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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 5 years ago

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One Monstrous Miracle (Part Five)

Okay. So. This one got away from me. It got unexpectedly dark, and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I’m going to post it and move on with the story. I am not a happy author about this chapter, for many reasons. Nevertheless, I love each and everyone of you and I hope you find it within you to enjoy this <3 (Pst! If you’d rather read on Ao3, here ya go!)

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Michael takes some initiative. So does Sandalphon. Uriel is basically the emotional support nerd ig. Aziraphale has a nightmare. Reader does NOT have a good time.

Warnings: Okay listen closely. I have written a non-graphic description of a kidnapping, and subsequently a heavily-implied violence segment. I might be overstating or understating (please tell me if I am understating!), but I just want to keep you lovelies safe.

ALSO: This is NOT a warning, but while you’re here I might as well tell you that I have used they/them pronouns for Michael, and it/its pronouns for Sandalphon (from the script).

Word Count: 2730

(@gif, shits going down)

Michael was not stupid. They were not dimwitted, or blinded by heavenly goodness, or any of the things that they could very easily accuse their fellow celestial beings of…being. They had been paying the Angel Aziraphale very close attention these past millennia, and they had seen exactly what they had expected; the Angel had gone native. Worse than that, he had gone native and he was fraternizing with the enemy. THE enemy. El Numero Uno. The Demon Crowley.

Because Michael was none of the things mentioned above, they had quite a bit of room to be some other things, like cunning, vigilant, and good at waiting for just the right moment. They didn’t bring the aforementioned knowledge to Gabriel’s attention straight away for the sake of…strategy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the Archangel-Fucking-Gabriel wasn’t the only gosh darned Archangel around (and that’s with a capital ‘A’, thank you very much), and so there really was no pressing need for Michael to give the information in the first place, now that they thought about it. They could investigate on their own, build up a solid case, and then work from there. Maybe get some respect around the elitist promotion trap that was their Heavenly home. If only.

Michael enlisted Uriel, knowing that she would be invaluable when looking for documents or anything paper related. She had the memory for things exactly like that. Michael brought Sandalphon precisely because they knew that Aziraphale was still terrified of it after what happened at Sodom and Gomorrah. Together, they monitored Aziraphale’s every move—although the angel had somehow devised a way to keep the group from ever being able to overhear any of his traitorous conversations with the hated Crowley, they weren’t deterred in the slightest bit. They could follow the pair, take pictures, perhaps the odd selfie when the mood hit. Michael was building their case against Aziraphale, and it was only a matter of time.

Armageddon threw everything into quite a pretty mess, now didn’t it? Aziraphale was openly discussing his meetings with his “wily adversary”, reporting on the current status and whereabouts of the Antichrist (Warlock. What a revolting name). Things were starting to get fun for the first time in about a hundred years, and Michael simply didn’t have the time for their surveillance missions anymore. Not to mention that Gabriel was demanding that they all stay together as often as possible, which was a nightmare in and of itself. Michael was rather looking forward to the end of the world, not for the gargantuan blood bath that would ensue, as most of their angelic associates where no doubt panting for, but for the endless peace that comes after a job well done.

One day, when the Antichrist (still Warlock, despite Michael’s very best efforts) was 10, nearly 11, Michael noticed something very strange about the familiar bookshop that they and the rest of the group had been watching for the last couple of centuries. There was a woman, well-dressed (Michael assumed. Angels, proper Angels, that is, Aziraphale not included, have no real sense of human fashion), practically cantering down the pavement, apparently towards Aziraphale’s shop. “No, that can’t be right,” Michael thought to themselves. Although, thinking back, that woman did look strikingly familiar. So familiar, in fact, that—

“Uriel! Take a look at this.” Michael had rolled her rolly chair away from her workstation and towards the cubicle to the right of hers. Uriel popped her head around the weird, cloth divider separating their “offices” with a curious expression.

“Yes, Michael? What is it?” The other angel asked from her rolly chair. Michael gestured that she should roll her rolly chair into Michael’s cubicle.

“I’ve found something strange in the Eden files, take a look at it.” The Eden files was their special code name for anything pertaining to Aziraphale that was not, strictly, on the books. This strange something happened to be a livestream of the street where Aziraphale lived. The woman was getting closer to the shop, although not quite close enough to tell if that was, indeed, where she was going. Michael pointed the woman out to Uriel.

“Now. She looks awfully familiar to me.” Michael’s gaze drifted from their finger to Uriel sitting beside them. Uriel had her thinking face on, which could mean one of a million different things and by this point in their long, coworker relationship, Michael had learned to just let her think. Uriel frowned slightly, moved closer to the screen, tapped a single key on the keyboard in front of them on Michael’s desk, and rewound the feed. She paused it. Zoomed in. Michael wondered why it was so difficult for the Management to install some touchscreens on the ground floor, at least for the Archangels and Possibly a few of the Principalities. They’d seen inside of Gabriel’s office (Yes! A whole, bloody corner office with glass windows instead of walls so that he can survey the worker bees in their nest and not one but TWO whole touchscreens!), after all. Uriel snapped her fingers in front of Michael’s face.

“Michael? Were you listening?” Michael, as you know, had not been listening. At all.

“Of course, Uriel. What was that last bit, again?” Uriel sighed and pointed at the woman zeroed in on.

“She visits the shop almost every day. She might be important.” Michael leaned forward in their rolly chair, squinting at the grainy image despite the fact that every angel had perfect 100/100 eyesight. They hummed.

“Yes. I quite agree. Sandalphon?” They called out the name of the coworker whose cubicle stood on the left side of theirs. They heard the familiar sound of the rolly chair growing nearer until Sandalphon sat beside the two other angels. Michael pointed to the woman on the screen.

“Let’s keep an eye on her.” They all watched as Uriel unpaused and the woman entered the shop.

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They did not have to wait long for the woman to make another move. Only a few hours later, she was hurrying out of the doors, clutching onto her purse and…crying?

“He doesn’t hold on to them long, does he?” Sandalphon remarked, rubbing its forefinger across its teeth diamonds. Uriel giggled but sobered when Michael glared at her. This was not the time for making jokes. That woman was certainly a human woman, there was no doubt about that. Why was she spending so much time around Aziraphale? Why had she run sobbing from his shop? Was this like that holiday Aziraphale took with Alexander the Great? Michael very dearly hoped not—Aziraphale had positively ruined that poor boy.

“Keep your focus on that woman. We need to learn more about her.”

The kept the feed trained on her as she made her way home. She didn’t live too far from Aziraphale’s shop. But just far enough that walking was just slightly out of her way. Uriel, the more softhearted of the bunch of angels huddled around the screen, wondered whether they should miracle her a taxicab, but she was quickly shut down.

“What, and give ourselves away? Gabriel would have our halos!” Michael exclaimed, shifting in their chair. Once the woman was in the door, Michael cut the feed, gaining the attention of the others. They cleared their throat.

“Ahem. So. Not only has Aziraphale been seen consistently in the presence of known Demon Crowley, but he also appears to have developed some sort of relationship with a…mortal woman. Once again, Aziraphale proves that he does not have the strength required to walk among them. Instead, he cavorts with them, befriends them—”

“Runs a bookshop,” Sandalphon growled helpfully. Michael nodded appreciatively.

“—and runs a bookshop. Clearly, he is no longer fit for his position.”

“That’s all well and good, Michael, but he can’t be removed from said position. Only the Almighty can deal with that level of personnel change.” Uriel reminded them calmly. Michael sighed deeply.

“I know that. We all know that. The only problem is something must be done about it. Aziraphale can no longer be allowed to continue this way. It’s heinous.” All the angels nodded their head in mutual agreement. They all tried to think of something they could do, but nothing seemed to jump out at anyone. It stayed like this for a few long moments before suddenly, Sandalphon gasped loudly, startling the other two.

“I know!” it said. “The girl. She’s important to him, right?” Uriel scoffed.

“She did just run from his shop in tears, Sandalphon, did you miss that part?” It was unfazed by Uriel’s goading.

“Exactly. It’s Aziraphale! He’s so soft, he’ll go groveling for her forgiveness within a fortnight. And when he does…”

“They’ll make up with each other. Where are you going with this?” Michael interjected impatiently, not in the mood for idle chatter. Sandalphon grinned, its teeth glinting in the Holy light.

“We kidnap her. Get us in Gabriel’s good books, get some information, and, of course, to scare powe ickle bitty Aziwaphawe. Perfect plan.”

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It was not, as it happens, the Perfect Plan. However, credit is due where credit is due, and that credit goes to Sandalphon for thinking of a Nearly-Perfect Plan. It would have been the Perfect Plan had Aziraphale and that blasted woman not been so stubborn and stayed apart for so long. The days until the Antichrist’s birthday were slowly running out, and the time during which the angels could execute said plan was drawing thin. Thankfully, the two made up just in the nick of time, so it had worked out in the end.

The trio had made the trip to Crowley’s flat, knowing that they would find Aziraphale there. Aziraphale had been flustered, but his story about checking about in the demon’s abode appeared to check out. Michael refused to take their eyes off of him the entire time. After they miracled away, they appeared in an alleyway not far from the woman’s home, and on her usual route. Michael had decided, because Michael was a little bit of an ass at times, to make the mystery just a smudge more difficult by abducting the woman outside of the home BUT simultaneously leaving a single, white wing feather on the floor of her locked flat. It really was quite devious for such a pure-hearted creature. Hmm.

The kidnapping went swimmingly. Uriel snuck up behind the woman, Sandalphon had thrown the bag over her head, and once everything was settled (or as settled as can be with a kicking and struggling woman in tow), Michael miracle them into a top-secret location. I’m afraid that I, as the author, am not at liberty to disclose the location of the following events, because of course I’d have to kill you afterwards, and I’d rather not do that.

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Angels do not have dreams. Angels cause dreams in other people, they take away dreams from other people, and they may, upon occasion, serve as conduits for messages from the Almighty, which often appear to other people as dreams. But Angels themselves do not dream. Except for Aziraphale, evidently, whose subconscious had decided to do away with the natural order of things to just…you know…spice it up a little. Aziraphale frowned deeply in his sleep and rolled over, sniffling.

He was in a corridor. There were no lights, only a faint glow that seemed to come from nowhere at all. There was one door, ahead of him, but the rest of the corridor was bare, empty grey concrete. He began to move towards the door, but the corridor seemed to get longer the closer he got, until he was nearly running, trying to make some progress down the hall but never moving one inch.

The scene changed, the corridor erupting into grey and black smoke that smelt faintly of saltwater taffy. The scene reconstructed itself as a square room lit with an old-fashioned lightbulb swinging slowly back and forth from the ceiling. There was a figure shivering on a metal chair in the center of the room, hands tied behind their back and a sack over their head. Aziraphale heard whimpering from the figure and made to rush over to help them but he found that his feet were rooted to the ground, as though someone had glued them straight to the floor. Aziraphale looked up from his shoes and gasped.

Surrounding the figure were Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon. Michael stood directly in front of the figure, bending over slightly. Sandalphon stood directly behind the figure, fingers grasping at the sack. Uriel stood apart from them both, in the corner opposite to Aziraphale. Michael made a motion at Sandalphon and it yanked the sack off of the person’s head to reveal—

Y/N. Eyes red from crying, hair a mess, makeup smudged and beyond repair. Aziraphale felt his heart stop beating. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of joke? A voice, nagging at the edge of his consciousness told him that no, it was not a joke. Aziraphale struggled against whatever was holding his feet down with renewed vigor. He stopped when he heard your voice, hoarse and trembling. It broke him to hear you like that.

“W-who are you? What do you w-want from me?” You coughed, and Aziraphale felt a miracle dance along the tip of his fingers. He would make you well again, he would heal whatever has happened to you. You continued. “I have m-money if that’s it! It’s n-not m-m-much but—”

“Silly girl, we don’t want your money.” Came Sandalphon’s voice.

“Mmm, that’s right.” Michael responded. They leaned in closer to you, and you sank deeper into the chair to escape them. “What we want is information.”

“Wh-What? What information? I don’t- “

“What do you know of the Angel Aziraphale?” Azriaphale’s blood went cold. He had been so close to telling you himself! After all of the Armageddon mess was straightened out, he had promised himself, he would march right up to you and tell you the truth. But not now! Not when he couldn’t be there to explain, when you were hurting, being hurt, tied up like some criminal. A noise horribly like a snarl erupted from Aziraphale’s throat, startling him. Was he truly invisible in this room? After a couple of seconds of pure terror, Aziraphale’s pulse began to slow and he realized that this was most likely a vision dream, a message from someone showing him something that was either already happening, or about to happen. He prayed to anyone who would listen that it was neither of those two options.

“I swear I don’t know!” The sound of your terrified voice brought him back. Sandalphon laughed its ugly laugh and Michael chuckled.

“Should we really be doing this, Michael?” Uriel inquired softly from her spot in the corner. Aziraphale was sure he was just projecting his terror onto her, but he thought he could almost see a hint of concern in her deep black eyes. Michael just shook their head.

“It’s not as though she’ll have very long to remember it, will she?” At this, your body seized in horror, eyes open wide in shock. Fresh tears were streaming down your cheeks. Aziraphale wanted to burn this room to the ground.

“Are…are you going to kill me?” you whispered through your crying. Aziraphale held his breath to listen for the answer:

“Oh, dear me, of course not. Do you know how much paperwork that would be? Oh no. Definitely not killing you. As long as you give us the information we need.” Came Michael’s reply.

Aziraphale felt that old rage bubble up inside him, and his sword hand itched, as though the missing sword were a missing limb instead. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. He would not debase himself in such an appalling manner. He had grown since those days, and he would not be brought to his knees by a dream.

“I told you, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded desperately. The room was beginning to fade away, smoke swirling at the edges, illuminated by the swinging bulb. Aziraphale cried out, reaching out for you only to be met with empty air.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, now, won’t we?”

The last thing Aziraphale heard before waking was the sound of Michael’s laughter.

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gwoongi · 6 years ago

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𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺 ♥︎ jeongguk (ft jimin)

𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖺 jeon jeongguk / reader (ft jimin) genre: pornstar au, smut rating: explicit words: 7391

This position is particularly ambiguous; your face is almost gone, only slightly in frame, with the lens zoomed further in to your ass and Jeongguk’s thighs, his ass there but moving as he leans for the lube across the bed. If he wanted, Jimin could pretend the figure beneath Jeongguk was a boy- could be him, if he wanted. He does not want.

a/n: literally nobody asked for this. yes, the namjoon sequel is coming soon, so don’t worry about that :-) it’s time for baby boy jimin to have some fun <3 also this exposes my desire to eat koos ass. its pretty i just wanna nom nom :3

warnings: graphic sexual content, porn themes, fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, rim jobs, sex toys, dirty talk, bisexual jimin, ass eating, really slight blasphemy, overstimulation, anal virginity, daddy kink, mommy kink, koo and y/n are freaky okay, probably an unrealistic interpretation of pornhub livestreams, whore-shaming (?), cock slut shaming (?)

Jimin was bored. With most of the fraternity out for a party that Jimin was sadly not invited to (not that he exactly cares for parties held by Jackson, because let’s be honest, he doesn’t really like the guy), Jimin sat at home on his bed with the telly flicking with a show he cared little about, the pictures talking silently.

“Please tell me you’re going to be home,” Jimin had begged, clinging uselessly to the oversized sleeve of Kim Namjoon, who reluctantly pulled away from his fisted hands and grabbed his coat from behind the door. Sorry, little man, I’ve gotta get out of the house more. “But I’m going to be all alone. I’m the only one who wasn’t invited to that shitty party.” I’ll come home early for you, if you’d like. “I would not like. Just go, get out of my face.”

Namjoon didn’t know what else to say other than sorry, patronisingly running his fingers through Jimin’s hair. Unlike Namjoon, who had already spent two god-awful years at University, Jimin was a newbie, a first year, dipping his toes into waters to figure out which one he liked best. Namjoon shrugged his coat on halfway, tossing Jimin the phone charger he asked for moments prior. Try to entertain yourself, he had said. Watch porn. Hey, I just recently found a new porn duo to watch!

That’s how Jimin found out about koopid, the porn couple that his Big, Namjoon, had been locked in his room jerking off to. With rooms joined by one thin wall, Jimin was unsurprisingly familiar with the channel, never invested enough in doing his own research, mildly sexually frustrated by Namjoon’s rutting mixed with the unnecessarily loud volume of his laptop. If he can help it, Jimin doesn’t usually watch straight porn. He never denies it, but he’s an experimenting bisexual- pretty sure he likes both, and his history of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout high school prove it, but he’s not quite sure where he stands yet, or where he’s comfortable standing. He sits in his bedroom, alone in the fraternity miles away from Jackson’s venue, his laptop blinking on Google waiting for a command to be punched in.

On telly, a re-run episode of Friends comes to an end and Jimin watches with mild boredom as it switches to an advert, advertising a new bleach that is guaranteed to remove 98% of bacteria from inside your toilet. He turns off the telly, sighing and looking over at his laptop, the Google tormenting him with a grin: I know you want to. I know you’re tempted.

Jimin sighs to himself, dragging the laptop over to his thighs and almost guiltily typing the phrase koopid into the search engine. He’s half expecting nothing to really show up, because Namjoon has creative porn taste and they’re probably not that popular. However he is embarrassingly wrong; the search floods with links to lewd videos, the official koopid channel being the top search. On Google Images, he quickly presses and sees the slightly grainy faces of the couple, a picture from Instagram that he sees as quite romantic. The boy holds the girl with his chin pressed into her neck, a smile on his face and the camera not exactly centred. Jimin’s instinct is to coo, and saw “aww”. He’s not expecting much from koopid when he clicks on their channel. It’s just another straight couple having sex, it’s nothing he hasn’t already seen.

His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the fifteen videos, spotting the red button indicating that the channel is currently live. He’s tempted to click in, sit back, see what they have to offer. The livestream title reads “10k thumbs up and i’ll let y/n eat my ass”.

It’s so very tempting, but Jimin pauses with his cursor hovering over a video titled, “first time doing anal with y/n”. The thumbnail is an inviting image of quite possibly one of the nicest dicks Jimin has ever seen in straight porn, the tip red and exaggerated and in preview, the thumbnail moves for a few seconds, showing a small asshole stretch to accommodate the dick, the whole length disappearing. He’s conflicted, half off the bed with intentions to run and get his box. The box, with dildos of every shape and size. When the thumbnail clip loops, Jimin misses it, already on his feet and crouching to get the box from underneath his dresser.

When he gets back to his bed, Jimin notices that his hands are trembling. In the drawer next to his bed is his lube, a strawberry flavour that he’s never indulged with before. Today he will, and he grabs that alongside a dildo that looks uncanny in resemblance to koopid, save the colour being a solid bright purple. He shakily moves it beneath him as he slips out of his jeans, pressing and tightening with discomfort as he looks back at the screen. He wants to feel guilty about this, but there’s nothing to feel guilty about. And, nobody’s home to hear him or see him, and for good measure, his bedroom door is locked.

Once he clicks on the video, there is no turning back. His body trembles as the video begins to play and he’s greeted with the view of a girl on all fours, her head tossed over her shoulder to stare at the camera. She’s pretty, really pretty, already naked for the audience. Jimin stares wordlessly, because what is he supposed to say? On each asscheek, Jimin notices that the boyfriend is particularly ruthless, faded palms still lingering upon the skin that strangely resembles silk, or marble, or soap. He quietly hears the boyfriend mutter a polite introduction, introducing the pair of you to new watchers like Jimin. He hears a Jeongguk and a Y/N, and it’s evident who is who.

Jeongguk shuffles into frame, pressing his hands to each cheek and palming softly. You respond by letting your head fall slightly, rolling the kinks out as Jeongguk sinks deeper on to the bed, until his face is in view. Jeongguk’s smart, and he knows what people like. They like seeing him, all of him and his face and yours, in various positions and conditions. Unlike the porn videos Jimin sees of overly acted situations, where the girl gets caught out after curfew and is punished over a desk, hands bound with the leather of the guy’s belt, Jimin is slightly taken aback at how fast Jeongguk jumps into things- his own cock is out, bulging and huge as expected, and he doesn’t let the audience know what he’s doing. Everybody knows; they can read the title, they can hover the mouse over the timeline and see the frames.

The hand rested upon your right asscheek begins to move in circles, stroking it affectionately as the other hand belonging to Jeongguk slides down the length of your leg. You shudder when his fingers feather across your thigh, twisting inwards to cloyingly play in the warmth. Jeongguk pulls your legs further apart, your cheeks slightly widening with the view of your hole being all Jimin can currently focus on. To the side, Jeongguk grins and chuckles quietly, hot air breathing out of his nose. He likes what he sees, because he’s never been up close and personal with it before. Anal was the promised land that he had not been granted entry to, until today, or rather this morning, when he had rolled over in bed and slipped an arm around your waist, kissing your hair and said, “hey, good morning, wanna do anal later on camera?”

Jimin watches in an expressive silence, timidly stroking his dick as Jeongguk claps his hand against your ass, the sound loud and sharp. A loud moan leaves your lips and Jeongguk pulls apart your cunt from behind, the lips barely visible from the angle but still there, definitely. He idly curls a finger around the wetness, lubricating his fingers. From where he is kneeling, he side-glances at the camera and smirks, holding the inside of your thigh with his left hand and curling his right up, all the way until his one soaked finger tauntingly circles your hole, as if daring to enter, and then slips inside.

The feeling is new, foreign, and you hadn’t anticipated the tight feeling of his finger curling inwards, exploring. Jeongguk lets out a noise of interest at how you shudder, writhing gently and without really noticing, pushing back onto his finger until it entered all the way to the knuckle. Jimin thumbs the head of his dick, silent; Jeongguk marvels at the way you fuck yourself onto one finger, his mouth in an open smile that left his mouth dry. He swallows thickly, impressed.

“Wow, baby girl,” he comments, finally, and Jimin can now hear his voice, “look at how you’re fucking yourself onto my finger. You’re a needy girl tonight, aren’t you?”

You whimper in reply, maybe even say something that Jimin can’t hear.

“Let’s add another one,” Jeongguk suggests sweetly. “You take one like a champion, let’s see if you’re wide enough for two.”

He adds a second, his middle, twisting both fingers in right up to the knuckle. From where the camera stands on a tripod, it gives way to a gorgeous view of your hole, clenching tightly around the digits. Jeongguk laughs warmly, satisfied with the results. It’s close enough for Jimin to hear sounds, the slick and almost sticky sounds of wetness from Jeongguk’s fingers, coated in the thick layer of arousal and lube he had tossed somewhere, an extra coat for ease for the camera. Every so often, Jimin would spot Jeongguk looking at the camera, at the viewfinder to see if you were still in shot. You carried yourself on your arms, your ass and hips raised upwards with your back in what looked like an uncomfortable slope, a position Jimin sympathised being in once or twice.

“Mm, perfect,” Jeongguk says slowly, dragging it out like he did his fingers. They are almost free, until he pushes them back in, practically glowing with pride when you groan out, pushing back onto his knuckles. His fingers sink deeper inside of you, tickling inner walls and finally scissoring, stretching you open in anticipation for a third finger Jeongguk had waiting. You’re tight, tighter than Jeongguk had ever seen you since the first time you had sex together two years ago, that virgin hole Jeongguk had the honour of ripping apart. “You look so perfect, baby. Can you manage a third?”

You nod with effort, “Yes, Daddy.”

“You don’t have to call me Daddy tonight,” Jeongguk offers. He wants this one to be personal, in respect of firsts being mutually taken. You whimper in reply, not in the mood to reply with words. Jeongguk continues a pace with his fingers before adding in a third, letting out a hiss of air at the tightness closing in around his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” Jeongguk groans to himself between his teeth, ramming his fingers in and out to get a feel for every single space inside of you, “Nobody’s ever fucked your ass like this, have they, baby?”

“No,” you breathe out, trying to look back at him over your shoulder. “Just you, Guk.”

He makes a noise of content, pressing a kiss to your ass and then slapping it with his free hand. You jolt, sinking up and down off his fingers. “That’s right. Only I get to fuck you like this. Fuck- you’re so tight, imagine what it’s gonna feel like with my cock in there.”

“Puh-please, Guk,” you rasp, slumping slightly against this sheets. This time, they’re pale pink, like the colour of unripe strawberries, the stinging colour of your asshole once Jeongguk pulls his fingers out. “Please fuck me already. Please.”

Jeongguk, like always, pretends to think about it. He addresses the audience, finally, by looking back at the camera with furrowed brows, as if genuinely conflicted on if to give in and fuck you. Jimin’s hand is still moving around his dick slowly, his own ass rising off the comforter.

“Alright,” he replies, almost indifferently. He even throws in the shrug of his shoulders, his body oozing with charisma that makes Jimin bite down on his lips to contain a whimper. The intimidation always scares people into desire. “Toss the lube, and move so everyone can see your ass.”

Jimin wriggles uncomfortably, not being able to relieve anything by simply touching himself. Instead, he gapes at the screen, thankful the webcam is covered so his assigned FBI agent can’t laugh at him for being so obviously sexually frustrated, rutting into his own hand as you shuffle across the bed on all fours, still slightly tight around the air as you drop with a slight huff, assigned to the side. This position is particularly ambiguous; your face is almost gone, only slightly in frame, with the lens zoomed further in to your ass and Jeongguk’s thighs, his ass there but moving as he leans for the lube across the bed. If he wanted, Jimin could pretend the figure beneath Jeongguk was a boy- could be him, if he wanted.

He does not want. But, he still imagines, even with you there and patiently waiting for Jeongguk to hurry rubbing the lube across his dick, up and down. Jimin can’t help but gape at the size in Jeongguk’s hand, which is already large and veiny, but he concludes that the bigger hand makes Jeongguk’s cock look bigger, scarier, more erect. It’s so big that when Jeongguk lets go, it stands to a salute up to his stomach, the tip nearing his belly button. Jimin groans, reaching behind him for his own lube and the dildo that he almost forgot about.

It’s as if Jeongguk is giving Jimin time to prepare; instead of being ruthless and shoving his dick inside the tightness, Jeongguk pulls apart your cheeks with fingers and licks around your hole, collecting up the juice he left there from his fingers, a mixture between the cherry and the sweet taste of your pussy, the juices clinging to be tasted. He groans into you, taking kitten licks around the rim and taking extreme pleasure in the way you moan against him, your ass square in Jeongguk’s face.

Jimin hurriedly coats the dildo in lube, almost excessively, licking up the remains off his smaller fingers. He stares at Jeongguk’s hands in longing and his teeth gnaw on his lips as you moan relentlessly, tight and girly breaths of pleasure that Jimin never thought he’d like hearing. Jeongguk’s own cock twitches against his stomach, the length staring at Jimin and being the only thing Jimin can keep his eyes on.

He fiddles with the dildo, feeling his face warm with a crimson heat. On the other side, Jeongguk pulls away from your ass and kisses your right cheek again, muttering something in a low voice that the camera barely picks up. I love you, he says, between quiet pursed lips. Jimin wants to cry.

Jeongguk moves your hips, deciding on where he’s going to have you. Eventually he decides to have you at an angle where the camera captures your hole perfectly, clenching around nothing, surely with enough frame space to capture his cock moving in and out. It can’t be that different from doggy, from one of your first videos on the channel where he took you from behind with a fistful of hair. You were blonde back then. Jeongguk and Jimin both prefer the dark colour you have presently, and the way it makes your face look brighter, adding an element of sensuality that Jimin wasn’t sure was possible for a head of hair.

“You took my fingers so well, baby,” Jeongguk tells you, prodding your ass with his hands as if preparing himself for the penetration, “but let’s see how well you take my cock.”

As always, Jeongguk wastes no time. It was like he suddenly feared that the lube around his cock would dry, for he prods your entrance with the tip, hissing softly as he pushes it in. He begins slow, as if stomping his foot on ice to see if it would hold, and then, once the tip is in, Jeongguk grunts and rolls his shoulders, the bottom of his back clenching with muscles on display until he finally sank his whole length inside you. He groans, his hands gripping your waist line with vigour and he slowly began to move his hips, moving in slow waves in and out. His movements were experimental yet professional, still candid enough for Jimin to almost believe this tape was amateur. Grabbing the dildo situated under his hips with one hand, Jimin, without looking away from the screen, aligns it with his ass and slowly sinks down on it, his head immediately rocking back at the feeling.

Jeongguk becomes more familiar with the feeling and the movements, understanding that an asshole really was no different to a pussy, except the feeling inside and the placement. To him, and to porn, it was just another hole to shove his cock into. He moves quicker, finding the strength inside of him to clench your hip-bones and pull them down onto his cock, the rhythm so consistent that after a few short seconds, the clapping arises.

Jimin watches from his bed, his reflection slightly visible in the screen, the pathetic view of him bouncing up and down on the horrendous purple dildo. He stares long and hard at Jeongguk’s fat cock, his mouth practically watering at the way it fits perfectly in your hole, each thrust coming out with a wet and slick look, the vein bulging. Jimin wants to finger his mouth, like a whore, but he resists, instead shyly reaching down and grabbing his cock as Jeongguk maintains a pace.

“You’re taking my cock so well, princess,” Jeongguk grunts. Usually, he can keep his composure, keeping up the act of the boyfriend who likes to fill the boots as the boss. Tonight, however, he’s sloppy, slacking on duty. He’s a boss neglecting his reputation and duties, his head filled with sawdust as he focuses on your ass, and the tightness of it around his dick. For a while, it feels almost hard to move, the need to stand still and let it become familiar overwhelming but at the same time dangerous. He wouldn’t want to upset the ratings. Literally, he can’t afford it.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling back with powerful pleasure and your body feeling as though it was a clump of jelly, wobbling and sliding around on a plate, each tip sending you closer to the edge. You moan with almost every thrust, the way everybody likes it, and from underneath your armpit, you spot Jeongguk’s thighs, the occasional glimpse of his balls slapping against the backside of your pussy.

“Yeah? Tell m-me,” you gasp out, crooning to him. “Tell me how good I feel around your big dick.”

Jimin hadn’t been expecting a sudden role reversal, and by the sounds of it, neither had Jeongguk. Without having any prior experience fucking with koopid, Jimin reckons this may be the first time on record that Jeongguk has been dominantly submissive. What he lacks in vocals he clearly makes up for with physical ability, your words sending him into a rutting fit of fast pace, his dick hitting sensitive spots inside of you. Jimin whimpers to nobody, to Jeongguk, to you, as the dildo brushes his prostate, rubbing against his insides. It’s big, and Jimin closes his eyes to pretend it’s Jeongguk.

He’s so caught up in the fantasy that he can physically imagine the feeling of Jeongguk’s large thighs on either side of his body, his hands that are big and veined holding his tiny body like he was a prized China doll. He wants it so bad, he pictures it perfectly. The thought sends a ripple of tingles throughout his body, a rush of erotica to his cock and it throbs, it hurts and it twitches, erect, touching his stomach. Jimin fingers around his slit, other fingers lost in the short wisps of hair, meanwhile the other hand holds the dildo in place so it doesn’t slip out.

“Mm, baby, you feel so good around me, you’re so good,” Jeongguk praises, his voice unusually breathy and lost, as if he’s struggling. Perhaps he is; it makes Jimin cry out with pleasure as the dildo hits the spot, Jeongguk’s dick inside of him hitting his good spots, making little Jimin horny. “Shit. Your tight little hole is making Daddy feel so good.”

So he’s bringing Daddy back, Jimin thinks. He feels guilty suddenly at the lack of attention he’s giving you, and you’re delivering a spectacular performance, the moans high enough to sound like his own, when he likes them to be. He focuses on that, pretends everything about you is him. For a moment, Jimin eyes the shape of your tits hanging underneath you. He makes a promise to himself that next time, he’ll watch one where you’re the star. You’re too gorgeous for him to ignore you, to shrug you off as if you don’t matter. Without your ass, he wouldn’t be feeling this good.

“Yeah?” you pry. “Do you like fucking my ass?”

“Mm, I love it,” Jeongguk agrees. He lets one hand go off your hips and snakes it underneath, where no doubt, he’s playing with your cunt, threading his fingers through the wetness as if it’s the same casualness as flicking through the newspaper. You barely bat an eyelid, grinding further onto him. “I love the way you make me feel. Always so good for Daddy. Hm? Huh, look at you.” He thrusts sharply up, and you cry out with surprise. “Look at how your ass takes my cock. You’re such a little cockslut, so desperate for my dick.”

“Yuh-yes. You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Jeongguk replies cockily, regaining his own slipping dignity. Jimin doesn’t care if he plays the role of dominant Daddy, or submissive slut. He just cares about the fake cock up his ass and the computer screen.

Underneath Jeongguk, you whimper out a moan, that leaves pitifully like a whisper, practically unheard. You want to scream, tell everybody and the neighbours about how good it feels, how full you feel with Jeongguk’s dick inside your ass, going so far inside that the air is knocked out of you. Rendering you speechless, almost. In fact, you’re so cock drunk that you have nothing of use to say, nothing erotic to mutter to your boyfriend as he relentlessly pounds into you, feeling his own energy bite back. He slaps your cunt once when he notices you’re being quiet, silent, and that’s not good for ratings. Or for him- Jeongguk likes to hear you, he likes to hear whatever nonsense is coming out of your mouth as he fucks your brains out, to the point where you can’t even make sounds, let alone sentences.

Jeongguk knows your body as well as he knows his own, spotting the signs of an approaching orgasm. He had every intention to deny it, finding a tremor of satisfaction at the thought of seeing you crying, begging violently to cum, please, Jeongguk let me cum. He can hear it if he focuses. But it’s the first time he’s ever been a big boy and put his dick somewhere else besides your cunt and your mouth. It’s special. He wants it to be.

He moves, his dick moving with him inside of you, brushing against sensitive spots that are still unexplored, like levels waiting to be unlocked in a video game. As Jeongguk shivers and readjusts, Jimin lets out his first physical sob, not noticing he’s milking his second orgasm of the night. When was the first? He thinks it was when you took control, those dirty words coming out of your mouth. Like an angel taking sins from the Devil, like a nun hiking her dress above her hips to flash her cunt to the Father. Erotic. Sinful.

“Are you close, princess?” Jeongguk asks sweetly, his voice not loud but also not too quiet, a soft volume that the camera picks up well enough.

“C-can’t hold it much longer, baby,” you admit to him, trying to see him over your shoulder. The sex is heavy, holding you down in restraint. “Can I cum again?”

“Again?” Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. Jimin practically spits out a moan. The audience like it when Jeongguk and yourself break out of character. It reminds them of who you are, reminds them that you’re in love. You’re listed in the Verified Couples category, so the audience have got to be looking for the love somewhere. “Ah, greedy girl.”

“I am, I’m so greedy, so selfish,” you splutter. “Daddy makes me feel so good. I wanna cum again, just for you. Juh-just for Daddy.”

Jeongguk makes an elevated noise, as if he’s just been told something he didn’t know, like he’s been secretly given knowledge nobody has, Chinese whispers.

“You’ve been so, so good for me,” Jeongguk says, “so patient. Your ass is fucking perfect, baby. Just wanna fuck it all damn day.”

Gladly, you moan to that. Jimin feels his cock throbbing in his hand, the tip so sensitive that if he were to brush it with his hand, he might cry. It’s red, and abused, but ready for more, he can feel it. His balls are swelling- he wants to be fucked so badly. He wants to feel a dick inside of him, be filled up with cock, have a warmth around his like Jeongguk has. Nothing about koopid makes him feel different sexually other than the fact that Jimin has never been so entertained with straight porn in his entire life. He wants to thank Namjoon, but thinking about Namjoon is too dangerous right now. Jimin might spend too long thinking about him, and that would do him no good. Somewhere along the way, the dildo changed from Jeongguk’s cock to Namjoon’s, but only for a split second, until Jimin forced the thought away.

“Cum inside me?” you ask sweetly, finally finding the strength to pick your head up and glance at Jeongguk over your shoulder. He nods, a smile on his face and you match it, only briefly and the camera doesn’t capture it anyway. You lean back down, gathering every last breath of energy by pushing your ass up higher for Jeongguk. He hums appreciatively, spanking you as thanks.

“Every time I spank you from now on, I want you to thank me,” Jeongguk explains, preparing for the build up to the end, “I want you to say, thank you Daddy. Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you reply with a newfound determination, that drips from your voice confidently. Jimin wriggles his hole around the dildo. His ass is so sore, overfucked, but he can’t get off.

Jeongguk stops moving around you, steadying you around his cock and then, without warning you, bringing his hand sharply to your ass. It’s the left cheek, the one with the fading prints and bite marks. It’s going to be the cheek that hurts the most, but Jeongguk likes that it hurts. He counts in his head: one.

“T-thank you Daddy,” you squeal after the first clap. It only comes as a surprise because it was one.

Jimin snakes a hand up his body, fingering around his nipple. “Thank you Daddy,” he whispers.

Two.

“Feels so guh-good, Daddy. Thank you.”

Jimin bounces heavier. “Mm. Daddy- feels-”

Three. You cry out. It hurts now, the sting worse because of the way he’s done this recently, spanked your ass until it was red and sore, until you couldn’t sit down.

“Mhmpf! T-thank...thank you, Daddy.”

Jeongguk makes the hum, his signature hum that collects comments. It sends a wave of excitement through Jimin, the sound clear in his ears. He wishes he had his earphones in, so he could hear it closer, pretend Jeongguk was whispering it in his ear. His shy hand toying with his nipple moves to his throat, and it clenches for a few seconds, the choked out string of Daddy crossed with timid Jeongguk’s leaving his lips like leaves blowing in the wind. Then his hand moves up, and he shoves his fingers into his mouth. He can take a couple, his reflex isn’t bad.

Jimin thinks he passes out for a few seconds, because when he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry and he chokes around his fingers, staring at the screen with wide eyes in time for the grand finale. Jeongguk is muttering something that Jimin can’t make out, but he isn’t sure if it’s because of the weird feeling in his body. It’s like he’s underwater. He’s so overfucked that he feels faint, but he’s not giving up on koopid, not now.

Jeongguk groans loudly (again), and thrusts himself inwards for the final blow, and the way his body stutters violently and his thighs tremble, Jimin suspects he’s finished. It’s confirmed when Jeongguk, after a moment of catching his breath, pulls his dick out of your ass.

The sound is splendid, the squelch matching Jimin’s as he lifts himself up off the dildo, saving his asshole in preparation for tomorrow morning’s soreness. Your asshole clenches around the absence, still not fully aware of Jeongguk pulling out, but he falls down to his knees, using both hands to part your cheeks like he would hair if you were being sick, revealing the way his cum rolls out of you again, out and around your thighs. A trail even creeps down, all the way to where Jeongguk suspects your pussy is, pulsing with pleasure. He knows you’ve come multiple times, he can tell by the way you’re slouched, your hips still rutting as if trying to fuck the air, fuck the ghost he’s convinced stalks the apartment.

Jimin quickly presses the back button.

He doesn’t know what has come over him, but he needs to see you both, doing real things, to confirm that what just happened was real. Jimin heads straight for the live feed, wondering if you’ve already hit that 10k. When the tab loads and the screen fills with the sight of your tits in front of the screen, Jimin ignores and looks at the likes. 9,992. It’s so close.

Jeongguk sits underneath you, his chest against your back and his hands somewhere in front of you, curling to cup your sex as you rub against his palm. It’s like feeding a pony, as you jut your cunt on his hand like it’s your life mission to do so. You’re talking, and it’s the first time Jimin acknowledges the fact that koopid is a channel of real people, a real couple, who do and say human things.

“Ah, only five more likes,” you say, tossing your hair to the side and lifting, revealing Jeongguk’s coy expression over your shoulder. He’s biting against your neck, and Jimin can see his tongue running flat against the skin. He hums, as expected, in acknowledgement, his hand moving against your pussy. He dares slide a finger in, to tease, and you hiss with a grin. The likes are on 9,999. Jimin realises he wants absolutely nothing more than to see Jeongguk getting his ass ate on live camera by his girlfriend.

So he clicks like.

A little heart floats up on the screen, like on an Instagram live. When you notice it rising up like a stray balloon, you grin wildly, laughing as Jeongguk thrusts fingers into your pussy, not looking at the screen, sucking solar systems into your neck. Jimin’s username flashes on a banner at the bottom of the screen: 10,000th like from angelchim.

“Woah. angelchim, thank you so much!” you giggle, grinding your ass onto Jeongguk and finally your boyfriend looks up. He squints briefly at the screen, playing like he can’t read the banner, but he can. He sees the likes increasing as more people come in. Someone must have shared the link, or they’re only gaining likes for the title. He smiles.

“Well, a promise is a promise,” Jeongguk says evenly. He looks up at you, his hands creeping up from your waist to your breasts, so perked and slightly small. He cups them and you rise with a pleasurable sensation that sends him giggling under his breath, so oddly childlike that Jimin does a double take, and then Jeongguk releases you, tapping your skin and shuffling into position.

From somewhere in the fraternity, Jimin hears a door open. He pauses and looks towards the door, momentarily missing Jeongguk get on all fours and spread his legs, revealing a well groomed ass that he would have liked to see. It’s clean and gaping; the audience suspect Jeongguk’s no stranger to things being put up there. He looks like the type, one comment laughs. Jeongguk’s a cockslut too.

Jimin wonders silently who else is home. It might be nobody, and he’s hearing things. There’s an even chance that it’s Taehyung, a second year who keeps to himself mostly and studies art, locking himself away on evenings when there aren’t any major parties, painting. He doesn’t remember if Taehyung’s gone to Jackson’s party with everybody else. For a moment, he’s embarrassed that Taehyung, or whoever is home, has heard him fucking himself, but the thought disappears when he turns back to the screen and sees Jeongguk’s ass in the air, a grin on his face as you take the role of Boss.

“I don’t want to hear you calling me Y/N, or baby, or angel, or anything,” you tell him, the voice of authority thick and it makes Jeongguk laugh. It’s just a game to him, for now. It’s only a game until you’ve shoved a finger in there, or licked at it.

Jimin’s weirdly attracted to both sides of you, and both sides of Jeongguk. He’s too tired to fuck himself again, or even entertain the thought of touching himself. So instead, he sits back and hikes the comforter higher up over his body, his cock still out between his legs, semi-hard and sore, and he watches the stream like it’s a tv show on in the background. He’s nonetheless invested, not being able to pull his eyes away.

“Okay,” Jeongguk nods. He gets it. “What should I call you, then?”

You mock his hum. “You can call me Mommy tonight. Okay?”

Jeongguk nods awkwardly against the bed, strangely excited. You’re smothering your fingers with lube, undecided on which one should go inside. It’s all so exciting, taking control. Jimin writhes, too tired to pretend physically but he lets his thoughts wander- Jeongguk lives the most perfect life, an equal balance of fucking his girlfriend and being fucked by his girlfriend. He’s flexible, and excited when you gently prod a finger at his asshole. Jeongguk fidgets, eager and restless. Any other day, he might be cautious of your nails, slightly sharpened at the end, because he likes the way it feels against his skin when you cling to him, digging deep enough to draw blood when he’s done. He likes the marks the next morning. He likes hurting when he knows he’s hurting you.

Jimin gets to hear Jeongguk moan submissively as you slide a finger in, and then another, because Jeongguk and his asshole are bigger, and he’s a big boy. He can take two right away, even when he squirms.

“Mmf, Mommy,” Jeongguk starts. He breaks off, unable to say anything for a few seconds as you wiggle your fingers around inside of him, clawing him and making him shudder. The comments are going crazy. For some reason, they didn’t think you’d follow through and finger him, but as Jeongguk rightly said, a promise is a promise. “Feels so good.”

“God, look at you,” you laugh humorlessly. “Look at how you’re fucking Mommy’s fingers. She’s only just started.”

He pushes his hips backwards. “Luh-like it when you touch me, Mommy. I like it when you finger me like this.”

“Mm.”

As Jeongguk whimpers, you decide to curl your fingers upwards, touching and feeling around inside. It’s about time he gets a spoonful of his own medicine, a taste for his own torture. He likes it, he groans with a smile, his eyes searching to find you over his shoulders and when he spots your eyes on his, he winks.

“You can add a third, Mommy,” Jeongguk offers, faking a sweet tone that has a few commenters giggling. Jimin smiles, too. He wishes he could cum, he wishes he could fuck his hand, but he’s too tired, too fucked out. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Hm,” you reply, “only since you asked nicely. I’ll add a third, and I’ll get right to business. Is that okay, baby boy? Hm?”

“Yuh-yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. My good little boy.”

His ass shifts, wiggling almost in a taunt and you shove your three fingers in without a word of warning. Jeongguk groans with discomfort. He’s had dildos, toys, everything and anything up his ass, both before and after he started dating you. For some reason, the sensation of your three fingers up his ass feels different, not wrong but also not good just yet. He gives you a moment to adjust, finding a rhythm and eventually, after his hips move and he finds himself, he begins to feel the coil in his lower stomach tightening.

“Feel good?” you ask, almost shyly. The last thing you would like is to let him down.

He makes a noise of agreement. “Yes, Mommy. Yes, really good.”

“You sure?”

Jeongguk blinks, quietly saying, as if off the record, “Y/N, this feels amazing. It’s okay.”

Jimin feels like he wasn’t supposed to hear. It’s like when you’re in the loo and somebody comes in, spilling secrets to a friend by the sinks, applying lip gloss in the mirror. You’re not in the conversation, not wanted in the secret exchange.

It puts you at ease, enough for Jeongguk to spread his legs further, shuffling back until his foot accidentally hits your thigh. He grunts, as if blindly finding his way around, and you shuffle right between his legs, following his movements from the video Jimin just watched. You pull your fingers out after a few minutes of fucking, and Jeongguk moans with a high tone when you pull away, moving your hands to his ass cheeks. The camera captures Jeongguk’s face in frame; he looks small, tiny, with cheeks that are round and full now that his face is flush on the bed, his waist looking tinier now it’s arched and in the air. The only thing intimidating about Jeongguk now is his thighs, still large and muscular and scary in their own unique way. Jeongguk whimpers furiously, tears choking at the back of his eyes with a burning sting that is ripped away by a sob when you smile at the camera, and lean in within the same second, pressing a little kiss against his hole.

Jeongguk shudders. You move back in, spreading his cheeks further with your hands and guiding his ass back to your face. You start with licking the rim, like licking sugar and lime from around a shot glass. Jeongguk moans, and fingers the quilt covers. With your tongue flat, you lick at his hole, mocking those same kitten licks as he once did, for a few moments anyway until you both grew comfortable, and you continued licking at his hole, prodding and drooling. He tastes natural, as expected, crossed with the coconut body wash that he used in the shower before the livestream, the same body wash you used at the same time, sharing a shower together with your skins flushed and hot and wet, bubbles as bikinis.

You have to admit to yourself, in a private intermission, that you’ve never eaten an ass before. You had a temporary girlfriend when you were fifteen, because you were hormonal and confused and she was the prettiest girl in school. You’d eaten her out, but it was her pussy, and you’re certain that at some point during high-school, there had been another girl. You can’t remember, your eyes closed as your tongue milks the taste of Jeongguk’s ass. He preens, pushing it against your face slightly with his face buried in the covers.

“Muh-mommy,” he cries. “Oh-fuck.”

“Feel good?” you ask him, your mouth muffled against him. He nods with a moan, although it sounds just like a messy noise, a noise you’d find on a porn soundboard. You smile proudly, being selfish yourself. It feels good knowing you’re the first girl to eat Jeon Jeongguk’s ass, and on camera too, for 28,000 people to see. Jimin sits back with his head on the headboard, staring through heavy half lids. He quite likes this view, this role reversal. He quite likes Jeongguk with his ass in the air. He watches for the finish eagerly, soaking every scene up like the last drops of ice-cream dripping down the cone.

“Ngnh, can’t hold it any longer, Mommy,” Jeongguk wails. He fists the sheets, looking at you underneath his arm. He can’t see your face, only your cunt. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter. “Please let me cum.”

“You want to cum?” you repeat. “How badly?”

“S-so badly,” he moans, and his eyes clench closed. “Please. I’ve been good. You’ve made me feel so...so good, Mommy. It-it hurts, p-please-”

You hum tiredly, almost as if what he’s mumbling is boring you. You lick one more time, pushing in as he clenches around the tip of your tongue. It makes you want to laugh, and slap his ass, but he’s already done so much. You grant him the permission he begs to cum, and he does- reaching your hand around to cup his tender balls, Jeongguk clumsily spills on the sheets, the thick white substance leaking not only through the baby pink but also splashing up onto his stomach, getting stuck in the thick curves of his abs. Jimin sighs happily at the sight, high on life and the way Jeongguk squirms like a newborn baby bird who has discovered flight, still clumsy and frantic. His body is shaking, trembling like a glitched video game character, his hips stuttering with his orgasm. He groans with it, and then laughs, perhaps at his own realisation of what just happened, and where and to whom.

Jimin types at the keyboard his first comment: you look absolutely beautiful baby boy, and Jeongguk sees, sending a warmth burning in Jimin’s chest. Jeongguk spots the comments amongst other familiar icons and users and he smiles, his eyes disappearing into pleasant crescent moons.

“Ah, thank you, angelchim. It was an honour getting my ass ate in front of you, I hope you enjoyed.”

“Oh, I did,” Jimin replies breathily, and he’s about to type the comment when a knock thuds at his door. Jimin pauses, hyper-aware of the fact somebody is home. They don’t make another sound, just a knock and then a loud sigh that Jimin recognises to be in the voice belonging to Taehyung, as he suspected.

“Jimin, I’m sorry, I know you’re clearly quite busy-” he emphasises quite, and Jimin wants to vanish into the bedsheets, pretend he’s not home, - “but I text Namjoon about where the hell my phone charger is, and apparently you have it, so if you could please bring it out to me, I would very much appreciate it. You can finish...whatever it is you’re doing in there. I’ll, uh. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

And from the stream, Jeongguk laughs. It feels weird, because given the timing, it’s as if Jeongguk’s laughing at Jimin, at how humiliation creeps up his neck and to his cheeks. Everybody watches porn, he thinks. And he’s in a frat, now. He should wear it with honour, just like Namjoon had told him. He looks over at Taehyung’s charger wrapped in a snake cord by his box and he smiles. Tonight has been unsuspecting, but clearly, way better than anything Jackson could have ever given him.

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