#my head is SPINNING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-shoebox-named-meap · 9 months

Text

aight. have some nimona canon divergence AU fic ideas because i’m no writer but i AM going insane

as a huge fan of canon divergence AUs where One Small Decision Changes Everything™ i can’t stop thinking about little bits and pieces from the nimona movie like:

what if the squire had shown ambrosius the video (ohh a fic like this would be Delicious) (mm ambrosius x squire tag team) (ballister’s two biggest fans) (this might be one of my favorite ideas so far) (lots of potential here i feel like)

now there have been a lot of people asking “let’s feel some ANGST what if real ambrosius had walked into the director’s office before nimona” but i will take that and raise you: what if ambrosius had walked in while nimona was doing her thing in the director’s office. perhaps around the time when the director stabbed fake!ambrosius. please consider. may the chaos ensue

ballister had noticed his sword-laser-cannon powering up and moved it away from the queen but it hit something else! or someOne else! (or it killed the queen anyway but still hit somebody else in the process) (oh gods what if it took off his own arm) (or even ambrosius’s—) (can you imagine the kinda twist that would occur if he took off ambrosius’s arm by accident and ballister not resting until he found out who the real culprit is skdjdjdjdjddj) (oh but wait let me make this WORSE what if he hit ambrosius instead of the queen ((don’t worry ambrosius is wearing armor, he doesn’t die he’s just,,, gravely injured?)) and ballister, even if he still gets framed for it, will stop at nothing to find out who did this to ambrosius) (now incorporate nimona into that storyline and hoohoohoo) (i’m rubbing my hands together like a maniacal fruit fly right now)

what if they had uploaded the squire’s video when they got it huh. what then. back it up to the cloud. or just TEXT it to ambrosius you Fool. you absolute Buffoon. (but perhaps this seemingly obvious course of action results in some unexpectedly dire consequences oh no—)

“ooh… nemesis.” “nemesis?” at which point nimona and ballister get stuck in the closet, nimona reveals her shapeshifting abilities, and oh, screw it, if ballister’s situation with his arm-chopping nemesis is really so cOmPLiCAteD then maybe since they’re breaking out of jail anyway they might as well kidnap ambrosius while they’re at it. aka the au where nimona breaks ballister out of jail and she takes ambrosius with them. (i am FEASTING on the possibilities of this one)

let’s take todd’s suspicion and blame directed towards ambrosius (“why didn’t you tell us ballister was working with whales?”) and dial that up to 100. slowly, though, not too fast, it’s gotta build momentum. let’s breed some mistrust in ambrosius. let’s see people refusing to let ambrosius lead the manhunt for ballister on account of their close relationship. let’s see people turn their backs on him thinking he was a conspirator. let’s see ambrosius losing the public’s favor. let’s see ambrosius starting to feel some doubt when he’s alone in his room — let’s see ambrosius wondering what if people are actually as wrong about ballister as he knows they are about ambrosius himself. (what if everybody hates ambrosius too—)

this one is not nearly as straightforward a canon divergence but ponder this: the director noticed the squire was there in the locker room (?) that day and swapped out the swords after the squire had left. or maybe she swapped it out before the squire was ever there. the squire never knew the director had been there. there was no video evidence. now what? up to you >:)

ok hear me out. the squire is a #1 ballister fan right. the squire is probably very careful with the swords and armor he handles. the squire is probably intimately familiar with the swords and other various weaponry and armaments of the institution. the squire is probably very familiar with ballister’s in particular. when ballister first picked up his swapped-out sword he noticed something was off about it, but what if — WHAT IF — the squire had noticed something was off about it first. now of course there’s Possibility #1 where he sees the director swap the sword, and then he checks out the sword and feels that something is wrong with it etc etc (or maybe he mistakes the sword change for an equipment upgrade) BUT now let’s combine this with the previous bullet point for Possibility #2 where the squire DIDN’T see the director swap the sword but he DID notice something was off about the sword before ballister did and actually investigated it. would he discover the hidden weapon, or not? if he did would he bring it to ballister’s attention? ambrosius’s? the director’s? what if he caught the hidden weapon but didn’t mention it and then the queen died and the squire was left fully believing ballister killed the queen (ballister knows mechanics, you’ve seen his arm, it’s plausible he built the weapon into his sword himself) and then ballister and nimona kidnapped him and interrogated him and ballister and the squire were left spiderman meme-ing each other like *points* “i thought YOU were behind all this!” and now the squire is an unwilling sidekick dragged into this by nimona and ballister to figure out who the real culprit is and there’s ACTION and ADVENTURE and COMEDY and it’s absolutely metal—

the squire really feels like a lynchpin in this story is all i’m sayin

if you can’t tell i’m also a fan of happy endings. in my brain most of these canon divergences result in a similar happy ending as the movie. except maybe faster (not always). which i enjoy because i’m sappy and silly anyway thank you and goodnight

#nimona #nimona fanfic #nimona fic #nimona netflix #nimona au #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona spoilers #nimona squire #nimona director #i don’t write fic but for the fic writers out there (i appreciate you all dearly) pls accept my humble offerings #i’m sure i’ll have more ideas later #my head is spinning #meap posts #nimona stuff

299 notes · View notes

whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🪢 You’re nothing more than our little plaything now, got it? 🪢

✎ Pairing: sexy ass!Bang Chan x intense!Lee Know x cocky!Han Jisung x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut (maybe fic?)

✎ Summary: Three mysterious men want to use you as a human pocket pussy for the night. Why the hell not?

✎ CW: ❗️Consensual nonconsent, a little blood❗️foursome, drinking, degradation, hand job, blow job, rough sex, face fucking, fingering, public fingering, general crassness

✎ Word count: 4,930

✩ A/N: I maaayyyy keep this one going as a chaptered fic?? Idk though. Lmk what you think! ✩

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Click

One handcuff latches around the bedpost. Its closely-linked twin is already snug around your right wrist.

Click, click

The man on your left encloses the bedpost first, then your wrist. You watch his skilled fingers work with bated breath.

“Comfortable?” the cocky blonde with the cute cheeks asks before shooting you a sly smile.

The dark-haired one scoffs.

“Like it matters,” he answers for you. “This isn’t about her comfort, is it now?”

“Quit bickering, you two,” says the third man — the amber-eyed, honey-tongued one. “We’re on the same team, here, yeah?”

The other two nod.

“Good. Now, grab her legs.”

They do as they’re told, pushing your ankles down into the bed. The leader unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxers, and slowly strokes his cock.

He hungrily examines your naked body, mapping out a course of action. You take the opportunity to study him, too, and deduce two things almost immediately:

1. His dick is probably the biggest you’ve ever seen, let alone taken.

2. That devilish grin on his face makes you nervous.

In one swift motion, he maneuvers the garments around his muscular legs and drops them to the ground. He crawls onto the bed, barking out one more order to his friends.

“Don’t let her go… even if she screams for help.”

Fuck, what did you get yourself into?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It didn’t take much to convince you at the time. Hot stranger approaches at the bar, buys you a drink. You chat, you flirt, you dance, you kiss. He asks if you wanna get out of here, of course you say yes. It was a typical pickup story — until it wasn’t.

You were already under his spell by the time he shared information about his friends: the brooder and the showboat. He pointed to a dimly lit corner where the two men watched you intently from afar, but you recognized those faces.

They had been hovering before. A hand on the small of your back as one walked past, eye contact held for just a second too long over your suitor’s shoulder. The three of them circled you like sharks, and you didn’t even notice.

But they were good dudes, he guaranteed it. Just some friends as close as brothers who wanted to try something, someone. Together.

You’d had a threesome before, so what’s one more? But not like that exactly, he clarified. Yes, four people, but more like 3 vs. 1. As in they can freely pinch and poke and prod, while you’re pinched and poked and prodded.

It could have been the alcohol or how his lips moved when he spoke in that Australian accent or the way the flecks of gold and copper and bronze swirled around his pupils, but you said yes.

Were you 100% sure? No, but why not? He said they’d give you a safe word and had absolutely no intention of hurting you (unless you wanted them to), but it could — and likely would — get rough. Fuck it, sure.

The first time you spoke to the other two was outside, and it was nothing more than simple hellos. Not even names. That was another part of the deal: anonymity. No personal details, no phone numbers, no emotional mess to deal with in the morning.

You stood on the sidewalk with the two strangers while the one who convinced you to do this tried to hail a cab. Eyes shamelessly traveled up and down each others’ bodies while you waited.

The blonde with the cute face and deep brown eyes stood — chest puffed out — next to the dark brown-haired one. His irises were darker than the blonde’s, and his energy much more intense. Arms crossed tightly across his chest, he squinted at you from the moment you said hello until the yellow car finally pulled up. Welp, here goes nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The cheeky blonde slides in first, and the quiet one gestures for you to go next. Whether he was being chivalrous or just wanted a sneak peek under your skirt as you maneuvered into the car wasn’t clear. Either way, he got his wish.

Blondie waited only for the inside lights to dim before placing a hand on your knee. He slowly drags his fingertips up your thigh, zigging and zagging more toward the inside, then the outside. He pauses when he touches the hem of your skirt, then retraces his steps back down to your knee. His motions repeat, but his path inches closer and closer to your inner thigh each time.

The mysterious one on your right hungrily stares down at your legs and cracks his knuckles, and the Aussie glances in the rear-view mirror every now and then to monitor their actions and gauge your reaction. He keeps smirking — showing off those dreamy dimples that hooked you in the first place — and shaking his head at the eagerness of his friend.

Eventually, there’s no more accessible flesh for the bold one to traverse. His path has led him to the line where your thighs meet, and they’re pressed together firmly. You see this scenario playing out in one of two ways, but the man you can’t quite pin down surprises you with option number 3.

His hand lands on your leg with a loud clap, and he forces his way between your thighs. The two of them pry your legs apart and run their digits up and down the sensitive skin, putting your panties on full display for the driver.

Tingles immediately shoot up your spine. They inch closer and closer to your crotch, but never actually reach it. Fingertips always stop right at the edge of your panties before traveling back toward your knees, but you can’t help but hope that each time would be different… and they’d finally…

“We’re here.”

Your eyes shoot back open; you hadn’t even realized they closed. The cabbie is paid in cash, and the men open and exit through their respective doors. They gather on the sidewalk, holding out hands to help you to your feet.

You mumble a thanks and stride behind them to the entrance. They open double doors for you and lead the way to the elevators. The blonde presses the button and stands watch, glancing back and forth between the two numbers to guess like he’s trying to guess which would arrive first.

The other two stand at your sides. The quiet one extends his arm to brush knuckles against your hip, and the Aussie places an open palm on your lower back and quietly hums a tune you haven’t heard before.

Ding

“Ha! I called it!” the blonde exclaims, clenching his fist in a tiny celebration of winning whatever game he played in his head.

The left elevator’s doors open, and you file in, the hand on your back guiding you to the rear of the car. Once you turn to face the front, his long fingers curl around your waist and pull you into his body. In another context, this may have been comforting. But the quiet one surprises you again and slips a hand under your skirt — heading right for your crotch this time.

He applies pressure to get a feel for you over your underwear. Then his middle finger curls up, pushing in just enough to make you squirm before returning to its initial position. Your breath quickens right when the elevator stops and the doors slide open once again.

An older couple walks in, exchanging smiles with your group. The hand at your waist squeezes tightly, and you smile, too. But the hand on your pussy doesn’t leave. If anything, he pushes into you deeper. You try to angle your hips away from him, but his lips go to your ear.

“Stay still,” he breathes. “You’re nothing more than our little plaything now, got it?”

Your toes curl into the soles of your shoes. It’s the only thing you can think to do that won’t make what’s happening so incredibly obvious. And everyone’s still smiling, but are they just being polite? You don’t know and you don’t care. You just want him to stop teasing and push through the silk entirely.

The elevator finally comes to a stop, and the couple steps off. Before the doors meet again, the one who started it all spins into you, his arm still tightly wrapped around your waist.

You’re chest to chest for the second time tonight. Without sweat and alcohol overwhelming your nose, you can finally inhale the vanilla and citrus of his cologne. His pull is just as intoxicating as it was at the bar, and you think you may be about to kiss him when he slams his free hand into the wall next to your head and leers down at you.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, yeah?” he growls. “We make the rules. We tell you to shut up? You shut up. We tell you to spread your legs? You spread ‘em. We tell you to come? You come. Got it?”

You nod.

“Good. Safe word is… uh…”

“Onion!” the blonde blurts out.

Dimples furrows his brow and shoots his friend a confused glance before turning his attention back to you.

“Sure, whatever, onion. You good with that?” he asks in that sexy accent.

“She better be,” the quiet one says from the corner while staring intently at your thighs.

Dimples and the blonde exchange smirks just as you reach the top floor and the doors open again. The Aussie keeps one arm tight around your waist and guides you down the hall.

The other two skip ahead, giggling about something unspoken. It’s like the dark-haired one is two different people. His emotionless eyes glare at you one second, and he’s beaming at the blonde in the next. They reach the room first, and he quickly snaps back into intimidation mode the second his eyes meet yours.

“Welcome to our playground…” the blonde says after you pass through the doorway.

It’s a typical hotel room: bathroom by the door, dresser below the tv, desk by the window, couch in the corner. But the bed sandwiched between nightstands sticks out the most. There’s only one, and four of you.

“Interesting…” you muse, slowly making your way to the couch.

“What’s that?” the dark-haired one asks.

“Yeah, what’s interesting?” blondie jumps in.

“Just… one bed,” you explain. “Guess we won’t be spending the night?”

“What makes you think that?” the Aussie challenges from across the room. He just finished moving the do not disturb sign to the other side of the door and attaching the chain. Now, he’s leaning against the wall, thick arms crossed over his chest.

Something about him keeps rendering you speechless. Whatever witty comment that was brewing in your mind is long gone, so you just plop down on the couch and stare at the bed.

“I think you broke her, hyung,” the blonde giggles and throws his body on the mattress. He’s enjoying the puzzled look on your face a little too much.

“So, who gets first go?” the quiet one asks from his position in the far corner.

Blondie is the first to offer his thoughts.

“He did most of the work so far, so I vote Ch-”

“SHHHHHH!” “Shut the fuck up!”

The other two cut him off almost in unison, but it’s a little too late. Ch-something. Noted.

“You’re a fucking idiot, but I agree,” Ch-something says, pushing off the wall and striding across the room toward you. He moves quickly, and he’s staring down at you again in mere seconds. “Stand up.”

You do as he asks, maintaining eye contact while you push up off the couch. Those beautiful eyes are a little cloudier now, and the sweet swirl from earlier looks more like a brewing thunderstorm.

He runs his fingers along the line where your top meets your skin. He drags his hands down your torso, feeling the lace on the bustier.

“Spin.”

You do as you’re told, and his hands get to work undoing the hooks along your spine.

“The second I saw you in this, I pictured what it would be like to take it off,” he admits. “Of course, there was a lot more ripping involved in my imagination.”

Your walls clench at the thought of someone like him wanting to rip your clothes off at first sight.

“But this is such a pretty top…” Ch-something continues. “And it would be a shame if we sent you home fucked and bruised and topless, too.”

One hand traces the exposed section of your spine before meeting the other and resuming their task.

“We’re nice boys, yeah? Just want you well-loved,” he says and presses his torso to your back, his silky lips to your ear. “And well-laid.”

The top releases its hold on your lower back and awkwardly hangs on your body. His big hands slide under the lace, around your waist, and up to your breasts. After a few squeezes, he slides the straps off your shoulders, and the top falls to the floor.

“I get first go, yeah?” he calls out to the others.

They echo in agreement from across the room. The Aussie circles your body before plopping down on the couch in front of you. He spreads his legs slightly and reaches for your hips.

“Come ’ere,” he commands, pulling you into his lap.

You straddle him and slide down onto his thighs, but not close enough, apparently. His hands firmly grip your ass and pull you into him. You can feel his hard cock press into your crotch while he wraps those big lips around one nipple.

He licks and nips and sucks at you, and you start to roll your hips into his lap. He gently guides you with palms on your ass, and for a minute you forget you’re not the only ones in the room. He has this way of making you dizzy with the warmth of his mouth and his hands and his chest and his...

“Ay, that’s enough,” one of the others says from behind you. “You’ll have plenty of time to mark her up later.”

Someone grabs your hair from behind and snaps your head back. Before you can register who it is, their lips are on yours and their nose presses into your chin. Hands go to your neck, alternating between caressing the skin and squeezing. Someone else is fiddling with your nipples, and Ch-whatever’s hands are still gripping your ass.

Whoever’s tongue it is forces its way into your mouth and flicks at your tongue, and both nipples are engulfed in wet warmth. A hand reaches under your skirt and pushes your silk panties to the side to stick a finger inside you. Then two. Then three.

The man above you squeezes your neck harder, and someone else rubs your lower stomach. There are arms and hands and mouths everywhere like some sick game of Twister.

One mouth leaves, then another, then the last. You can finally open your eyes and see thick eyelashes and dark hair above you. The quiet one is smiling down at you and stroking your cheek, making this the first time he looks at you endearingly. And, of course, it’s when he’s gripping your neck.

“Quit being soft, man,” the blonde says. He stands and grips your bicep to pull you up, too. Then his hand moves to your shoulder and pushes down.

“On your knees.”

You drop to the floor and stare up at him with wide eyes. From this angle, his tiny waist seems so small compared to his broad shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants, and you reach up to free it, but he smacks your hand away.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, slut,” he barks. “Keep your hands at your sides and open your fucking mouth.”

Your jaw drops and your tongue slides out over your bottom lip. The lean blonde unzips his pants, pulls out his thick cock and strokes it inches away from your face.

“You want this?” he asks, running its head back and forth over the tip of your tongue. “Want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You just stare up at him. He’s made it clear that it doesn’t matter what you think, so maybe not acknowledging his questions is what will really get him going.

And it works. His lips turn down in a scowl, and he roughly grips your hair and thrusts in hard, hitting the back of your throat right when his balls slap into your chin.

“Oh, that’s it,” he moans, picking up the pace. “Attagirl.”

You can’t see the other two, but you hear another zipper. Then your arm is lifted, and your hand is placed on another big, veiny cock. A quick glance to your right confirms it’s the dark-haired one, and his eyes tell you to stroke.

The way your head is bobbing back and forth makes it hard to concentrate on the movements of your hand, but you do your best. You keep waiting for Ch-something to join, but he just watches.

“I want her mouth now,” the dark-haired one says. “Why don’t you do the honors and get those panties off?”

Ch-something speaks up from the couch.

“Naur, her cunt is mine. Fuck her tits, they’re amazing.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Good call,” the blonde replies between deep breaths. “Let’s get her on the bed.”

They pull out of your grip and easily lift you, a pair of hands under your arms and another under your knees. They drop you on the bed on your back, and the quiet one straddles your head with his thick thighs. He positions himself to enter your mouth and checks behind him to see if his friend has enough room to work.

“I’m good,” the blonde assures, straddling your waist and squeezing your breasts together. He slides his dick between them just as the other presses into your mouth.

The quiet one stares at the wall as he thrusts, and you’re kind of grateful. Other than that one sweet moment, his gaze has been severe. You’re not sure how you’d react if he looks at you like that again, but part of you wants to find out.

You reach for his hips and grip gently, seeing if that can initiate eye contact. Nope, his head just falls back instead, and the blonde takes a second to ruffle his hair.

“I know, her mouth is fantastic,” he says before sharing a warning. “Save yourself, though, it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yeah… I know…” he pants in reply, squeezing your head between his strong legs. “This is just… so… good…”

“You know…” Ch-something speaks up again, “I have an idea.”

“What’s that, hyung?” the blonde asks, still sliding his hips forward and back on your chest.

A bag is tossed onto the bed, and something metallic clangs inside. But you’re distracted by the man opening the duffel and the way his T-shirt hugs his biceps while he rummages through it. You can’t wait for him to use you like his friends are.

“These…” he says, holding up something he pulled from the bag, “should be fun.”

You can’t see what’s in his hand, but the way the other two are giggling probably means it’s something exciting — for them at least.

“Fuck yeah, Chan, good looking out,” the blonde cheers, and the other two freeze.

“Dude, really??”

The nameless ones climb off of you and meet Chan at the foot of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as they talk amongst themselves. Chan hands something to each of them, then places his hands on the bed when they go their separate ways.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Chan announces. “They’re gonna tie you up, and I’m gonna have my way with you.”

He reaches for your skirt and pulls at the zipper, loosening the waistband enough to slide it over your ass and down your legs. He presses his hand flat on the front of your panties, curling his fingers up and over the elastic at the top. He pushes his palm down into your folds, but he leaves the silk be. For now.

“Your body is mine,” he whispers into the skin just above your panty line.

The others have reached the top of the bed at this point, and Chan releases his hold on you. You’re pulled further up the bed and your arms extended so they can handcuff you to the bed posts.

The blonde checks to see if you’re comfortable, the dark-haired one doesn’t care, and Chan is annoyed by them both. The three men meet again at the foot of the bed, hungrily staring down at you.

Chan instructs them to hold your legs while he takes off his boxers and jeans. His large, throbbing cock scares the hell of out of you, but truly in the best possible way.

He crawls onto the bed and kneels between your spread-out legs. His fingertips tease the skin on your inner thighs, then your stomach, then your chest. He positions his hands on either side of your head and hovers above you.

“Don’t let her go… even if she screams for help,” he commands his friends before leaning down to press his lips to your neck. He speaks again, but his next words are for you alone.

“At least you know what name to scream now.”

He parts your lips with his tongue and dips in to explore the familiar landscape of your mouth. You probably spent more time kissing than speaking at the bar, now that you think of it, and that certainly worked in his favor when it came time to convince you to leave with them. He knows exactly what he’s doing with those plump lips.

His mouth goes to your neck next, and he sucks and bites your skin with every intention of leaving marks. He does the same on your chest, then your breasts, then your stomach — quick, painful bites followed by wet suction.

Forgetting your hands are useless to you now, you lightly pull at the headboard. The chain links jingle as you fight against them, but it’s pointless. You can’t push him away or pull him closer. You can only lie there and watch.

He glances up at you with those lustful eyes and a twisted grin, like he loves watching you squirm. He lowers himself to your crotch and runs the silk of your underwear between his fingers.

“These are cute, huh boys?” he calls out, and the others agree. “I wonder how they’ll look in pieces.”

“No-” you start, but Chan interrupts.

“No? I’m sorry, did you say no?” he thunders. “Shut her mouth.”

The blonde releases his hold on your leg and walks to the head of the bed. He closes his big hand over your lips, pushing your head down into the pillow and smugly staring at you with dark eyes.

“Better,” Chan says. “Now, where was I?”

He grips the top of your panties with both hands and pulls… but nothing happens. You giggle into the palm over your mouth. But he pulls harder and glares up at you, holding your gaze as the silk rips almost all the way down the front.

“Not so funny now, eh?” he quips, and the others smirk.

He adjusts his hold on the material and pulls again, tearing it the rest of the way. Four fingers roughly cram into you and curl up and down rapidly.

Your one free leg pulls up toward your chest, and Chan catches it with his idle hand and lifts it over his shoulder. He reaches back for the other and pinches your thigh as he hoists that one up, too.

He pulls his soaked fingers out and slides them in his mouth to taste you. Staring into your eyes, he spits on his hand, rubs it on his cock, and forces himself inside your cunt.

As expected, he’s too big. Your walls stretch around him, barely able to endure his width, and he fills you to the brim length-wise with inches to spare. Regardless of the strain he certainly feels, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. He closes his strong arms over your legs, pressing your skin to his as he pounds his cock into you over and over. You’re afraid something will rip with every thrust.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, and the other two can’t look away from your bouncing breasts. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek as he flicks one nipple and calls his friend over to join. They’re twisting and tweaking the sensitive nubs and there’s nothing you can do. Except…

“Ow! You bitch!”

The blonde lifts his hand from your mouth and slaps you across your cheek.

“She fucking bit me!” he yells.

Chan doesn’t seem to care; he keeps driving in and out of you at the same unrelenting pace. But the other two have rage in their eyes.

“You wanna play rough? We can play rough, sweetheart,” the formerly quiet one says.

He lowers his head to your chest and bites down hard — almost cruelly — on the skin of your breast. He pulls back to examine his work and appears unsatisfied. He goes in for another, and this time, he draws blood.

“Fuck you! What the fuck!” you cry out.

“Dude…” the blonde whispers.

“What?! She doesn’t get to bite you and…” the dark-haired one argues.

“No, I mean… that’s so hot,” his friend clarifies.

It’s the blonde’s turn, and he goes straight for your nipple. He closes his teeth roughly, though not as hard as the bite before, and you whine in pain again.

“Pieces of shit!” you yell. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Yeah, get off her,” Chan pants. “I have more work to do here if you’re making her scream before I do.”

He releases his hold on your legs and grabs your hips, inclining your lower body up and off the bed. His first thrust at this new angle makes you shudder, and he knows he’s got you now.

He sinks into you again, and you can’t hold back the loud, breathy moan that escapes your lips. Your wrists are starting to feel raw from the handcuffs, and your chest is sore and bruised from all three of them.

You’re in so much pain, but drowning in pleasure, too. The hot tears on your cheeks could be from either or neither or both. Who fucking knows.

“That’s it, baby,” Chan moans. “Cry for me, scream my name.”

“Fuck… Chan,” you whine, getting closer and closer to your climax.

A triumphant smile on his face, Chan nods at the others to return to their positions. They each take a nipple in their mouths, sucking more gently this time — though their gentle is still enough to slurp up a whole drink in one go.

Chan’s thrusts are growing weaker and weaker now, his power draining. He presses a thumb down into your clit hoping it will finish the job.

“Oh my FUCKING… fuck… Chan… CHAN… I… aahh-”

You’re coming on his cock with a force that makes his head spin, and he can’t help but finish deep inside you, too.

There are moans all around — two in ecstasy, two in disappointment. The onlookers detach their lips from your chest and sit on the sides of the bed while the two of you ride out your orgasms.

“Are you fucking serious, Chan?” the blonde asks incredulously and throws his hands up. “You said we were gonna all get a turn before she was spent.”

The dark-haired one keeps his mouth shut, opting to cross his arms over his chest and brood silently once again instead.

Chan pulls out and topples down next to you on the bed. He’s turned to face you, but your eyes are trained on the light fixture above the bed, watching the way the bulb flickers and sparkles. Or is that just in your head?

“Don’t worry boys,” Chan speaks up. “We have all night, and she’s tight as fuck.”

“Yeah, but now you two are gonna nap and we’re still hard,” the blonde whimpers. His face looks so cute when he pouts.

“Then take a nap with us, or suck each other off, whatever,” Chan lazily replies.

The two glance at each other with raised brows, and there’s some other undertone there too. But you’re too lightheaded to care.

Their voices blur together as the room darkens, but you can feel a firm thigh and thick arm lay across your body. Whether you’re being cuddled or trapped isn’t important right now, and you let yourself drift off.

370 notes · View notes