he laughs lowly behind you, one hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack. "Beg me to ruin this tight little cunt."

"I'm begging you!" you cry out, pressing your hips back against him. "Please fuck me hard, fill me up with your big cock. I want you to use me, claim me, make me yours."

He snarls something that might be a curse or a prayer, then eases into you with one slow thrust. You sigh, quietly gasping at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the table as he starts to pound into you at a relentless pace.

"Shit, so fucking tight," he grunts, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Like this greedy little hole was made for my cock."

He sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting deeper than the last until you swear you can feel him in your throat. Your tits bounce with every impact, the raw peaks scraping against the cool table and making you gasp.

"That's it, fucking take it," he snarls, angling his hips to hit that special gummy spot inside you with every stroke. His grip on the gossamer tightens, and with his other hand, Hongjoong wraps his fingers around your throat, forcing your head upwards. 

You see the crazed look in his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. Some of his eyeliner is smudged, but you’re not faring any better. 

He smirks down at you in the mirror, taking in the sight of your tear-stained face and the way your pussy is still clenching around his cock. "Look at you, all messy and fucked out," he says, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "You're so much prettier when you aren’t talking back, sweetheart. All desperate and needy, listening to my every word."

His words send a thrill of possession through you, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. The degrading talk only fuels your arousal, making your walls clench around his thickness.

He lets go and you fall back down onto the worktable with a whine, body unable to hold itself up without Hongjoong’s hands. He looms over you, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of your naked form, sprawled out before him.

"Nu-uh, I'm not done with you yet," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to see you come apart on me, sweetheart. I want to feel this tight little pussy clench around me as you scream my name."

He parts your legs, settling between your thighs and running his fingers through your slick folds. You moan at the contact, your hips bucking up towards his touch as he circles your clit with expert precision.

"That’s it, cum for me you little slut," he says, increasing the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. Your moans grow louder, your body arching off the worktable as the pleasure builds inside you.

He growls low in his throat, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. Then he's coming with a grunt, slamming into you one final time before stilling, buried to the hilt inside you, twitching as his thick cock fills up the condom.

The feel of his cum painting your insides sends you careening over the edge, and you come with a scream of his name, your cunt clamping down on him like a vice.

Hongjoong leans down, his thick cock still inside you as his body pressed firmly into your back, and whispers, “From this point forward, I don’t want you going to any of the other TA’s besides me, understood sweetheart?”

Author's Note II: I feel like a nervous wreck as I'm in preparation for my interview tomorrow, but the recruiters DID say I was the benchmark for the rest of their first interviews, so that's a good sign, I guess??? 🤪 Anyways, I would really appreciate you leaving your thoughts in the form of comments and/or reblogs! It really helps me out and keeps me motivated to write more, so thank you in advance to those who do! Much love <3

“You’re squirmy.” He grumbles, glaring at you in the dark. “No one ever teach you to sit still?”

You stick your tongue out. “No one ever teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hard to mind my business when you’re movin’ all the cushions, doll-“

“Then go sit somewhere else, robot man.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “I’m not a robot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not-“

“You act like one.” You snap, and Bucky closes his eyes. Like he’s fucking praying.

“I was here first.” He mutters. You don’t balk.

“Congratulations.”

You hold his glare, and Bucky lets out a heavy breath through his nose. He narrows his eyes, tongue flicking over his lips. His full lips. Pretty and chapped, but in the perfect, soft way-

Get a fucking grip.

“There’s a chair over there.” You point across the room, sinking back into the cushions. “Go sit in it, if I’m so squirmy.”

Bucky scowls, and opens his mouth, but whatever jab he’s got for you, you don’t want to hear it. You reach over and unpause the movie—probably another one of Sam’s this is what you gotta catch up on, Barnes suggestions, because there’s no way Bucky picked out the Goonies himself—and fix your glower on the TV screen. You hate this movie. You’re going to watch it all the way through, just to show Bucky that he doesn’t bother you.

You spread your own legs wide, too. If men are allowed to do it, so are you. Bucky grunts as your knee pushes over his thigh, and you smirk at the TV.

It has nothing to do with the thick muscle you can feel under his sweatpants, that you keep your legs like that for the rest of the night. Bucky’s fingers flex a few times, and brush over the inner curve of your knee and the top of your thigh, like he’s thinking about just shoving you away. At one point, you hear him grunt, and look over with mockingly raised brows.

“Everything okay?” You almost simper, and he grunts and nods.

That’s all you get. Bucky fixes his anger on the movie, you win this round, and you get to be close to him without thinking about it.

You’ll think about it later. In the comfort of your own bedroom, you’ll think about it and think about it and think about it all night. You’ll think about it until your wrist hurts. But Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

As far as he needs to be concerned, you never spare him a second thought. It’s all he spares you. And you’re not going to be the pathetic girl who falls for someone who only thinks of her as a buzzing gnat around his head. Who worships the ground of a man who would step on her like a flower into concrete, not because he was seeking to hurt, but just because he didn’t notice you were there at all.

Although Bucky does seem to notice where you are.

The farmer does like to keep track of pests in his crops.

“You skipped the mission briefing.” Bucky grunts in the morning, glaring at you over a cup of coffee.

Something soft in you swells like a prodded bruise. He noticed where you were.

You ignore it in favor of flipping him off.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for your job?”

“It’s not my job-“

“Your name was on the roster.” Bucky slams the folder down on the table, and your lips twitch.

“Have you been carrying that around all day?”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes, it really does-“

Bucky hisses your name. There’s a fury under his tone, that makes your mouth snap shut. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You need to be there, Steve was talkin’ about safety shit, and if you don’t know it you could get killed-“

“I know how mission briefing work, I’ve been here longer than you have-“

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like it-“

“I don’t act like it?” You snort. “Last I checked I’m ranked higher than you, Sargent.” You raise your chin, letting your lips curl. “Which is why I’m allowed to defer missions, and you’re not.”

Bucky blinks, recoiling slightly. “Defer? What, you-“

“I’m skipping.” You shrug, grabbing an apple from the counter. “And if I’m skipping, I don’t need to be at the briefing. But thanks for checking on me, dad.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. You expect him to snap something about experience and you not being responsible enough or needing to care more.

But instead his fists curl and uncurl at his side. His nostrils flare. He grabs the counter, his scowl burning right through you. You take a large bite of your apple, and his gaze darts down. Juice drips down your chin, and you wipe it off with light fingers. That only seems to make him angrier.

“Why’re you skipping.”

You shrug. You should say none of your business. But part of you is childish. A very big, loud part that wants him to react to something you know he isn’t actually going to care about.

“I have a date.”

“A what.” It’s not a full reaction. He’s mostly staring at you like he didn’t understand the word. Maybe they called it something different in the 40s.

“A date?” You roll your eyes, a little meaner than you mean to be. He always bring that out in you, though.

Bucky always brings everything out in you. It’s incredibly annoying.

“You know.” You push mockingly. “Where you go out with someone. And flirt like people, instead of robots.”

“Robots flirt.” Bucky grunts, and you snort.

“Yeah, but they don’t have sex-“

The counter cracks. It’s loud, echoing through the kitchen. You start and twitch, and Bucky blinks at his metal hand, like he’s just as surprised as you are. He looks back to you, shakes his head, and takes a large step back.

“What’s-“

“Steve’s callin’ me.” He mutters, and you blink.

“No, he’s not-“

“Have fun.” Bucky ignores you. His words sound pushed through his teeth. “On your human date.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left in the kitchen with your apple and a cracked counter, staring at where he’d vanished through the door. You don’t care about the date.

You just need to know what the fuck that was.

There’s a part of you that feels bad, for the man Natasha set you up with. She’d picked him out specifically because he had a vague resemblance to Bucky—because you’ve never told her your secret, but you didn’t need to, she’s Natasha—but it wasn’t enough.

He didn’t have the underlying accent, or the gleam in his eyes. You made a sharper edged joke, and he just laughed. He didn’t spar. He didn’t push your buttons in a way that made you light up. He just smiled at you all night—wrong smile, too—and then didn’t pay. Bucky would’ve paid.

You have no evidence of that. It’s just a feeling, that comes from how he still opens doors for you, even when you’re at each other’s throats. All polite and handsome and insufferable. You hate him.

And there’s not a single point during the night, where you’re not thinking about him.

“We should do this again.” The Date—you’ve forgotten his name, and it’s certainly not a good time to ask—says at the end of the night.

You’re shivering. Bucky would’ve offered you his jacket. He did once, on a mission in the Andes. You got all cold and he rolled his eyes and muttered that he told you to bring another layer, but still gave you his jacket all the same. This man is just grinning at you after not calling you a cab and saying he wanted to stand outside in the misty, chilly night. He said he wanted fresh air, and now your freezing, and he thinks he’s getting a second date.

At the very least, you feel a little less guilty about only thinking of Bucky and the mission the whole time. He deserved it.

“Sure.” You smile, because even with superstrength, it’s easier to tell a man yes and then vanish than it is to deny them to their face. “Have a good night.”

He tries to hug you. Your phone buzzes, and you duck away to check it.

The mission is over.

Two days early.

Your jaw tightens.

Most people would think that a job being done early is a good thing. That it means the team was just so focused and coordinated that they sped through every single step, and ended in a total victory. But you’ve been on this job too long. Early mission conclusions only ever happen for one reason.

Something went wrong, and they have to come back.

You rush back to the compound with barely a goodnight to the Date. It’s mostly because you forget, in the blur of worry. You’d skimmed the mission files before they left, just to make sure it wasn’t anything too dangerous. Bucky had been mad about you not going with them. Maybe he’d thought they’d need the hands, but it had just looked like a retrieval mission. Old Hydra facility with some data Tony wanted. Nothing too hard.

But they’re back early.

And if someone’s hurt, you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve been there, instead of on that stupid fucking date. Which also means that Bucky was right, and that’s incredibly annoying. He’s going to weild it over your head, and the mocking is going to turn you on more, and you’ll have earned it which isn’t going to help anything at all. 

You get back to the compound, and it’s not in lockdown. There aren’t med staff flooding the grounds or emergency sirens blaring. You go right to the hanger, and find that it’s already been cleared out. The jet isn’t being quarantined.

Maybe they really did just… Finish early.

You’re heading back to your room when you slam right into them.

Steve and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hall, arguing in hushed voices.

“You need to go, Buck-“

“I’m fine-“

“No, you’re not. You can lie to the docs, don’t lie to me-“

“I ain’t lyin’, I’m fine-“

Your too lost in your own head, barely even hearing what they’re saying. You barrel straight into Bucky’s back.

He goes rigid. You stumble a little, and he grabs your upper arm.

His hand is hot.

Not sexy hot—although it’s also that—but literally, physically hot. Almost searing, against your shivering skin. You look up at him, and swallow.

He’s flushed. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and an exhausted shadow over his features. His eyes are so blown out they’re almost fully black. You blink at him, and his mouth falls open in a ragged pant.

“Hi.” You whisper.

His throat bobs. “You’re back.”

“I- I got the alert.” You glance over to Steve, who’s gone oddly pale. “Did the mission go okay? It was fine that I wasn’t there, right-“

“Yep!” Steve almost shouts, and you blink. “I mean- We were all good. Wish you were there, we all missed you, but- We were fine. Right, Buck?” Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “We were all good.”

Bucky doesn’t look away from you for a single second. He grunts, and his grip tightens on your arm.

“Let go.” Steve mutters, and Bucky shoots him a glare.

He releases you like you burned him, then wipes his hand on his pants. You scowl. He was the one touching you.

“I was gonna.” He grumbles, and Steve sighs.

“I know, but-“ You get a weary look. Like Steve doesn’t want you to hear their conversation. “I think- You know what I think-“

“Steve-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face.

He still hasn’t looked away from you. Or moved that far out of your proximity.

“I’m fine.” He says, low and under his breath. You’re rooted to the ground under his gaze, unsure what you could even think of to say. “It’s- I’m fine.”

Steve’s lips press in a thin line. Bucky takes a large, jerking step back. Like he’s dragging himself away.

“How was your date?” He grunts.

“Bucky-“

“I’m just askin’ a question.” He snaps, still not sparing Steve a look.

The attention is getting to be too much. Bucky is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, and it’s making your body almost buzz in anticipation. You want to jump on him and feel those hot hands all over your body. His nostrils flare like he can smell your arousal. If he can, you might jump off a bridge.

You hope he’d catch you, then fuck you until your can’t even walk.

Get a fucking grip.

“Bad.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. “He sucked.”

And that’s the kind of thing Bucky would usually mock you for. Skipping a mission just for a bad date.

But a low, rumbling growl falls from his chest. His tongue darts over his lips. He takes a half-step forward, and you lean in to the gravity of his stare.

“We have debriefing!” Steve shouts, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s suit. “Bye!”

Before you can even register it, Steve’s dragging Bucky down the hall. You swear you hear another feral noise, and a crash after they turn the corner.

Something had to have happened on the mission. You just have no fucking clue what.

Bucky’s only been acting stranger. You’d pretend it didn’t bother you, if you could get away from it for a single fucking second.

You walk through the compound, and he’s somehow more everywhere than he was before. Around every corner, in the library, on the grounds, even in the control room while you’re going through the mission files.

“What’re you doin’.” He grunts, and you sigh.

You’re not surprised he’s there. It’s the fifth time today that he’s snuck up on you.

“I’m going through the reports on the mission.” You drawl. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Bucky grunts. It seems to be a no. You roll your eyes and go back to poking through the system. It’s hard to pretend that you can’t feel his presence behind you. There’s heat almost rolling from his body, and thick, spicy and musky scent that’s filling the room. It’s making you a little dizzy. It’s all you can do, not to look back at him.

That would be dangerous. He probably still looks feverish and animalistic. You might moan.

You find the files for the mission, and try to open them. Big, read access denied, contact your handler for permission to these files flashes over your screen. Your mouth falls open, and you whip back to glare at Bucky before you can think about it.

Mistake. Just like you’d thought, big mistake.

He looks even worse and better than you thought. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, and they’re clinging to his sweaty body. His eyes are hooded and his lips are parted. His attention is so wholly fixed on you that it almost makes you fall out of your chair. You almost forget you’re annoyed with him. Every single nerve in your body is alight, and your fingers are itching to comb through his sweaty hair.

You somehow—just barely—fight it.

“Why can’t I access these files.”

Bucky leans over you, his nostrils flaring. If you reach up, you could trace the stubbled line of his jaw. It’s hard to maintain your glare.

“Barnes-“

“You weren’t on the mission.” He mutters. “Not your files to see.”

You scowl. “I can access the files of every other mission I was on-“

“Steve should change that.”

God, you wish he wasn’t so pretty. It would be easier to think about punching him.

“I know something happened out there.” You hiss, sitting up a little taller. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ll figure it out.”

Bucky chuckles. It’s a low, raspy sound that runs through your body, making you shiver.

“Sure, doll. Have fun with that.”

You shoot to your feet, and Bucky lurches back. Another one of those deep, rumbling growls rolls from his chest, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce on you.

And then you blink, and he’s gone. Leaving you with only that hazy smell, and desire rolling through your veins.

You wish that was the extent of it, but it’s barely the start. And it only gets worse.

Bucky doesn’t do his movie nights anymore, which means you get the TV all to yourself. You watch what you want, and try not to look at the spot next to you. Where your body feels like he’s supposed to be. You stretch out your legs, but they ache strangely without his touch. You get more restless without him. Around midnight, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping one of those soothingherb thingys that Wanda says help with her nightmares will be there.

Instead, you find Bucky. 

He’s drinking a glass of ice, with a little bit of water. He freezes when he sees you, and moves further behind the counter.

You sigh. You’re too tired to fight him.

“Can’t sleep?” You mumble.

He just nods.

You sigh, and walk over the cupboard.

“You want hot chocolate?”

A grunt. Better than silence. You make two mugs, one for you, one for Bucky.

And maybe it’s just that you’re really starting to worry, but you don’t bother pretending to hate him. Your fingers brush when you pass him his mug, and his body seizes like you shocked him, but you just offer a tiny smile.

His mouth falls open. He stares at you like he’s spent years only looking at the muddier reflection of stars in the water, and has finally thought just to tilt his head up. You let out a small, shaking breath. He’s still burning up. You can feel it from your place a foot away. But you don’t dare to push it.

Not when he’s looking at you like this. The way you’d always, secretly and shamefully, dreamed he would.

“I’m watching Star Wars.” You mumble. “You wanna…”

You trail off, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

He nods again. A new tendril of worry blooms, overlapping with the growing tangle of them in your gut. He might not be able to speak.

But he follows you to the living area, and takes his place on the couch. His knee pushes against yours. He’s breathing awfully shallow, but you’re a selfish coward that wants him close, so you don’t mention it.

You barely pay attention to the movie. All you can focus on is Bucky at your side. How he doesn’t even seem to be sparing the TV a glance. He’s not really touching you, save for that place where your thighs are always pushed together, but every time you shift he grabs your knee. You blink at him, and his throat just bobs. He still hasn’t said a word. You’re afraid that when he does, it will break this fragile illusion.

That he wants to be here.

Near you.

He passes out near the end of the movie. His head falls against your shoulder and his body goes limp, almost a blanket over yours. You don’t move, just staring at a lit up, black screen. He looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen. His fever isn’t breaking, but it does seem to be easing. You run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low sound like a purr.

Then he takes a deep inhale, right against the crook of your neck, and a different noise leaves him.

It’s almost a moan.

You swallow. Suddenly you need to move. You don’t know what’s going on with him, but this can’t be what he actually wants. To be asleep almost in your arms, purring and moaning. That’s not a part of him you get to have.

But when you try to move, his grip around you tightens.

You feel almost sick.

It takes almost an hour, to roll off the couch without him pulling you back. When you’re free, you still cover him in a blanket and press a hand to his brow. Just to check. You can’t really help it.

His fever is building again.

You wish he would just tell you what was wrong. Even if he thinks you hate him, he can’t think you wouldn’t care enough to help.

When you start to walk away, he moans again. You could swear it sounded a little like your name.

You force yourself to go to bed. You’re not sure if you want him to remember in the morning.

If anything, you just pray he gets better. It’s hard to hide your undying care for him, when he’s in pain. Impossible to ignore how much it bothers you, that he’s hurting. ‘

But it is Bucky.

And he’s never going to make anything that easy.

You walk out of your room in the morning, and he’s right there. Lingering in the hallway, staring at you with those blown-out eyes, working his jaw like he’s trying to bite his own tongue off.

“Hi.” You say lamely.

He stumbles back like you punched him. “You- You’re-“

“Bucky, are you-“

“’M fine.” He says it mostly to himself again. There’s sweat gathering on his brow and bags under his eyes.

You’re not going to tell him, but you’re getting worried. This is the third morning in a row you’ve found him here. The first night you asked if he’d slept there, and he’d scowled and stomped away.

But from the look of him, you don’t think he’s been sleeping at all.

“Do you need something?” You ask. You sound soft, but you can’t help it. The worse he looks, the more your heart tightens. “I can call Steve-“

“Don’t get Steve.” He steps back. The same jerked movement from the first night. It’s the only way he’s been moving around you, lately. “I’m fine.”

You give him a doubtful look. His tongue flicks over his lips. You take a step forward, and he takes another step back. Like you’ve got a polarity field around you. Like he can’t even stand to breathe the same air.

And yet he’s here. Outside your door, and breathing through his mouth like an animal.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stumbling another step back. “Just- Don’t.”

You swallow, and don’t give chase when he walks away. Jogs away. He yanks himself away, then runs like he thinks you’re going to catch him and drag him back. You won’t.

But you do go right to Steve.

“What happened on the mission.”

Steve flinches, gagging on his sandwich. You’re glaring down at him with your hands on your hips, and you think he knows his little charming smile isn’t going to work on you here. That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying anyway.

“Hey, um- Do you want a cookie-“

“Steven.” You hiss, and he swallows. “What happened.”

Steve winces, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”’

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me-“

“I mean I- I can.” He mutters. “But then Bucky will kill me. And I don’t want Bucky to kill me.”

You scowl. “Tough shit, because guess who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me?”

Steve sighs. “Is it you?”

“Yep.”

He stares at his sandwich, like it’s somehow going to get him out of this situation. You wait for him to realize it won’t. You have plenty of time.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you-“

“I really don’t care.”

“Well- You will.” Steve looks up with a sad little puppy eyes.

You don’t have the same reservations about punching him in the face, that you have with Bucky. He’s basically asking for it right now.

“Steven, I swear to fucking God-“

“I can’t tell you.” He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and you scoff.

“No, you just won’t tell me-“

“That’s not- I can’t, okay? Please stop asking me to-“

“Why, because Bucky doesn’t want you to?” You leer. “Because last I checked, you’re the Captain. And if Bucky is your friend, you should be telling his teammates he’s in danger so they can help-“

“That’s the problem!” Steve shouts, and you blink. “You- Look, you’re going to want to help, and I can’t let you.”

“You can’t let me help?” You echo, and Steve winces.

“I know how it sounds-“

“Do you? Because what I’m fucking hearing that your best friend is in danger, and you won’t let me fucking help-“

“Why do you even want to help?” Steve fixes you with a pointed look. “All you ever do is complain about Bucky and how he’s annoying you. I would’ve thought you didn’t care.”

You narrow your eyes, and Steve raises his brows. You know what he’s doing. Smug fucking asshole. 

“That won’t work on me.” You grunt, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve-“

“But,” he says causally. “If I did, I’d say that’s why I can’t tell you. And you know that.”

You hate it when he speaks in riddles. Like you’re just supposed to read between the lines when your brain is fogged with worry about Bucky.

“I- I don’t-“ You let out a slow breath, looking down to your shoes. Heat is flooding your cheeks. It’s annoying. “It’s not- I’m just- Please.”

Your voice cracks suddenly. You’ve been losing more sleep over this than you’re ever going to tell anyone. You almost feel ill with it—like the worry is an infection, knotting up your stomach and making your heart pick up—but that might just literal exhaustion. Something happened. No one will tell you what. It’s making you feel useless and hopeless and torn up to tiny, useless shreds.

“Bucky.” You say slowly. “Is- He’s not okay. I know he’s not okay.” You force yourself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Just- Lie to me and say he’s fine, and fix it, or tell me and let me help. But I- I can’t just-“

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You’re so worried. Worried this is something that’s going to kill him, and you’re going to lose him forever.

And there’s pity, in Steve’s gaze. It’s enough to make him break, his voice softening completely.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “But- You can’t tell him I told you.”

You nod quickly. “I’ll say I just got into the files, or- Something- Please.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. Okay.” He shakes his head. “It was on the mission. Bucky was distracted the whole time, and when we got jumped he wasn’t being controlled with his punches. He swag to hard on an Hydra agent. Knocked them back into some vials, and- Well they burst. All over both of them. We put the agent in containment, but he was displaying worse symptoms. Bucky- I think it’s the serum, or just… Bucky. But he’s been controlling it better.” Steve grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still knocked up with stuff.”

You nod slowly. That’s not that bad.

But Steve didn’t want you to know for a reason.

“What are the symptoms?”

Steve won’t meet your gaze. “Fever. Nausea. Hormone flares. Um- Increased… libido.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “What.”

“Hydra makes some weird stuff. Tony thinks this was, um- A breeding drug. We don’t know why they were developing it, but- There’s no other name.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. “The agent- His cell is disgusting.”

“But- Bucky-“

“I told you, he says he’s got it under control.” Steve shrugs, but doesn’t really sound like he’s convinced himself. “The agent has been, ah… begging for anyone. Bucky doesn’t have the same liberty with what will help. He says it’s going to pass, and he’ll be fine.”

“And will it?” You breathe. “Pass?”

Steve shrugs. “It did for the agent.”

“Before or after the mating?”

Steve’s silence is an answer. You swear under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Steve? We- We need to get him to someone, this could fucking kill him-“

“I know that!” Steve snaps. “I know that just as well as you do! As he does! But- Jesus.” He shakes his head. “He won’t take anyone. He’ll only- Well- You know.”

“I know? I don’t fucking know, none of you have been telling me shit-“

Steve says your name plainly. You blink.

“What-“

“Nothing. Just- Why do you think he’s been lingering around you?”

You stare at him. He raises his brows, and you swallow.

“Steve-“

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Yes, you did-“

“Nope.”

You press your lips in a tight line. He can’t mean what you think he means. That would be to easy. Too good. “Bucky- He doesn’t- That’s not how he feels about me.”

Please don’t say it is. It’s not fair if you’re lying.

“Funny.” Steve shrugs. “He says the same thing about you.”

This is a bad idea.

Bucky hasn’t left his room in a day. You’d spent all of last night replaying your conversation with Steve, trying to pick it apart for a single reason he didn’t mean what you thought he did. What you hoped he did. What you’d always hoped for, only in the dead of night where no one would ever find out.

But it didn’t matter how you turned or picked at Steve’s words. There was only one conclusion. The beautiful, horrible one that you can’t even fully wrap your head around. It would mean you spent years hating him for no reason. Year thinking about kissing his stupid face, when you could’ve been actually kissing him. If Steve’s right, you’re going to kill Bucky.

After you fix this for him.

If Steve means what you think, you can fix this for him. He just has to let you.

Which is why this is a horrible idea. If Bucky turns you down, you’re going to have to quit your job and change your name and  move to Indonesia.

But if he doesn’t turn you down…

You steel yourself and knock on Bucky’s door. It’s worth the risk, just for him. Always just for him.

“Fuck off, Stevie-“

“I’m not Steve!” You call, and for a second there’s no response. 

Then there’s a muffled banging, and you almost fall forward when Bucky yanks the door open.

He looks even worse than before. And better. And hotter, and oh God, your knees are already weak.

His shirt is gone, and his broad, muscled chest is shining with sweat. His hair flops over his eyes, mussed up and soft looking. He’s breathing through his nose, even as his swollen mouth hangs open. His metal fist is curled against the door, making the wood crack under his fingers. Standing through his sweatpants is the long, proud outline of his cock.

You swallow, your mouth watering. Bucky says your name, and you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a plea or a prayer.

“You shouldn’t be here-“

“Steve said you need me.”

You stare at each other. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, and you chew on your lower lip. This is it. If he turns you down, you’ll walk away and live. A new life, across the world. You’ve never been to Indonesia, but you hear they have good food and community, and you’re sure you’ll be able to fit right in over time, and if you don’t at least Bucky will never find you to make you relive this humiliation, because it’s been almost two full minutes and he hasn’t said anything, so you should probably pull out your phone and start researching Indonesian names-

“Steve shouldn’t have told you anything.” Bucky growls, and you swallow.

“I- I made him.”

He sighs. You could swear his dick twitches. “Of course you did.”

“I was worried about you-“

“You don’t have to be, doll. I’m-“

“If you say I’m fine, I’m going to fucking punch you.”

Bucky scowls. You scowl harder. You have a feeling neither of you are going to back down.

“You’re sick.” You say plainly, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Maybe. But it’s not the kinda sick you can help with-“

“Steve says it’s the kind of sick only I can help with.”

He’s silent again. You risk a tiny step forward, and he takes one back, muttering your name. It’s a warning. A plea.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters, fists balled at his side. “Not outta pity, not for me-“

“It’s not pity.” You stop in his doorway, making your voice soft. “I want to help, Bucky. Let me help.”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, you- You just- You don’t feel like that for me-“

“You don’t feel like that for me.” You breathe, and Bucky’s body locks up.

“Who says?”

“You’re an ass to me-“

“You’re an ass to me.”

“I don’t mean to be.” You whisper. “I- I don’t- I’m not good at… You know.”

Bucky’s throat bobs. He still doesn’t move.

“Me neither.”

You nod. “But…”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

You take a deep breath. His whole room is filled with that musky, spicy smell. The heat is almost rolling off his body.

“Please ask me to help.” You don’t bother to hide the desperation in your voice. He needs to know that you mean it. “I- I want to, Bucky, I want you so bad-“

Bucky muffles your pleas, crashing forward and pressing his mouth over yours.

It’s not the soft, loving kiss of your fantasies. It’s rough and desperate, the kiss of a man finally letting his leash snap. He grabs your neck and scrunches his fingers in your hair, dragging a moan from the back of your throat. It turns into a hungry cry, when he pushes his tongue between your lips. Your knees wobble from the bruising force of it. You grab his shirt for balance, scrunching the fabric between your fingers.

Bucky grunts, pressing further over you. One arm drops to wrap around your waist, and the other slide up to cradle the back of your head. The touch his shockingly gentle, for the demanding way he’s almost eating your kisses. You’re standing nowhere near a wall, but he’s caged you all the same. There’s nothing to do but feel the way his cool, metal fingers dig into your hips, and the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

You kiss until your breathing is ragged. He tastes like mint and salt, and it’s a little addictive. Even after you’re light-headed and whimpering, Bucky sucks on your lower lip and takes just a little more. You whimper, gasping for air that he doesn’t seem to need. He tugs on your hair, forcing you to tip your neck back, and he plants open, hungry kisses over every place he can reach.

“You gotta be sure.” He murmurs against your skin. “Tell me you’re sure, doll, ‘cause- I don’t think I can go easy.”

And oh God, isn’t that lovey thought. Bucky not going easy. Combined with his tongue flicking over a pulse point, you almost fall over from the pure thought of it.

But he’s asking real permission. His hold on your hip is getting tighter, and his shoulders are squared and tense. He’s keeping himself from taking what he really wants, until you give him total permission.

You didn’t know you could want him more.

“I- Oh-“ Your eyes flutter, as he nips on sensitive skin under your jaw before kissing away the hurt. “I’m sure, Bucky, I- I don’t want you to go easy.”

For some reason, that only makes him more tense. He takes an uneven breath, pressing his brow against your head and almost pulling you off your feet as he hugs you tighter. You wait, slowly wrapping your arms around him and dragging your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

Bucky draws himself back, his expression unreadable as he scans over your face. You offer him a tiny, nervous smile, and he lets out a shaky laugh.

“You- You got no idea, do you?”

Your face falls to a pout. “I have a lot of ideas-“

“No, you don’t.” He drops his brow over yours. “You got no fuckin’ clue, what you do to me.”

And your brain stalls. It gets all gooey and soft, as you just blink up at him. You’re already on unsteady legs. You never thought he’d catch you if you fell, but with the way Bucky’s looking at you right now, you think he’d dive off a cliff to be at your side.

“Bucky…” You breathe, and he drops his forehead against yours. Your noses bump. His gaze darts between your lips and eyes, and you think you might be burning alive.

“You smell so good.” He mutters, before leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You-“ You almost whimper, when he pulls away. “You imagined?”

He chuckles, kissing just your upper lip. You’re already putty under his hands, and you might turn to just a steam of desire if he doesn’t stop kissing you so softly.

“Didn’t you?”

You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Bet I imagined more.”

And you doubt that, but Bucky’s kissing you again before you can tell him that you imagined so much it scared you sometimes. The way you were sure that you’d never be able to recover, from an addiction to a drug you’d never even taken.

You’re certainly never going to recover now. Kissing Bucky is even better than you’d let yourself dream about. His lips are just as soft as you thought. Even with the way he’s holding himself back, his touch is possessive. He traces your sides like he’s trying to memorize them, and kisses you the same way.

“Got no idea what I’m gonna do to, either.” He rasps against your lips. “If you let me, doll… You shouldn’t- But-“ He groans, pushing his nose into your cheek, kissing over the slope of your jaw. “Fuck, I want you to.”

You want him to. You want to feel those sloppy, devout kisses everywhere, to get that infernal tongue between your legs. His cock is almost bursting through his sweats, protruding into your thigh. He’d be heavy on your tongue, and split you better than the toys that you’ve used in his place before. The ache in your core throbs from just the idea, and you can feel your heart trying to burst all out of your throat with confession of desire and adoration. But you’re not sure if he’s going to believe them.

“Tell me.” You whisper. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about doing to me.”

Bucky pulls back, and you worry you’ve stepped on an invisible landmine. That you’re going to be shoved out of the room, the door slammed in your face instead of behind you, locking you out of the room you’ve longer to be in since you met him. Bucky stares at you. You open your mouth to apologize and take it back, but he loves to move faster than your lustdrunk mind can understand.

You squeal as he walks you backward, but not out of the room. He kicks his door shut as you pass it. It slams, right as Bucky pins you between against the wall. He kisses you before you can protest or ask questions, and keeps going until you’re squirming against him and unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away. His kisses wander your cheeks, over your nose and hairline and back down to your ear.

“I wanted you just like this.” He chokes out, and your swallow. He sounds wrecked, and you’re not even kissing anymore. “Wanted you everywhere. Would see you in a meetin’ and think about bending you over the table. You’d get under me on the training mats and I’d wanna get in a headlock between your legs. Bet you taste so good.”

He shudders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His dick has shifted to push right near your core, and it’s almost too much pressure, while not being nearly enough.

“Would sit next to you on the plane and think about gettin’ on my knees.” He rasps, beard ticking against your skin. “Worshipping your pussy like it deserves. Makin’ you- Fuck- Call my name-“

Bucky moans, his hips jerking forward. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and Bucky almost whines and does it again. You don’t think he can help it.

“Wanted to stuff your pretty little lips with my cock.” He thrusts again, his whole weight almost collapses over your body. “You’d get all mouthy and I- I jerk off to the idea of puttin’ you over my knee or gettin’ you lying in my bed. I’d- I’d fuck you so nice, doll, I swear I’d be good, but- Fuuuck-“

He’s rutting between your thighs, and seems to forget the story he’s supposed to be telling you in favor of sucking on your neck. You whimper, pushing your hand between your bodies. Not to stop him—never to stop him—but to wrap your fingers around his cock through his sweats.

Bucky moans, his voice breaking with raw, starved relief. You try to pull him back to kiss him, but he just wraps closer around you. He’s almost shaking. You think he’s trying not to fuck your hand.

You can’t have that.

“It’s okay.” You drag your fingers over the line of his cock, and he whimpers against your neck. “I- I’ve thought about it too.”

Bucky slams forward, and you smile at the air.

“Wanted you to shove me down and fuck me stupid. Wanted to ride you until I passed out. I bought a dildo, baby, just to pretend it was you.”

You use your free hand to pet the back of his head, slowly sliding his sweats down to give yourself better access. Bucky’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping fully around, and whenever your nails graze his balls, he bucks forward with a strangled moan.

“Wasn’t as big.” You breathe, stroking his dick in long, tight motion. “You’re so big, Bucky, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your neck. “Gonna- Fuck-“

You squeeze him at the base, and he doubles over. He’s almost fully collapsed against you. You want to feel him come apart.

“Gonna make it fit.” He hisses in your ear, and you hum.

“How?”

“Open you up.” He mutters, words slurred like he’s drunk. “Get you all over me, doll- Wanna watch you cum over and over and- God-“

His dick is twitching, and you giggle. He’s working himself up.

“You think this is funny?” He rasps.

You smile, swiping your thumb over the weeping slit of his dick. “A little. You wanna make me cum but you won’t even touch me.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and tries to push off of you. You tug his cock a little harder, and he falls back over with a moan. You giggle again.

“You- You’re a fuckin’ brat-“

“I’m helping you, Barnes.” You whisper in his ear.

He chuckles, and the sound rolls through your body. “Helpin’ me would be sitting on my face- Fuck-“

Bucky’s whole body shakes, when you squeeze him one last time, and his control slip. You pet him through his orgasm, unsure if you want him to notice how you press your legs tighter to try and get more stains of his cum. He pants and groans against your skin, his lips latching back around that one bruise he seems to be obsessed with.

There’s so much cum. Bucky grinds into your fist, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming until your fingers are sticky and drenched. The idea of him doing that inside you is almost a little terrifying. You’ve never wanted anything more.

A choked sound like your name comes out, muffled against your skin. You smile, leaning back to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky seems to need a second. You hope you didn’t already wear him out.

“You okay?” You whisper, and he tenses.

Bucky pulls back, and your pulse picks up into a drum.

Whatever he’d been before, it had been tame compared to this. His jaw is clenched, his attention fixed on you like a predator. His chest heaves, his hands limp at his side. You swallow, feeling a lot smaller than you did a second ago.

You can’t stop yourself from looking down. It only makes things worse.

He’s bigger than he felt. His cum is dripping down his thigh, and it’s barely been a minute, but he’s already getting hard again. You drag your eyes up the expanse of his chest—all flushed skin and muscle—and realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You lick your lips. He mimics the movement.

“It won’t fit.” You says again, but your tone has lost all the teasing mockery of before.

And Bucky’s smirk is dangerous. A thrill rushes through you at the sight of it. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Gonna make it fit.” He growls.

You yelp, as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You don’t even slam into his chest before he’s lifting you off the ground with another mind numbing kiss. It’s a distraction. You know that. You don’t really care, though, returning it in a second.

Bucky carries you like you’re a doll, your knees bent like some princess and his warmer arm locked around your waist. He leans over, lowering you to the mattress with a shocking care. For a second you’re fully lost in him. The gentle motion of his lips over yours, the way his hands wander and map your body as he settles you into the mattress.

“So soft.” He mutters. “All that bite, doll, but I knew you’d be so fuckin’ soft for me.”

You’d like to protest, and say that you’re not soft. But Bucky’s kisses are making your head spin, and no single, clear word can make it out of the daze. All you manage is a high, long whine.

Bucky chuckles. His hand pushes under your shirt, almost tickling over your sides.

“You like that?” He tease, his knuckles tracing over the underside of your boobs. “You like bein’ my sweet girl?”

You are not sweet. You try to snap that, but it mostly just comes out a feral grumble. You don’t know how he’s the one with a sound mind right now. You’re not under a sex drug.

You’re just under Bucky. Where it’s very, very warm, and sticky, and nice. His cum is dripping over your clothed core and midriff. You shiver as it hits bare skin, and Bucky smirks against your lips.

“Say it and I give you more.” He rasps. “Say you like it.”

And it’s a game. You know that you like it. He does too. But he’s poking and teasing you, trying to get you spar with him. To get you to play.

So you glare at him when he leans back, spreading your legs wider at the same time. You keep your mouth stubbornly shut.

Bucky grins. He traces the curve of your hips with massive hands, his thumb angling to smear his cum over your navel.

“Look at you.” He mocks. “Beggin’ for me and then can’t even admit she likes it.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning up your chin. Bucky smacks your inner thigh, then rubs his metal palm right over your pussy. The sudden sting then harsh pleasure make your hips push off the bed with a cry. Bucky takes his hand away to splay it on your abdomen, shoving you back down.

“You like gettin’ tossed around, too?” He laughs, and heat floods right to your core. “I’ll toss you around, baby. Make you into a nice little cockslut for me, even let you put my in that pretty mouth.”

He grabs your jaw, and you part your lips in a second. Bucky groans, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Already listen so well.” He mutters, teasing his two forefingers over your mouth. “Just can admit you fuckin’ love it, do you? Can’t be a good girl and tell the truth.”

You narrow your eyes in defiance, and pretend to bite down on his fingers. It’s not a real bite. Just teeth grazing knuckles. But Bucky understands what it means.

Permission to go further.

His eyes gleam. His cock is already leaking with pre-cum.

“Alright, babydoll.” He rubs your thighs, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Have it your way.”

In a single second, Bucky rips off your clothing like it’s paper. You barely have time to feel the cold of the air before he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, and dragging your ass up in the air. You yelp, fisting your hands in the sheets, and try to twist and see where he is.

A dazed part of your brain that doesn’t remember his hands on your hips sees no one behind you, and almost freaks out.

Then the first stroke of Bucky’s tongue hits your pussy, and you collapse fully into the sheets.

“Oh my-“ Your eyes roll back, as he teases the very tip of his tongue around your clit before dragging it through your folds. “Oh my God-“

“Sensitive fuckin’ pussy.” Bucky muses, and you feel the stubble of his cheek pressing against you thigh. “Barely even touching it. Wonder if I-“

 His thumb drags circles just around your clit, and you squeak. He kisses the curve of your ass, going a little fast. You whine trying to drag your own ass in circles to match his motions. You can’t see him. Can’t know if you’re doing well outside of his lips tracing your thigh, and the pleased hums against your skin.

Bucky jerks his thumb suddenly to the side, pushing directly over your clit. You scream, your knees sliding back. Bucky grabs them and pushes them back up, fully exposing your pussy to the air.

“Look at you.” His breath is warm, over that most sensitive spot. “Bet I don’t even need to fuckin’ prep you. You’re so wet, you’d just…”

He makes a deep, rumbling sound, and you almost sob as he drags his tongue right back between your puffed pussy lips. You clench around nothing, his stubbled scraping your clit. Bucky angles his face, letting his tongue flick over your clit. It goes back and forth and back and forth, toying with it before pressing flat. He sucks, hard like a lollipop, and you almost sob into the mattress.

“Sweet.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm wrapping around your legs. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Shhh.” He kisses right over your pussy. “Wanna taste, pretty girl. I gotta fuckin’-“ He moans, and the vibration shoots right up your spine. “Gotta taste-“

Bucky presses his face fully into your cunt, and the sound that leaves you almost isn’t human.

He’s good at this. So good at this. It’s a little unfair. Your mouth can’t do anything but hang uselessly open, as Bucky works his jaw against you. He eats you like he’s starved for it. Like he’s a man that wants to drown of an insatiable thirst.

Two hands hold you up in the air, as his tongue plunges ruthlessly in and out of your cunt. You keen, trying to push further back, and the warmer hand wraps up to your spine and shoves your stomach down. It’s a tighter fit like this. Bucky drags his tongue around, and it hits every sensitive area. His beard tickles and scratches, and cold fingers tease your skin.

You get more and more sensitive, with every flick and suck and groan. You’re so wet it’s almost drooling down your legs, mixing with the stains of cum he’d gathered from your midriff and smeared over your legs. The dual heat with his cold hand makes all your nerves stand on end. You pussy clenches again, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s right.” He mutters, making out with your clit as you gasp for air into the bed. “That’s it, baby, you’re already lettin’ go, aren’t you.”

You whine, and Bucky nips at your ass.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ye- Yes.” You mumble. “’S good, Bucky- So good-“

“I know.” He grunts, pressing his cold, metal thumb down into your clit. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

You whimper, and Bucky starts up on your dripping pussy again. He’s lapping at it, pushing his tongue into your tight hole as he plays with your clit, and white lines your vision.

“I- I’m gonna- Fuck- Bucky-“ You scratch at the sheets. “I’m gonna- Oh God-“

He smacks your clit, spits onto your pussy, and resumes with double the effort. You cry his name, as your orgasm wracks your body. You can feel yourself seizing around him, twitching and writhing in his tight grip as your vision lines with white.

And Bucky doesn’t stop. You’re making a mess all over his face, and he’s rising up, but it’s just pushing you further into the mattress. You whimper, your cunt too sensitive, but he doesn’t even come up for air.

“Shit- Bucky- Oh- Ohhhhh-“

The ache quickly fades into pleasure again. Blinging pleasure that’s just on the wrong side of too much, but pleasure all the same. You squeal, and Bucky just moans against your cunt.

Then you hear it. The slam of his fist against his cock.

He’s jerking off while he eats you out.  He’s fucking himself so hard you can hear it, hear the slap of skin, feel all his little moans and grunts right against your pussy, and the thought sends you right over the edge again.

Bucky moans louder, as you cum on his tongue. Just like before, it seems to make him more and more feral. You have a feeling what lucidity that let him tease you before is gone. He’s eating you out the same way he’s kissed you, with rough lips and a fervor that’s almost animalistic. You’re boneless and whimpering into the sheets, taking it over and over as Bucky just keeps working his mouth against your cunt, and fucking his hand.

Then, suddenly, he’s gone. You whine from the lose, trying to roll over and look at him, but he just shoves you back down with a growl. The sound of his hand is getting faster and faster, and a hot weight drops over your back. Bucky presses his face into your neck, and takes a deep breath. You whimper, and he groans. His hips must be rocking, with how the bed is shaking.

“Smells good.” He rasps. “Gonna- Fuck-“

Bucky snaps back up, and you feel him cum more than you even hear it. Hot ropes spurt over your ass and back, seeping down the back off your thighs and into your pussy. You moan at the sensation, pushing back on trembling hands. There’s always just more of it, until you’re so marked up with him you’re sure you’ll never be able to wash it off.

You don’t want to.

With how Bucky grabs your hips and spreads the stain over your skin, you don’t think he does either.

“Shit.” He breathes out, and you hum in agreement. “Gotta- Flip for me, c’mon-“

Bucky helps you roll over. His touches are gentle again, but the gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. You blink at him, flat on your back with your legs spread. Bucky traces the lips of your cunt, then slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Fucking his cum back into your tight hole. You mewl, eyes fluttering. Your head tosses back, and Bucky smiles

“Good girl.” He coos.

You try not get all gooey and weak just from the praise. Bucky laughs, and you think you might’ve failed.

“Strangling my fingers, doll.” He teases, pulling them right out.

You whimper. You’re too wet and ready not to take something. It’s really not fair to make you wait.

“I know.” He kisses your brow, voice rough. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know. You just gotta tell me you like it, then-“ His cock drags between your folds, and you keen. “All yours.”

You blink at him, opening your mouth to comply.

But you’re at an advantage.

Bucky’s hard again. His body is wound so tight above you, and his every word is thick. Like it’s an effort to speak. He’s still trying to fight against the drug running through his veins.

You want him to give in.

So you close your mouth, and give him a defiant glare.

Bucky growls again, and there’s no more teasing.

His mouth pushes over yours, and it’s not a loving kiss. It’s rough and quick, stealing your breath in seconds and distracting you as Bucky grabs your knees and shoves them back. You try to chase his lips, when he pulls away, but he shoves you back down with a grunt.

“Wanna be a brat.” He grunts. “Gonna get fucked like a brat.”

You almost beam. Yes, please.

Bucky folds you under him, your knees pressed to your chest and your cum-stained pussy on full display. He doesn’t waste time, tapping the head of his cock against your clit before slamming right inside. You’re so soaked you take it with only a hitched breath, but that doesn’t mean your eyes don’t roll back.

He hits right against you pelvis, when he bottoms out. His heavy balls sit on your ass, and the stretch of him is just enough pain to heighten the pleasure. Bucky kisses all over your face as he lets you adjust, but your pussy is greedy. He’d prepared you too well. You’re more than ready within seconds.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You gaps out, and he growls against your neck. “Move.”

If he’d told you to wait, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

But the drug seems to have overtaken him again, and all you get is a noise like a snarl against your throat before Bucky draws almost all the way out, and slams back in.

The air is knocked clean from your lungs. This time, he hit right against your g-spot, and your whole body seizes up. Bucky makes a low, deep noise, and repeats the motion. Again, he drives right into that gooey spot deep inside of you. You clench around him, and he doubles over, rutting deep inside of you.

“The- There-“ You whimper, fingers scrambling in the sheets. “Fuck, baby, right there-“

Bucky grunts an agreement, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. The angle is so deep you’re worried he’s going to permanently rearrange your guts. Every slam of his cock into your makes you see heaven, and Bucky pants over your, his eyes locked onto yours as your face contorts with pleasure.

He’s not even fucking you like a brat. He’s fucking you like a doll. He grabs at your limbs and moves them below him like you’re just a sleeve for his dick, and he needs you into just the right spot. One hand fists in your hair, forcing your neck a little up so you can watching your arousal gleam on his cock every time he pulls out. He moans every time he pushes back in, and you watch your cunt swallow his dick whole. A wet, smacking sound filling the room as he drills into you. He bends you even further to kiss over your neck and breasts, his tongue dragging in rhythm with his dick.

You try to clench around him every time he bottoms out, but your head is sort of empty, and now you’re just a drooling pussy around his massive cock, moaning his name and happily milking every bit of pleasure.

“Oh- Oooooh-“ You mewl, smiling like a cockdrunk idiot at the air. “Buuuucky-“

His mouth presses back over yours, and the kiss is strangely soft. His fucking hasn’t slowed or relented, but there’s a care with how his lips move over yours that makes you feel worshipped.

That’s what he’d said he’d do. Worship you. And you can really feel it here.

Bucky draws back, and the hand that had been fisted in your hair moves to your jaw. He squeezes again. You open for him easily, and his lips twitch.

“Good girl.” He coos, even if the words are tighter than before.

He spits into your mouth. You swallow obediantly, and open again when he squeezes your cheeks. Bucky slams forward with a groan, looking like a man wrecked.

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you-“

“Love it.” You gasp, unable to even think to deny him again. “Love you, Bucky- Oh- Oh my god-“

Bucky makes a ragged, choked sound, and cums almost without warning. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, as he pumps you full of his release. It feels like even more than before. Like you’re going to burst with how full you are, spurts of it still being forced out as Bucky fucks you through. You’ve never felt so totally claimed, with him all over every inch of your skin. He kisses you and you giggle, dazed and almost high on the feeling.

And he’s not even done.

The period of lucidity between orgasms gets shorter before it gets longer. Bucky’s ability to control himself almost vanishes all together. You get a kiss and broken mumble of your name before you’re being flipped back onto your stomach and fucked from behind. There will be handprints on your ass and thighs in the morning, and the sheets are stained with your drool from how Bucky railed you from behind.

You’re dragged into his lap right after, and he pushes his thumb into your mouth, then ruts up into your gaping cunt. You’re all moans and ditzy smiles by that point. When rolls you back onto your stomach and sits up on his knees, you just take it with moans and giggles and cries of delight.

He hasn’t just ruined you. He’s pulled you apart a million times over, until you’re just a puddle that sings his name.

You don’t even fully realize he’s done, when he kisses pulls out that last time. You whine, and clench around nothing, but expect to get filled right back up.

Then Bucky kisses you, and it’s slow. Savoring and sweet. Romantic. His voice is hoarse, but it’s lost the strained quality. He’s fully teasing again, smiling against your lips.

“So soft.” He coos, rubbing your thoroughly abused pussy with his warm hand.

You writhe, trying to get further and closer at the same time. Bucky chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, doll. You’d think you were the one that got sex drugged.”

You try to glare at him, but forget why the moment you see his pretty eyes, shining on yours.

They’re blue again.

“You’re back?” You breathe, and Bucky grins.

He ducks down, and presses another quick kiss over your lips.

“I’m back.”

 You’re ordered not to move, while he cleans up. You don’t think you could if you tried. Your body is jelly, everything is sore in the best way, and your head is spinning with too many thoughts of what the fuck happened.

You told Bucky you love him. You told Bucky you love him. You’d never even fully admitted it in your head and he just fucked it right out of you. You said it fast, too fast, he thought you hated him four hours ago and now he must think you’re some kind of freak for just saying you love him.

He makes you drink water and go to the bathroom. Draws you a bath and brings you a snack and changes the sheets. You manage to find the strength to stand out of the tub and dry yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body before shuffling out in the center of his room.

God, he’s so handsome. All tan muscles and scars you want to trace with your tongue. Too bad you fucking blew it, and now you’re never going to get to touch him again-

Bucky turns, and smiles when he sees you. You swallow, bracing for the worst as he crosses the room.

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you. Deep and gentle and maybe he just forgot-

“Love you too.” He says against your lips. “Just- Uh- While we’re saying it.”

Oh.

Or that. That’s nice.

You throw everything you have into kissing him back, but end up tackling him down onto the bed with the sudden surge of strength. Bucky chokes out a laugh in surprise, wrestling you over onto your back with kiss and wandering hands. You giggle, trying to push back, and he nips at the tip of your nose.

Then he pauses, and pulls up with a small, worried frown.

“You’re stayin’ the night, right?”

You almost snort. There’s no getting rid of you now. You’re going to stay forever, and as long as he’ll allow after that.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

✦End note: this was longer than my college thesis btw. and i. put more effort into it.✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

“Wally, help me!” You shout, playfully hitting your fists on Dick’s back. “Dick, put me down!”

The former Robin ignores your pleas, continuing his path straight to the pool. You squirm on his shoulders, kicking your legs frantically, but he’s simply too strong. 

Wally watches, suppressing a sigh. He’s not jealous—how could he be jealous? His best friend is dating his other best friend, and he’s in love with both of them. What’s there to be jealous about? 

You look at him with sparkling eyes and a glittering grin, the sun on your face. You’re gorgeous, practically ethereal, and you always have been in Wally’s eyes. And Dick? Years of training with the Bat and being a vigilante have left him looking like a Greek god. It doesn’t help that the summer heat has him rocking a glowing tan. 

Wally can’t help but think back to that night a little over a month ago. When you and Dick had showed up to his apartment for your weekly game night, and broke the news. You seemed so happy together, and it’s not like either of you knew about Wally’s feelings. All the boy could do was smile and nod and congratulate the two of you, no matter how bitter the word tasted on his tongue. 

“Dick!” You slap his shoulder, “come on! If you throw me in there, I’m not swimming back up! Enjoy your homicide charge!”

Wally laughs at your stupid joke. “Don’t worry, Rob. I’ll help you hide the body.”

You put on a fake hurt face and flip him the finger before erupting into giggles. Wally returns your gesture, grinning back at you. Dick makes it to the edge of the pool and tosses you in, giving you a half-assed salute as you fall. 

Of course, Wally can’t let this stand. He’s on his feet in a microsecond, dashing towards the two of you at the edge of the water. He shoves Dick into the water, tugging his phone out of his pocket before he falls in. Wally manages to grab you just before you hit the surface of the water, lifting you into his arms. 

He stands still and watches his best friend surface, the water droplets on his tanned skin making him look even more god-like. 

“I’ll get you back for that, Wally.” Dick threatens, but with the grin on his face and his sopping wet hair, it’s hard to take him seriously.

You hate to admit it, but you secretly enjoy the feeling of Wally’s warm skin on yours. His bare abs and strong arms glisten with sweat and banana scented sunscreen—you swallow hard and force yourself to look away.

“Thanks for the save,” you flash a grin at him and hop out of his arms. 

“It was worth it,” he shrugs. He looks down at the melted rubber of his flip flops and sighs, “good thing these were only $3.”

Dick hoists himself out of the pool, his biceps dripping wet and glowing in the sunlight. He grabs his towel off of his foldout chair, towel drying his hair. The ends curl where it’s started to dry, and you want to tug on the strands with your fingers. 

Wally retreats back to the chair he was laying on. “That’s enough sun for me for the day,” he jokes. “One more minute and my skin would’ve matched my suit.”

“You and your delicate ginger skin,” you smirk. “Poor, delicate Wally.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I’d watch it, unless you want a swim in the pool.”

“Okay, okay, I surrender.”

Dick comes up behind you, pressing his wet body to your warm back. You shiver and attempt to shove him off but he clings onto you. 

“What?” He pouts, “you don’t want me, baby?”

Wally scrunches up his nose without meaning to. He wishes he was either one of you right now, in the middle of you two. Anything but this.

Dick spins you around, keeping his hands on your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. The water from his hair drops onto the top of your head and runs down your temples but you don’t care. You’re too focused on tasting him, his familiar flavour muddied with the taste of chlorine and lemonade.

It takes a minute for either of you to notice that Wally’s gathered his things and left.

You frown. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“He’s had a long week.” 

Dick offers you a half-hearted smile but you can’t help but look beyond that to the steely look in his eyes. The same one he gets when he knows more than he’s letting on.

—

Wally’s scorching by the time he gets home from the pool. Running mile after mile in the blazing summer heat is not for the faint of heart—especially for someone who already runs hot. 

The heat is only made worse by the ache in his groin. He’s never felt more relieved in his life than the relief he feels at dropping his swim shorts and letting his cock spring free. 

He spits in his palm, smearing it up his shaft along with his precum. A shiver runs up his spine. God, he needed this. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and falls into an easy rhythm. Up and down, up and down. And then the images of you and Dick come flashing through his mind and he knows it's wrong and he knows he should stop—but he doesn’t. 

He thinks of your mouth, how warm and wet it would be. Lips wrapped around his cock, pretty eyes looking up at him. He thinks of how Dick would be by your side, a hand in your hair to guide you and the other hand petting Wally’s thigh. 

He could make you feel so good, he could make both of you so happy. Why didn’t either of you think of him, why didn’t either of you want him? 

The frustration gets to him, his fist clenching his cock tighter. He imagines his hand fisting Dick’s cock while you ride him, soft moans slipping from your lips with every bounce. With his eyes closed, he swears he can almost feel your pussy around him. 

It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to look either of you in the eyes after this. But he keeps going, imagining it going further while his cock twitches in his hand. 

The heat consumes him and his hand only moves faster. He can’t help but think of how you’d squirm beneath him, how you’d whine about it being too much. He pictures Dick being beneath you, his cock stilled in your walls, talking you through it while Wally fucks you so good. 

A gasp slips from his throat, his mouth dry with the heat of the day. He needs you so bad, and for one torturous second, he contemplates calling you. Throwing caution to the wind and confessing to you and Dick. 

And then he’s finishing, hot ribbons of cum bringing him back to reality. It coats his abs, his thighs and his hands—but he wishes so badly it was you instead. 

He hasn’t even had a chance to wipe up his fluids when his phone is buzzing and your contact is popping up. Even the sight of your smiling photo in his phone has his face burning in guilt. 

He lets it go to voicemail, and the reality of his situation washes over him. 

He can’t help but stare at himself in the mirror while he washes his hands. A million thoughts race through his mind but more than anything: what can Dick give you that he can’t?

He’s tall, he has abs, and he’s funny, or at least, you laugh at all his jokes. So why don’t you like him? 

And though Wally puts up such a confident front, he crumbles before himself in the mirror. He’s all that, and maybe more, but one thing he will never be is Dick. He’ll never be that confident, trustworthy leader that you’d follow anywhere. 

While Dick is a hero through and through, Wally can’t help but think he’s a cheap copy that could never compare. 

-

Dick stills inside of you, the hand he had between your shoulder blades relaxing. Your walls clench around him in need but the vigilante remains still as stone. 

“What—“ You swallow, your voice breathy with unspoken moans. “What’s wrong?”

His voice is raspy with sex. “You’re distracted.”

You open your mouth to protest but suddenly his hands are on your hips and he’s manhandling you onto your back. A giggle slips from your lips, your knees automatically folding into your chest. 

Dick watches you with a smirk and resists the urge to make a joke about how well-trained you are. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“I’m worried about Wally.”

Dick rolls his hips into yours. Whether he’s satiating his need or yours, you’re not sure. 

“Why’s that?”

You reach up and tangle a hand in his curls, a frown forming on your face. “He’s been distant lately. I-I don’t know. I’m worried.”

He offers you a few lazy thrusts, tilting his head into your chest so you can knead your hands deeper into his scalp. The head of his cock bullies its way through your walls and forces a gasp from your lips.

“He’s been busy.” Dick plants a kiss to your collarbone, “but if you’re really worried, why don’t you give him a call?” 

“I don’t want to pry.”

“Don’t get shy now.”

For emphasis, he snaps his hips into yours again and an embarrassingly loud moan rips its way from your throat. Heat rushes to your head and you find yourself burying your face in your hands. 

“Okay, okay,” you concede, and reach for your phone on Dick’s nightstand. “I’m calling him, so pipe down.”

“With my cock still inside of you? That’s bold.”

You playfully slap his arm before shushing him, pressing dial on Wally’s contact. It rings once, twice, three times, and then you’re greeted by his voicemail. 

‘Hey, you’ve reached Wally. I’m probably busy right now, so shoot me a text and I’ll get back to you in a Flash.’

You purse your lips and drop your phone in frustration. You look at Dick seriously, “do you really think he’s fine?”

“Wally might bite down his feelings sometimes, but when he wants to talk, he’ll talk. Just let him come to you.”

You sigh. He has a point. Wally may seem confident and brazen, but you know that beneath that suave surface, there’s an entire undertow of emotions waiting to be uncovered. 

“You’ll see him for game night this week, anyway.” 

“I know, I know. You’re right, I’ll leave it alone.”

“Now,” Dick grins and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “can I fuck you, or what?”

You tangle your fingers on the back of his neck and tug him into you, letting his taste distract you from your concern. 

-

Dick’s away helping family by the time game night rolls around, leaving you no choice but to change it to a movie night instead.

Wally tries to protest that Catan is totally playable with two players but after some light pushing, agrees to come over and watch movies for the weekend. On the condition he gets to choose the movies, of course.

“You’re gonna love this one,” he says through a mouth full of popcorn. “It’s like Groundhog Day if it was a horror movie.”

Wally plops onto the couch next to you, slinging an arm across the back of the cushions. He doesn’t even think about how close he is or how there’s only inches between you two. You’re best friends, you’ve been best friends for years—this is totally normal, right? The memories of his evening after the pool flash through his mind as if to say no. 

You press play on the remote before reaching across Wally’s lap to set it on the side table. Your arm brushes his chest and you swear you see him blush but suddenly the movie is starting and your attention is carried away. You settle back into your spot next to him, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body.

Wally tries to keep his cool and focus on the movie but his attention keeps drifting back to you. You’re gorgeous, he can’t help it. And it doesn’t help that you’re so reactive to the movie—jumping into his side, gasping at the gory parts, laughing at the jokes.

Every time you move, it’s like a stitch in his side. You’re so close to him that he could just wrap his arms around you and pull you into his lap. It takes everything in him not to. 

At some point, you rest your head on his shoulder, the soft skin of your cheek brushing the spot where his tanktop meets his skin. He swallows hard, taking shallow breaths like he’s afraid you’ll move away.

“Is it—” He scratches the back of his neck, “is it hot in here?”

You sit up and Wally bites back his disappointment. “I can turn the air conditioning on if you want. I know you run hot.”

He nods, fanning his face to keep his ears from glowing red. When you pull your legs out from under yourself and stand, Wally can’t help but miss the feeling of you against him.

No, he berates himself. She’s not yours.

Wally forces himself to his feet, following the familiar path to your bathroom. He only feels like he can breathe again when he locks himself inside. He runs the tap on cold, splashing the frigid water over his face and into his hair.

Through the water on his lashes, Wally makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. For the first time since your day at the pool, he lets his thoughts wander to a place he’s been refusing to go. What does Dick have that he doesn’t?

He wonders what would’ve happened if he’d asked you out first, or if he’d been open to either one of you about his feelings. Maybe things would’ve been weird as he’d always feared—but that what if in the back of his mind wonders if it could’ve turned out better than he could possibly imagine.

He dabs his face dry with a nearby towel and hates the way he can recognize your scent on it. He hates even more the way it has heat rushing to his groin, his cock shifting awkwardly in his boxers. Calm the fuck down, man.

When he settles back down on the couch, concern riddles your features. “Are you okay?”

“Just hot,” he lies. “Speedster genes and all.”

You squint at him and though you don’t believe him for a second—especially given it’s a brisk 18 degrees celsius in the apartment—you nod slowly. Wally presses play on the remote and forces himself to focus on the movie.

You can’t focus, though. Your mind runs laps, thinking of his odd demeanour at the pool, his distance this week and now his sudden jumpiness today. You glance at Wally, who’s keeping a generous six inches of space between you two, and frown.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

He pauses the movie, drawing in his legs to sit criss-crossed on your couch. He opens and closes his mouth, the gears turning behind his green eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to you. He knows he can’t keep lying and avoiding his feelings, but what the hell else is he supposed to do?

“You’ve been…off lately.” You pick at your cuticles. “You didn’t even say goodbye at the pool and honestly, it felt like you were trying to blow me off this week. Did I—did I do something wrong?” 

Wally’s heart cracks inside his chest. He wants to hug you and kiss you and tell you that you couldn’t possibly do anything wrong in his eyes, but he doesn’t. He sits on the couch like a fucking statue, his mouth falling open in shock. 

He’d considered that Dick might’ve noticed something was off—the insightful bastard—but never for a second did he think you would notice. It was stupid, really. You’ve been friends for years, and he knows you can read him just as well as he can read you.

His voice cracks when he speaks. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sit in silence, waiting for him to elaborate. Every feature on your face, every movement of your body tells Wally you’re listening. Waiting.

It’s a trap, every bone in his body screams. Don’t do it.

“I just—” He swallows, knowing the dam is going to break and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “You guys started dating and I-I feel so awkward. We hang out and I watch you be so happy together and I wanna—I wanna be happy too. I know I could be happy with you guys if you just gave me a fucking chance and—”

He stops himself before he can take it any further. The blood rushes to his ears and for a minute he questions if he really just said all of that out loud. The stunned look on your face tells him all he needs to know—he fucked up.

“Wally…”

He shakes his head, messy red strands bouncing off his temples. He shuts his eyes, hoping if he hides long enough, this whole mess will go away. 

“Sorry, I should go.”

He goes to stand but you catch his wrist tightly in yours, beckoning him to stay. He turns on his heel, watching you with careful eyes. The adrenaline barrels through him, your fingers on his skin only edging it along. 

“Stay. Please.”

The words send electricity up his spine like a bolt of lighting. Blood roars in his ears and suddenly he’s a man possessed. He’s dropping to his knees in front of you on the couch, hands cupping yours. And then his hands are wandering, trailing higher.

They brush up your arms, to your shoulders and linger on your neck before cupping your cheeks. You don’t dare breathe, don’t dare make a sound. And then he’s leaning in and his lips are crashing against yours and you’re stuck there in shock.

He squeezes his eyes shut and with your soft lips against his, he can almost pretend like this is normal. Like this is something he’s allowed to do and not something he’s taking. 

Reality hits him like a brick wall. He forces himself away from you, arms falling flat at his sides. He looks at you, his mouth fallen open in shock. 

You stare at him, his green eyes darkened. You’re not sure what to say, what to do. Your heart hammers against your ribs. What the fuck just happened?

“Wally—”

He’s running out the door before you finish saying his name, a trail of lightning in his wake.

-

It takes an hour from when Wally kisses you for you to call Dick.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is hushed and it’s only now that you realize he’s probably on patrol with one of his brothers.

“Wally,” your voice shakes, “Wally kissed me.”

There’s silence on Dick’s side and you brace yourself. You just shared a worryingly passionate kiss with your mutual best friend, and even though Dick rarely gets jealous, you expect the worst.

There’s an amused undertone to his voice. “How was it?” 

You blink. “How was it? How was it?”  You can’t help but laugh—what the fuck is he going on about? “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

“At least you know now why he’s been distant.”

He says it so casually that it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You think back to that day at the pool and that look in his eyes. You knew there was more than he was letting on. 

“Did you know?” Your voice is quiet, “did you know he had feelings for me—us?”

“I suspected it.”

He’s using that annoyingly calm voice that makes you want to throw your phone at the wall. Your heart races with barely suppressed frustration. He knows, and he’s possibly known this whole time, and he hasn’t said a damn thing?

“And you said nothing?”

“I knew he’d say something eventually. It wasn’t my place.”

You swallow back tears of frustration. Wally’s been hurting this whole time, hurting because of you, and Dick didn’t say anything. He let you continue on being happy knowing Wally was miserable—knowing you could do something about it.

“How could you?”

“Y/n,” the phone crackles with his sigh. “It’s not like that.”

“I don’t—I can’t hear it tonight, Dick. I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up before he can protest.

Your apartment is impossibly quiet when your phone call ends. Conflict lines every cell in your body—frustration with Dick and sympathy for Wally battling it out. Even after you curl up back on the couch and start the movie from where you left off, silence seems to blanket the apartment.

You don’t even realize you’re dialling Wally’s number until it goes straight to his voicemail.

‘Hey, you’ve reached Wally. I’m probably busy right now, so shoot me a text and I’ll get back to you in a Flash.’

You can’t remember the last time you heard his voicemail, and yet you’ve heard it too much this week. Wally always, always answers your calls. The sound of his prerecorded voice is only a monument to how fucked up things have gotten.

With nothing else to do, you turn off your phone and watch the rest of the movie.

- 

Wally’s never felt guilt like this before. It weighs on him, hangs over his head like storm clouds. The sight of your shocked face—all swollen lips and wide eyes—stays burned in his mind. The fantasies he’d once had about you have faded away and all he can feel is your shock and sadness when he’d pushed his lips onto yours. 

He’d called you the second he’d got back to his apartment only to hang up before the first ring. He’d done the same to Dick, only to realize there was no one he could talk to about his. At least, no one he wanted to talk to about it. With nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, Wally suited up and hit the city, hoping to burn off some energy. Unfortunately for him, it’s a horribly slow night in Keystone city.

After running a dozen laps around the city, he settles down on the tallest building he can find and opens his phone. He stares at his lock screen—a photo of the three of you at the beach from last summer—and sighs. He considers calling you again, or calling Dick.

Then his phone lights up with your contact and panic swells in his chest. He slams his finger on the decline button. He can’t bear to face you right now.

While any other day he’d be grateful for such a slow night, the evening passes achingly slow, and he can’t help but be grateful when the burglary alarm sounds at a nearby bank.

Finally, something he can’t fuck up tonight.

-

Your week passes agonizingly slow. 

On a good week, your evenings are spent with either Dick or Wally or both. Your apartment is filled with laughter and stupid jokes, and your fridge is found emptied of its contents more often than not. 

It’s not a good week, though.

Dick calls you almost every day. It’s typical of him to try and fix things before they’re ready to be fixed. He’s always forcing the pieces back into place before the glue has had time to set.

Wally also calls you. Only once and you declined the call as soon as you saw his contact. Regret filled you the second your finger had touched the decline button but that stubborn side of you couldn’t bring itself to let go and allow you to call him back.

So you sit in silence every night, wondering if when Friday comes Dick will show up with board games and Wally with pizza. 

When Friday does roll around, your group chat is a ghost town. You type out a message on your lunch break, just a quick ‘hey, we still on for tonight?’ before immediately deleting it. No matter how bad you want to, you can’t bring yourself to send it.

You buy yourself takeout after work and settle in at your apartment for a quiet night. You queue up Wally’s other choice of movie despite the bitter taste it leaves in your mouth. 

A part of you still wants to call him back and ask him if he really meant what he said. If he really meant to kiss you that night. Another part of you is too scared to hear the answer—scared he’ll say it was nothing.

And that part scares the hell out of you.

You think about calling Dick, too. You want to ask him where you go from here, why he was so okay with another man—his best friend of all people—kissing you. Still, you don’t, because you’re not ready to hear Dick’s answer, either.

You’re only part way through the movie when your front door is slamming open so hard dry wall rains from the wall where it impacts. You cringe—your landlord is not going to be happy. You rise to your feet and grab the heftiest book off your coffee table, ready to face your intruder. 

The Flash stands in your living room, his chest rising and falling so fast you’re worried he’ll go into cardiac arrest. Nightwing is draped over his shoulder, half limp and breathing just as fast. You freeze at the sight of them, the book clattering from your hand onto the floor.

Dick’s hair is matted to his forehead with blood, a trail of it leading down to his mask. His muscles are tense and twitching, and his pupils are almost entirely blown out. You take a step towards them only for him to flinch, cowering in Wally’s arms.

“What the hell happened?”

You glance from the costumed men to your broken door, unsure of what you should tend to first. Wally rips off his cowl, taking a deep gasping breath. His cheeks are nearly as red as his suit, his hair coated in sweat and his pupils nearly as big as Dick’s.

They can’t be seen like this, you decide, and make your way to the door. The deadbolt is broken and the door makes a horrible screeching noise when you force it back into the frame, but at least it closes. You frown and make a mental note to have them fix it when there’s not a crisis on hand.

Wally coughs, muscles twitching in pain. “Got ambushed with—” He’s cut off through another coughing fit, adjusting his grip around Dick. “Fear gas.”

Your eyes shoot wide. Though you’d never had any run-ins with the substance, you knew just how volatile it could be. The last time Dick had encountered it, his nightmares had lasted over twelve hours and it took him days to recover. You can only pray this dose wasn’t that potent.

You rush to Dick’s other side, wrapping his arm around you to help Wally bear his weight. He trembles against you and you can feel his heart hammering in his chest. At this rate, he’s going to faint.

With Wally’s help, you manage to get him to your couch. Dick weakly protests as you lay him among your plush blankets and throw pillows but in this state, there’s not much he can do to fight back.

Wally stands on shaky legs by Dick’s side and you can’t help but notice he’s still hanging onto Dick’s hand. Though he’s better off than Dick, it’s not by much. You see the way he cringes at the shadows on the wall cast by passing cars, the way fresh guilt floods his eyes.

You frown at the thought of him running all this way here with Dick. His enhanced metabolism is enough to fight off the worst of the effects but not fast enough to keep the nightmares from setting in.

You nod to the couch. “You too, Red.” 

“I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” You rest a hand on his shoulder, your other hand cupping his to gently coax him onto the couch, “just sit down for a minute while I bring you water, yeah?”

Wally’s too tired to protest, something you’re secretly thankful for. While you fill up two glasses with water, you can’t keep yourself from wondering what he’s seeing right now. You know that in the past Dick’s nightmares have ranged from horrible monsters to the zombified corpses of his loved ones.

You only hope that with some rest, Wally will at least be up and running again soon. 

Wally greets you with a weak smile when you hand him his water. His hands shake as he takes it from you and greedily gulps the entire cup in one go. You can’t help but stare at the wetness around his mouth and the bob of his throat as he swallows. 

It’s terrible, really, to stare like that. He’s your best friend and he’s hurting and your boyfriend is right there—but clearly the kiss has left you with some unresolved feelings. 

“Something wrong?”

You snap back to reality to find Wally staring at you with a lopsided grin. He knows you’re staring. Shaking your head, you gesture towards Dick. “Are you feeling up to helping me give him water?”

Immediately, you feel guilty for asking because you know he’d never say no to you or Dick. Wally nods and rises to his feet slowly, following you to Dick’s side. He stands next to him, cupping the back of his neck to raise his head just enough so he won’t choke.

You raise the glass of water to his lips and gently pour in a couple millilitres. His eyes snap open and fear lines his features. The usual blue of his eyes has been almost completely washed out by black, a heart-wrenching sight.

His arms thrash out to fight you off but the toxin has made him sluggish and Wally catches his wrists before he can touch you. “Dick,” he says seriously. “Dick, it’s just us. We’re trying to help you.”

He only fights for a few more seconds before his arms relax and his eyes flutter closed. With Wally still holding him, you slowly peel his mask from his face and set it on the side table along with his glass of water. 

You’re tempted to grab a cloth and try to wipe the blood off but you know it’ll only cause him to fight harder. Besides, Wally needs rest almost as much as Dick does and it would be unfair to ask him to wrestle his best friend again.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Do you need anything? More water?”

“I can get it.”

You level him with a serious look. Sweat still beads his temples and though his breathing has slowed, it’s still not at his normal rate. “You need rest. I’ll grab it just…hang tight for a sec.”

You can feel Wally’s eyes on you the whole way to the sink. Even when you turn around to fill up his empty glass, you feel him watching. A shiver runs up your spine, your hand clenching the cup tighter.

“Y/n, watch out!” He shouts.

You spin around, expecting Scarecrow himself to be behind you. In your panic, you drop the glass of water. You don’t even finish your turn before Wally’s arms are around you and suddenly you’re in the corner of your living room.

Your heart is frantic in your chest and your eyes dart to the place you’d just been standing only to find…nothing. Wally clutches you tighter to his chest, defending you from unseen monsters.

“Jesus, Walls.” You press a hand to your chest as if that will slow your rapid heart rate. “You scared the hell out of me.”

His grip around you loosens slightly. “Sorry, I—I thought I saw something.”

It’s his tone that really grips you. Relief. True, genuine relief. Like he really thought someone was about to hurt you, to rip you right out from under him, and he’d gotten to you in the knick of time.

You rest a sympathetic hand over his and it’s only now that it dons on you how close he is. His body heat feels so nice against your skin and you can smell his deodorant with just a hint of sweat, and—God, has he always been this tall?

“You really should rest, Wally.”

In spite of your words, you make no move to leave his arms. It’s comforting and warm and familiar, and though he’s hugged and carried you before, it’s never been quite like this. Wally makes no move to let you go, either.

“I’m fine like this.”

You’re not sure how long you stand with Wally pressed behind you, his arms around your waist. It feels like only seconds but based on the waning darkness outside, you know it’s been much longer.

“You guys are cute,” Dick rasps out.

You swear Wally flinches behind you. He drops his arms from your waist and you force your face to remain neutral despite your disappointment.

You tear yourself away from him and immediately miss his warmth. “How’re you feeling?”

Dick’s eyes are open now, most of the blue having returned. His breathing’s returned to normal, too. Shit, how long were you guys standing there?

Dick ignores your question. “Would’ve been so cute to see you guys kiss.”

Scratch that—he’s clearly not back to normal yet.

Wally goes white as a sheet, green eyes darting between you and Dick. “Shit, you told him? You know?”

“Of course I told him. I tell him everything.”

A million emotions flash across his face. Confusion, guilt, betrayal. You reach for him but he shuffles back, his gaze suddenly steely. You see him glance at the door and realize he’s planning his escape route again.

“I‘m not mad,” Dick mumbles. “I’ve kissed her too.”

If you weren’t so concerned, you’d probably laugh at that. Instead, you step directly in front of Wally, sizing him up. “Don’t leave again.”

Wally’s not sure what prompts him to stay—whether it’s the sad look in your eyes or his sick best friend—but he does. When you reach a hand to guide him to the couch, he has no choice but to take it.

Your apartment falls into silence once more. Not the comfortable silence you’d grown used to this week. No, this silence is thick and awkward and threatens to choke you at every turn. 

Dick just sits there, staring ahead and processing how he got to your apartment. Wally taps his feet like he always does when he’s uncomfortable or has too much energy. You play with your hands, trying to think of anything to break the ice.

It’s not you who gets the first word in, though. It’s not even Wally. 

It’s Dick who speaks first. “She’s a good kisser, right?”

You laugh, if only in shock and embarrassment. “Okay, that’s enough for me for the night.”

You glance at Wally whose face has turned an impossible shade of red. His brows furrow at your statement, his mouth falling open as if to speak but no words come out.

“You two should get some rest. Come and get me in about 8 hours, okay?”

“But—” Dick protests, stopping in his tracks when you shoot him a serious look. “Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Wally parrots.

“Goodnight,” you say. “No one die in my apartment, please.”

-

You’re thoroughly unsurprised when you wake up sandwiched in the middle of your bed. Sweat coats the back of your neck, heat seeping into every pore.

Dick lays on your left, having traded his sweaty Nightwing suit for a pair of old sweatpants you’d stolen from him months ago. There’s a gash on his forehead and the skin along his torso is lined with bruises but the blood is gone. He must have showered. Wally lays on your other side in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. He has an arm slung over your waist, his freckly skin glowing in the early morning light streaming through your window. There’s a massive, purpling bruise on his side that makes you wonder what, or rather who, had been able to hit him that hard. 

You can’t help but lightly trail your fingers over it, as if your touch alone could heal him. Goosebumps raise across his skin where you touch him and suddenly his eyes are opening, the sight like grass on a foggy morning.

You withdraw your hand before he can notice, pressing it tightly to your side. Wally blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light, before he notices his arm draped over you. Pink dusts his cheeks.

Wally takes in slow, deep breaths. At one time he had dreamed about this—being in bed with you and Dick. But now that he’s actually here, he’s exhausted and his heart is beating way too fast, and man, do you have to wear that to bed?

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and pulls his arm back. 

“It’s okay, I’m just gonna—” You keep your voice a whisper as you untangle yourself from the mess of sheets and limbs. You gasp in relief when the cold morning air hits your skin. “I’m gonna go sleep on the couch.”

It’s too much. Between the heat of their bodies against yours and the events that’ve transpired this week, it’s enough to leave you dizzy and confused.

You shimmy your way out of the bed, stopping only when Wally rests a hand on your shoulder. 

“I can go,” he says. “I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

You risk a glance down at his bruised abs. “No, you’re hurt. I’m not gonna make you run all the way home.”

“And I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch.”

“Then neither of you go anywhere.”

Both your attention snaps to Dick laying perfectly still with his eyes still closed. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and the morning light gives him an ethereal glow. 

Wally narrows his eyes. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

“What can I say, I’m a light sleeper.”

Wally watches you nod slowly in agreement. He feels dizzy with whiplash, thinking of all the nights he’s spent alone in his bed, thinking about a moment just like this. He lets himself fall back into the plush sheets of your bed, fighting the rising blood rushing to his face.

You stay sitting up, staring at the window just behind Dick’s head. “I’m too hot.”

Without another word, Dick reaches over and blindly feels around for the latch to your window. It takes a few tries but then he’s clicking it open and the room is flooded with fresh air.

“No excuses to leave now,” he says.

You press your lips into a line, knowing he’s right. You’re hesitant to lay between them again, as comfortable and safe as you felt. Something about it feels off, like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to. 

You’re torn between pretending to use the bathroom and just going back to sleep when Dick wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you back into the bed. You hit the pillows with a soft thud, shifting on top of the sheets until you’re comfortable.

Well, that settles that.

-

Wally is gone before you wake up, Dick following suit not much later. At least the latter kissed you goodbye—Wally couldn’t even be bothered to send a text. You hate how much the thought upsets you.

You go about your Saturday morning the way you normally would. Coffee and breakfast somewhat soothes your racing mind from the confusing, dizzying blur that was your Friday night. Still, the events from last night echo in your mind.

For a moment, in the fog of the early morning, waking up between Wally and Dick just felt right. There was no uncertainty, no shame—just you and two men you love resting after a considerably long night. 

And then the weight of your thoughts hits you and your stomach drops because you love Wally, in the same way you love Dick. You remember the way your heart hammered in your chest when he kissed you, the butterflies in your stomach when he held you. God, what have you gotten into?

You force yourself into the shower before you can think about it anymore. Your skin still smells like Wally’s cologne and Dick’s sweat. The water runs across your skin, washing away their scents and the associated feelings that flood and threaten to drown you. 

You stand under the water much longer than you mean to, only getting out when your phone starts buzzing enough to send it tumbling off the counter.

Shit, you’re quick to rinse off and hop out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor on the way to your discarded phone. You grab it, your wet palm smearing water all over the screen, and squint at it through water logged eyes.

Batboyfriend: Pool day? 👀 Speedy + Clingy = This Guy: OMG YES.  It’s hotter than me out here and that’s saying something.

Speedy + Clingy = This Guy: dibs on throwing her in the pool this time

Batboyfriend: what? you literally saved her last time

Speedy + Clingy = This Guy: and? I contain multitudes bro.

Batboyfriend:  y/n? you in? I swear I won’t let him drown you 

You can’t help but smile as you flip through the messages. After a week of silence, the normalcy feels good—even if you are still worried about Wally.

You: sure, why not

Batboyfriend: great, see you in an hour?

Speedy + Clingy = This Guy: YAY!! 💪😎 👊🤠✋

Batboyfriend: what??

You: what??

Speedy + Clingy = This Guy: ⬆️ that’s literally me rn

With your afternoon spoken for, you go to get ready.

-

You’re nervous when you pull up to Dick’s, wringing your shirt in your hands. You’ve been here a thousand times, swam at the pool more times than you can count, but still your heart flutters in your ribcage. 

You thought you were ready to face them again but then the memories of Wally’s hair messy and glowing in the early morning light come bleeding back. Dick’s voice echoes in your ears with every step you take: She’s a good kisser, right?

You’re tempted to duck away, to go back home and pretend like you got caught up in something. And then Wally is calling your name and Dick is coming skipping down the parking lot. 

You swallow at the sight of them—this pool day is going to be the death of you. Wally is shirtless and wearing only a pair of green swim trunks and cheap flip flops. Sweat glistens across his bare chest, highlighting the dark bruise on his side.

Dick offers you a wave, tan skin peaking out from under his tank top. A pair of aviators sits on top of his head and holds back his mess of dark curls. Your heart wrenches at the gash on his head.

Wally grins at you from behind his sunglasses. “Took you long enough.”

Dick comes right up to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the side of your head. You glance at Wally nervously but the redhead looks completely unbothered. 

“How long have you guys been here?”

Wally checks an imaginary watch. “Pretty much since Dick texted.”

You glance at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows who only nods to confirm. Despite their lighthearted attitudes, you can’t help but feel hesitant. Suspicious, even. 

“You guys aren’t actually planning on drowning me,” you glance between the two, “right?”

“No,” Dick says. 

“Only if you deserve it.”

You roll your eyes only for sweet relief to hit you when Dick unlocks the gate and gestures you into the poolyard. The water catches your eye, sparkling as if to say hello. 

Dick and Wally have already set up the tanning chairs, the cooler, and laid out towels for each of you. You smile at the sight, shimmying out of Dick’s reach to sprint towards your favorite chair.

“You guys have been busy.”

“Duh, we’ve been waiting for you.” 

You settle in on the chair, dropping your stuff and claiming your territory. It’s already warm from being in the sun—prime tanning real estate, as you always called it. You sprawl out across the chair and bask in the afternoon sunlight with no intention of getting up anytime soon.

“Straight to the chair as always,” Dick laughs. “There’s drinks in the cooler. I got your favorite.”

“Ugh, you’re speaking my language right now.” 

You slowly strip out of your shorts and t-shirt, letting the sun rays wash over your almost naked figure. You try to ignore the way Wally looks at you, instead focusing on Dick digging through the cooler to grab you a drink.

-

“What’s the point of going to the pool if you don’t go swimming?” Wally teases.

“I’m tanning.” You glance at his pasty figure, “you should try it sometime.”

“Hey, you know I burn easily!”

“Poor, delicate Wally.” You tease.

“That’s it,” he says, and suddenly he’s grabbing you from the chair and tossing you over his shoulder. “You’re going in.”

“No, wait, Wally!”

“Nope, bad girls get thrown in the pool.” 

You hate the way that phrase has heat pooling in your core. You glance to Dick, currently floating on his back in the water, for help.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “He literally told you ahead of time this would happen.”

Some help he is.

You look at Wally pleadingly. “I concede. I apologize. I surrender. Just—please, do not throw me in.”

It must be the way you’re looking at him or the desperation in your voice, but Wally actually puts you down. Relief floods you when your bare feet meet the concrete lining the pool. You’re inches away from him, you can see every bead of sweat, feel the heat radiating off of him, see the burn forming across his neck and shoulders.

“You and your delicate skin,” you say quietly, reaching out to touch the bruise along his ribs. You stop yourself from touching him.

Wally just stares at you. No retort, no threat to throw you in the pool. Just pure unabashed staring. You shrink beneath his gaze, pulling your hand back to your side. 

“You guys gonna kiss again?”

The sound of Dick’s voice has you realizing you’re standing entirely too close to him. You risk a glance only to see him smiling wickedly in your direction. Oh god, you know what that smile means. He’s planning something.

You take a step back only for Wally to catch your hand in his. “Don’t,” he breathes.

You look at Dick once more, though you’re not sure why. Are you waiting for him to rescue you, to tell you what to do? To give you permission? You shy away from the thought.

Dick takes a sip of his drink. “Well?”

He’s looking at you expectantly, like he somehow thinks you’re going to kiss Wally right here in front of him. The very idea has your face going hot—and not from the sun. You try to meet his eyes from here and it’s only then that you find he’s not staring at you at all.

He’s looking directly at Wally.

You snap your head up only to find the redhead blushing, his mouth set in a hard line. Your gaze follows the length of his arm—his skin turning pink in the sun—all the way down to where his hand rests on yours.

You’re entirely too hot, now. 

“Don’t you remember what we talked about?” You look at Dick again as he speaks.

What we talked about? You frown, suddenly feeling vindicated at your hesitancy earlier. Something isn’t right here.

Your voice cracks when you go to speak. “Am I about to be drowned?”

Your attempt to lighten the mood falls on deaf ears. Dick smirks, looking at Wally with raised eyebrows, while Wally’s eyes are entirely focused on you. Oh god.

“We had a deal.” Dick prompts, and that undertone in his voice sounds eerily similar to the one he uses when he’s commanding the Titans. An order—not a request.

“Fuck it,” Wally mumbles under his breath, and suddenly he’s tugging you into him, closing the gap by gripping the back of your neck.

All of the breath leaves your body as you collide with him, the warm skin of his palm beckoning you closer. His other hand wraps around your waist and before you can even think to question him, his lips are slamming against yours.

There’s no hesitancy, no soft shyness. You can’t feel guilt and anger radiating off of him the way you could last time. There’s passion, now. Intent.

You fall into him, letting all of your own confusion and fear melt away. Your hands trail up his spine like they have a mind of their own. They run up against his bare skin, flickering like lightning until they meet at the back of his neck, tangling up in his hair and tugging him closer to you.

Wally gasps, his hand on your waist tightening until his fingers dig in hard enough to bruise. The sting of it all doesn’t phase you, it only drives you to want more.

And then there’s a different hand on your back and you’re brought back to reality. You pull away, lips swollen and eyes wide, dizzy with lust. You look behind you and meet Dick’s eyes and your vertiginous new reality falls over you.

“I—”

Dick’s hand trails down to the small of your back, rubbing circles on your bare skin. “How was it?”

“How was it?” You repeat, your voice barely a mumble. 

You press a hand to your chest. The world is too hot, your heart beating too fast. If it weren’t for their hands on you, you’re sure you would’ve passed out by now.

“Good.” Wally takes the words right out of your mouth. “You were right.”

It’s the way he says it that catches your attention. His words are void of bitterness, just pure breathless curiosity. 

He looks at Dick, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Can I—can I do it again?”

“It’s not me you need to be asking.”

His eyes fall on you and you swear your heart hits terminal velocity. You look at him through your lashes, the whole world bright and dreamlike. 

“Can I?” He swallows, “please?”

It’s the sheer need in his voice that makes you nod, not trusting your voice to be any sort of stable right now. Wally doesn’t waste a second to pull you against him and press his lips against yours. It’s less desperate this time, but just as needy, just as passionate. 

For a second, it almost feels like the world is shaking. Like the ground beneath your feet is vibrating at the exact frequency you are. And then Wally rips himself away from you to take a deep breath and you realize the world wasn’t vibrating—he was.

“Fuck,” he says through a laugh.

“Easy, Wally.” Dick lays a hand on his shoulder, clasping tight until the speedster slows down. “You alright?”

He blinks a few times before offering a weak thumbs up, his hand still shaking. It’s only now that you realize what a number you’ve done on him. His red hair is tangled and messy, his cheeks and ears a shade of vermillion you’ve never seen before. It would be laughable if you didn’t feel equally as frazzled.

“And how are you feeling?” Dick asks.

“I just kissed Wally,” you say slowly. “Twice.”

“And?”

“And you watched.” 

Dick just laughs. “It was definitely a sight, I’ll give you that.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. Dick’s never been considerably possessive but you never pegged him as the kind of man to share. You think back to that first night Wally had kissed you and the initial worry you’d felt while waiting for Dick to pick up the phone.

You never expected it to turn into this.

“Was that really okay?” Wally’s tone is serious in a way you’ve rarely heard before.

“We had a deal,” Dick repeats. 

The statement has your eyebrows raising. You open your mouth in question, ready to ask your boyfriend what the actual fuck is going on, but stop dead in your tracks.

You blink a few times, making sure the sight isn’t just a heat-driven mirage. But no, what you’re seeing is entirely correct. Wally West is kissing your boyfriend, and Dick’s kissing him back.

You watch in surprise, your jaw hitting the floor. Is this how Dick felt when you kissed Wally? Are you supposed to feel this turned on by it? It feels like the world around you is on fire and you’re caught right in the middle of it all.

Dick pulls away entirely unphased and wholly unaware of the state he’s left Wally in. Meanwhile, Wally looks like he’s about to faint. And though you’ve done such a good job holding in your incredulous laughter up to this point, Wally’s messy state finally drives you over the edge.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” You cackle, “what are we even doing?”

“We’re helping Wally.”

Dick states it like it’s the simplest thing in the world and it’s enough to have you doubting your own overcomplicated thoughts. You glance at Wally, hoping for some insight.

“Do you not want this?” He asks.

You’re not even sure what “this” is but something in the way he asks it has you saying you do. It’s Dick and it’s Wally and they’ve always taken care of you, so why wouldn’t you trust them now? 

“Good,” he says and then he’s closing the gap between you, his fingers finding their way to the nape of your neck as if they have a thousand times before. “Because I do too.”

Then Wally’s lips are on yours again and you swear the world falls away from your feet. Your knees shake and your body threatens to tumble forward but then Wally’s holding you, bracing you against the perfectly strewn muscles of his body. 

You gasp into his mouth when you feel Dick press himself against your back, his lips attaching to the side of your neck. One of his hands rests over Wally’s on your hip, the other trailing up your spine to fiddle with the string of your bathing suit top.

It’s almost too much, being between them this way. You’ve never felt so contained, you’ve never felt so free. Wally’s tongue slips into your mouth at the same time Dick unties your top. You barely have time to cover your chest before the useless garment falls limply to the ground.

You pull away gasping, an unbearable heat in the pit of your stomach. “Dick.”

For a moment, both men just stare at you like deer in headlights. You tighten your arms around your chest, awkwardly shifting to cover your bare tits from their prying eyes.

Dick finally hums in acknowledgement. 

“You took my top off.”

“I know.”

You look over your shoulder at Dick, and then to Wally, and you’re not quite sure who’s staring harder. All you know is that Wally’s shorts suddenly look tighter and you’re now a little too curious about what he’s packing beneath them. 

Dick rubs himself against you, the bulge in his shorts catching on your skin. You take a deep breath and brace yourself. 

His mouth brushes against your ear. “Why don’t you move your hands, hm? Let Wally take a look.”

He’s using that damn voice again. The ‘I’m not asking, I’m ordering’  voice that he uses when you’re being a brat. You don’t even think twice before you force your arms away from your skin, letting them fall limply at your sides.

Wally coughs like there’s something stuck in his throat, reaching a hand down to adjust his shorts. His mouth falls open, a hand reaching out and stopping midway as if he’s about to ask permission.

Dick rests a hand under each nipple, cupping your boobs like he’s putting them on display. “Well?”

“Hot,” he breathes. “Fuck—gorgeous, I mean. Pretty.” He cracks a smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Your heart flutters at his praise like you ever thought he’d say otherwise. He reaches out again, more confident this time, and brushes a hand across your nipple. You shiver, backing up into Dick without meaning to.

Your boyfriend holds you still, planting soft kisses on your shoulder to keep you calm while Wally’s hands explore your chest. Goosebumps raise in every place he touches, the heat of the day soothing them down almost as quickly as they form. It’s a tantalizing cycle.

Heat pools in your centre and you’re grateful that you’re wearing something waterproof. You clench your legs together without meaning to, hoping for some friction. Dick knows what you need before you even ask for it, dropping a hand down to rub slow circles on your clothed clit.

Wally dips his head in, flicking his eyes up to silently ask for permission—met with a curt nod—before attaching his lips to your skin. His hot mouth leaves a trail of marks wherever he kisses you, your skin turning shiny with his spit.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Dick asks while he slips his hand into the front of your bathing suit bottoms. 

“G-good.”

Wally laughs against your skin and for the first time in a while, you see sunshine behind his eyes. His happiness almost feels better than the combined pleasure they’re giving you. 

A whine slips from your lips when Dick’s fingers meet your bare pussy. Wally’s quicker than that, though. He presses his mouth against yours and greedily swallows up your moans.

Dick crouches behind you to get better access and pulls your bottoms down to your knees. You stumble slightly but Wally catches you, his mouth moving away from your lips down to your jaw. He kisses lower and lower, sucking dark marks against your neck, your shoulders, your chest.

It’s his way of claiming you, you think. You may not be his girlfriend and he may not be your boyfriend, but it’s his small way of saying Wally was here. 

Dick slips a finger inside of you, pushing it up to the hilt, and another moan is ripping through you. You grip at Wally’s shoulder, trying to keep yourself stable while the two men ravage you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to focus on the moment—on the way Dick’s finger curls inside of you, the way Wally’s teeth graze your nipple, the way you can feel your juices running down your thighs.

He dips another finger inside of you, pumping them deeper. You press your body fully against Wally’s, his cock pressing against your stomach through his shorts. If it wasn’t for him, you’d probably be tumbling to your knees by now.

You run your fingers across his abs as a way to distract yourself from Dick’s fingers inside of you. You dip your hand lower and lower with each pass until you’re just barely grazing the top of his swimshorts. 

Wally gulps and that’s the only reaction you need before you’re sliding your hand into his pants to grab his mostly hard cock. He’s solid in your hand, a little longer than Dick but not any thicker. You give his cock a playful squeeze before collecting the precum from his tip and using it as lube to glide along his shaft.

“F-fuck,” Wally gasps. He glances at Dick kneeled down behind you, “she’s good.”

Dick nuzzles his face between your thighs, drinking up the slick that drips from his fingers. “You haven’t even tasted her yet.”

The way they talk about you like you’re not even there just turns you on more, that pressure in your lower stomach building with every thrust of Dick’s fingers. You tighten your grip around Wally’s cock, trying to match Dick’s pace inside of you.

Wally brushes a finger under your chin, tilting your head up so he can kiss you again. His lips slam against yours and you part yours to welcome him. His tongue dips into your mouth and suddenly his taste is everywhere.

A familiar heatwave hits you and suddenly you’re finishing all over Dick’s fingers, your orgasm washing over you in waves. You squirm, your knees shaking and your pussy fluttering around his fingers. Dick pulls his face out from your achy, needy pussy, watching you with hearts in his eyes as you cum all over his hand.

Wally pulls away from you too, watching the spectacle you’ve become. His hand reaches for yours, stroking his thumb along your knuckles in a way he hopes is soothing. It only takes a few seconds before you come back to yourself, panting and messy and hot.

“God, that’s a sight I’d pay to see.” Wally laughs.

Dick rubs a hand up and down your thigh before rising to his feet. “Good thing you don’t have to.”

He wraps an arm around Wally and tugs him in for a kiss. You watch them through bleary eyes, your ears perking up when Wally moans at the taste of your pussy on Dick’s lips. Then Dick is turning to you, beckoning you in and pressing his lips to yours. You swear you can taste Wally on him, too.

“Let’s get you over to your chair, hm?” Dick mumbles against your lips.

You don’t even think, you just obey. You shuffle over to your chair on shaky legs, laying on your back. “Like this?”

The two men follow you over, Dick settling on the chair next to yours while Wally shuffles over to you. You watch him through half-closed eyes while he shimmies out of his swim trunks, letting his cock spring free. 

He’s rock hard, his tip glistening with precum. You trace his body from his muscly thighs to his throbbing cock to his kinda-but-not-really groomed hair. It’s almost exactly what you were expecting, and so incredibly Wally.

He gives himself a few strokes before kneeling on the chair with you, testing his weight. “Man, I hope this thing doesn’t break.”

You gently hit his arm. “Don’t say that, now I’m gonna be paranoid.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” He tests out the nickname, watching you for a reaction. “I’ll protect you.”

He grabs your legs, hooking them around his waist on either side. You take a deep breath and brace yourself, your eyes finding Dick’s for a glimpse of comfort. 

He smiles at you reassuringly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, sweetheart.”

“I-I want to.”

“Then let us take care of you.”

Wally hums in agreement, rutting his cock through your folds. The head of his dick catches on your clit, eliciting a gasp from your lips that brings a smile to his. You shift lower in your chair, trying to close the gap between his tip and your entrance.

He leans into you, bracing a hand on the chair behind your head. His lips ghost over yours, “you ready for me?”

You mumble a quick yes and then his lips are pressing against yours, his hand guiding his cock inside of you. A moan falls from your lips the minute his length splits you open. You squirm beneath him but Wally’s other hand presses into your hip, holding you against the chair.

He’s surprisingly slow to bottom out, like he’s savouring every inch he pushes into you, every second he gets to be inside of you. He moans shakily once he’s all the way in, the warmth and wetness of your walls almost has him finishing then and there.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and draw him in closer as he starts to thrust. His hips move out painfully slowly before snapping back in, forcing his length into you all at once. The breath leaves your body, his motions leave you gasping for more.

He falls into a steady rhythm, his movements fast and to the point. His head moves away from your lips to nuzzle into the crook of your shoulder, his breathy moans directly in your ears.

You can’t help but dig your nails into his skin, marking him the same way he marked you earlier. Your eyes flutter open, glancing over to Dick only to see him staring straight at you guys and stroking his cock. You clench at the sight, reaching out a shaky hand to beckon him closer.

He shakes his head, holding up a finger as if to say “give me a minute.” You nod weakly in acknowledgement, letting your head lull back and eyes close again. The pressure in your stomach only builds with every thrust, Wally’s hand only adding to it.

“Is he watching?” Wally rasps.

A cross between a moan and a yes is all that you manage, but Wally seems to get the picture. He snaps his hips harder into yours, each thrust punctuated with a sort of showiness that only Wally himself could pull off. You cling to him tighter, holding on for dear life.

And then there’s a tap at your shoulder and Dick’s cock is next to your face. You don’t even think to question it, only opening your mouth to give him access.

He’s gentle to start, slowly pushing his length into your mouth and letting you get used to it. You hollow your cheeks, letting the saliva build up in your mouth as you bob your head up and down his length. Dick’s thumb rubs the area beneath your lips and brushes away any of the drool leaking out.

Wally shifts his grip on you, his hand almost completely resting on your tummy now. The sudden change has you crying out, arching your hips into his which only drives his cock deeper. You whimper onto Dick’s length, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Doing so well,” he says breathlessly. “Taking such good care of us.”

His praise is what keeps you going, clearing your fuzzy head just enough to keep bobbing on his cock. His salty, somewhat chlorinated taste keeps your tastebuds on their toes, each inch you take of him driving you further and further.

Wally’s thrusts start to get slower and sloppier and your pussy aches with your impending orgasm. Wally pushes a little harder—whether on purpose or not, you’re not sure—and then you’re coming undone beneath him. Wave after scorching wave of pleasure rolls over you, your pussy spasming around him.

Wally is hard pressed to pull out but somehow manages to tear himself away from you, cumming in spurts on your pussy and tummy. He watches you writhe beneath him, your mouth still full of Dick’s cock, and thinks he can cum again from the sight alone.

You pop your mouth off of his cock and finally catch your breath, opting to jerk him off instead. You only get a few strokes in before his hand is covering yours.

He looks at Wally. “Mind switching places?”

Even though he phrases it like a question, you all know he really isn’t asking. Wally’s up on shaky legs and taking Dick’s place at your head before you can even process what’s happening. And then Dick is crouching between your legs and sliding his cocks into your slick, overstimulated folds.

It’s hot and you ache, but Dick feels too good inside of you to stop now. He leans closer to you, pressing his lips against yours while he thrusts lazily inside of you. While Wally felt amazing, Dick just feels right.

The speedster stands beside you, mesmerised by the sight of you two. He can’t help but rub at his half-hard cock while he watches—the two of you are just too sexy. 

It doesn’t take long before Dick’s finishing, only pulling out enough to have his cum pooling at your entrance. He dips his sweaty forehead into your chest while he finishes, mumbling curses against your warm skin. 

“Fuck,” is all he says.

“Fuck,” Wally agrees.

Dick takes his sweet time getting off of you but when he does, Wally is waiting next to you with a towel. You smile and thank him, sitting up and wiping his drying cum off your stomach the best you can. 

Dick, dressed back in his swim shorts, grabs fresh water out of the cooler and sits at the end of the chair. “Here,” he passes it to you. “You’re dehydrated.”

You nod in agreement. Two orgasms in the summer sun would leave anyone dehydrated. You gulp down half the bottle in one go, surprised to see Wally waiting for you with your discarded bathing suit.

You frown at the sight of it. The thought of putting on something so restricting right now is enough to overstimulate you.

“You can wear my t-shirt if you’d prefer,” Wally offers when he sees your face. “Might be comfier.”

“I—” Your voice cracks. Yep, definitely dehydrated. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Dick rubs soothing circles on your back. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head. Honestly, what you need more than anything right now is some clarity on what just happened and some time to process.

You wait until Wally is out of earshot, rooting through his messy pile of stuff to find you his t-shirt, before you speak. “What happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?” Dick mimics your quiet tone.

“I want Wally.”

You don’t need to clarify any more—Dick knows exactly what you mean. He laces his fingers with yours just as Wally comes back with an old band t-shirt.

You expect him to hand it to you but instead he gestures for you to put your arms up, helping you tug it over your head. The cotton feels amazing on your feverish skin.

“So, uh,” he says awkwardly. “Should I go?”

You grab his wrist. “Stay, please.”

He offers you a half smile before turning his attention to Dick. The two lock eyes, partaking in one of their silent conversations that you’re not privy to.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

You fight the urge to celebrate, instead springing to your feet and wrapping your arms around him. Wally’s shocked, for just a second, and then he’s pulling you closer to him, holding you the way he did in your living room.

He rests his chin on your head. “Not to ruin the moment or anything but,” he looks at Dick over your head, “do you guys wanna get something to eat? I’m starving.”

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !! thanks for reading & have a great day <3)

@4-ann1e since u wanted to be tagged >⩊<

he's gorgeous.

that's the first thought that came to mind as you and your friend, wooyoung, nudged each other behind the railing. mingi was only a few feet away, smiling at another fan who was getting him to sign their album. and you just couldn’t help but stare.

short bubblegum pink hair, black-out shades perched on his straight nose, plush lips pulled into an easy grin. he looked better than any of the pictures you’d seen online, flushed and too eager to meet people he’d never see again.

but your phone was out of battery, and you had no idea what to do when you got your very own three-second interaction.

it was too late to come up with something, though. wooyoung was already handing him a poster to sign, camera in his face, gushing about how cool he was on stage. the taller man smiled, only glancing at wooyoung and muttering a quick 'thanks for coming'.

now, it was your turn and you had absolutely nothing to offer him. your poster was too deep in your friend's bag to fish out, your albums were at home, and he couldn't take a selfie on your dead phone.

so you gripped onto the metal railing right in front of you and settled for: "hi, mingi, what's your favorite song to perform?"

he was on autopilot, his hand out and awaiting the item you'd surely want autographed. but your question broke him out of his automaticity, "autobahn. you don't have anything for me?"

embarrassment made your heart squeeze as he really stared at you, his eyes tracing curiously over your features. "no, i'm sorry. my phone died, and i don't have an album or anything."

he laughed. the breathy sound was a dizzying contrast to... everything. the heavy eyeliner around his eyes, the thick rings on his hands, his intense gaze. "don't apologize, beautiful. what's your name?"

you introduced yourself and felt your pulse quicken as he started to sign other items and take selfies. but his attention was on you.

"that's really pretty," he hummed, taking yet another glance at you, "is this your first time?"

"no," you answered too quickly, "i came here with my ex-boyfriend last tour. we broke up during the concert, actually."

the fans around you laughed amongst themselves, and you wanted the earth to swallow you whole after such a random response. it didn't help that he was so close you could smell his cologne.

"seriously?" he asked, laughing alongside the crowd behind you. "bet you were out of his league anyway. i did you a favor."

he handed a plushie back to a fan behind you before putting his hand out for you to take. you hesitated, so he insisted, "let me see your hand."

you were quick to comply with his spoken command; he quietly repeated your name to himself, "here. hopefully this was a better experience than last time. thank you for coming."

your eyes widened as he placed one of his rings on the palm of your hand. people gasped in awe, some even shoving others to take a look. but he had already moved onto the next area of fans before you could even thank him back.

after making it out of the hell that was the parking garage, wooyoung insisted that you keep the ‘party’ going. it was the first time you’d found an excuse to wear your new heels out, and it would’ve been a waste not to show them off, in his words. perhaps you were too easily convinced by the man at the steering wheel, because soon enough, he was on your arm, guiding you into a high-end bar.

the inside was barely lit by flashing red lights, sticky floors testing the soles of your pumps as you maneuvered through the crowd. music was blasting, something sultry and vaguely recognizable, interrupted by the dj’s unnecessary adlibs. but the drunk crowd was moving like that was their favorite song, and you couldn’t help but sway to the beat as you walked past the outskirts of the dance floor to the bar.

"dude, he totally wanted you," wooyoung said loudly as he propped you up on a barstool, practically closing you into the bar itself with how close he leaned in, "i even got a video of him talking to you, and he's literally looking at you like the rest of us weren't even there."

"stop," you whined, embarrassed by his wild conclusions, mouth moving right next to his ear. "it's just fan service."

he pulled back just enough to level you with a stare that said come on.

"well, he'd definitely service you— oh, my god. oh… my… god," his words tapered off into giggles as he looked past you.

you turned to the side, thinking there'd be somebody throwing up or naked on the dance floor, only to see mingi nearing the bar.

"no fucking way," you muttered, turning back towards your friend when you accidentally made eye contact. you shared a few moments of unintelligible rambling before he approached the two of you, entourage forgotten somewhere behind him.

“small world,” he said over the music, sparing wooyoung a warm smile before zeroing in on you, “you should join my section.”

that could not be real. he could not possibly be real. he had changed out of his performance outfit, and he somehow looked even hotter. various bulky silver chains were replaced by a simple thin one, tailored pants replaced by worn black denim. the adrenaline-boosted smile he wore not even an hour ago was something simpler. realer. just as heart-wrenching, if not more.

the insistent poking at your ribs reminded you that you needed to respond. you glanced over at wooyoung, who nodded enthusiastically. but you couldn’t just leave him behind. not after he’d bought the tickets. he'd driven you there. paid for parking and the skirt you were wearing. you’d kiss him, if he weren't… well, wooyoung.

“only if there’s enough room for both of us,” you pulled your friend closer by his arm, mustering up your most convincing smile.

mingi hummed at the request, not even thinking it over before nodding, “there’s plenty. tell the guard by the elevator you’re with joong, he’ll let you in. meet me on the top floor.”

an elevator ride later, you strutted onto the nightclub’s rooftop. it was louder than you expected, sparkly faces scattered throughout the area, bodies swaying to the music spilling from the speakers near the dj booth. a handsome man spun the discs, one hand pressing a headphone to his ear as a few pretty girls climbed onto the table next to him. 

“look where you got us,” wooyoung exclaimed right next to your ear, arm linked with yours, “want a drink?”

“i’m trying to stay sober tonight,” you replied, loosening your hold on him as he glanced behind you. 

you felt it too. the intense stare digging into your back, the approach to come.

“i’d say you’re no fun, but i think this’ll be a night to remember. good luck,” he responded, gifting you a wink before threading through the crowd.

only a few seconds passed before a hand ghosted the small of your back. you jolted, head whipping to the side to meet mingi’s gaze. the view was surreal, colored neon lights accentuating his playful expression and the curious glint he couldn’t quite hide.

he said nothing, removing his right hand from your back to put it out for the second time that night. he expected you to take it. you did, relishing in the triumphant smile that pulled at his lips as he guided you through the sea of people, nodding in response to greetings and congratulations thrown his way.

he opened the door to a private room, gesturing at the guard before nodding his head toward the open space, “i want you to myself for a little. is that okay?”

it didn’t take another word before you were stepping inside, settling onto the couch as he dimmed the lights.

"so," he began after sitting beside you, stretching his long legs under the center table. the material of his pants brushed against your bare skin, but he didn’t move as he spoke, "fate?"

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling all kinds of emotions running through your veins as he held your gaze under the dim blue lighting. the music from outside poured in softly, the shadow of his idling guard visible through the privacy glass of the door.

"maybe," you replied, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

his strong hands took the jug of water from the center table and served two cups of it. he lifted one of the glasses to his lips, took a sip, and cleared his throat. "tell me about your ex. i've never heard of someone being broken up with during my shows."

you relaxed slightly, repeating to yourself that he was just another person. just another man. "right, well... we weren't together long. but he wouldn't let me go to your show with a friend because he said that'd be cheating. you were his favorite artist, so he invited himself. he decided that cheering for you was also cheating. long story short, he broke up with me, and he left before the show was over."

he exhaled amusedly in response, sensing your nerves and feeding off of your attention. his eyes focused on his ring around your middle finger. a disapproving scoff filled the air, "he didn't even let me finish? what an asshole. sorry he ruined that for you."

you shook your head, taking a sip of water as he processed the story.

"so you came to this show with a secure guy at home?" he asked tentatively, watching you carefully as you set your cup down. “or is that guy with you your boyfriend?”

"no, i’m single," you corrected, "i'd rather scream for you comfortably."

your odd choice of words was out before you could take them back, and they made him snort, "that's what i like to hear."

in a blur, you end up completely bare, face pressing against a pillow at a luxurious hotel a few minutes from the bar. there’s lip gloss smudged across your chin, surely staining the cotton beneath you, but you can't even pretend to care as mingi traces the arch of your back with a firm thumb.

"look at that," he groans to himself, biting down on his kiss-swollen lips, "baby, you're soaked."

the line he traces down your back encourages you to arch deeper, more desperate for a rewarding touch. "mingi," you complain, the cold breeze from the air conditioning making your craving for his warmth even stronger.

he shushes you, leaning over to press a kiss on your shoulder, "i know. i feel you pushing back on me.”

"then do something,” you plead, bending even further as his woody scent hits your nose. he’s so close you could count his eyelashes, and the thought makes you clench.

he barely suppresses a moan at your desperation, one arm wrapping around your front to support your weight, "spread your legs a little more f'me."

you do as you're told, mind clouded with need, and he placates you by sliding himself between your folds. you tense when his tip brushes on your clit, and he makes it his mission to do the same thing a few more times, until you're moaning in his hold.

slick sounds of the motion fill the room and he shudders, watching the side of your face and taking pleasure from seeing the way your brows furrow as your eyes fall shut.

but he stops abruptly when you choke on a whine, hands steadying on your waist and voice right next to your ear, "gotta see you. i'm gonna turn you over."

he adjusts a pillow under you before flipping you onto your back. there’s not enough time to respond as he leans down for a heated kiss. his plush lips are slightly chapped, moving against yours as if he’s been waiting decades for the chance to kiss you again. the movements are more sure than the ones in the club room, like he’s fully decided that this is right. that the best choice had really been offering you the privacy of a hotel room.

it’s a confident exchange, messy but precise, the goal clear for the night. you inhale sharply when he swipes a thumb over your hardened nipple, he groans when you nip at his bottom lip in response.

“want me to finger you or somethin’?” he asks in a rush against your open mouth when you start pushing your hips closer to his, “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

against your better judgment, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, “just fuck me.”

his eyes widen in a mix of amusement and desire, “okay, but let me know if—“

“—i can take it, mingi, please,” you insist, heels digging into his back to push him closer.

the movement encourages the length of him to lie right over your stomach, stopping just below your belly button. the view punches a shaky breath out of his lungs, and his demeanor shifts, “of course you can.” he makes a show of licking his ring and middle fingers and slipping his hand between your legs, circling your clit with ease, “bet i could slip right in, hm? so fucking needy, i love it.”

he’s immediately proven right when you use your own hand to guide him into you. he shudders in surprise, a cute smile gracing his face. he doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want, slowly pressing into you.

each torturous inch forces your body to intake a heavy breath. he’s bigger than anyone you had taken before, the stretch making your body twitch in small movements away from him. but he’s not allowing you to escape, one hand holding your hip down while another spreads you open for him.

his eyes follow the tilt of your head, and he takes advantage of the view by pressing open-mouthed kisses right under your jaw. his nose presses against your neck, and he moans in harmony with you as he bottoms out, “fuck, you’re so sexy. you okay?”

“mingi, move,” you take a steadying deep breath, the fullness satisfying but not nearly enough. he laughs softly at your words, nipping at your neck before straightening up.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he replies, digging his knees into the mattress and pinning your wrists above you.

your mind can barely register the way he invades your senses. you can see he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, his jaw slack as he pistons into you.

you can feel the hand on your wrists tightening periodically, his other hand busy playing with your clit.

you can hear him moaning your name in that voice you had listened to thousands of times over in your favorite songs.

the voice you’d many times played at night when you just couldn’t sleep and your body needed release. he’d led you there, in your fantasies, and you’d apologized to him in your mind afterwards. and now he’s panting above you, dick twitching inside you when your palm pushes down where you can feel him.

he’s fucking into you desperately, exploring you with his gaze as if he’s trying to mentally map out all the places he’s going to claim for himself. he’s not holding back how aroused he is, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth as he whines a breathy, “c’mon, fuck me back, baby.”

“so good, min, ‘m close,” you tremble with effort as you move your hips to meet his thrusts, moaning when his clouded eyes snap up to your face.

the hotel bed creaks with your effort and he nods enthusiastically, a wild smile gracing his face. his thumb on your clit is still drawing jumbled patterns as he gears all his focus into making you reach your high, “i know— shit, i know, you’re clenching like crazy. wish you could see how pretty you look right now. yeah, taking me like you own me.”

he’s rambling, completely dazed as he studies your features with lust in its purest form, “bet you’ve thought about this before. your ex was right, getting jealous over me.” he pauses, releasing your hands and adjusting the pillow under you to angle himself even deeper, “imagine what he’d think, seeing us like this.”

the muscles of your thigh stretch deliciously as he uses his free hand to fold one of your legs closer to your chest. your jaw drops in a low moan, hands instinctively clawing at his shoulders and he exhales sharply, head dipping forward, “did you fuck him like this?” his voice turns into a whimper when you shake your head, “he didn’t deserve it. you sound so pretty, fuck, i could put you on a track and listen for hours.”

his voice vibrating right over your face is enough to push you over the edge. he doesn’t let up on your clit, rubbing it messily until you push his ringed hand away. 

“i know, baby, i‘m sorry. just a lil’ more, yeah?” he insists, groaning when you grab him roughly by the base of his neck and pull him down for a sloppy kiss. the tight squeeze and the lick of your tongue against his lips send a jolt of heat down his spine, and he follows right behind you, breaking away from the kiss just in time to pull out and release over your lower abdomen and inner thighs.

an unintelligible curse word drops from mingi's lips as he controls his breathing, watching his cum drip all over your skin.

you take a few moments to gather yourself, head tilted back to stop yourself from finishing again just from the sight in front of you: your idol panting like a dog, the flustered red skin of his pelvis slick with your arousal.

he was yours, for that moment in time. the bruises on your neck were a better keepsake than a signature on his latest album.

cotton sheets rustle underneath you, coaxing your eyes open as he moves back to lie down onto his stomach. his eyes are trained onto your face as you push yourself up by your elbows, his ringed fingers gently pushing your knees apart, “feeling good?”

“yes. thank you,” you instinctively reach down to rake your hands through his short hair. your new ring glistens in the warm light emitted by the hotel lamp.

he grins innocently at your touch as if he’s not hardening against the sheets. his hand massages the untainted flesh of your leg, hot tongue brushing against your inner thigh as he cleans up the mix of your arousals with a moan, “don’t thank me yet. you can give me one more, right?” 

[the texts you wake up to, 9:43 AM]

| unknown number: sorry about leaving you, i had a flight to catch | unknown number: but the room’s booked for another day and your ride home is paid for | unknown number: i’ll lyk when i’m in town again :) free tickets and maybe a backstage pass if you’re down?

everyone seems restless without him bossing them around. the course of the ship was set, and the crew had enough supplies to get to the next dock. it was now just a waiting game, if luck was on your side. the marines were always a worry in the back of your mind. after all, your bounties had nearly quadrupled from the last posters to the current ones.

it only takes half an hour to get through the area of unforgiving waves to calm waters. the sky is still gloomy but no seawater makes it onto the deck, no man is knocked over by the force of the wind.

you’re idling on the deck, leaning over the railing to look down at the water. it isn’t the clear kind you can see through to greet the sealife. but it’s stunning, nonetheless, in all its mystery.

“hey,” you hear from beside you, a heavy arm draping onto your shoulders. “you’re antsy. you keep pulling at your shirt.”

mingi’s eyes greet you as your turn, but you make no move to shy away from his touch. if anything, you lean into it. “there’s nothing else to do.”

a hum rumbles in his chest, you feel it on the side of your head, “yeah. it’s quiet up here. i feel like everyone’s nervous. i don’t think most of the crew has ever gone through one of captain’s moods.”

you glance at the crew behind you. new, friendly faces. some of them you still mixed up with each other. “it’s been a while since he locked himself up like that. seonghwa won’t say what it’s about.”

mingi shrugs, “same old. a new map he got his hands on. some intel that might change our course. maybe—”

“—mingi, have some respect,” a command sounds from a few feet away, the usual sweetness of seonghwa’s voice sharpened around the edges.

the man straightens up immediately, pulling his arm back to his side before taking a slow step back and away from you. the heavy thuds of his boots on the floor drown out the small inhale he takes.

you take a step back as well, turning around fully to see everyone standing up with their shoulders squared, breaths bated.

hongjoong is already looking at you.

the crew doesn’t know where to set their eyes. some glance between their captain and you. others look straight down, unwilling to be caught staring by either.

your spine prickles with heat as the stare stretches on for a long moment, and you feel your breath shallowing in anticipation.

hongjoong’s eyes move from yours to scan over mingi as he speaks, “a word, please.”

mingi takes a careful step forward, but hongjoong’s eyes narrow, making the former stop dead in his tracks.

“not you. i’m talking to my gunner.”

the steel at your hip feels weirdly heavy as he speaks. he never referred to you by your role like that. you step forward regardless, almost expecting him to change his mind. but he doesn’t, allowing you to walk past him before following you down.

as soon as the door to his room closes behind him, he’s speaking.

“what the fuck was that?”

you turn on your heel to face him, voice hushed to encourage him to lower his tone, “what was what?”

an amused scoff pushes through his lips, “i went up to announce— fuck, it doesn’t even matter. i stay in for a few days and you start letting the crew touch you like that?”

“it was a side hug—”

“don’t—” he takes a step forward, searching your features, “your head was resting against his shoulder.”

“i didn’t realize it would bother you so much,” you shrug, looking off to the side.

he looks at you like you’ve just revealed yourself as a marine. “would you have let him, had i been there?”

“no.”

“then you knew it would bother me.”

you open your mouth to counter, but you’re left with nothing to say. hongjoong takes that as an opportunity to crowd you against a wall, pressing his lips to yours without any room for hesitation.

the kiss is deep and desperate, days worth of passion poured into it as he unbuttons your shirt with little precision. he pulls back, opting to nip at your jaw and neck as his fingers work to get your clothes off you in record time.

he steps back, takes his own shirt off and throws it next to yours on the floor. he grabs a quilt from his cot and throws it on the floor behind himself before pulling you down with him.

he leaves a searing kiss on your lips before impatiently turning you onto your back, tossing your belt and steel weapon to the side, and tugging your pants off of you, “how long have you been waiting?”

“what do you mean?”

his eyes flicker up to yours, and you almost shy away from the intensity, “your panties are soaked. i can fucking smell you.”

your nails dig into your palms, trying to push yourself to answer, “days. but i didn’t wanna bother you.”

“you could’ve asked me, instead of batting your eyelashes at mingi. you think he knows what to do with you?”

you avoid the second question, wincing as he pushes your legs apart almost painfully, “you said you wanted to be left alone.”

“when do any of my rules apply to you?” he asks, breath fanning across the inside of your thighs. he sits up on his knees, looking down at you, “did you think i’d say no? call you a whore?”

the air in your lungs feels thick as you watch him attentively, nearly forgetting he was expecting an answer before shaking your head.

“words,” he says firmly, three fingers coming down with a smack, right against your clit.

“no,” you gasp out, brows pinching at the feeling, “no, but i deserve it.”

a small smile pulls at his lips as he watches the wet patch on your panties darken, “you don’t get to decide that. i do.”

he bends at the waist, tongue sticking out to lick a firm stripe over your underwear. his bottom row of teeth grazes your clit ever so slightly and you moan unashamedly at the feeling.

“that’s it,” his fingers hook around the middle of your underwear before pulling it to the side, “you gonna let me in?”

you nearly answer him with an enthusiastic nod, but the stinging feeling between your legs reminds you of his expectations. “yes.”

hongjoong spit-covered lips spread over his straight teeth, a satisfied hum settling in the air before he’s freeing himself, pants tugged halfway down his thighs. “there’s my girl.”

you lie back, head settled over the quilt as you wait, mouth watering at the sight before you. he doesn’t leave you hanging for long, his length dragging against you slowly before he guides himself into you.

you cover your mouth to no avail, the sudden sensation of him fully sheathed too much to bear. the floor creaks under your bodies as he begins thrusting into you, the soft fabric haphazardly thrown beneath you wrinkling with all the movement. but hongjoong is laser focused, pressing one of your legs back against your chest and raising the other over his shoulder.

he rewards you with a kiss against your calf when you hold your own legs near your chest, one of his free hands now messily rubbing against your clit while the other holds your jaw to keep your eyes on him.

"slow down—" you protest half-heartedly, but the man between your legs doesn't abide by your request, a droplet of sweat dripping down his sharp jaw and landing on your stomach.

his eyes follow its trail down your navel hungrily, his calloused hand releases your jaw to press on your lower abdomen, "feel me right here, baby? hm? talk to me, fuck, wanna hear you.”

"yeah," you repeat desperately, legs threatening to kick with the new sensation, "cap'n, i'm gonna cum too quick.”

the name makes his head fuzzy and he moans, putting all his focus into slowing down his thrusts, "uh-uh, not yet."

he rips his hand away from your clit and watches with a lopsided grin as your eyes snap open and land on him. you gulp down a complaint, knowing better than to talk back now, "but, i just... wanted your attention."

he leans down, silky hair grazing your skin with the new angle. he nudges his nose against your jawline, nipping softly at the skin there, "i know. this is a reminder."

you arch into him, your chest bumping against his. "joong, i didn't mean to..." you're cut off by a moan when he snakes a hand down to continue playing with your clit, his thick rings grazing your skin deliciously, "i didn't mean to, i promise."

"no?" he asks, unconvinced by your words, "didn't mean to? that's funny."

his streak of jealousy bleeds through his questioning and you give into it, "cause you were ignoring me."

you feel the sting of another slap against your cunt and your body shudders at the conflicting pain, eyes rolling back at the warm feeling.

"so your solution is to brush up against another crew member?" he quips almost amusedly, enjoying the build up of your noises before pulling his hand away from your arousal and tapping his fingers on your bottom lip.

you open up automatically, answering with a muffled groan around his digits. he looks at you, lovestruck but unwilling to relent, "should've used your words and told me you were feeling neglected. i would've made time for you, baby. i always do.”

you wrap your tongue around his middle and ring fingers, sucking them into your mouth as if your life depended on it.

when he finally catches the tears welling up in your eyes, he feels himself twitch, a barely audible moan tumbling from his glistening lips, "fuck, are you gonna cry?"

the humiliation makes even more tears prick at your eyes, and he removes his hand from your mouth to wrap around your throat and pull you in for a sloppy kiss. the exchange is all spit and teeth, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he doesn't know how to do anything but that. you move your hips against his and he allows you to, biting down softly on your bottom lip as a warning.

he's dazed when you pull apart, his eyebrows knitting together as he watches hot tears spill down your cheeks. he's licks them up faster than you can even register what he's doing, the saltiness of the fluid making his eyes screw shut. "are you sorry?" he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you think you hear a whine mixing into his tone.

"it won't happen again," you assure him, your arms wrapping around his neck and heels pushing against his backside to push him into you, "j— captain, please. they’ve probably all heard us by now, they know who i belong to, please."

hot sparks of desire thrum in his chest as call yourself his, and he presses softly against the sides of your neck, "yeah? is that what you wanted? other people to hear this?"

in your fogged mind, you barely capture his words, nodding enthusiastically to anything he says, "please, i just want you."

he pulls you even closer, roughly tugging your legs to press himself into you at a new angle. he hears the commotion on the deck above and can't bring himself to care in the slightest when you breathlessly moan his name.

"i want you too. love having you like this," he rambles as he builds up his thrusts again, "so fuckin' wet for me. you're dripping all over yourself.”

you throw your head back as his pelvis brushes against your clit with every pointed thrust. he continues, "where do you want me, baby?"

"inside," you plead, fighting against the urge to close your legs at the overpowering force of your impending climax, "i need it."

a strained whine rips spills from his throat in response, not questioning your answer as he begins to draw tight circles around your pulsing clit.

your grip on his forearms tightens as stars rise in your vision, finishing with a silent plea of his name. watching you tips him over the edge, his gaze focusing on your face as he follows your instruction to finish inside you.

you both reach your highs with heaving chests and restless hips, meeting each other's desperate thrusts halfway. when you start complaining, he pulls out, dropping his forehead on your stomach to regain his strength.

a few moments pass before you hear a hesitant knock on the door and a deep voice, "uh, sir, seonghwa says you’re needed in the comms room."

you immediately recognize the voice as mingi’s, and your dazed smile drops. hongjoong looks up at you with an amused grin at the coincidence, his voice hushed against your skin, "you gonna answer or not?"

you gulp down your embarrassment, trying to ignore the open-mouthed kisses your captain is leaving just under your belly button, "he'll be right out, mingi, thank... you."

"no rush. yeah, we can, uh, we can wait. yeah,” you hear from the other side of the door, the baritone of your friend's voice wavering slightly.

you feel a slight nibble just over the bone of your hip, a satisfied smile on hongjoong's face as he straightens up. he watches you clench around nothing, his eyes following the mix of your arousal traveling down your bottom, “you heard him. let’s keep him waiting just a little longer.”

The bar has been refurbished since the last time you came here.

The overall layout is still generally the same; during your search for your friends, you’ve looked in the ladies’ room - still to the left of the bar, cramped, only two stalls, line way too long, though it isn’t the hospital powder pink it once was - and in the smoking area, thus far. The latter looks pretty much the same, although you admit they can’t really change that much; beneath your denim jacket, you’re still only wearing a minidress and boots and it’s fucking cold. 

Escaping back inside seems the best idea. Realistically, if they’re not there or in the restroom or here, in the main room with the bar, you may as well just get over it. There’s no signal in this place for you to text them either - there never has been - and you don’t want to leave this early. You can still have a good night. You undoubtedly know some of the people here anyway - hell, maybe you’ll find a man. 

It’s the overall vibe that’s changed more than anything else; you think they must be going for some sort of seventies concept now, while before it was largely unthemed. It seems to bring more customers like this - the place is packed full on a tacky illuminated dancefloor, no one dressed the part, though beneath the flashing lights and disco ball you can't really tell. It’s flashy, somewhat exciting; it’s why you decided to wear your vintage denim jacket, even if no one else was going to play along.

The drink you’ve been nursing is still over half full, so you bypass the bar and go straight to the dancefloor. The music doesn’t match the vibe either, but you’re not bothered, swaying in your spot to the random dance song they have playing and taking a generous gulp of the liquid to ease yourself in.

Okay, it definitely feels like a better time now. Perhaps the rebrand has had some effect. You move your hips, jacket falling down your bare shoulders before catching on the strap of your bag. 

Lost in your own world, you almost miss it as you turn around to look amongst the crowd; but no, clear as day, tall and attractive enough to make your heart stop - two men, one in baggy clothes and an obnoxious fur coat and one in tighter, flared jeans, long sleeve tight across a toned, broad chest, sipping on their drinks, staring at you like a pint of water in the middle of a desert. 

You see them after they see you. You’re not sure how long they’ve been looking at you, these two men, but god they’re fixated and it makes you stop too. They can’t look away, both of their gazes trailing down your body as you move and sway with your drink in your hand, and your breath catches in your throat - not that you’re complaining, though. They’re handsome, though you assume they came together and will be leaving together too, judging by the way they’re glued to each other’s sides. 

The taller one seems to have more of a grip on the situation than the other man, but they’re both intimidating, domineering. He whispers something in the other man’s ear, long fingers brushing at his neck. Their eyes still don't leave you though, and the shorter’s plump lips break into a grin, leering, too satisfied for someone who hasn’t even spoken to you - let alone touched you. He must’ve said something he likes. 

You can’t help yourself. You smile back, and he flicks a few dark blue strands out of his forehead, taking a sip of the liquid he’s got in his glass before he slams it down on the table decisively. He says something else to the other man, something you can’t even try to lip read because he turns his back to you. He gives him a cheeky smile, almost like he’s doing something wrong, and begins to push through the crowd on the dancefloor. You stand dead still.

You wonder about the situation between them. Clearly, they’re more than friends, and it seems like the taller is the one in control, but - what’s this? The shorter man is approaching you, his too-large brown fur coat seeming ridiculous in the heat of the bar, but you see as he gets closer that he’s got nothing but a waistcoat and baggy trousers underneath. He shoots a few amused looks back at the other man, who looks less than pleased at his misbehaving, but it doesn’t sway him - once he’s at you, he pulls you into him so your back is pressed against his front and whispers in your ear just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Wanna dance?”

Do you? Fuck yeah, you do - and with his partner too, if he’s up for grabs. For now though, you suppose one will have to do, because as you smile flirtatiously in response and the DJ changes the music to something else - something sultry, heavy, with a solid beat - the man starts to grind his hips so sensually you forget everything else. He’s good at this, angling you with a firm palm on the plush of your tummy, fingers wrapping in the fabric of your minidress so that your hips grind back against him. 

The fur of his coat is expensive, you can tell just by feeling it when your hands go back to grip on his arms, and his teeth bite into his bottom lip when you grab at him.He lets you balance yourself with your hold, his own hand moving up to your chest, both of you moving in a sinuous movement that has you realising how good he’d be in bed if he dances like this. 

Just before you forget, ring-clad knuckles come to the bottom of your chin and angle your head towards where you were previously looking. He’s still there, the other man, and this time he looks positively engrossed, arms folding over his chest - his eyes don’t leave the two of you, a smirk playing at his lips like he can’t quite believe it. It’s as if you’re performing for him, the two of you, nowhere near in control of the situation; you wonder what it is, this situation, and if it’ll end in you getting fucked by both of them.

The man next to you chuckles before fully humping into the curve of your ass, unashamed; the line of his cock presses against you, half hard, fat and steadily growing like you’re doing a lot more than just grinding on each other in a packed bar. You gasp, muffled by the music but he seems to have heard it despite the noise - he nudges his nose into your neck, impatient.

“We came together, me and him,” he says, tone casual though he has to shout a little to be heard. The words say everything despite being so few, but you don’t falter, hoping that you’re moving against him in a way that’s still inconspicuous enough to be passed off as a dance. “That okay?”

You shrug as casually as you can, skin starting to feel a little heated. This is the jackpot, you think. “I don’t mind taking two.”

“I bet you fuckin’ don’t.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t mind putting on a show either, do you? I’m Mingi, by the way.”

“Mm, hi Mingi,” you giggle, and Mingi shakes his head, disbelieving, a smile pulling at his lips. You can’t believe it either, quite frankly, how well the night’s turned out, and your head lolls back against his broad shoulder as you move, fur coat soft under your head, a grounding presence. The other man is still looking, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes, holding eye contact with him as you manage your next question, “what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

A hum, and then plump lips press a gentle kiss to your jaw. A shiver wracks through you, straight down your spine, and he does it again a few times just to watch the effect it has on you. “Yunho,” he breathes, “his name is Yunho. Shake this ass on me, let him see it.”

“He likes to watch, huh?” You say, as if you have any problem with it whatsoever. The song changes, a dance track with an even dirtier beat now and you do as he says - you’re shaking your hips to the rhythm before you can feel embarrassed about it, everyone around you too occupied with their own dancing or flirting. 

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he hums, hand moving from your front to your hips, fingers ghosting over the curve of your asscheeks where your hips get plusher and move into your thighs. Hands dig into flesh, and he groans, rutting against you once, twice, enough to have you squirming, starting to worry someone might notice. “Fuck, look at that. Shit, should we just take you back now? I wanna tear this ass apart.”

You can’t help it - you laugh again, hand coming to Mingi’s jaw to pull him forwards, his cheek pressed against yours. Yunho rolls his neck, tongue poking over his bottom lip before he’s placing his drink down and you think he’s made the decision for all three of you. 

 “And him?” You murmur.

Mingi’s nose brushes against your cheek. “He’ll tear you apart too. Might even be nastier than me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” His hips hit you just right, slow, to the beat, and you breathe heavily when he spins you around to face him like he’s going to kiss you. He’s pretty up close, sharp nose and dark blue hair and plump lips that form a predatory smile. “Fuck, Mingi, take me home.”

“Eager girl.” His head drops down, kissing you chastely square on the lips once, then twice. His lips are buttery soft and you chase them when he pulls away. He doesn’t care that you’re in public, so neither do you - you press yourself against him harder, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “We need to talk to Yunho.”

“No need.” Another voice, and another set of big, big hands that wrap around your waist and pull you back into him. You’re trapped between them now, because despite being unfamiliar with them you know who’s just gripped you and gotten involved. “She’s right, we should take her home. You’re an aching little thing, hm?”

Fingers dip up under the hem of your minidress where it hangs around your thighs, nails scratching against your skin, teasing. You’re not sure who it is this time, but the touch is so close to your panties that you whimper, the sound so broken that Yunho’s head dips into the other crook of your neck with a deep sigh, mirroring where Mingi continues to bite at you the other side. “P-please, I can’t take this anymore, I want you both, can we-”

“Fine,” Yunho breathes, exasperated, and a firm, guiding grip comes to rest on the back of your neck. “Let’s get you home, tiny.”

“On your knees.” A firm hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you down before you can decide to obey; you drop to your knees in your pretty dress, your legs bare, their carpet scratching against your skin. Like this, they’re looming over you in a different way than before, and all you can see is long, long legs in baggy jeans and firm torsos heaving - they’re waiting, perceiving you, seeing if you’ll do anything else. Yunho’s the first to speak again, grin wide when he turns to his partner, “that’s it. She’s pretty like this, isn’t she? Quiet, so needy she’ll do anything, waiting for us to just say.”

“She’s beautiful,” Mingi says, fingers pulling your hair backwards to force you to look up at them properly. “Slutty, too.”

You whimper, squirming in his grip, though not enough to be told off for it. You wonder if they’re hard already, fat lengths trapped in the confines of their pants, but you don’t have long to think about it - Yunho’s long fingers start working at his belt, and before long the leather is pulled out from the prongs and his button is being pushed open. 

It exposes his black boxers, and you realise you’re not even looking at him anymore. Fixated on his crotch, you wait, mouth open and spit pooling at your bottom lip like a drooling dog. They both sound amused, but they don’t make you wait, Yunho pushing down his boxers and revealing his tan shaft. 

Thick, long and veiny, it springs against his stomach. It curves upwards, tip a darker shade and swollen, but not leaking just yet. The moan leaves your throat before you can help it. If Yunho’s is like this, you can’t imagine the other man - but fingers tighten in your hair and redirect you back before you can even turn to try and get a lot. 

“Mm, no,” Yunho murmurs, and you look back up at him. He looks pleased by how enthralled you are, a smile pulling at his lips, and his hand comes down to slap his shaft against your cheek once, twice. You shiver. “You can show her yours too, Mingi, really get the slut going. She wants two at once, after all, don’t you?”

“I do, I want both.” You nod dumbly, pathetically; Mingi’s resulting groan is delighted, low in his throat. His tongue licks at his teeth as he works at his own belt, and his baggy jeans drop with a rustling noise at his ankles, unashamed. Yunho has tucked his boxers underneath his balls but Mingi’s less reserved, shunning his boxers as quick as he can as Yunho starts slowly stroking half of his shaft inches away from your face.

Fuck.

Mingi’s big too, a little shorter but thicker again and his tip is leaking like a fucking faucet. If he’d left his boxers on a little longer you’d have seen the drops beading upon the fabric but he’s too impatient for that, already stroking his cock quicker than Yunho, moving hip to hip with the other man. 

“You want both?” He smacks his cock against your other cheek, laughing delightedly when you moan, nodding eagerly. “Open your mouth then, there’s a good whore.”

You blink, in a daze. “I- I can’t fit both-”

“Obviously,” Yunho scoffs. “Use your hand for the other. Are you stupid?”

Oh. Something must show on your face, a wordless reaction to his words because Yunho’s grin turns predatory then, and when he grips your hair now it’s harsher, firmer than his boyfriend had done. You scramble to say something to quell this harshness, stammering, “N-not stupid, I’ve just never…”

Yunho bursts out laughing. Your gut clenches and your pussy burns in your panties, so slick and needy that you try to rut down the floor, to no avail. “Never had two cocks at once? We all know that’s a fucking lie, baby. I think you need to stop talking.”

He’s forcing you down on his cock before you can retort.

You still try to splutter something out despite your lips being wrapped taut, barely fitting just half his length into your mouth though he tries to fuck past the resistance of your throat anyway. Your words die in your throat, replaced by a strangled whine; Mingi grabs your hand himself, impatient and wraps your fingers around his cock - putting you to use.

He’s wet from his precum already, soaked and sticky and veiny and it makes a slick noise when you start to move your fingers. It’s hard to concentrate on both but thankfully you don’t have to do much thinking; Yunho fucks himself into your mouth for you, skin salty with his own precum. Unable to do anything more than just be a ragdoll for them, you allow yourself to slump a little, mouth wrapped tight around one and hand around the other, hips just barely squirming where you’re sat. A noise leaves your throat when Yunho fucks into the resistance a few times, a deep groan leaving his own mouth.

“Tight fucking throat, hm? How tight is that cunt gonna be?”

Mingi groans, and his fingertips press at your cheeks, feeling the thickness of Yunho’s cock through your skin. He manages to move you over to him, and his shaft burns when it stretches your lips apart, thicker, wetter - you start to drool with tears biting at your eyes and he chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you.

“You like it mean, huh?” He doesn’t expect a response, voice gravelly as he starts to fuck your mouth. He’s sloppier than Yunho, a little more careless, and the strangled noise you make is embarrassing when he forces his cock all the way down. It hurts your throat but he presses your nose into the tuft of his pubes like he doesn’t really care, grinding his hips against your jaw, fingers pressing at your throat where he now bulges it instead.

When you manage to look up through a glassy gaze, you see them both together. Mingi captures Yunho’s lips with his own, one hand leaving you to cup the other man’s jaw, their tongues intertwining messily between spit-slick lips. They both groan, deep and from their chests like they’ve been waiting for this all night - your whine is louder though, nails scratching at their thighs because you’ve wanted to see it since you saw them together on the dancefloor. It forces saliva to bubble down your occupied lips, dripping over your chin and down to your throat, over Mingi’s rings.

If they’re amused by your reaction, they don’t separate for long enough to show it. Yunho tugs you to him again without even glancing your way, long fingers in your hair, and this time you’re able to get a momentum. Your mouth sinks down on him before he has time to force you there, your other hand coming to grasp Mingi’s slippery length, the saliva giving more than enough lubricant when you start to pump. 

Like this - not being yanked around - you’re able to focus, and you can’t help the noises that spill from your chest; your pussy is wet, drooling and dumb already, and they continue to make out above your head like it’s nothing that should affect you. Your gut burns, wrenching with need and want and something embarrassing because all you’ve done is suck their cocks and you’re this desperate, but it doesn’t stop you trying to get their attention.

Tongue digging into the underside of Yunho’s tip, you pool spit into your mouth and it bubbles over your lips messily, letting you sink back down on him with a wetter, tighter suction. He’s still too big to take too much comfortably but you force your mouth down, jaw be damned, hand occupied with another cock that you think you’re doing a decent rhythm with, and on the upwards stroke you press your tongue into his piss slit and suck hard.

It works. You hear the sharp inhale of breath, and he pulls away sharply from Mingi, lips parting in a louder noise just as the blue haired man moves to messily press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He doesn’t stop him, one hand going to his head to hold him there.

“Dirty girl, knew you had it in you,” he murmurs, before his jaw goes slack in a groan, head rolling back where Mingi kisses him. Your hand has paused on the other man but if he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it, shaft bobbing uselessly as he bites at the curvature of Yunho’s neck with his eyes on you, where you’re kneeling below them. “Bet she’s all gooey down there from sucking cock, too. Little hole clenching around nothing, slicking up her thighs, clit all swollen and hard.”

Mingi grunts, a primal noise. “Can’t wait to look. Taste it, too. I know it’s fuckin’ pretty, all soaked and tight and- ah, fuck this, I gotta-”

Two hands underneath your armpits, and you’re thrown chest first onto the comfortable bed by a very strong grip. You have enough space left in your brain for the moment to present yourself, pushing up onto your knees and letting your front lay flat to curve your spine - Mingi groans in appreciation, wasting no time before he’s pulling your dress up to your waist and your panties down to your knees. 

The cold air hits your cunt and you moan, trying to turn your head to the side to have a look at what he’s about to do to you before someone - you’re unsure who - pins it right back down, flat, suffocating. 

“Let me have a look,” Mingi coos, and two thumbs come to pull your sticky folds apart. You’re soaked, you can feel it - it’s smeared up to your asshole from how you’ve pooled in your panties, and though you hope he hasn’t noticed it, hasn’t gotten any ideas, a deeper part of you hopes he ignores your pussy and eats that hole instead. “She’s so fuckin’ messy. Fat little cunt too. When did you start leaking like a virgin, baby? When you were on your knees in front of our cocks, us stood above you like we fuckin’ own you?”

You can’t reply - again, you don’t think he wants you to. Is he even talking to you, or is he talking to her?

It was Yunho that pushed you down, you realise, because it’s the same second pair of hands that slide the straps of your dress down over your shoulders. Nudging the fabric down so that it all bunches at your waist, he scratches his fingernails over your spine on the way down, leaving you bare but feeling quite like something animalistic. 

“Mm, actually…” A nose nudges at your core and then a tongue, fat and steady, is sliding through your folds and humming when he tastes your arousal, smacking his lips messily like he’s eating a good meal. “You’ve been wet even longer, haven’t you? Since we danced in the bar. Oh, that’s something. How pent up are you, sweetheart?”

You whine. There’s no way he could know that, not really, and you know he’s just teasing you but he’s right - you were.

He continues, wet tongue moving to lick circles over your clit as he slurs. “Can’t blame you, ‘m desperate for this too.”

“Stop talking and eat.” Yunho sounds amused. “Poor thing looks like she’s gonna die if she doesn’t get something.”

At least it makes Mingi move, his lips smacking wet over your pussy before his tongue slides through the plush of your folds. The bridge of his nose is sharp when it bumps into your perineum, his tongue tracing your hole before it pushes inside and he savours your arousal from the inside with a deep, gravelly moan, something that ricochets through you and makes you finally beg.

“Yuyu,” You sound broken, too needy to think, and you feel it too - your head spins and you know you haven’t done well verbalising it but Yunho somehow knows what you need, sliding two long fingers past your lips for you to suck on. It doesn’t help, Mingi’s plush lips kissing down to your clit and making a home there, tongue darting underneath the hood to rub over you so intimately that you would never be able to stop the way you buck. Your hips fuck back onto his face but his strong forearm hooks around your tummy to keep you steady, your eyebrows furrowing in a subdued keen.

Yunho smiles, fucking his fingers into your mouth, watching the way you suck earnestly like it’s a cock - can you even tell the difference right now? It’s like you can see the wonder on his face before he speaks, cock half hard against his thigh, “Do you need something inside, honey?”

Your resulting noise is loud, deep from your chest - you’d forgotten that was an option with the way his boyfriend’s lips are working over you, but before you can beg properly the man grunts, lips leaving you for a moment.

“I’m gettin’ her ready for you, babe. She can wait.”

“Mm.” Yunho raises an eyebrow, confused, although his fingers leave your lips and brush over the base of his tummy almost instantly. “You don’t wanna go first? You were desperate a second ago-”

“Are you kidding me?” Mingi grins, all teeth that nip into your thigh as an afterthought, making you squeak. He ignores you, continuing like you can’t hear him, “a pussy like this is even better when it’s been nutted in already. I love me some sloppy seconds.”

Before you can raise any kind of objection to being talked about like that, right over you while he’s between your legs, Mingi’s tongue dives back between your folds. He licks up your arousal and drools onto your heat, pushing further up, where his hands spread your cheeks and expose the smaller hole, the one that makes your face flush and gut wrench in embarrassment. 

“Bet you’d let us fuck this too,” he grumbles, and you nod, squirming in your place, as much as you can with the way his boyfriend’s pushing you down. “How fucking filthy. You just met us and you’d already let us fuck your asshole open. God, you’re amazing, might be fuckin’ made for us.”

Something bubbles in your gut, something so needy that you can’t help the garbled wail you let out. It’s incoherent at first, but Yunho lets your head move just enough to verbalise what you need to, “Want you both, anything, please, please, give me cock-”

“Give me cock,” Yunho giggles, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a bimbo. Fine, I’ll give you cock, honey. Mingi, lemme move her.”

Mingi obeys instantly, pulling away from your slick cunt and thighs, letting you be manhandled again by the taller man onto your side. You know this one, deep in your lust-muddled brain, and you let one leg slide forward to display your core as he slides behind you, chest to your back. He’s fully naked now - you’re not sure when this happened - and the palm he smooths your hair down with grounds you a little, other hand moving secure on your tummy.

“Y’want it?” He murmurs, and you see Mingi moving next to you, naked, muscled, distracting - your mouth waters. His eyes move down your body, over your flushed cheeks, teary eyes and down to your nipples, the curve of your tummy and the swell of your thighs; his hand moves to his cock, and you see his gaze move down Yunho, too, before he finally grips the base and starts to move up the vast length. Yunho’s fingers tighten in your hair a little, bringing your attention back to him. “Don’t get distracted, tiny. Talk to me. Do you want it?”

He moves his cock to the mess between your legs, pushing through arousal to get to your folds and at the resistance of your hole. The weight of it makes you gasp wetly, but he doesn’t let you squirm away when you try, only pulling you back into it. 

“S-So big, Yunho, I want it, please.”

“There you go, good little slut,” He coos, satisfied, and pushes just the first inch in. Your hole clenches tight from the stretch, almost pushing him back out and he groans, using his grip on your thigh to pull you back onto it. “Let me in, baby.”

“C-Can’t help it, ah-“

Something shifts in him then, and the next thrust of his cock is stronger, meaner, something that makes your walls give way to more of him, accompanied by a sharp bite to your neck. It hurts a little but it feels so good; your eyes roll back in your head with a keen, and Mingi huffs out a breath.

“Oh, little bitch is so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, one palm coming to push your leg upwards, against your side, trying to open you up further. It doesn’t help - he’s just far too big, your pussy tightening in protest despite how bad you fucking want it. “Do I have to split your hole open to get inside? Funny, ‘cause it’s fucking drooling around me like it can’t get enough.”

One of his hands comes to rest on your breast, idle but firm, and his thumb swipes over your nipple just to make you gasp. You try to fuck yourself downwards but he really is too big, cockhead already hitting your cervix and it knocks the wind out of you. Mingi’s hand tightens on an upwards stroke of his shaft and he smiles, amused, eyes flicking between you and his boyfriend.

“Let him in, sweetheart. He’ll make it hurt.”

You try your best; squirming and whining in Yunho’s hold you manage to slack your gummy walls enough for him to push more of his cock inside but it makes you squeal, too much all of a sudden, and his fingers move from your chest to your clit. His nails dig into it and you gasp, writhing away before his grip pulls your back to his chest again. 

“What the fuck is this for if I can’t fuck it? Useless little cunt otherwise, hm? Maybe I should just pull out, leave you-”

“No, nonono, please, Yunho,” You babble, moving around enough that it forces more of his length in. This time he seems to push past something that allows him to sink in balls deep, and it’s so far inside, pressing at your cervix and you think you might cum already.

Yunho huffs, placated now that you’ve let him in, yanking you backwards by your ass, letting the plumpness of it rock him into a bounce. It works, and he starts to fuck you steady, slow at first, letting you get used to it - his knuckles graze at your nipple before he pinches meanly, a breathless, chuckle of pleasure leaving him at your jolt.

“Fu-uck, ‘s so- need more, more, please-”

“More?” He asks, like he didn’t know, and you nod dumbly. You’re shocked by Mingi responding, not Yunho; walking on his knees towards you, his fingers come to your clit and roll it between his fingertips. It’s too much all of a sudden, and Yunho starts to speed up, his long, ridged shaft cutting into your gummy walls. Mingi’s ministrations make your pussy easier, more slack, and Yunho’s able to fuck quicker, cock not prohibited by how tight you’re squeezing around him. “That’s it. There you go, Min, cocksleeve’s gushing like a little whore now.”

“Mm, can feel it,” The man in question murmurs, eyes fixated on you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure, lips parting in a squeal when his thumb rubs over your bud firmly, and this time you feel it, the slick, sticky gush of your pussy with every thrust. It leaks over Mingi’s fingers and further down, to your thighs, Yunho’s balls and his own lithe legs. 

You feel dumb with it all, and you’re not even halfway through taking one. 

“Feels nice like that, doesn’t it?” Yunho sounds unaffected, and you whimper, nodding, “I can tell. Dirty cunt gushing like that, I’d swear you came already.”

Mingi leans down on the bed, distracting you momentarily before there’s something wet pressing at your clit. It’s his tongue, you realise, and you can’t control the hand that goes to that dark blue hair - he moans at the feeling of your fingers tightening, tugging, and you force his mouth closer, wet lips mouthing over your pussy until he hits Yunho’s cock. 

“Shit, that’s so-” you gasp, hips bucking, “oh, I- fuck, I’ll cum, please-”

Mingi’s tongue moves over you again, licking over the intrusion of his boyfriend inside of you. It doesn’t stop his movement, his cock still pistoning in and out while you’re forced to take, take, take, and when the shorter man’s lips purse and suck on your bud you writhe away, pleasure all-consuming.

Your orgasm hits you hard, beginning in the base of your tummy and making your thighs shake. One hand holds Mingi steady, and the other moves to Yunho’s side, anchoring you through it, but your pussy clenches dumbly in a rhythm that makes the man inside grunt and bite your neck sharply. Your own noises are abused, loud and too incriminating, but neither men make a move to quiet you.

“Ride it out, c’mon,” Yunho says, voice hoarse, and you find it in your static body to fuck yourself on both men while your legs lock and your toes curl. “Good girl. There you go, that’s it.”

It helps, quelling the strong climax into something steadier, nicer, and Mingi’s tongue flicks over your clit just enough for you to come down from it. 

The kiss the older man gives you is controlled, a little awkward from the angle but it tells you everything you need to know. You’re safe, you’re looked after and it’s exactly what you need after an orgasm that strong - his nose bumps your cheek when he kisses you deeper, giving you a few pecks as he pulls away; it makes you want more, but he’s already moving.

You realise too late that Yunho still hasn’t finished, and he pushes you onto your front, leg still slightly raised from the way he had you. His hips hit your ass as he bottoms out again, and you gasp - it’s so deep, so much that you want him to cum soon, hope he’ll cum soon and fill you up, and you remember you have another one to take after this. The realisation makes your pussy clench as he fucks inside and he lets out a stuttered breath against your shoulder, bumpy nose nudging at your jaw.

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, and you nod, whimper soft. “I’m gonna cum soon, baby. Gonna make you take it, ‘kay? Then Mingi’s gonna fuck it back into you.”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, and when Yunho starts to thrust again, punishing, Mingi seals your lips with his and swallows your noises. He kisses messy, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and he lets you suck on his tongue when you need something in your mouth again, not minding at all that your hands scramble at his broad shoulders for purchase.

You feel Yunho pull backwards, hands on the small of your back to hold you down, and it’s the sight of you and his boyfriend kissing that does him in. He gasps, letting out a shaky breath as he presses his hips tight to the plush of your ass, cockhead fucked so deep that it makes you try to squirm away again; Mingi keeps you still, giving you dirty, open-mouthed kisses and licking over your teeth.

Between your legs, you feel thoroughly used - when Yunho pulls out, cock softening a little, your pussy gushes fresh cum and as if it’s his queue, Mingi’s already moving over.

Yunho slaps your ass as he moves away from you, “Atta girl. She’s ready for you, Min.”

Fingers prod at your swollen hole, messy, creamy rivulets slicking down to Mingi’s rings as he spreads it open and inspects. If you had anything left in you, you’d feel embarrassed at the way he’s looking at you so intimately but well, he’s already done it once and you’re still horny. You shift back on the bed and chase his touch when he moves away, although you don’t have long to be disappointed because the feeling of a blunt cockhead against you makes you push your hips up, front going slack again.

“Look at that. Dumb slut knows how to present for a cock,” Mingi chuckles, although there’s no real bite to his words - his breath is shaky as he shuffles towards you, and seconds later there’s inches of fat cock spearing you open because he can’t wait himself at this point.

“O-oh,” You stutter, head raising and knocking back. You see Yunho, in front of you now, face so close to yours but it’s comforting rather than threatening. “Fuck, it’s-”

“Ssh, just feel it,” Yunho murmurs, stroking your cheek with one, big hand, and your eyes roll back into your head when he starts to thrust. His movements are deep and slow at first, letting you feel all of it, every vein and ridge and you swear you feel him leaking inside, too, when he pushes deep and pulls you flush against him like he isn’t fucking your pussy open in front of his boyfriend.

Mingi whines, sharp, “Tiny little pussy, so small, fuck-” his fingers hook around your shoulders, pulling you back onto him, “how are you still so fucking tight?” Your own hands scramble in the sheets until your fingers hook into them for leverage, and you writhe, moaning so viscerally that Yunho pets your hair to calm you down. Mingi’s thicker than him so despite taking the older man first, the stretch of your hole to accommodate him has your eyes watering, his hips stuttering into the creamy mess of a hole that his boyfriend left. “Can I- fuck, I can’t, I can’t, can’t play anymore-“

“Mingi,” Yunho warns, but it’s softened by the grin curling his lips, fond.

“Can’t, fuck, baby, I love your pussy,” Mingi babbles, and his hands move to your asscheeks, spreading them further, watching where his cock disappears into you. It’s slick when he starts to move, a creamy ring around the base of his cock, wet plaps echoing around the bedroom when his balls begin to hit your clit steadily. “Love- love it, love it everytime- I love you.”

Something dawns on you. You’re not playing anymore, not really, not the elaborate scene Yunho came up with late at night before you headed out to the bar you three met at - and your back bows towards the bed, curling away from your boyfriends, 

“Mmgh- I love you too,” You whimper, scrambling on the sheets for your third, your other boy. Fingers intertwine with yours immediately and he kisses your hairline, your nose, your lips; you cry out, head lolling against his. “Yunho- Yuyu, Yuyu, love you-“

“I love both of you, although you’re both fucking pathetic,” Yunho laughs, smoothing your hair. “Can’t even roleplay properly. Both of you cry like virgins as soon as I let him get inside of you.”

Mingi’s head drops to your shoulder, his weight pinning you down when he collapses atop of you. You’re separated from Yunho but you don’t mind at all when he starts to drill you properly - this is his favourite position, after all, it didn’t matter if it was you or Yunho underneath him. 

His hips don’t stop moving, pistoning into your cunt where you’re flat on the bed, his lips parting in a deep groan, “Pussy’s too good to think. Sorry, Yunho, p-promise it was hot.”

He’s not sorry at all, you all know that. Yunho scoffs. “I know it was. You two acting like sluts on that fuckin’ dancefloor, just like you were all those years ago. Hard, leaking, wet in your pants looking at me. I could see how horny you were.”

“Mmhm,” Mingi nods, delirious. You’re not able to respond, chest clenching in pathetic wails every time he pushes deep, fucking the noises out of you, and his hand moves to your back, soothing over your spine until he slaps your ass hard just for the sake of it. “G-Good little toy, that’s right, don’t have to speak, just take it. Good girl.”

He’s babbling again, nonsensical, praises and degradation into one - he’s always the same, and it always makes you gush easy for him. Yunho slides your hair out of your face, exposing flushed cheeks and spit slick lips, your eyes crossed with pleasure. The sight of you makes them both groan, and the older man plants a gentle slap on your cheek, gripping your jaw when you gasp.

“Fucked dumb,” He muses. “How pretty. Why don’t you cry a little for him, hm? You know he loves that.”

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he nods, cooing at you. It’s that which finally breaks you, and your chest bubbles with a sob, ripped harshly from you. “‘S so much, I can’t- can’t take it, daddy, please!”

They laugh at you again, you hear them, though Mingi’s is a lot more in awe than the other man’s. 

“Who’s your daddy, baby?” Yunho’s asking you, and it’s something he asks you often but it feels like you’re trying to move across clouds to respond to him. Everything’s so soft, comforting but your pussy continues to get rammed, overwhelmed, and you squeal, legs knocking together when you feel his thrusts start to get harsher but staggered. 

“B-both of you.” You slur. “Both- daddy, fill me up too-”

It ignites something in Mingi - he pulls out, gripping himself at the creamy base and flipping you over by your waist again. You’re on your back now, able to see them both, your boys; Yunho has that cheeky glint in his eyes that you love, looming over you with a half-hard cock and tousled, boyish hair - if you didn’t know him, you would trust him. 

Mingi distracts you, crowding into your space with furrowed eyebrows, thick thighs knocking your legs apart again before he sinks back inside. Yunho laughs at his impatience, hand smoothing over the younger man’s back as he starts to fuck you again and you know he’s really gonna cum now, moving so fast and hard that you both get knocked up the mattress a little.

You keen, “Fucking- oh, oh, that’s-“

“Language,” Yunho’s hand moves and pinches your thigh, and you wince, legs locking around Mingi. He pins you back down and then moves his focus to your clit, rolling it between his fingers; it’s so wet that it feels too good too quickly. “Gonna cum, aren’t you, baby?”

Your eyes roll back into your head when his fingers move over you instead, firmer, rubbing circles that make you heave, trying to catch your breath. Unable to answer him again, he hums, displeased.

That’s right, you almost forgot. He lets you get away with some things earlier but you don’t act like that around him, not really, only when you’re pretending like you don’t know them. Now, you know them, and there are rules - that also means you beg to cum, and you thank whatever higher powers there be because you remember before you fall off the edge.

“Please,” You struggle, nails scratching at both of them again, their arms this time, “please, please let me cum. Daddy, daddy, please-“

Mingi growls, fixated, “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, you better cum with me, tiny.”

“There you go, honey. Your daddy said you can,” Yunho says, almost too sweet for you to believe but no, they did say that, and you’re squealing from it before they can take it back. 

You gush again, fluttering and writhing where you lay and halfway through it, Mingi nudges the dark haired man’s head to press his cheek against yours at an angle and kisses you both. 

Barely knowing what to do in your haze, they hold you still, tongues both messily sliding over yours, over each other - the man inside of you whimpers, thrusting harshly one last time, gasping against your mouths before he fills you with a fresh wave of cum. His cock throbs with it, pumping into you and when he can’t take it anymore he collapses, head on your chest, full weight a little overwhelming. 

Yunho kisses you a few times, fingertips moving to rub soft circles into your shoulders, your upper arms, before moving across your boyfriend’s scalp, massaging him too. He moans gratefully, exhausted, and you feel the same - your limbs are stiff and you groan when Mingi finally rolls off, slumping next to you in the wet sheets.

“I’ll just be cleaning you up, honey.” Yunho’s voice is gentler, and you hum, a smile creeping on your face - there he is, always in control. Mingi mumbles something that you don’t quite catch, arm hooking around your tummy, but your boyfriend hears him, chuckling, “That was referring to you, too.”

You want to laugh. “Don’t tell me he was trying to move.”

Yunho shifts closer, wet towel suddenly soft against your skin, and when you finally open your eyes he’s there, still naked, cock soft against his thigh and you wonder if he came again, sometime during it all. “Like I said, both of you fuck like virgins. Dead afterwards. Perished, even.”

You can’t argue. You’re not planning on moving any time soon; although the sheets are ruined, you’re exhausted after all that. The boys’ roleplay ideas are always crazy but well, there’s some that get a bit out of hand, like recreating the night you all met.

For the second time, Mingi grumbles nonsensically next to you. Yunho kisses the mole on the younger man’s cheek before kissing your hairline again. 

“Speaking of perished,” He murmurs, eyes shifting down to you playfully, putting on a dramatic voice, “I still think the next scene should be me, as Spider-Man, saving you and Min from possible perish-“

“Enough,” You grumble, kicking him softly with your foot. “Go to sleep.”

His laugh is so loud it makes Mingi kick him too, half-asleep, but then he really does settle, towel discarded on the floor. As if he was waiting for his presence to drop off properly, the younger man squirms closer on the mattress and reaches over you to tug Yunho in, pulling you into a pile, legs intertwined and a little sticky. It’s soothing though, naked and cuddling with your men, and Mingi starts to snore almost instantly.

The man plastered to your back sighs, though you know he’s not really bothered. “Sleep? With that?”

You huff, “Then just talk to me, duh.”

“Duh. You can actually just watch me play video games, if you want. Remember, my new monitor came yesterday, it’s curved and sexy and it’ll show you everything in-“