#hang onto ur hineys is what im saying lmao

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame 

Chapter 8

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: Degredation, Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Male Masturbation, Handjob, Choking, Gagging, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11K Exactly Because I am a Superstar

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry...

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It takes a while before you can convince yourself to leave the safety of the wardrobe. But there aren’t any more voices from outside and you’re beginning to get hungry…Finally, you unlatch the doors and slip out, pausing in the quiet to check that your dismount didn’t catch anyone’s attention. Nothing happens. You count your breaths, but there’s still no sign of any movement other than your own. Relaxing just a little more, you avail yourself of Jin’s bathroom and dig into the snacks he brought while you process your situation, sitting cross-legged by the bed to avoid getting crumbs everywhere. Idly you promise yourself that you’ll slide underneath it if anyone comes up again. It’s not exactly a feast—convenience-store burritos that you wish you could heat up, snack foods like pretzels and bizarrely, a handful of suckers.

A kink, maybe? You muse on the possibility of your warden having a fetish for lollipops as you chew laboriously through a mostly-thawed hot pocket. Maybe he just thought you wanted a candy? The memory of his excited face when he mentioned the food comes to mind. He seemed legitimately proud of himself. Like a kid with a pet.

Cum all over your master’s fingers, just like a good little pet.

You swallow, hard, and challenge the arousal that momentarily flashes through you. You can’t just sit here and be complacent. It’s weird. It’s wrong. What’s next? A collar? The marks under your bandages throb, and a quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sudden image that accompanies the thought. A collar and a leash that he could tug on and you could be so good for him—

You stand up, finishing what’s left of your pitiful meal with one vicious bite. Okay, escaping is now the train of thought, you’ve just decided. No more of…any of that. Especially with what just happened. Packing everything back into the plastic bag, you set it by the side of the bed.

Can’t trust the hallways—not with everyone up and about. There’s at least three of them wandering around at any one point and you’re pretty sure all of them know you’re here. They’ll catch you no problem if you step foot out of this room by way of the door. The window, then, like you’d planned to begin with.

You shift, frowning, rubbing your thighs together. God, were you always this horny all the time? On the outskirts of your mind, imagining what kind of punishments exactly they might have in store if they caught you? When they catch you… You shake your head violently.

Anyways.

Out the window.

The curtain pulls aside easily when you tug at one corner, lifting it just enough to peep out again and confirm your suspicions. It’s still nighttime. Still? Again? Wish there was some way of knowing. Another fact about vampires triggers in the depths of your mind. They sleep during the day and get up during the night. So with that logic, the house should be clear by daytime—you’d be home free. Could even walk through the front door, if you’d had a mind to, but considering you’re batting zero for two on that score, maybe you’ll stick with the window. You’ve got the beginnings of a real plan, then. Wait for it to be light out, take your bag of snacks, use the duvet to slide out of the window. Perfect. Flawless.

 There’s a quiet sound on the door, as someone tapping their fingers gently on it.

“It’s me.” Jimin. “Open the door. Quick, before they come back.”

Shit. Shit.

You scramble for the bag of food, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste to reach the window. No time to wait, you’ve already been caught—you need to leave now.

“I don’t want to have to haze you but you have to open the door!” Comes the urgent whisper again.

Fuck off, Jimin, you think venomously, flying to the window, throwing the curtains aside and curling your fingers under the pane.

“You can trust me, I promise.” On closer inspection, it looks like it might soon be dawn, the pitch black of the sky threatening to go purple as it dips below the horizon. Not perfect, but good enough. A few more hours until sunrise, as far as you can reckon. You’ll take it. You have to.

“I think we can help each other, you know? But you have to open up. It’s not safe.” You cringe at the sound as the pane slides all the way up, but grit your jaw anyways, throwing the bag over your shoulder.

“Wait, was that the window?!” He sounds panicked. Too late, you think, throwing your leg over the sill. Too late. You’re getting out of here. Right now. Craning over the side, you can judge the distance as far enough to cause some problems if you just dropped down, even with the hedge breaking your fall. You can tuck and roll, can’t you? Yeah, definitely. Tuck and roll. Easy. Despite your self-pep talk, you’re still hesitating.

But you can do that, you insist hurriedly. It’ll be locked away in your head somewhere. Gotta be. One of those survival things, like adrenaline-powered moms picking trucks up off their children. Your other leg swings forwards, dangling off the sill, hands braced against the frame.

“Fuck—Stop!”

You halt dead in your tracks. The light from the room behind you wavers, coiling as it caresses the bare skin of your arms. Thinking sinks into a chore, the world oozing fog from the corners, filling your limbs with sand. A breath escapes your lungs that empties your entire body, leaving you heavy and hollow. Wait. What are you doing? Jimin said to stop. Where were you going without him? You frown.

“It isn’t safe out there!” He’s definitely right about that. It is most certainly not safe. Why were you so determined to jump?

“I know you want to get out, but you’re gonna end up hurt if you leave now!”

You would get hurt, yeah. You cast a disparaging look at the ground beneath the sill.

Tuck and roll. Tuck and roll? You don’t know how to tuck and roll.

 “We aren’t the only ones with haze,” Jimin continues hastily, “And you already went missing—we won’t be the only ones looking for you, either. Jin must have bitten you. You can’t miss those marks. It leaves a smell. A-a trail. And the others aren’t always like us. They can be really cruel.”

“Others”? What is he—…Other vampires? You purse your lips. Jimin did say to stop. You should stop. But on the other hand it also did seem like you were in a real rush to jump out this window. Like you had a good reason at the time. What was it? It’s really hard to grasp, but you can’t shake the feeling like it’s incredibly important.

“Some of them really like pain,” his tone is hushed, “They’re scary. Bad.” He shifts, encouraged by the ponderous silence on your end as you mull over his words as well as your own thoughts. Time-sensitive. It feels time-sensitive. Something to do with time. And the window. Maybe you could compromise? Could you ask him to catch you when you jump out of the window? He seems strong enough. But you could probably also just as well ask him to hold you, if that’s what you wanted. Is it what you want? You’ve lost your train of thought, too easily distracted by the thought of Jimin’s soft, warm arms around you. Maybe that is what you wanted. You aren’t sure. You certainly want it now.

“I know you want to leave. But what if they catch you? They’ll make sure you suffer. We don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to suffer.”

 Part of you is more aware of what he’s saying than most of you, and parts of it come to you much slower than the rest. It leaves a smell. You raise a hand to the bandages and rub at them, feeling the itch, the throb, the vague pleasure that shoots down your neck. I’ll have to catch you and bring you back anyway. So that must be how Jin planned on tracking you down if you’d ran away. Looking back, he was really confident he was that he could. Not ‘try to catch’, not ‘hunt you down’. Catch you, bring you back. Maybe chain you up or something. The thought goes straight between your legs and you hum at the feeling. Is that what you were doing? Playing a cat and mouse game with Jin?...That doesn’t seem right, either.

Playing with Jin…A spark of concrete thought lights in your mind and you snatch at it even as it slips through your fingers like water.

 “…I’m not supposed to be playing with you, Jimin.” You point out, slowly, thoughtfully. You don’t have to raise your voice too much—you know he can hear you just fine. “Namjoon said so.”

Jimin sighs. “I misbehaved a little earlier, but I promise I’ll be good now. I’m just trying to help now. I promise I’ll be good.”

‘Misbehaved a little’. Memories of his plush lips against your sopping core rise to the forefront of your mind. You shiver.  Is that what you were after? No…that doesn’t have to do with the window. It could, maybe up against the window? An option.

“I’m supposed to go to Jin when my greedy pussy needs filling,” you add, swinging your legs faintly. “Not you, not Jungkook, not Taehyung.”

You can hear him choke faintly. “I-I know, I know, and that’s got to be confusing for you, but Jin isn’t here right now. It isn’t safe anymore.”

Now that doesn’t seem right. You roll your eyes. Not safe. That can’t be right. A breeze sweeps up outside the window and it raises goosebumps on your arms. You’d move back into the warm, but Jimin did tell you to stop, and you can’t think of why you wouldn’t listen to him just yet. Plus, you haven’t figured out what part the window has to play in all this. Something in you really wants you to jump. Something in you is screaming, but all you hear are echoes.

 “Jungkook’s so hungry...I kind of wish they’d just give you to him...But even so, I think you could help us. All of us.”

It’s quiet for a moment. You turn his words over in your head.

“Really? I could help you?” That’s an interesting take. You’d love to help, any way you can. You like helping.

“Yeah! You could help us! Please, please, open the door. We can’t keep talking, I swear to God he knows that you’re in here and if he finds you in here…Please open the door. Please come with me. I swear I won’t do anything.”

Helping, yeah. Maybe that was what you were doing. You can always ask Jimin about the window while you help him. Your legs are already swinging back over the window, albeit shakily. You’re reluctant to leave it, but you get distracted again by the bag over your shoulder. Whatever it was that doesn’t want you to go definitely isn’t going to let go of the bag. It’s a small compromise—keep the bag, leave the window. Jimin shouldn’t mind. You start towards the door, reaching for it.

“I promise I won’t touch you. I won’t even look at you if you want. Please.”

“No touching?” You repeat, stopping just in front of the frame. You’ll open the door. That should be okay. Although you won’t deny that you’re a little disappointed at the thought that you can’t touch Jimin.

“None! I’ll back up from the door, even!”

You clutch the plastic bag over your shoulder, and your mind briefly drifts to what it would be like if he was lying to you about touching. It can’t be your fault if he starts it, can it? Maybe then you won’t get in trouble. It’s a nice thought.

Curling your fingers around the handle is not nearly as difficult as when you opened the door for Taehyung. This time, the choice is so much easier.

When you pull it towards you, you immediately spot Jimin on the other side of the hallway, pressed fully to the opposite wall. His face crumples into relief when he sees you emerging, but his eyes are wide with urgency. His hands are held up in a gesture of peace, and there’s fabric slung over one arm. He doesn’t look halfway as dangerous as you’d think—his oversized sweater swallows him whole and his mussed hair makes him look so sweet, so small. A neon sign reading “Innocent” draped over his chest couldn’t scream ‘harmless’ any louder.

“Why aren’t I safe in Jin’s room anymore?” you ask curiously. The question seems to come from out of nowhere.

“His job has him caught up for a little while.” Is the immediate reply. The only part of him that moves are his pillowy lips. You remember those lips. “You would’ve been okay if no one knew you were in there, but somehow…somehow they figured it out.”

You hum, eyeing him absently.

“Where are we going?”

“I’d take you to my room, but neither of them need permission to come in, and I don’t think they trust me right now. I don’t think I trust me right now… I’m thinking the left wing.”

“The left wing?”

He nods. Slowly, deliberately, as though dealing with a spooked animal, he unhooks the fabric from his arm and offers it to you. After a half-second of hesitation, you take it from his hand, being sure to avoid actually touching him, despite the urging in your fingertips to brush his. It’s a hoodie. Oversized, well-worn…and a little dusty…? There are holes in some of the seams and whatever date was printed on the front, letter-man style, is rubbed most of the way off.

“For the smell.” He explains quickly. “You can’t leave Jin’s room smelling like him if he’s not here.”

Obeying a knee-jerk instinct, you raise a black sleeve to your nose and inhale briefly. You’re sure you don’t have half the sense that they do, but there is a scent. Vague, light. Oddly familiar.

“What’s in the left wing?”

An old wound twinges in his eyes and his gaze flits away. “Nothing, anymore.”

You grasp the hoodie more firmly between your fingers, scrutinizing the vampire as he pins himself to the wall, arms still up, now avoiding your gaze and frowning with the ghost of some distant memory. No touching, needs help, window jumping. You’re not sure you’ve got the space in your head to unpack everything. Not enough to make the connections that need made.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he says again, softly.

 You place the bag on the ground, pulling the hoodie over your head and gathering your hands from the insides of the massive sleeves, slinging the food back over your shoulder as you tug the bottom of the jacket down. It reaches all the way to your knees; it’s awkward, clumsy—you look like a teenager stealing her boyfriend’s stuff. Kind of cute. Does Jimin think you’re cute? You cast a glance up at him, but he’s very busy looking away from you.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” You affirm, shuffling comfortably.

“Good.”

He turns from you, spinning on his heel, and immediately makes a beeline down the hall. You try your best to follow, but he’s seriously booking it. You catch a flash of a worried, thoughtful expression as he casts a furtive glance down the stairs when the two of you pass them.

Momentarily, you lose yourself in gathering your bearings. Behind you, the opposite way of where you’re headed, is Jin’s room, then Jungkooks a little further down, and finally at the end of the hall is the bathroom they share. Where Taehyung was. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever actually been down this way, to the left from the front doors.

The light from the chandelier passes over your face and then dips back out of view. There’s a flash of trepidation, of anger, that grips your throat. No. It’s frustration. You aren’t supposed to be going this way for some reason. The window again…? The front doors.

Jimin’s pulling away, his pace quickening. You skip to catch up.

He leads you down the left hallway, all the way to the end, and then immediately veers to a sharp right. You almost run into him, skittering to a halt just behind him when he stops by a specific door. It doesn’t look any different from the others to you. You wonder what he sees.

He casts another look around, concern pulling at his lips, avoiding your eyes. He’s very pretty, but you wish he wasn’t frowning so much. Those sweet, soft lips should be pulled into a smile. Or even better, wrapped around your skin. Want dances briefly over your limbs, curls in your chest. The door opens with a creak of old wood and Jimin visibly flinches, but holds out an arm to usher you in. He almost forgets not to touch you, quickly dropping his arm back to his side as you walk past him. Missed opportunity. Obediently, you trail inside, casting a cursory glance about the room as he closes the door carefully behind the two of you.

It looks just like the other rooms you’ve seen, but even more bare somehow. The bed is made, but there are no decorative pillows. The bookcase in the corner is mostly empty, except for one or two faded, worn books. In the corner is a wardrobe just like Jin’s, though the doors are flung open. Recently, judging by the lines in the dust.

 “Okay. You have your food,” Jimin begins pacing, patting dust off surfaces as he goes like its an afterthought, using his other hand to rake through his hair—still avoiding your gaze. “You have your food, so that’s good.”

You drop the bag to the floor, scooting it close to the door. The feeling inside of you that needed it with you is satisfied with leaving it there. Within easy reach. Whatever that means.

The bathroom door is ajar, and from here, you can see a flash of green on the tiles. Are those…frog stickers decorating the walls? Jimin’s still worrying aloud, but you’re already tapping over to the door, pushing it open delicately, immediately distracted with the childish flourishes.

“Jin should be back soon. He said he’d be back soon. That usually means a work day.”

They are frogs, little cartoon frogs. Bright green, some of them red and blue. There are ridiculously cartoony ones with huge eyes and ones that are more anatomically correct—closer to the shower in the corner you can spot a whole host of charmingly anthropomorphic frogs holding…garden supplies?

“Maybe tonight? Hopefully tonight.”

You ghost closer to the wall, delighted to find these friendly faces. You trace over one with an extended finger, noticing the way its faded. How long have these been here? One of his brothers has light scratches, as though someone tried to peel it back and then smoothed it down when it wouldn’t come up cleanly.

It doesn’t occur to you that the bathroom door has creaked just that little bit more closed behind you until you sense movement. You move to turn, to tell Jimin about these fantastic little comrades you’ve just found, but a strong arm wrapping about your midsection stops you from going far. Automatically, your lungs fill with a squeal of surprise, but a hand clamps over your mouth and a familiar voice hisses in your ear with an urgent tone, warming your hair, making the surface of your skin tingle with the heat of his breath.

“Don’t scream.”

Your mind wipes entirely clean, the lights around you growing halos, the edges curling with shadows and warm, filtered glows. The entirety of your body floods with warmth, safety, belonging, all within a second. Scream? No. No, the sound that escapes you, muffled by Jungkook’s palm, is a moan. He’s so close, his body molded to yours, you can feel his heart beating through your back, can feel the body heat coming off him in waves. You’re already putty in his arms. There’s a heavy pause, marked only by the sound of you panting through your nose. In the other room, you can still hear Jimin complaining to himself, quieted somewhat by the mostly-closed bathroom door.

 “Jin’s pajamas…” Jungkook murmurs in your ear after a furtive beat. “Namjoon’s hoodie…No one would guess who you really belong to at this point.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, and you feel him press his nose to your neck, where your bandages lie, inhaling deep. The rush of pleasure that follows the mild ache beneath nearly takes out your legs, your body sagging against where he has you held against him.

“Both of them?” he whines quietly. The hand over your mouth disengages with a vaguely wet sound from where you’ve already begun drooling, fingers flying to the bandage, curling under and peeling it off, feverish. He throws it out of sight, somewhere on the floor. You squirm against his grip in anticipation, but he shushes you. The fresh air caressing your bites feels almost cold, tingling. A slick heat suddenly presses to the marks, hot and firm, tasting the scabs formed there, and it feels so good you almost cry out, but his hand reappears, curling around your chin to force three of his fingers past your lips. Desperately, you suck on them, pulling them deeper into your mouth, hips beginning to circle against him seemingly of their own volition. You think of what he promised you earlier. What he promised you.

Behind you, he grunts under his breath, grinding his pelvis against your ass and you can already feel him getting hard, the thick muscle of his thighs slipping across the thin fabric of Jin’s pajamas.

“You know who you belong to, right?” he rasps, “You remember me? You remember my fingers?”

You nod vigorously, hollowing your cheeks around his digits, sucking them down like they were his cock. The arm around your waist shifts, his other hand trailing down your hips. He roots past the hoodie almost violently, searching for the waistband of the pajama pants, jamming his hand down the front as soon as he finds it. The pads of his fingertips stroke past your folds, testing the slick gathering there as you widen your stance to allow him more space, slobbering enthusiastically around the digits clenching absently around your tongue. Two fingers breach your quaking walls, shoved upwards into you and curling with one smooth motion. You buck forwards just as he thrusts, exhaling a shuddering gasp into your hair.

“Yeah,” he hums, fucking upwards with his hand, circling his wrist and sliding his thumb down against your throbbing clit to send lightning flickering through your spine, “Yeah, you remember me. You remember this.” Even as he fingers you sloppily, fervently, he keeps you locked in place, imprisoned by his strong forearms, pressed to his legs and torso.

 “I don’t know if I can keep being good the longer I stay here with you,” Jimin’s voice suddenly wafts over to you from the bedroom, though he seems hesitant to come too close to the bathroom door.

Jungkook’s hand doesn’t stop, but his motions calm to simple strokes, rubs, fingers pulsing inside of you with a delicious drag that has your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering to chase after more. His own breath is quickly getting out of hand, heavy exhales you can hear him trying to muffle into your neck.

“But before I leave, I just want to make sure you aren’t gonna try and escape, okay?”

 Lips press to your bite marks, feverish and possessive. Jungkook’s teeth catch the tender, not-quite-healed flesh in a bite that is less than kind, but the aching pain sends your legs into spasm with a spike of heady pleasure, choking around his fingers as he presses down hard on your tongue. The moan that arises from your chest is garbled and messy as you drool and huff openly, wetly. He ruts against you through the unforgiving starch of his jeans, rolling into you like he could reach your sex through the layers. You rut back, just as desperate for him to be inside of you.

 “Uh…Hello?” Jimin’s voice speaks up again, concerned. You can’t see the door, but you can hear it as it creaks open lightly, can see the light growing from the room outside, casting gold onto the frogs that watch you shudder with wide, impassive expressions. Jimin’s breath hitches inside his throat.

You feel the impact as suddenly Jungkook is wrenched bodily off of you, nearly taking the pajama bottoms with him, his teeth scraping your marks with a sting of pain. You’re thrown violently backwards in the wake of it but are caught in another arm’s embrace, soft sweater fabric cushioning your fall into his Jimin’s chest, his forearm bracing you underneath your armpits.

Shocked, your head whips around, only to both hear and see Jungkook at the end of his arc, flung a ridiculous length across the threshold into the bedroom, slamming into the wooden poster of the bed, legs caving underneath him. You wince in sympathy at the sound when his head snaps against it, but you don’t have the chance to ask if he’s okay. Jimin quickly disengages your limbs to push you behind himself, spreading his arms and legs against the doorway to the bathroom, acting as a physical barrier.

“Jungkook, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts, and you cower at the unbridled fury in his tone.

You peek under one of Jimin’s arms, peeping with concern at the cherry-haired vampire sprawled at the foot of the bed. But he looks more upset than hurt as his neck lolls and he cradles the back of his head with a wince.

“I—Jimin, I just—“ “You JUST! What the fuck were you thinking?!? Seriously, I could kill you right now, I swear to God—“

“What were you thinking?! Y-You’re just gonna hide her? In this house?? When all of us are starving?”

“That was not my decision!”

“It is your decision to blindly follow it like some kind of sick fucking dog!”

“Fuck you!”

You can see Jimin stiffening, his voice escalating, can see from here the snarl on Jungkook’s face, the way his fangs peek out from his top lip like some kind of animal. He hisses, sharp, angry—and suddenly his head lolls again and his eyebrows pull together like he’s in incredible pain, eyes screwing shut. When he speaks again, it’s no quieter, but it cracks with hurt, desperation.

“I’m so hungry…I’m so fucking hungry.” He chokes. “It hurts, my fucking throat hurts so bad.” His hand drifts to circle around his own neck. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “I can’t see straight anymore, I can’t think. Everything hurts.”

Jimin’s arms waver and he hesitates. As you listen to him lament, your heart breaks, distant and vague, but sympathetic to his obvious suffering if nothing else. Your cunt pulses around nothing, as if to remind you of what’s been interrupted, and the juxtaposition of the two emotions is conflicting to say the least.

“I know.” Jimin’s own voice has dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You just—you just have to—“

“It doesn’t work anymore!” Jungkook interrupts with a whine. “It doesn’t work, I tried it, Jimin, it doesn’t work. They’re too scared, there’s too few that it works on, I’ve got, I’ve got fucking holes in my shoes from wandering around our tiny little cage trying to find something to fucking eat. Don’t you think I’m trying? I’m trying, but it’s so hard.”

“It—it’s just until Namjoon comes back,” Jimin tries again to be defensive, but you can hear it in his voice; the sympathy, the worry.

“I can smell her in my dreams, when I can manage to actually sleep. I can taste her through the walls. I-I can’t keep doing this. It’s killing me. I’m actually going insane.”

Jungkook shifts to stand shakily, using the bed for support, and Jimin immediately twitches to protect you, pressing you further into the bathroom. His arms are really soft and nice, you kind of want to wrap up in them. Maybe convince his hand downwards? That sounds good. That sounds very good. Your thighs rub together.

“You can’t trust me.” Jungkook says quietly. “Not around her. I’m not going to stop trying to get to her. Namjoon or not.”

“I—“

“I know he already hates me. It’s okay.”

“Jungkook…He—Namjoon doesn’t hate you—”

“You can’t trust me.” Jungkook meets Jimin’s eyes, desperation etched into every crease of his face, tinging every word out of his mouth. “But I trust you.”

“…What are you talking about?”

You’re gauging the distance between Jimin’s fingertips and your pussy. Not too far. You could probably just sidle right up, if he only relaxed that little bit more. You worry at the hem of the hoodie with your own fingertips, debating the pros and cons.

“You could stop me.” Jungkook’s tongue flits out to pass over his lips as he pleads. “You could stop me from taking too much. I trust you.”

Slowly, he begins to stalk closer, one step at a time. Jimin flinches, but he’s also distracted by this new train of thought and doesn’t seem to notice.

“Jungkook, that’s not a…that’s not a good idea.” You can hear Jimin swallowing harshly as he pushes you back further, his resolve wavering.

“Why?” The younger vampire whines again, face crumpling. “Please. Please, just a little, just a taste. A swallow.” He gestures tiredly at the bed, like his arm is too heavy. “We can roll her around on here after? No one has to know.”

“They would know.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take the punishment. Whatever it is. Please, Jimin. I-I think I’m dying.”

“No—“

“You could have some, too? I’ll take the blame for both of us.”

“—Jungkook—“

“Do you really think you can resist her?” he demands, suddenly angry. He’s managed to slink to within a few feet of your guard. Jimin doesn’t seem to have noticed the dangerous proximity. “You know she gets so wet so easy. You know it doesn’t take much.”

You understand him this time, those terms in particular. As a matter of fact, you’re currently thinking of ways you can work Jimin’s hands into your pants without him realizing. You need something between your legs. Anything to soothe the want flaring there. Hungry. Yes. You know what it’s like to be hungry.

“Don’t you miss the way she tastes?”

Jungkook takes another step, staring his shorter elder down. The blonde automatically lifts one hand as if to push him away, but it’s weak, wary, only placing a palm on his broad chest, briefly straining in warning.

“This is a bad idea.” He protests again, an answering whine coiling about the edges of his speech.

“It is,” Jungkook agrees, his voice low, catching in excitement.

 Fingers curl around one of your wrists and you look down in mild surprise, just in time to watch Jungkook leading your hand around Jimin’s side. He snakes your arm around his still form, to his front. And down. When he presses your hand to his crotch, you suck in a startled breath. The boy in front of you stiffens and sways backwards, but you surge forward with a wave of excitement, realizing just a beat late what he’s inciting.

“This will be better for both of us,” Jungkook murmurs. “I know you’re hungry, too.”

Jimin doesn’t reply as you slide your palm down the front of his skinny jeans timidly, rubbing at the bulge that’s already begun to build there, hidden beneath his sweater. Emboldened by his increasingly sloppy breaths and lack of coherent protest, you grab the zipper and yank it down. When you sneak your hand inside, he makes a high-pitched noise in his throat. His hips buck, thrusting into your eager fingers.

“This is bad,” he hums, chokes. You seek out his cock through the soft fabric of his boxers. “We’re gonna get in s-…so! M-much trou-trouble, ahh…” You curl around the shaft to fish it out and he makes a soft hiccupping sound.

Jungkook tugs at your wrist again and you limply submit it for him, watching in fascination as he drags his tongue against your palm, spitting once, gathering his saliva for you to use. For a brief moment, he leans closer, presses a lingering kiss to your pulse. His eyes meet yours over Jimin’s shoulder and you feel an answering gush of arousal slip from between your neglected folds. You return to your grip around Jimin’s member when he releases you, tugging experimentally, and he shudders into you, keening.

“You couldn’t help yourself.” Jungkook is still talking, mumbling, but you’re watching Jimin’s face as he leans back, finally relaxing into your palm. His head falls backwards and you admire his soft lips drawn into a pout, the way his eyebrows furrow, his eyes squeezed shut. You twist your stroke upwards and his tongue prods at the corner of his mouth, the muscles of his neck constricting around a needy moan. “I hazed her and it-it was too much for you. I made you do it—“

Jimin’s eyes fly open and sharpen, swiveling to glare at Jungkook with a gaze like fire, lips curling with a derisive snort. He snatches at your wrist, pulling you in front of him suddenly, his cock bobbing when he slides gracefully to the side. Markedly less graceful, you stumble, but fall to your knees when he bends your wrist over your head and pushes down pointedly. You’re eye-to-eye with his crotch now, staring straight into the flushed skin, the thick shaft, the feathering of downy hair at his base. Your mouth waters. You glance up at Jungkook, but he’s watching Jimin throw your arm back to your side with a heated expression.

Jimin’s hand slides across the top of your head in what starts out as a petting gesture, but immediately curls into a handful of your hair towards the back, gathering the strands unmercifully in a grip that burns against your scalp. He forces you forward and you gratefully oblige, opening your lips, tongue lolling, welcoming his leaking dick into the wet cavern of your mouth with a fanatical eagerness.

 “Suck my cock,” he hisses down at you, lips curled in a snarl. You lock your lips around him and comply, hollowing your cheeks, slipping your tongue against the heady underside. He tsks sharply through his teeth and you can see the muscles in his thighs twitch, hips thrusting shallowly to meet your motions halfway.

“Fuck, you really like that?” Jungkook coos thickly above you. “You like the fucking taste of cock, baby? Fuck, Tae was right, you’re so fucking nasty…”

You swallow around Jimin in answer, humming with pleasure at the stammered moan that falls from his lips when you do, your throat pulsing around him. You keep your hands by your side obediently, allowing him to maneuver your head exactly where he wants you, using you like his personal fuck toy. They’ll come to you eventually. You know they’ll take care of you.

“You don’t make me do anything,” Jimin growls. There’s a strict dominance in his tone that is completely at odds with his soft boy persona, and yet fits in perfectly with the way he fucks into you, leaking down your throat. “I hazed her first. She was going to go out Jin’s window. This is my fault.”

“Out the window?” Another hand appears on your jaw, squeezing, the thumb prodding for the bulge in your cheek. “Why would you do that when you’ve got all the cock you could ever want, right here?”

You hear a zipper. Excitement rises in your chest. Jimin pulls you off of himself with a harsh tug of your hair, leaving you with a sick plop of saliva, smearing precum across your cheek when his dick bobs against you. You lay a chaste, if sloppy, kiss on the tip and he groans, forcing your head to the side, to meet Jungkook’s member waving in your face expectantly. Again, you open up for him, shuffling at the feeling of arousal pooling in Jin’s pajamas, your nipples rubbing uncomfortably hard against the top, hidden away and too hot inside the hoodie. You whine through your nose, casting a pleading look upwards, but Jungkook only meets your gaze with a blown-out look of lust as Jimin starts encouraging your head down further, sliding you up and down his shaft as you suckle the hard flesh. His eyes roll back and his jaw drops, his hand coming to meet Jimin’s, twining through the strands.

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans, breathless. When his hips jut forward, his cock pushes through your cheeks, spittle leaking from the corners and dripping down your chin. It gets just to the point where you can feel your gag reflex rising and you twitch backwards, but the two of them hold you in place.

“Choke on it,” Jimin commands thickly, pushing you down further. The world shimmers about you and you feel static rising through your chest, up through your throat, your hands flying to tear entreatingly at Jungkook’s thighs as a retch immediately bubbles up in answer. It only lasts a second, your back bowing, your eyes rolling, before Jungkook is tearing both of their hands away and yanking his dick out of your mouth. Air rushes gratefully, harshly, back into your lungs and you cough, hacking, only just managing to catch yourself on the floor with your palms smacking down. Your sight blurs with tears that burn, your throat constricting painfully in protest.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you hear Jungkook chastising, though he’s still having trouble getting his own wind back. Gentle hands this time wind about your arms to lift you up, taking your hand in his as he helps you to sit on the backs of your knees. Large, warm palms cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears even as you continue to cough, limp in his grasp.

“If Namjoon’s gonna kill us anyway, I’m getting my worth out of this,” Jimin gripes petulantly. “And she’s too responsive.”

“You’re okay,” Jungkook soothes, watching your eyes carefully, ignoring his elder. You gulp down a huge lungful of air, your tears slowing in their descent down your face. He wipes at your cheeks sweetly.

“That was so hot, you did so good, you’re okay,” he repeats. A smile crawls across your spit-slicked expression at the calm that spreads down your form. You look at him with all the adoration in the world while he praises you, the shining sun of your universe, the bright center of your world. You’re okay. You are okay. You pleased him. You did good. He returns your grin.

“You like sucking our cocks, hm?” he hums, almost teasingly, casting a glance down your body. You nod in earnest, feeling the soft skin of his hands rubbing your cheeks as you do. “Good. That’s my good girl.”

He turns to Jimin, who’s watching you get praised with a slack look on his face, stroking his own dick thoughtlessly.

“My present, my rules,” Jungkook frowns, dark. “I don’t want her broken before I even get inside of her. You don’t tell her what to do.”

Jimin’s eyes flick to meet his. “I wasn’t going to break her—“

“Don’t haze her. Or else I’ll send you out.”

“I’d like to see you try.” “Don’t haze her,” Jungkook repeats, raising his brows, his hands slipping from your face. You take the respite to start working the hoodie up and off, suddenly incredibly aware of how stuffy and hot it is inside the thick fabric. “Or else. I’ll send you out.”

“Mm,” the blonde hums, his eyes widening in mock obedience, inclining his head once. “Yes, sir.”

 You lose sight of them as the hoodie passes over your face, but you can feel it grabbed at from the top, shirking it off of you easily. Jungkook reaches for you again and this time he helps you stand on unsteady legs. He leans forward, encouraging your lips to his and you accept his gift thankfully, craning towards him. As he kisses you, gently but hungrily, you feel a wandering hand from behind caressing down your spine, under the pajamas, sending shivers dancing down your frame. Fingers trace your back, down to your ass, slipping a palm up and under a cheek to squeeze it deftly, and you rock back towards it while Jungkook slides his tongue across your lips. Heat flares inside of you, unbearable and yet too good, too perfect. You need more, you need to be touched and kissed and filled.

“She didn’t hate it,” Jimin points out, low, as his fingers sneak further, brushing your cunt.

Jungkook hums warningly, but his own hand slides down your front to fondle at your pussy, pressing a curious digit, two, between your folds. He rubs there, drags through the wetness that oozes from you so easily. The three of you break for a second so they can rip your pajama bottoms off of you with two sets of determined hands, deftly unbuttoning Jin’s top and discarding them to the side of the room, leaving you completely naked between the two men. As strange as it might be, it’s exactly where you should be. How you should be. You don’t even feel embarrassed, only one step closer to what you want.  Jungkook finds your mouth again, reaching up to cup your breast and tease at the nipple with his thumb, sending sparks of pleasure skirting straight to the apex of your thighs.

You break the kiss with a squeal when Jimin’s hand comes down hard on your ass cheek, and then immediately coasts sweetly back between your thighs, dipping one finger inside of you before slipping back out. He slaps you again, and this time as you jolt forwards, Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide straight from your clit to your entrance, sheathing two of his fingers past your quivering walls. Idly, he allows you to ride his hand for a moment, watching you with wide eyes. You’re breathless at the teasing, the butterfly kisses that Jimin peppers across your shoulders and the playful kneading of your backside. When Jungkook takes his fingers from you again you whine in disappointment, but he pops them into his mouth, laving his tongue around his own digits as though savoring the tastiest dessert you could possibly imagine, his eyelashes fluttering closed.

He takes them out with a pop, grabs your hips, spins you around violently, and you almost knock into Jimin, who’d been making his way closer and closer to your back. He grins when you come face-to-face, pupils blown wide, skin flushed prettily, the visage of Lucifer—an angel of sin. He’s discarded both his sweater and his jeans, revealing the compact but powerful muscles usually hidden beneath his cute façade. Jungkook noses into the crook of your neck and you feel his hand curling around your thigh, lifting it, holding you firm. The soft, burning heat of his cockhead brushes your thigh and you give a low moan, circling your hips as if you could convince it inside you faster, the demanding static under your skin growing louder and needier with every inch it gets closer.

Jimin watches you seek out his lips with yours as you slide your arms about his bare, warm shoulders, though he pulls back and smirks at the way you chase after him. He finally allows you to make contact, rushing forward to swallow your lips whole, just before Jungkook sinks effortlessly inside of you. All three of you groan as you slide onto his member, the seemingly endless supply of glistening wetness gushing between your legs making for a smooth glide, stretching your cunt and filling your belly with his hard heat. Jimin kisses you hungrily, devoutly—pecking, sucking, nipping—as Jungkook attacks your neck, on the side opposite your bite marks.

“Does that feel good?” Jimin croons, and your back arches as he pinches sharply at a nipple, licking the corner of your mouth. You nod, humming, trying to keep your wits about you as Jungkook shifts more comfortably and somehow inches even further inside, rubbing against every crevice, fitting you like a glove.

“Me too?” Jimin guides one of your arms off his shoulder, down to his shaft, sandwiched between your bodies, and you wrap your fingers around it just as Jungkook starts to move. “Make me feel good too…” Jimin exhales a plush breath at the feeling when you begin to pump him again, purring at your obedience.

Jungkook keeps your thigh up for easy access to your pussy, which welcomes him in earnest, his cock rocking in and out in a steady rhythm, filling you up good, so good, with every thrust. He pants against your neck, kissing, licking, tasting the sweat that drips from your nape, his free hand holding your hip. The room fills with hums and grunts from the three of you, the wet sounds of your coupling, the gasps from Jimin as he mouths decadently around a nipple and twitches in your palm. You arch back, pushing your breasts into Jimin’s face, your head craning over Jungkook’s shoulder, when slick fingers meet your clit, circling and pressing in time with the thrusts. You don’t even notice Jungkook’s heightening pants and huffs, the way he noses into your skin.

“J-Jimin,” Jungkook suddenly whines, and the panic in his tone is what tears Jimin’s attention away from your chest. “I-I don’t think I can—“

“Not here,” his elder warns, eyes wide with concern. He reaches over your shoulder, leaning closer. He absently shushes your keening when his cock presses against your clit, sliding through your slickness to bump the swollen bundle. You feel Jungkook’s head shifted carefully away from where he’d buried his mouth on your neck, sucking bruising hickeys onto the slender column.

“Not here, not standing,” Jimin repeats, giggling. “Bed. Jungkook, bed. Come on.”

Jungkook growls, but you feel him moving away, peeling his chest off your back and sliding out of your pussy with a sinful noise that steals the breath from three pairs of lungs, the sensation leaving you empty and wanting. You whimper, and Jimin shushes you again.

 As Jungkook steps back, Jimin steps forward, his arms collecting you easily and you almost fall into him. He walks you back, caging you in his body heat, his scent, until you can feel the soft bedsheets at your knees. He pauses there to reach behind you and dig around the blankets. Your eyes meet Jungkook’s over his shoulder. He’s pulling his shirt off of his chest, shirking his jeans to the floor before wrapping his hand around his cock. He strokes himself, eyes blown wide, jaw set tightly in an expression of pure lust. A thrill shudders up your spine and you have to swallow down the saliva that builds in your mouth. He watches you.

“These sheets are so fuckin’ dusty,” Jimin’s complaining idly. Finally, he pulls away enough to lick up your lips, humming his approval when you try to suck his tongue deeper into your mouth. “Lean back.”

You oblige, your gaze casting up to the gold-painted ceiling. You squeak when he pulls you further onto the bed, hoisting you up as he crawls onto it to sit beside your head. It does smell like dust, but he must have peeled the first layer off, the sheets underneath cool against your fevered body.

Jungkook reappears above you, broad hands ghosting up your thighs to push them apart, upwards, cradling the backs of your knees, allowing him the room to slot back between your legs. His maroon hair sticks to his forehead, his neck, frames his far-off expression that burns with such intensity you have a hard time keeping eye contact for too long. Your hips flex upwards, the rushing in your ears building to dizzying volumes, the screaming of every nerve ending for again and more.

“Not her neck, either,” Jimin mumurs as Jungkook lines himself up with your cunt and presses back in with a delicious, slow push. Filling you again, pushing on your legs to get ever deeper, he leans in to attack your lips, sinking down into you. You moan at the feeling, at the way he bites and nips, the way he rolls his pelvis to stroke at your walls. “Not her arteries. Nothing major.”

You arch, swallowing him further, and he growls thick, hips snapping.

“Hey! Listen to me!” Jimin complains, though his hand appears to curl around yours, tugging it back behind your head. His cock slides between your fingers and he molds your hand around it. You comply, jerking him off as best you can while Jungkook begins a strong pace inside you, your ass pressed to his lap, your feet dangling in the air beside your head. The bed creaks beneath you.

“I’ll bite her chest, right next to her heart,” Jungkook mumbles. “I’ll suck her dry right from her fucking tit.”

Jimin groans, deep, thrusting into your hand. “N-not dry, not dry, remember, Kookie. We need to be good, remember. Good boys.”

You can’t think, you can’t do anything but bounce as Jungkook pistons into you with the strength of a runaway bull, holding himself up on his toes for leverage just to make sure there’s no inch of you unfucked. His dick parts your pussy like it was made for him, brushing against your g-spot deep inside, sending your legs into spasm every time he bottoms out. It’s too much, it’s too good, a rising pyre building inside of you of yes and more and please. Your head throws back and you cry out, cut off abruptly when Jimin slaps a palm over your mouth.

“T-too loud, fuck, shh,” he hisses, hand flexing as you continue to moan and whine, muffled now, breasts jumping along with the rhythm.

 You don’t hear the door open.

But you do hear it close, clicking behind a new entrant into your depravity. You feel Jungkook stiffen, panting, dropping your legs as if to hide your body beneath him, his forearms falling to either side of you possessively, head whipping to the side. Jimin pauses with a sharp intake of breath, his hand stilling yours against his cock. You whine, humping upwards, but they’re momentarily distracted by whatever—whoever—it is that you can’t see, your view obscured by the sweat-drenched maroon mop on the back of Jungkook’s head.

A beat passes.

 “Tae.” Jungkook barks, exasperated. His body jiggles with the force of the shout, and you try to use it to your advantage to garner more movement but he remains still above you.

“Nobody in this fucking house ever knocks, what is the point of even having doors,” Jimin bitches under his breath. “Fuck, Tae, I thought you were Namjoon.”

“I’m not Namjoon.” You hear Tae’s distinctive, deep rumble reply, though he sounds distracted.

“Good for you. We’re busy, fuck off.”

“Is that the human girl?”

“None of your fucking business—“

“—Don’t tell anyone—“ Jimin tries to butt in, pleading.

“’Don’t tell anyone’, Jesus, I could hear you downstairs, could smell her through the vents—“

“Mind your own business Taehyung—“

“I was minding my own business, I had my fucking headphones in and I could still hear the three of you—“

“Get OUT, Taehyung—“

“—sounding like a fucking elephant orgy—“

“Tae!” Jimin shouts, commanding. Jungkook starts up again with a tsk, but Jimin quickly cuts him off. “Jungkook! Please! Come on, seriously. Who knows how long we have until they come home? We don’t have time for this.”

“Tell him to go away, Jimin.”

“I want in.” Taehyung interrupts.

“What?”

“I want in, you said I could fuck her mouth, I want in.”

Jimin sounds deceptively calm from above you, his voice like sugar and poison. “When did you say that?”

“Not important!” Jungkook shrieks, jerking upwards, hand thumping into the sheets by your side. He inadvertently thrusts into you hard with the motion and has to choke off a rough growl as you clench around him, hips jerking to meet him eagerly. You accidentally lock eyes with Taehyung when he moves out of the way. He stares wide-eyed at you as you moan, low. “Fuck, that is not important right now. She’s—my fucking present—“

“That’s right. She is.” Tae responds levelly, too levelly. He doesn’t blink. Jungkook’s hands fist into the bedsheets on either side of you, his endurance faltering at the feel of you pulsing around his cock so greedily. He pants, hums deep in his chest, smoothly fucking into you, slowly, as he’s if trying very hard not to. “She is your present. And you decide what happens to her.”

The next thrust lifts your ass back onto him and you squeal, still caught in Taehyung’s hypnotizing, half-lidded gaze as his expression drops into that sultry mask you know too well.

“And you said that I could fuck her mouth.”

“I said I would think about it.”

“I think she should get a vote.”

“We aren’t voting—“

“What do you think, hmm?”

“Don’t answer him.”

“Answer me.”

You’re already babbling, Jungkook’s steadily losing battle with keeping his pelvis in check encouraging the words that bubble up from your throat instantly, summoned forth by the powerful haze dancing through Taehyung’s velvet tone. Your mouth hanging open, breasts again beginning to jerk with each thrust, eyes threatening to roll back, you spit like someone possessed, speaking in tongues.

“Yes,” you hiccup, as if you can’t get it past your lips fast enough, “Yes, yes, I want to taste his cock, I want to taste him, feel him in my mouth, please, Jungkook, please, I want it so bad, I do want him to fuck my mouth, please let him fuck my mouth, please, Jungkook.”

The side of Taehyung’s mouth flicks upwards at your confession, his eyes blinking slow.

“See?” His tongue flits out before he raises his eyebrows pointedly.

Jimin’s hand covering yours squeezes your fingers around his member, convincing it upwards, and stroking down once more as he begins to speak, thoughtfully.

“He could help,” he points out, distant. He rolls forward, flexing into your palm with a soft exhale. “He could help, and we could all keep an eye on each other. It would be—hm—it would be easier than just me trying to keep you from going too far.”

“I’ll tell Jin if you don’t let me in,” Tae adds.

“Fine! Fuck, fine. You’re such a dick.”

Jungkook leans over, pulling your attention back to him. He plants a sloppy trail of kisses over your collarbone and neck, sucking a path up to your lips. When he cranes away, you separate with a slick pop and he huffs.

“Help me move her,” he mutters. He peels himself up off of you, wincing when he slips out of you. You grab for him, trying to get him back inside your warmth, but he collects your wrists with one wide hand. You arch, whining. Another set of hands curl underneath your arms to haul you back, and you scoot with the motion obediently until you can lay your head back over the edge of the bed. Jungkook relinquishes your wrists and they fall limply to your sides.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hear him complain sharply.

“It’s my turn to fuck her pussy,” Jimin growls back, and you hear shifting by your legs, the violent tugging on your thighs to face a direction so you can more comfortably hang over the edge. “You’ve had long enough.”

“Some fucking birthday present.”

“I’m not having a hand job for my last meal while you hog her cunt.”

“You’ll last longer if you’re not always inside her, anyways. Right?” Taehyung moves into your field of view. He’s already rid himself of his clothes, his long, thick cock straining into the air just by your face. When you feel his hand caress through your hairline, circling your throat, you hum your approval, already twisting to convince him into your mouth. He giggles, once, fingers drifting to purse your lips while his other hand curls around his base and guide it through your jaw—hot, heavy, feverish against your tongue.

“Good girl,” he praises deeply, “God, so good. Relax. You’re okay.”

You are okay. The deeper he goes into your throat, the better it feels, sliding downwards, your nose pressing into where his testicles hang. His grip returns to your neck and you shudder, whimpering, when he squeezes ever-so-slightly, as if only to feel for the lump he makes inside your throat. Meanwhile, hands are petting your legs, slipping across your thighs, flicking occasionally at your clit, opening your folds, rubbing. Finally, there is another prickhead warming your entrance, teasing upwards before sinking back down and pressing inside of your cunt. Jimin isn’t quite as long as Jungkook, but he’s thicker, and the way he stretches you around him has you bucking, waves of pleasure cascading underneath your skin, making you dizzy. Your vision spins when he thrusts, testing, and lets loose a thick growl.

A hand takes your wrist and leads it impatiently to another dick, sticky and slick with your essence. Jungkook groans as you clamp down on him, jerking him vigorously.

The cock down your throat twitches, and Tae’s hips rock lightly, almost teasing, eliciting loud sounds of suckling interrupted, filling your ears. Jimin begins a rough pace inside of your cunt, alternating deep, powerful thrusts with long, slow glides, and the juxtaposition makes you quiver around him, legs shaking where he’s pressed you into the bed. It’s so good, it’s so good, so slick, cocks inside of you and against you and fucking into you with perfect synchronicity, tears build up in the corners of your eyes, joining the slobber as it dribbles down your cheeks, pleasure building in your gut fit to burst; close, so close. Above you, the heavy breaths from Tae, soft gasps from Jimin, grunts from Jungkook, the pathetic whimpering of your own, muffled voice, the sopping sounds as you’re used so thoroughly.

 “F-Fuck, I’m—I’m gonna—“ Jungkook whines, tsking through his teeth as he humps into your palm, his hand forcing yours tight around his cock. A tongue slithers over a peak of your breast, gathering your nipple in a wet, sloppy kiss before relinquishing with a ‘plop’, swollen lips humming against your skin.

“Go-go ahead, Kookie,” Jimin stammers, tenderly. “Go ahead, I’ve got you.”

Taehyung’s grip on your throat curls tighter, depriving your lungs of precious air as he begins to fuck steadily into your mouth, but you’re good, you’re okay, you’re so wet and so good, allowing for the slide of his dick through your throat. Your eyesight shimmers and bursts with every twitch of pleasure, humping along with Jimin’s strong, insistent hips, feeling entirely full and perfect and almost, almost there.

The mouth reappears on your tit, mouthing wantonly, dirtily, and you arch for more of it. It travels inwards, placing a brief kiss to the valley between your breasts before harshly suckling at the pulpy flesh of the opposite slope. A thumb presses to your clit, circling with every motion of Jimin’s girth parting your cunt smoothly and the simultaneous fondling, kissing, grunting quiet approval, has the room whirling around you. It builds inside you even further, rushing up through your toes, dashing over your body like an unstoppable tidal wave, every limb tingling in anticipation, back bowing off the bed, muffled moans drawn from your chest with every movement.

“Cum for us,” Tae grunts, so quiet you almost don’t hear him.

The sensation of teeth piercing your skin floods your entire frame with only a second of pain, but is quickly overwhelmed by pleasure so strong that you seize, neck craning, hips humping, legs going into spasm. Your vision goes white and you’re screaming as you finally cum, your entire body shaking, lifted off the bed with the force of it, even as three pairs of hands pin you down. Someone above you curses, grunts, and through the crashing force of your orgasm, you feel warmth painting your insides, the cock between your thighs pulsing against the clenching of your pussy, the digits rubbing your clit faltering, clawing, as your pelvis bounces unforgivingly, bruising, bringing with it surge after surge of gratification. The member in your mouth throbs and suddenly there are ropes of hot semen painting the inside of your throat, even as he ruts fiercely, forcing it deeper, clutching your throat around himself, snarling like an animal. Between your fingers, you feel the swelling of cock, the way it leaks and finally spurts wet heat up your wrist and arm.

The lips at your breast take that first pull of your blood, the first decadent sip and your back almost snaps in half. Your vision whites out with a flash and you’re screaming again, hoarse, briefly aloud as Tae slips out of you but clamps a hand over your mouth, unable to stop the flood of cum that falls from your open jaw and oozes lewdly from the corners. He says something but you can’t understand, you’re thrashing and writhing in their grasp, focused so entirely on the feel of Jungkook’s gentle kiss, the sensation of being fed from, like everything in your veins is his to take, like everything you’re made of belongs to him, belongs to the way he suckles at your sweet life force.

You’re sweating, panting, shivering, mindless, caught in this timeless space between the caress of his tongue and the world you’ve left behind. Voices, hummed and muttered. Hands, brushing hair back from your forehead, travelling to your lips, gripping your hip, dancing up your torso, clutching your legs. The lips, teeth, leave your breasts with a break of suction that you feel more than hear, spurring another twitch from your exhausted, heavy body at the brief thrill that hurts.

But quickly, they’re replaced. Another pair of lips, plump, frenzied, insistent, drawing from you like a prize won. Your breast aches, but it’s immaculate, it’s right and what little strength you can summon from your limbs propels one arm upwards. It’s made of stone, of marble, too heavy, too hard, and even as your sight begins to clear into blurred shapes and smeared colors, you have trouble maneuvering it around the two pairs of everything you see. Initially, another hand bats it away from your intended trajectory, the one relinquishing your mouth to allow your whines and moans full volume, and it pushes your arm to the side. But even as you waver, you’re finally allowed to make contact with the head of hair pressed to your chest. Strands of hair, some slick with sweat, decorating the warmth of the head above you. You weave your fingers into it and tug it closer, curling towards the puff of amused air that answers, the gentle hum before the second mouth also disengages. He leans away from you but takes your hand with him, long fingers disentangling yours from his hair to clasp around them instead. He holds you against his warm palm, presses an affectionate kiss to the back of your hand. You don’t have long to be disappointed at the interruption.

With the other moving out of the way, the light from above flashes in your eyes and even though it’s too bright, too much, it gives you the brief glimpse of the sweet, hungry smile of the next face to drift to your breast. You slip your free hand into his shining, blonde hair as he kisses you, too, brushes his tongue against your skin to collect the beads of ruby essence gathering there, spikes of pain coiling into deep pleasure to make you gasp when he begins to suck, plump lips stroking the flesh. He doesn’t stay with you as long as the others, but he remembers to press a modest, lingering kiss to the wound that makes your heart flutter before he cranes up and out of your fading vision.

Your afterglow sinks into your limbs, makes you limp, tired, but sated and warm. The bed rises to claim you, swallowing you whole, as the painting above spirals and winds about itself. The flashes of gold, the glimmering of so many details, are beautiful, distracting, and there are palms against your cheek now, voices buzzing in your ears that you can’t decipher. They brush more hair from your face, and as you dully watch the painting drift off of the ceiling to reach for you, intertwine tendrils of painted sunlight with your arms and legs, you feel yourself being moved, from one cloud to another, your head now supported by a cushion. You’re grateful for that. Makes it easier to watch the ceiling dissolve into gold dust, turning into a shower that feels cool against your face. You can almost taste it, like a breath of fresh air. It makes you feel at peace.

More voices, getting louder, faster. Tapping, prodding, all over, but it’s no longer your body that they’re touching. You’re in the ceiling, being dissolved with the painting.

The curtains surrounding the world draw closed, and your vision shuts out.

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