#the solution to multiple pairings is polyamory

[piaart]

Some sleepy Copia/Solus/Special 💜💜

#my art #the solution to multiple pairings is polyamory #papa emeritus iv #special ghoul #phil kringle #OC Solus #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost bc fanart #ghost the band #papa emeritus #nameless ghouls

[lucyandthepen]

gorgeous ii | lmh ( ft. ldh )

part i

ever since your shower tryst with mark, donghyuck has been feeling left out, and he’s been hinting at it. not so subtly. pretty damn explicitly, actually. after multiple failed attempts at reassuring him you’re all still a well-oiled machine of a team, you’re left with only one solution.

interestingly, it’s not an option anyone seems to be too averse to.

pairing: mark x reader x donghyuck rating: R genre: humor, smut warnings: once again sorta pwp, basically hints at a mild level of polyamory kind of idk man, a threesome?? is a threesome a warning idk, mild mommy!kink for reader, slightly more pronounced daddy!kink for mark, mild baby!kink for donghyuck, some kinda praise kink for pretty much everyone, anal/double penetration, super brief impregnation!kink that i wish i had done more of but felt like it would be overkill, cum…play sjdfgj,,, light choking nothing major, more dirty talk, just. Nastie stuff i guess. please be sure that you are 18+ to read! word count: 16.6k

author’s notes : i’m simply deeply impatient and needed to post this i apologize :^)

You really should have picked up all the signs a little sooner.  

Donghyuck has never been good at acting, so he’s never been intensely successful at hiding his feelings; in fact, he’d once gotten a warning letter for looking so bored in class the teacher couldn’t overlook it any longer. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, given the way he’d been acting.  

Then again, it was fairly easy to pass off his recent behavior as regular Donghyuck, only intensified. He had always liked hanging out with Mark, which meant he mostly enjoyed hanging around you, too. He’d once crashed in your room when Mark had been out for a weekend visit to Jeonju to see some distant relatives and Donghyuck had left his room key card in the electricity slot, much to the ire of your own roommate. He’d asked the both of you to come with him to the MMCA in Gangnam because he wanted someone to take proof photos of him (your job) and read the captions on the artworks before explaining them to him so he could write his reflection paper for his Art Studies class (Mark’s much more unfortunate job). And, of course, he’d bullied you and Mark into confessing your feelings for each other to each other, although you’ve grown to suspect, almost to the point of confirmation, that he had done it not so much in the spirit of support for young love but more in response to his own intense desire to cut down on the immense awkwardness in the atmosphere whenever the three of you hung out.  

His expectation had clearly been that you two would kiss and make up before you took him out of campus for a dinner that he would wheedle you and Mark into splitting only two ways. Technically, that had all worked out in his favor, apart from the fact that in between the kissing and the making up, you had shared a steamy shower with Mark in the boys’ locker room that had ultimately ended with you scaring away the school janitor and had kept Donghyuck waiting outside in the rain (sort of) for the better part of an hour.  

He’d played it cool at first, so it seemed; he’d asked for details, which you refused to divulge in excess, and he’d promised to pester Mark about it later on when it was just the two of them, only he received the same — if not a firmer — kind of rejection from the latter. He’d even taken fairly kindly to the suggestion that he stay in Renjun’s room for a couple of nights in the week that followed so that you could, in his words, desecrate the living space with your love, which clearly implied that he’d expected the two of you to just be going at it in the middle of the common area.  

Over time, though, he’s grown fairly more wary of the implications of the relationship. It seemed to have started when he’d come home from class to find you both in the kitchen, where you had apparently been “making out next to the honey butter chips” he’d been so “excited to eat, and now it’s just ruined,” and he’d refused to listen to the argument that it couldn’t possibly be a health hazard considering the bag was still sealed. Or, it might have started a little before that, when he had to desperately run to Renjun’s bathroom to pee because you had engaged Mark in a steamier and much more enthusiastic reenactment of your shower room scene and had locked the door (something that, at the time, was for Donghyuck’s benefit). The conversation that had followed when you’d come out to an out-of breath and clearly upset Donghyuck had been sheepish and fairly uncomfortable for all parties involved, and you’d taken great care to gloss over the fact that he’d heard you repeatedly and not at all abashedly egging Mark on with a few choice nicknames and phrases.

Possibly the biggest issue, though, was the one time you and Mark had gone out for a date. There aren’t a ton of options around the campus area that have good food at a college-student-acceptable price, so there are only two options: this one supposedly Italian restaurant owned by a man who constantly ends a rundown of the specials with the statement that you can leave without paying if you don’t like the food — which you’ve long since considered but Mark says it’s unethical (something you think is kind of characteristic but still wholly unfair for him to say) — and the place you often go to with the boys that serves breakfast for dinner. You’d been trying to wheedle Mark into finally getting free pasta with you by breaking his moral code, and he’d finally agreed (possibly because you’d literally backed him into a corner after football practice and begged, among other things, on your knees), but the place had been full up, and neither of you were willing to stick around for half an hour in line. The alternative you’d gone to had been fine; for the first time in your life, you’d gotten to order something other than pancakes and sausages with egg, and you’d found out that the place did actually make good food that wasn’t meant to be consumed at eight in the morning.  

For the most part, it had been a great experience; the perks of being friends with Mark beforehand was that you had just skipped the awkward small talk phase altogether. In fact, it had been basically like a normal evening hang-out from before, except for the fact that Mark seemed less reserved than he had been when you were just friends. Also, you had never hung out with him as a friend with the knowledge that you had essentially strong-armed him into committing moral suicide at a snobby pasta joint by blowing him like half an hour prior. Even if you never actually got to eat said pasta. So there was all that.  

It had been going well until Mark had asked you to pour him a glass of water. In the middle of filling up his glass, you’d heard a tap at the window to your left accompanied by a shadow that loomed over your table. You’d snapped your head to the side to see Lee fucking Donghyuck, pouting at the both of you and pointing accusingly at the half-eaten spaghetti and meatballs on the table. His breath had been fogging up the glass to the point that his entire face was blurry, and you couldn’t really understand anything he was saying, but it had sounded a little like pancakes and without me. You had gaped so much at him that you’d completely forgotten Mark’s glass was already full, and the water had spilled out all over the table and onto his lap. By the time the fog had cleared up, you were more concerned with the problem of your boyfriend looking like he’d just wet himself, and Donghyuck had skulked off into the darkness.  

Since then, Donghyuck’s moods have ranged from teasing, to hesitant, to downright disgruntled. He’d constantly announce himself before coming into a room where the both of you were, which was kind of annoying when you were together in the library. Renjun had even once come to you during a lunch break, pleading that you and Mark take him back because he was tired of stepping on Donghyuck’s face every time he had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. You’d argued that there was a wall and a door separating Mark’s and Donghyuck’s bedrooms from each other, but he’d just fired back with the suggestion that you could chip in for some quality noise-canceling headphones. The worst was when Mark had told you — half-laughing, half-incredulous — that Donghyuck had canceled their shared Netflix subscription because he was worried all the rom-coms the two of you watch together while boning would appear on his suggested list. Mark had been more insulted by the thought of being associated with rom-coms more than anything else in that conversation.

You decided to more actively include Donghyuck into your activities at that time, and you and Mark made a pact to never act like a couple in front of him. It seemed clear that was what Donghyuck had wanted. Still, when you’d asked him out to study, it had felt kind of weird considering that you were a level higher than him and could only confer with each other, leaving Donghyuck to look sourly at you across the table like you were seducing each other instead of asking questions about the worksheet. There had even been an instance where you’d gone out for a morning jog together, but Donghyuck’s legs were much longer than the both of yours, and he ended up creating some distance between himself and the two of you, which had just led him to whine at the both of you to hurry up since you were probably lagging behind on purpose so you could find a way to slip away under the bleachers and bang one out before he’d made it around the track.

The pinnacle of tension arrives on a Thursday night, when you urged the both of them to keep Donghyuck’s favorite tradition and have breakfast for dinner. It seemed like a good idea, bringing back that one activity that represented your friendship, and even Donghyuck didn’t resist the suggestion. The problems only start when the three of you were seated in the exact same booth you’d been on during that date, a fact that Donghyuck seems to remember vividly as he stares at the table for a good, long, and wholly excruciating second before sliding in with an unreadably calm expression. You make desperate eye contact with Mark, who had been moving to sit next to you already, and he does this weird jerky reaction before he backtracks and moves to sit next to Donghyuck instead.  

A silence falls over the three of you after your orders are placed, and Mark is playing with his glass, turning it around and around idly. Donghyuck, on the other hand, is staring directly at you, still kind of blank, his hands folded on the tabletop. You open your mouth, and his eyebrows go up, but you realize you have nothing to say and shut it again.  

“So,” Donghyuck starts after a while. “Was the pasta here any good?”  

“It was okay,” you reply after glancing at Mark, who seems unperturbed by everything else, a talent you wish you could possess. “A little rich, but mostly okay.”

“Have you guys gone to that pasta place across the student center?”

“No, but we wanted to.”

“On another date, you mean.”  

You don’t miss the sadness in his voice; even Mark looks up at him, then at you, but offers nothing to say, for some absurd reason.  

“Well… that’s still up in the air,” you wave the topic away, but Donghyuck presses on, possibly convinced that this is all part of the required conversation friends that hang out should have.  

“You guys know that you can get free pasta there if you lie to the owner and say it wasn’t good, right?”  

“Yeah, I… we heard,” you admit.  

“We were actually thinking of going there,” Mark finally chimes in, although the timing is terrible and Donghyuck’s face darkens considerably. “But it was full up.”

“So you guys ended up here,” Donghyuck says, finally piecing together the bigger picture. “At our regular restaurant. That’s… cool.”  

You frown at Mark, who doesn’t even look remotely remorseful; he just shrugs, a small jerk of the shoulders that Donghyuck misses.  

That had been the longest silence you’d shared since… ever; you can’t even remember the last time that you’d hung out with Donghyuck and it had been this quiet. Mark was one thing, but Donghyuck, for the most part, liked to talk, and so did you. You distinctly remember the restaurant constantly filled with chatter, mostly from your table. What had you even talked about back then that had lasted for hours? You distinctly remember an argument about Iron Man’s fate in the last Avengers movie that had gone on until the waitress had told you to leave because she had to close down and go home to her kids. Now, you can’t even ask Donghyuck what he thinks about the weather.

The food that comes to your table is appropriate for the mood; it’s stale and a little bland, since nobody seems to like eating breakfast for dinner anymore, which just means reheated pancakes and microwaved hotdogs. Even with that topic up in the air, no one really says anything; at one point, you’re so bored that you check your phone to see that Mark has butt texted you a couple of times.  

Donghyuck’s first tiny outburst happens midway through the meal. You desperately want to add some kind of flavor to your food, but you don’t know if you’re up to breaking the silence. The result is you coughing loudly — twice, because Mark doesn’t pay attention the first time — and eyeing the little pitcher of maple syrup by his elbow. He doesn’t grasp it fully and reaches out for the napkin stand instead, which just leads to you staring more intensely at the syrup, furrowing your eyebrows at it like it’s supposed to help. All he does is throw you a much more intense look of confusion.  

Donghyuck, who appears to have been watching this depressing miscommunication between the two of you since the beginning, suddenly speaks up.  

“Do you want me to leave, or something? You can just say so.”  

“What?” You snap your gaze to him, shocked to the point that you can’t even acknowledge Mark’s intelligence belatedly returning to him as he passes you the maple syrup. “Of course not. Why would you think we want that?”

“I don’t know. This,” he points his fork at the two of you. A drop of maple syrup falls off of it and onto the table. “This weird eyefucking thing you two are doing.”

“We’re not eyefucking. I was asking for the maple syrup,” you clarify.

“Oh. Okay.” He doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “Couldn’t you have just asked?”

You have no response to this, and Mark throws you a patronizing yeah, you could have look that you pointedly ignore because you can only feel like it had been his fault for not understanding your blinks and squints anyway.  

The second scene happens when you’re finished and waiting for the bill. At this point, the silence, which had only been interrupted by brief and insignificant comments from either you and Donghyuck, had become so unbearably stuffy that you feel close to tears. In your exasperation, you try to catch Mark’s attention, hoping to get him to pull his weight by saying something. Unfortunately, he’s busy going through his wallet and rearranging the notes from the 50,000’s down to the 1,000’s, and he doesn’t see anything. You move to an alternative plan, which is to kick his foot until he notices, but when your foot collides with something hard, it’s not him that reacts first.  

“Ow!” Donghyuck yells, and you start, sitting up straighter and reaching out to him on impulse. “What the fuck was that for?”  

“Sorry!” You half-stand, unsure of what to do; Donghyuck is looking up at you like a wounded dog, which is as much as you deserve. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t — I didn’t mean — I was going for Mark!”  

“Why?” he demands, brow furrowing for a moment before they shoot up, and his expression morphs into one of disgust. “That’s nasty, noona!”

“What? No, I wasn’t — !” You throw your hands up, embarrassed and irritated all at once. “I was just trying to get his attention!”

“How?”

“I don’t know! He wasn’t looking, and it just felt weird, and I wanted him to say something!”  

“Really? All of this kama sutra shit while I’m around? You guys are just shoving it into my face at this point.”  

“Technically,” Mark says, now very unhelpfully and — more to the fact — uselessly. “We try to keep you out of the loop as much as possible.”

Donghyuck looks incensed, so this is clearly not the response he’d wanted. “How come I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you two make out without me and take it all in quietly? You could at least try to make me less of a third wheel when we’re together.”  

“Donghyuck, we’re not trying to make you a third wheel,” you reason. “I know it feels that way, but nothing’s changed.”

“Technically—” Mark starts again, and you kick him, this time with more precision, into silence. He falls quiet without argument.  

“It feels that way because it is that way. You guys are just living your best lives in love without me.” Donghyuck stands up, and you watch him do so with confusion and a ton of regret on your face. “Can we go back now? I have a presentation tomorrow and I want to make sure my PowerPoint doesn’t have any typos.”  

You watch in helpless disappointment as Mark obediently slips out of the booth so Donghyuck can walk out as well; after a moment of dumbly staring at them fixing their coat collars, you step out and join them. The restaurant’s lights shut off when you exit, and the three of you walk quietly back home. You feel Mark’s hand bump into yours a couple of times by accident, but on the third time, his fingers lace into yours, and he gives them a tight, reassuring squeeze.  

Donghyuck disappears into his room after announcing that he’s bought some new ear plugs from the pharmacy and had been planning on testing them out anyway, but the statement that you guys can do whatever you like seems half-hearted. To be safe, you and Mark take quick, separate showers before crawling into his bed. You keep the lights on because you’re fairly certain he’s going to fall asleep if he’s in the dark for more than ten minutes, and you want to make sure he stays up so that you can get some fairly substantial feedback when you unload the thoughts plaguing you since the restaurant experience.  

Still, you’re silent for the first few moments, trying to collect yourself into articulating your feelings. Mark is on his side, an elbow propping his head up, and his palm is laying on your stomach, rubbing it in small, gentle circles. The moments tick by, and neither of you speak until he bends down to press a kiss to your shoulder.  

“You gonna break up with me or something?” He chuckles softly after letting you have your long bout of silence. “I’m willing to beg if necessary.”  

“Isn’t it just weird?” You finally begin, ignoring his stupidly absurd question completely. He doesn’t even flinch at the volume difference between your voice and his. “I thought he was okay with it.”

“Me too. He even told me he was going to tell you he heard me jerking off in the shower after we studied for the Traditional History midterm if I didn’t confess to you.”  

“Yeah, and he — did you really do that?”  

“Obviously.” He doesn’t even turn red, or anything; Mark, since that day, has defied your personal expectations and grown immensely immune to feeling embarrassment when talking about the erotic. “That was too specific for me to make up.”

“What a coincidence,” you laugh. “I masturbated after that review session too.”  

“Really?”

“Your hair looked nice, plus you smelled super good.”

“I should go back to my old shampoo, if that’s what gets you running.”  

“I don’t really think it’s the shampoo,” you turn over as well, mimicking his position. His hand stays on you, now resting on the dip of your waist. “But about Donghyuck — is it mean that I feel like he’s overreacting?”  

“Not really, but only because it seems that way to me too. Like, now I have to pay for my own Netflix because he’s acting weird, which is just such a waste of money.” You think it’s a little bit funny that Mark’s still tied up on the Netflix issue, but you suppose that you’d be a little miffed if you had to redo your entire watchlist from scratch again too, so you opt not to say anything. “It’s really hard to overlook the fact that he thinks we’re doing everything in our power to stop being friends with him.”

“I know!” You say, louder than you should, and Mark’s finger flies to his lips as you both fall silent, listening for Donghyuck. You hear nothing, so you assume he hadn’t either. Still, you lower your voice to a much more acceptable decibel thereafter. “I know. It was like that time he spent playing annoying matchmaker had just flown out of the window.”  

“But we can’t blame him either,” Mark sighs softly, fingers drumming against your side. “Being a third wheel sucks. We all know that. We’ve all been there.”

“We’re not trying to actually exclude him when we’re together, though.”

“But we do.” He shrugs. “I mean, even without doing anything, we do. It’s already inherently different for him because he knows he’s not actually part of the equation.”  

“We can’t make him any more a part of this equation than we already have,” you frown.  

“I know that. Look — maybe he just needs a little bit of time to adjust. I’m sure he’s just reacting badly to change more than he is to our actual relationship.”  

“I guess,” you sigh again, heavily and more dramatically this time. “I just wish we could do something so he wouldn’t react badly at all.”

“We’ve tried. Maybe now just isn’t the right time.”  

The both of you fall into a thoughtful silence; you can see Mark’s eyelids getting heavy, and even you’re stifling a few yawns here and there. It seems the conversation’s mostly died out unresolved, but you’re not sure it’s actually ended; neither is Mark, who’s still watching you like he’s waiting for you to say something else. When you don’t, he leans in, pressing a small, sweet kiss to your forehead.  

The quiet is broken by Mark’s bedroom door flinging open. In the doorway stands Donghyuck, one earplug in his hand, the other wedged tightly into his ear. His bottom lip is jutting out already, which is a signal that he’s already prepared a full complaint report to file beforehand.  

“You guys could at least try to keep the sex down. There’s only two of you. There’s no way you’re having that much fun to make this much noise.”  

“We’re not even naked,” you respond in disbelief, twisting your torso to look at him. “We’re just talking.”  

“Oh.”  

Donghyuck rolls the earplug between his fingers, visibly embarrassed. You guess those things have been working well considering he hadn’t even heard you talking about anything before he’d burst in and make a small mental note to congratulate him on his great new investment. You watch him, waiting for him to say something — anything — about what’s bothering him and why he’s so intent on calling you out for the smallest things. Instead, he just gropes for the light switch on the wall next to him, pushing the button and plunging the three of you into darkness. He trudges away, closing the door behind himself while muttering something about energy conservation.  

You feel Mark shift; he takes the darkness as a signal that it’s time to sleep, so he lays down carefully on his side, his hand reaching out to rub at your back. Dismayed, you right your position, facing away from him and lying down as well. A moment later, you feel the warmth of his body against your back, and his breath blows lightly against your cheek.  

He dozes off five minutes in, and you know because his breathing becomes extremely deep and even. Even when you toy a little with his fingers, he doesn’t budge, and you lie there for what feels like hours trying to decode this weird situation. First the uncharacteristic silence and moodiness, followed by the weird experience in the restaurant. And now this, with him constantly expecting you to be ravaging each other, like his mind is just totally tunnel focusing on how everything you do is a byproduct of your being perpetually horny. It’s almost like he’s too weirdly interested in it, like he’s…  

You reach backwards, smacking Mark in the shoulder. He grunts in response but still doesn’t move, so you do it again, calling out to him. His grip tightens on your waist as he mumbles a sleepy what now?

“Do you remember what Donghyuck said in the restaurant?”  

“He hardly said anything.”  

“I know. But he said something weird about us.”

“What — that he thought we were eyefucking, or that he thought you were giving me a footjob?” Mark pauses for a moment. “By the way, out of pure curiosity, if we ever make a list of things we’re into, is that something you’d put or, like — because knowing you, I feel like it wouldn’t hurt to ask once —”

“No. No, he said something kind of wack, like,” you scrunch up your nose. “How come he has to sit there and watch us make out without him?”

“Yeah?” You can tell Mark is already drifting off again, so you turn around in an attempt to force him into the same epiphany you’ve experienced. Only one of his eyes is open and the other one is giving up pretty quickly too. “So?”  

“He was annoyed that we were making out,” you repeat. “Without him.”  

Carefully, almost comically, Mark’s other eye starts to open, and his eyebrows are also rising. He lifts his head off the pillow, gaping at you in sleepy shock.

“It can’t be.”

“You said we were leaving him out of the sex, and he looked really ticked off.”

“Yeah, because who wants to talk about sex over shit quality pancakes?”  

“There’s only two of you,” you mimic Donghyuck’s sleepy, irritated voice. “There’s no way you’re having that much fun to make this much noise.”  

Mark looks stumped. He’s actually reminiscent of a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words. The only thing he can think of is a repeat of “It can’t be.”  

“Mark,” you say slowly. “What if we’ve been including Donghyuck in all the wrong things?”  

Surprisingly, it isn’t hard to convince Mark to play along. Maybe it’s because he’s not doing a lot of the proverbial heavy-lifting, or maybe he just knows there’s not much point in attempting to talk you out of anything once you’re convinced that you’re going to do it. Either way, he falls asleep in the middle of dazedly agreeing to what you’re planning, and when you wake up, he’s stuck a note to your forehead saying he’ll see you during practice and reminding you to eat your breakfast. Even Donghyuck is gone for his first class of the day.  

There’s a slightly new development when you go to practice after your classes, where the team captain, Sooyoung, instructs you all to go back to the locker room because the shipment of the new uniforms has finally arrived. You feel a slight twinge of resentment towards her, partly because the team had been waiting around under the heat of the afternoon sun for a good fifteen minutes before she’d arrived but also mostly because going back to the locker rooms means you can’t watch Mark do laps with the rest of the football team, a personal tradition you’ve always loved.  

Still, you don’t have much of a choice, and you allow yourself to be trooped back into the locker room with the rest of your team to squeeze yourself into the uniforms. The fact that you’d already gotten a little sticky from being outside makes it almost impossible to get yourself dressed in top speed, and it didn’t help that Sooyoung came to tell you all to hurry up so that you could try the new routine in the new devil’s suit. You don’t necessarily miss the old uniform, but this one, despite being more elastic, also has thick stripes of glitter around the collar and hem as well as in regular intervals on the skirt pleats, so you have to stay far from each other when walking to avoid melting together into one, gross glitter bomb.  

It pays off when you get back out, though, because the change is welcomed by the people on the field — mostly the players themselves — and it shows in small things, like how Jaehyun gets a face full of ball because he’s too busy checking his girlfriend out to pay attention to Jeno, who lobs the ball towards him with all his might, or like how Mark just stands by the ice box full of half-melted bottles of water with a blank, almost dazed expression until the coach calls him out by name.  

Football practice ends half an hour before cheerleading practice does today, considering you’d wasted time wrestling with your uniforms, but Mark patiently waits on the bleachers after his shower while you finish up. You actually think that his presence helps cut Sooyoung’s twenty-minute after-practice talk down to ten minutes because she keeps looking at him, like she’s worried he’s going to tell her to shut up, even though all he’s doing is staring ahead politely. When she dismisses everyone, you walk over to him, and he hands you a water bottle. You don’t miss the once-over he gives you before he decides to fix his gaze on your face.  

“Is this the new uniform?” He asks, as if he doesn’t know.  

“Yeah. Is it nice?”

“For sure,” he agrees. “It’s good you guys busted that out today instead of during a game. It looks like we have to learn how to get used to it. Me, especially.”  

“And Jaehyun.”

“And Jaehyun,” he laughs. “He’s still guilting Jeno into apologizing, even though we all know he wasn’t paying attention.”  

“I’m going to take a shower, then we can go back together. Did you do what I asked?”  

“Yeah. Oh — if you haven’t yet,” his fingers toy idly with a pleat on your skirt. “You should consider doing it in this.”  

“The fact that you’re actually actively participating in this is seriously attractive.” You run your fingers through his hair; the water keeps it stuck in the messy way you push it into. “I like your hair like this.”  

He chuckles, rejecting your hand and combing his hair forward into the neatness he’s so used to. You laugh when he smacks your hand away lightly as you try to muss it up again. “Go shower. I’ll wait out here.”  

You take a quick shower, only slightly derailed by the fact that you have to dash out to grab your towel, which you’ve left on the bench near your locker. When you come out, Mark is waiting by the door instead of on the bleachers, playing games on his phone. On the way back to his room, he tells you about how he had to leave that area because he thought that he’d heard Jaehyun moaning from somewhere under the bleachers, a sound he was not emotionally prepared to hear, and the thought that he’d been eavesdropping on something highly private and easily escalatable had driven him from his seat.  

When you get back to the room, though, you’re surprised that Donghyuck isn’t back yet, considering his classes had ended hours earlier. Mark theorizes that you’d scared him away, but you note that the food in the refrigerator is exactly as you’d seen it this morning when you’d grabbed breakfast, which heightens the likelihood that Donghyuck hasn’t come home at all. He doesn’t, actually, for another hour, during which you and Mark watch Blue Earth on Netflix simply because he doesn’t want the 10,000 won he pays every month to go down the drain. You’re halfway through the deep sea creatures episode when the door lock clicks and Donghyuck comes in, just as Mark is headed to his bedroom to take a call from his mom, who you distinctly hear asking about how well he’s treating you.  

“Nice suit,” you comment, noticing that Donghyuck dressed up for his presentation; you know he only has, like, one actually nice suit that he saves for events that require him to look decent and formal, considering the fact that he usually goes to class in ripped jeans and worn cotton t-shirts. “How’d your presentation go?”

You don’t actually expect a proper response, and you don’t get one; he just glares at you as he toes off his shoes and drops his backpack on the floor by the door. It’s a half-minute staring contest, with your innocent, questioning expression and his more venomous one, which ends when he stops in front of you, towering over your head and effectively blocking the television.  

“Where’s Mark hyung?”

“Talking to his mom about what a great girlfriend I am,” you reply. “Why?”  

“I have a bone to pick with both of you.”

“So pick away,” you reply, leaning back on the couch. “We don’t have to wait for him. I’ll get him up to speed when he comes back.”

“Fine,” he fishes around for his phone, extracting it from his pocket before opening it, angrily tapping on the screen and scrolling. You can hear his nails hit the glass with the force of his taps. “Fine. Care to explain this?”  

He shows you his phone, and you squint to read what he’s presented. It’s your Facebook chat with him, and on the top is the first thing you’d sent him this morning: a good luck on your presentation! message, with some very caring heart eyes and star emojis. Granted, you’d also accidentally pressed the middle finger emoji, but you’d quickly retracted that.  

“It’s a message that represents my utmost support for all of your academic endeavors,” you raise your eyebrows at him. “That you’ve cruelly seen zoned, so thank you for that.”  

“Not that — these,” he scrolls the chat further downwards for you.  

There’s a set of pictures under your earlier message, dated after practice today, none of which expose your face. The first one is focused on your chest, and you’re carefully tightening your arms closer together to push your boobs together, a selfie that had been fairly difficult to take and that you’d actually taken great pride in when you’d done it. The one under it is from a similar angle, except you’ve taken advantage of the amazing elasticity of the top of your cheerleading uniform to pull down the collar, the cup of your bra going down with it. Your thumb and forefinger are lightly pinching your nipple, and you hadn’t noticed earlier when you’d taken the picture, but there’s a smattering of residual glitter from the uniform that makes your skin look kind of awesome and mystical.  

The latter two had required a fair amount of logistic forethought as well as patience, since you had to wait for everyone else to leave before you could do it. You’re fairly pleased that they’d turned out pretty nicely; the third picture is a view of your ass, the uniform’s skirt pushed up over your hips to expose your underwear. Cheerleaders are technically required to wear cycling shorts under the skirt because, well, school rules, but you’d discarded them before taking the picture. You also usually favor function over fashion during practice, but since you’d prepared yourself for this moment, you’d decided to put your own preferences aside and worn something lacier and, consequently, a little more see-through. The last photo is a personal favorite, with you still in the same position, except you’ve pushed your underwear aside, revealing your pussy. As an added bonus, you’re also using your index and middle finger to spread your lips, which you thought was kind of hot at the time, except, by the look on Donghyuck’s face, it might have been overkill.  

Under all of those photos, you’d written one short and sweet message: All for you, baby. No lame emojis this time, because it had seemed like a serious matter.  

You look back up at Donghyuck, who’s clearly close to bursting with words with how red his face is.  

“We got a new cheerleading uniform today,” you explain, although you know it’s not really the reasoning he wants. “I was kind of proud of how nice it looked.”  

“I can barely see the uniform — you know what? You’re totally missing the point.” He looks like he’s gnashing his teeth. “That’s not even all of it.”  

He turns the phone back to himself, and you calmly wait as his taps grow increasingly aggressive. A minute later, he turns the phone back to you, showing you a different chat; Mark’s name is on top this time, and there’s only one picture. It’s actually kind of funny considering it’s a little blurry, but you greatly appreciate it nonetheless, considering it’s a photo of his dick, half-erect, while he’s standing in what appears to be the shower stall in the locker room. The exact same message you’d sent Donghyuck — the horny one, not the one about his presentation — is also under his single photo.  

You make eye contact with Donghyuck again, still fairly stoic. “Is that all of it?”  

He looks torn between being annoyed and nonplussed. “Is that all of it? You guys both wrong-sent me your couple nudes!”

“Do you not often get them, or something?”  

“I was at dinner, noona,” he clutches his phone to his chest now, like he’s afraid you’re going to nab it and start taking more naked pictures. “I was out with Renjun when you sent me these!”  

“So? You let Renjun look at your phone?”  

“No, of course not, but I—” he splutters, clearly befuddled by how calm you are about everything. “I don’t want to be eating something then have to see your accidental nudes to each other!”

“They’re not,” you correct him.  

“Not what? Nudes? These are, by every definition of a nude, nudes!”  

“I meant that they’re not accidental.”

You’ve seen Donghyuck stumped before, but you’ve never seen him this lost for words; after a brief, perplexed pause, he’s started making all these weird, breathy, disbelieving sounds, like he’s just forgotten how to form sentences at all. His knuckles turn white as he grips his phone even tighter.  

While he’s coming to terms with your statement, Mark quietly comes back in, having ended the call with his mother; you notice he’s watching Donghyuck carefully, but he says nothing as he sits down next to you. Donghyuck looks at him, like he’s expecting a sensible answer, or like a statement that this is all a joke, but Mark just sits there in the same kind of silence as you. You don’t even bother keeping him up to speed; it’s clear by his expression that he’s already aware of what’s going on.  

Two long, heavy minutes pass, and it becomes clear that Donghyuck isn’t going to speak. He’s just looking at you now, this sort of distant, glassy gaze on his face, his mind clearly working overtime and frying out. You decide to break the silence, since you know Mark isn’t going to.  

“Donghyuck,” you call out to him, and he apparently comes crashing back down to earth. “Do you want to have a seat?”  

“What do you mean they’re not accidental?” He finally demands.  

“Not accidental. Intentional? Deliberate.” You elaborate with a tone that suggests this should be obvious. "We sent them to you on purpose.”  

“But Mark hyung sent me the — the — this!” He flips his phone around again, almost losing his hold on it, to show Mark the screen. The latter just looks at it with mild interest.

“And when does Mark message someone the wrong thing?”  

“But you said! You said,” he turns the phone back to himself, eyes scanning the screen feverishly before showing it to you again, index finger jabbing at your message. “You said all for you, baby!”

“I don’t really call Mark ‘baby.’” You shrug. “I know you know that much now.”  

Donghyuck’s eyebrows have practically disappeared into his bangs, and his mouth is opening and closing soundlessly. Mark takes the phone from his hand, exiting his chat and going to yours, scrolling up a little to look at your pictures.  

“Nice,” he says appreciatively as he hands the phone back to Donghyuck, who takes it robotically.  

“Thank you.” You squeeze his thigh. Donghyuck just watches this exchange, disbelief still written on his face. “Donghyuck — I really do think you should sit down, or something. You look like you’re going to faint.”  

You watch him slowly go over to the tiny dining table in the kitchen, grabbing one of the monobloc chairs and dragging it back to his former position. He sinks down onto the seat, now looking at you with a renewed desire to speak.  

“You need to explain.”  

“Actually, I think you need to answer my question first.” You lean forward, and you see Donghyuck swallow. Hard. You also don’t miss the fact that his eyes flit nervously to your breasts, which have been pushed together slightly again as you rest your elbows on your knees. “Donghyuck, when you said you didn’t like being left out like a third wheel, what did you mean?”  

He fixes a bemused look on you, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you mean ‘what did I mean’? Have you ever heard someone say damn, I wish I could be the loser third wheel to my best friends for the rest of my life?”  

“We’ve tried to do things with you, haven’t we? As far as we know, we’ve done most of the stuff we used to do with you before even until now, after Mark and I got together. We don’t do gross, couple-y stuff when you’re around. But we can tell that there’s still something bothering you. Isn’t there?”  

“Well,” his eyes flit to Mark, who’s just carefully and politely watching the events unfold. “Well, yeah. I just… wanted to sort of be included in stuff. More stuff.”

“Like?”  

He lets out a soft huff, but he doesn’t bother to say anything. Instead, you watch as his face grows redder, and he’s now refusing to make eye contact with either of you. Unfortunately, the only other thing in his immediate line of sight is your chest, which he has a spectacular view of from his seat, so he averts his eyes to the side, staring at the empty space beside you on the couch.  

“I’m going to just go out on a limb here,” you shrug when it’s clear he’s lapsed into another stony, embarrassed silence again. “And you can just tell me if I’m right, and if I’m wrong, Mark and I will sincerely apologize for everything we’ve put you through today. You just have to be honest. Okay?”  

You see him give the tiniest of nods towards the empty space on the couch.  

“Donghyuck, were you upset because you wanted in on the sex?”  

You’ve never seen Donghyuck this red; the reddest you’d seen him was during that Avengers argument, and even that look on him didn’t hold a candle to the state of his face now. He’s twisting his phone in his hands, agitated, and he keeps inexplicably glancing at you. After a while, he takes a shaky breath, once again keeping his gaze firmly away.

“I know it’s super fucked up.”  

“Not the most fucked up thing in the world, I’m pretty sure.”  

“Still sure it’s halfway up that list,” he sighs. “Look — at first, you know, it was… okay? I mean, technically, it still is, like, I’m not really mad that you guys are together, or whatever. But then, I don’t know — I got jealous, I guess? And it was kind of mixed in with how much I like you guys, and it was also this weird realization that, you know, maybe, maybe, I was kind of… attracted. To the both of you. I mean,” he flails his hands in an attempt to get the words to come out faster. “I mean, you’re both super hot.”  

“Thank you,” your joking voice harmonizes with Mark’s weirdly more serious and immediate response.  

“It was an extremely confusing period of time for me. So, I mean, obviously I got frustrated. Like, mentally, but also sexually. I shouldn’t have, but I guess I took it out on you guys.” His shoulders slump forward. “Sorry.”  

“First of all, thank you for your honesty,” you lean back onto the couch, and you hear him breathe out a small sigh of relief as he sees a window of opportunity to look at you again. “Second — I hope you don’t think you’re not super hot yourself.”  

“I mean,” he twiddles his thumbs; the shock and disbelief have left him, it seems, replaced by growing sheepishness. “I’m okay, I guess.”  

“That’s crappy modesty.” For the first time since he’d stormed in, he lets out a soft laugh. “Look — we’re sorry too.”

“You guys don’t have to be.” He looks up, a little alarmed. “I mean… you’re a couple. No one really wants their friend to just dive in when they’re supposed to be a third wheel.”  

“That’s the thing, though,” you shrug. “We don’t want you to be just a constant, unhappy third wheel.”  

You stare at Donghyuck’s phone, and he notices, peeling it away from his chest and looking back down at your messages with his brow furrowed. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mark raise a hand to his mouth, probably to cover up the fact that he’s close to bursting out into laughter at Donghyuck’s constantly morphing comical expressions. He poorly disguises one chuckle as a cough.

Donghyuck seems to be stuck on buffering mode again, just opening and minimizing each picture in the chat ceaselessly. You place a hand on his knee, giving it a small squeeze to get him to look at you again.  

“What we’re asking  — you don’t have to do it, or whatever. But if you want to — if you really want to — just say so.”  

It’s a staring contest again, except there’s much less heat involved; Donghyuck seems to be mapping every plane of your face, trying to figure out if there’s any sign of insincerity. After a long moment, you see the corners of his mouth twitch, and his voice comes out soft.  

“You know I want to.”  

“Good,” you squeeze his thigh again. His eyes follow you as you stand, and he stays silent as you settle back down onto his lap, only sparing a glance at Mark like he wants some sort of confirmation. His gaze falls back on you as you comb his hair back with your fingers, a small smile playing on your lips. Donghyuck looks like he has a lot of questions, but he swallows them down as your fingers fall to his shoulders then to his chest, pushing aside the folds of his blazer. “If at any point, you feel like stopping — if it gets weird, or anything like that, just say so.”  

“I’m not going to.”

“I was hoping you’d say as much,” you laugh softly, helping him out of the blazer. Donghyuck isn’t by far the most muscular person you’ve met, but he’s naturally more substantial than most, and the fact that his inner shirt is kind of tight on him just highlights that. You can feel him shivering slightly under your fingers, which gives you the brief impression that he’s nervous, but it doesn’t show all that much when you start unbuttoning his shirt and he moves to help you, from the bottom up.  

His eyes keep shifting between you and Mark, like he can’t decide who to focus on more, but you catch his attention for a little while longer as you undo the knot on his tie, tugging it loose from his neck. The front folds of his shirt have fallen away from each other, hanging loose at his sides, and you can see now how quickly he’s breathing, his chest rising and falling erratically.

“You okay?” You whisper, hanging the tie over the back of your neck. You’re so close to him you actually hear him swallow slowly.

“Yeah, it’s just…” He licks his lips. Once. Twice. “This slow, sexy pace is coming at a bad time for me.”  

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ve been pretty hard since I left the restaurant. You guys couldn’t have picked a worse time to send those pictures.”  

“We were assuming you’d just be home,” Mark’s voice is a welcome addition to the dialogue — low and a little gruff, a telltale sign of his arousal. “You usually are.”  

“Yeah, well I…” Donghyuck’s voice trails off as he fixates on your fingers, which are moving around your neck. You observe his jaw going slack, little by little, as he takes in the fact that you’re using his tie as a makeshift choker, the ends forming a lopsided ribbon at the base of your throat. “I…”  

“Go on. We’re listening.”  

“I… am so…” He inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a second like he’s rebooting himself. “I am… unbelievably turned on.”

“You like this?” You finger the ends of the tie, your smile growing as he nods. “That’s a little kinky of you.”  

“I’m kinky?” His laugh is part breathless, part incredulous. “I’m not even half the kinky you are, noona.”  

You lean in closer, watching Donghyuck’s eyes instinctively flutter close; your lips land on the bridge of his nose first, then the tip, before falling onto his mouth, where he tilts his head up just enough to meet the kiss firmly. It’s brief but sweet, and when you pull back, his head follows on impulse, trying to chase yours. When you lean in again, your lips land on his jaw, trailing up the sharp angle all the way up to his earlobe. Your breath on his skin is either tickling him or revving him up, because he grips your waist tightly, blunt nails digging shallowly into your skin.  

“I’ll accept that compliment,” you murmur, blowing more hot air into the shell of his ear. “But no one in this room isn’t at least a little bit kinky.”  

“Even Mark hyung?”  

“Even Mark,” you agree, trapping his earlobe between your teeth and tugging on it lightly. A soft gasp escapes him, but instead of pulling away, he only holds you tighter, pulling your hips closer to his. “But we don’t call him that right now, do we?”  

Donghyuck’s shoulders freeze; it’s clear he’s holding his breath. For a moment, you’re worried you’ve scared him off, and you stay still too, until you feel him exhale shakily. He gives a minute shake of the head.  

“That’s right. What do we call him?”

Not for the first time today, you wonder if what you’re doing is a little overboard for Donghyuck, especially since he’s being initiated into this weird situation where you’re essentially playing out some of your personal whims. You experience a slight wave of worry in the span of time it takes for you to ask that question and for Donghyuck to respond, but the wait pays off when he clears his throat a little and answers, voice barely above a whisper.  

“Daddy.”  

“What about you, Donghyuck?” You continue to whisper, only pausing to let you tongue slip out, the tip tracing the shell of his ear. “What do you think we should call you?”  

His breathing hitches again, and you have to hold onto his shoulders while he shifts in his seat so you don’t topple off his lap. When he speaks, though, his voice is surprisingly clearer. You don’t know if he thinks there’s a right answer, but he says it nonetheless.

“Baby.”  

“That’s good,” you squeeze his shoulders in assurance, and he returns the favor on your waist. “You’re already doing so well, baby. Are you looking at daddy?”  

His earlobe bumps against your tongue as he nods again, and you trap it between your teeth again, tugging on it until he makes a soft whining sound.  

“Can you tell me what he’s doing?”  

“He’s…” Donghyuck clears his throat, losing a little bit of the nerve he’d had just a moment ago. That, or he’s distracted, and you can’t blame him given his answer. “He’s — he’s jerking himself off.”  

“Is that so?” You pull away, unable to resist confirming for yourself. You’re not disappointed; Mark is still in his exact same spot on the couch, but he’s pushed down the front of his sweatpants, palming at his cock through his boxers. His eyes lift to meet yours when you turn, and a small smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Having fun on your own?”  

“Just enjoying the view,” he chuckles softly. The bulge pushing against the fabric just keeps growing. “You can pretend I’m not here.”  

“No way.” Your hands make their way back to Donghyuck’s chest, tracing spirals down his skin. He sucks in his stomach a little when your touch travels down to his abdomen, and he blows out the air against your cheek a moment later. “Audience participation is mandatory.”  

“At least let me appreciate it for a little while longer.”  

“Fair enough,” you turn back to Donghyuck, who snaps his head back up to your face like he’s been caught not paying attention. He really hasn’t though, having taken more of an interest in wondering how far down your hand is going to go and looking a little crestfallen that your index finger is just hovering above his navel. “What do you say, Donghyuck? Should we give daddy a little show?”  

“What kind of show?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of my mouth around your cock, but I’m totally open to suggestions.”  

Donghyuck doesn’t waste time deciding, nodding instantly before you even finish your sentence. “No suggestions. That’s the best suggestion. Please.”  

Mark laughs softly along with you, but Donghyuck can’t afford to be amused when he looks so desperate to have something of any value happen. You oblige, fingers finally completing their journey as they find their way to his slacks, undoing the fastenings and carefully tugging down the zipper.

Donghyuck initiates the next kiss, his hands suddenly coming up to trap your face in between his palms and turning your head up so quickly you don’t even register what he wants before he’s already pressed his mouth against yours. There’s a greater level of want, if not need, in the way he mouths at your lips, like he’s finally realized this is really going somewhere and he doesn’t want to waste time anymore. His mouth is hungry, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it so roughly it starts to go a little numb.  

You almost forget you’re in the middle of something, but his hips give a little jerk as if to remind you, and you blindly get back to work, pushing down the front of his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s already hard, the tip slick with pre-cum, his cock twitching at your touch. Even if he’d been enthusiastic about your idea, he doesn’t free you from the kiss immediately; he deepens it, tongue finding its way into your mouth, curling up against the roof of your mouth and rubbing against your own. You give his cock a couple of slow pumps as a reminder, but he just moans into your mouth, fingers tangling into your hair.  

It’s you that has to break contact first, coming back up for breath. Donghyuck just stares at you, dazed, his mouth still parted slightly. Before you say anything, he’s leaned in again, trapping your lips in another brief but wet kiss. And another. And another. And another. When you press your free hand against his chest to signal him to slow down, there’s a thin line of saliva traveling between your mouth and the corner of his lips. You laugh softly, wiping it away with your thumb. “You’re very eager.”  

He holds your face again, giving you another firm kiss; his aim misses slightly this time, landing more on your upper lip. There’s a bit of wetness sticking to the bottom of your nose after. “Is that bad?”  

“Of course not. It’s good.” You take his hands away from your face, bringing them up to your lips instead. You press a kiss to each of his knuckles affectionately. “You’re so good for me, baby.”  

You land a final kiss against the tip of his nose before shifting backwards. His fingers are still clinging onto yours, and you’re holding hands even when you get onto your knees, easing yourself between his legs. You glance back at Mark; he hasn’t really moved, save for the fact that his cock is now fully exposed too, and he’s pumping it in that slow, almost torturous pace he loves starting with. You don’t see Mark touch himself often, especially since you usually form a party of two with him to get off anyway, but this is a rare sight you actually wouldn’t mind enjoying more often. His brow is slightly furrowed, dark eyes trained on the both of you, a thin sheen of sweat glowing across his forehead. When his eyes meet yours, you wink, way too salaciously for him to take seriously, and the laugh that leaves him is breathy.

Donghyuck gives your fingers a small squeeze when you turn back to him. From this angle, you’re more aware of how flushed his neck and how dangerously quick his Adam’s apple is bobbing, probably because he can’t stop swallowing in anticipation. When you inch your head closer to his cock, he grips your hands even tighter, until the tips of your digits actually turn white.  

“Relax, baby,” you whisper, trying to curl your fingers — in vain, unfortunately, because he refuses to let go.

“I can’t,” he replies a little hoarsely. “I’m going to cum fast. I don’t want you guys to think I’m a quick shot.”  

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, twisting your dominant hand out of his iron grasp. Desperate to still have something to hang onto, his hand moves immediately to your head, gripping your hair in a haphazard half-ponytail. “I think it’s cute that you’re this excited.”

“Don’t tease me, noona.”

“I’m not teasing you,” you say calmly, but your index finger is enjoying its independence way too much, dragging down the side of his shaft lightly and drawing spirals against his skin as it travels back upwards. He lets out a short, sharp hiss. “I’m just telling it as it is. And if you want to cum, all you need to do is tell me where.”  

“What?”  

“Tell me where. Mark prefers the mouth, mostly.” He gapes down at you, shaking his head slowly like he’s not fully comprehending how workaday your tone is in comparison to what you’re saying. “Although you can obviously choose on your own.”

“Wh—” His question dies in his throat as his eyes fixate on your mouth, which is now wrapped around the head of his cock. You feel it twitch against your lips, and Donghyuck’s low, drawn-out moans are the rhythmic soundtrack to your endeavor. His grip on your hair tightens, and he starts a mantra of curses once your tongue begins rolling around the tip. “Oh my g— noona, you need to slow down, holy shit—”

Your giggle is muffled against his skin, but the vibrations just seem to spur him on; he clenches your hand like you’re dangling him off a cliff. His head is tilted back, and his chest is heaving dangerously. The hand in your hair jerks your head accidentally, but you power through it, moving your lips downward. His swearing only intensifies as you start to suck on his length, your mouth running up and down half of it.  

Donghyuck can’t seem to come to a decision on how to proceed; on one hand, he frequently wheezes out a “no” in between sentences he never finishes, but on the other, he’s starting to place pressure on your head in an attempt to lead it further down. You end up deciding for him when he hisses out an almost angry “fuck, that feels so good,” pressing your tongue up against the underside of his shaft. His cock throbs noticeably in your mouth again; the timing perfectly aligns when you look up at him just to see his eyes roll back one quick moment before he squeezes them shut. His mouth is slightly agape, and he can’t even bring his lips together to swear properly at this point.  

Another dangerous twitch of his cock signals that he’s close, and he confirms this when his head suddenly snaps down, eyes flying open.  

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” He shakes his head again, now looking panicked. “I want — can I cum on your tits?”  

You think that’s kind of a complicated decision considering you’re the only one in the room still fully clothed, but you don’t want to deny him, especially not when he looks so desperate. You pull your mouth away quickly, a wet pop sounding between you, and he finally releases your now-numb hand, using it to stroke his cock in your absence. Leaning back, you wrestle your shirt off; you’re about to work on the clasp of your bra too, but a gentle hand gets there before you. Mark has shifted closer for a better view, now unhooking your bra with the hand that isn’t stroking himself.

“Show off.” You grin back at him. He laughs softly, but the sound is drowned out by a slightly louder moan from Donghyuck. His head is in its previous position, tilted back, his bangs matted to his forehead. He’s sucked in his stomach, like he’s holding his breath just to stop himself from cumming. You tap his moving hand to tell him to stop, but he moans out a throaty albeit much more insistent no. Slightly amazed, you watch him shift forward in his seat, half of his ass hanging off the edge, leading his cock closer to you.  

It takes you a split second before you cotton on, and in that short interlude, his groans get exponentially louder, so you try not to waste any more time, leaning forward again so that his shaft can rest against your cleavage. It’s clear that your guess on what he wants is correct, because the fist around his cock loosens; instead, he presses his thumb down on his cock, making sure it stays flush against your skin as he starts to roll his hips upward haphazardly.  

You’re so new to the sight of this that you don’t even move; you just watch him rut against you, wondering why you hadn’t at least set up a camera so you could have a souvenir when this was all over. Surprisingly, it’s Mark that takes the initiative again; sacrificing personal pleasure, both his palms slip under your arms, pressing against the sides of your breasts and pushing them closer to the center. The friction Donghyuck is creating intensifies when they press up against his cock, and his reaction is immediate; his hips jerk up sharply, cock barely missing your chin.  

Donghyuck’s movements are more erratic now, and the flush on his neck has spread upwards to his cheeks. He’s so close, and the only thing you can do at this point is to egg him on.

“That’s so good, baby.” Your whisper is barely audible, but you know he can hear it, even with everything else he’s saying about how much he’s already losing his mind. “You’re doing so well. I bet you look so good when you cum, don’t you? Show mommy how much you want to cum all over me.”  

His hips give one last sharp lurch before a drawn out groan rips from his chest; you feel a splash of heat against your neck first. Donghyuck has all but slid off his seat, but he manages to right himself, pulling away from you slightly so he can fist at his cock again to coax his climax to completion. You let out a soft, appreciative noise as you feel his cum hit your skin in quick bursts.  

You smile up at him when he slouches back into the chair, breathing labored. Something like a disbelieving laugh escapes him when your gazes lock, and your grin just widens in response.  

“Mommy?”  

“Sorry. Heat of the moment, and all that,” you shrug. “Too weird?”  

“Kind of hot, actually,” he admits. “I’m not mad about it.”  

“I agree,” Mark’s voice sounds fresh in the situation considering how absent it had been for the better part of the blowjob. His hands are still against your breasts, now cupping them lightly instead of pushing them together. You lean back slightly, your head bumping into his shoulder.  

“It was nice to have an active audience too, actually,” you sigh softly, feeling Mark’s torso shake weakly as he laughs again. “Very helpful at the right time.”  

“I just took advantage of a sudden opportunity.” His fingers squeeze at your breasts gently. Donghyuck has caught his breath now, mostly, and he sits up a little straighter. His expression has gone back to looking a bit careful, which you’re disappointed about until he speaks up again.

“So… is that… really it?”  

“Why?” You bite back a laugh. “Did you want more, or something?”  

“Kind of.”  

“That’s good, considering I wasn’t really planning on stopping just yet.” Your hands move up your sides, overlapping with Mark’s. “Looks like you need a break, though.”  

“I really don’t,” Donghyuck answers quickly, almost talking over you.  

“How quick is your recovery time?”

“I don’t usually have a stopwatch on me when I jack off twice in a row,” he frowns. “I usually don’t jack off twice in a row. Isn’t it bad for your heart, or something?”  

“I don’t know. Naver it, if you’re curious,” you suggest.  

“No, thanks. Kind of a mood killer.”  

“True.” you shrug. “I guess we’ll just have to speed it up a little.”

Your fingers close around Mark’s hand, peeling it away from your breast slowly. He makes a small, disappointed sound but doesn’t resist, even when you let his hand go for a moment before taking his forefinger back into your grasp. Leading it back to your skin, you slide his finger over your nipple, Donghyuck’s release slowly gathering on his digit as you move it upwards. You hear Donghyuck inhale sharply as you bring Mark’s finger up to your mouth, your tongue coming out to meet it so you can lick off the residual cum.  

“Is she usually this horny, or, like… what?” Donghyuck sounds both scandalized and amazed.  

“This is definitely in the top ten list of horniest things she’s done,” Mark replies. You don’t miss the fact that his words are laced with a soft, affectionate tone. “Right up there with a morning blowjob and offering to eat my ass.”  

“You didn’t take the offer?”  

“We had a test the next day. Also, she was half-asleep when she offered.”  

“I would have done it if you had woken me up after ten minutes like you were supposed to.” You drop your hold on Mark’s hand.  

“I could tell you were tired. You needed rest, not another reason to rile me up into having sex four hours before a morning exam.”

You shrug as Donghyuck laughs incredulously. Mark, catching up to your intentions, starts using his thumb to wipe the rest of Donghyuck’s cum off your skin before lifting it back up to your mouth. “The offer still stands,” you say right before your lips wrap around his finger, suckling on it languidly. You’re excessively noisy about it, since that seems to interest Donghyuck.  

“I’ll take it up on another day,” Mark promises.  

“And the daddy thing,” Donghyuck presses on, even though his eyes are fixed on where your mouth meets Mark’s skin. “Whose idea was that?”  

“Who else’s?”  

“Noona,” Donghyuck shakes his head. “You’re a hazard to men, do you know that?”

You pull your mouth away, pouting. “That’s not the whole story. You’re telling it wrong.”  

“But you did start it,” Mark replies simply, going back to the task of slowly wiping your chest clean.  

“I said it as a joke, but it turned you on so much I just kept using it,” you elaborate.

“Fine. So that’s what happened,” he concedes. “But you still started it.”  

“But you love it,” you fire back. He chuckles, his finger coming back up to trace the shape of your mouth. The movement of it laces the last of Donghyuck’s cum onto your lips.  

“Of course.”  

Donghyuck’s cock visibly twitches as he watches you trace your tongue over your lips, slowly licking the cum off of them. He just gapes for a moment, even when you’re finished and smiling up at him again, then gently pats the side of his face like he’s trying to get himself to wake up.

“I’m going to have a heart attack.”  

“Story of my life,” Mark responds. You feel his heat leave your back for a moment as he moves to sit back onto the couch, but he reaches out for you again quickly, arms snaking around your waist so he can tug you onto his lap. You lean most of your weight back onto his chest, and his hands move down to unbutton your shorts, thumbs digging into the waistband in an attempt to push them down. “Help me out here, Donghyuck.”  

The latter leans forward as instructed, tugging down your shorts by the hem and dragging your underwear along with them. You have to lift yourself to help them slide it off, and when you sit back down, you press back against Mark’s hips, feeling the shape of his cock push up flush against your bare ass. His knees slip between your legs, pushing them apart to give Donghyuck a fair view of your pussy. He takes in a deep breath, as though mentally preparing himself.  

“We usually do this in front of a mirror,” Mark explains. “But I think it might turn her on more to know you’re watching.”  

“Oh, I’m definitely watching,” Donghyuck promises. “I don’t even know if I have it in me to fucking blink.”  

Mark laughs, but you don’t join him; what comes out of you is a slightly needy sound as you feel his fingers press up against your core. He slips one between your folds, tracing lines repeatedly along your slit, and your moans just grow louder with every time he brushes up against your clit. The sounds you’re making reach its first apex when two digits press down a little harder against the nub, rubbing with a fair amount of intensity.  

In most other instances, Mark isn’t one for a lot of talk; he’ll play along when he has to, but he isn’t instinctively prone to mouthing off during sex unless you prompt some kind of dialogue. You’re not sure if it’s also because Donghyuck is watching, or because this is just one of the rare times he’s feeling up to it, but even in the haze of your growing pleasure, you feel mildly surprised when he suddenly speaks up.

“What’s going on, __________?” His voice is low, muffled against your shoulder as he speaks in between the kisses he’s pressing against your skin. “Tell me. What’s happening to you right now?”  

“Oh my god,” you whimper, feeling him add more pressure against your core. “You’re… you’re rubbing my clit. Your fingers feel so good, fuck.”

He hums softly in approval. “What else?”  

Your answer comes slightly delayed as you moan, a longer, slightly more tortured sound as his fingers leave your clit, moving down to toy at your entrance. “I’m getting so wet, holy shit.”

“Wet for who?”  

“Fuck,” your voice comes out as an embarrassing, high-pitched whine. “For you, daddy. I’m getting so wet for you.”  

“Who else?”  

“For Donghyuck.”  

You feel Mark’s lips brush against the curve of your neck as he speaks again. “Should we show him?”  

You nod, unsure if you can still speak without everything just coming out as a mess, and Mark moves his hand back to your folds, his forefinger and middle finger spreading them. Your legs instinctively follow suit, shifting further apart, and Donghyuck’s mouth goes slack to the point that you can actually see a little bit of drool pooling near the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t even seem to be noticing the fact that he’s growing harder again as the seconds pass, too fixated on Mark’s hand, which has found its way back to your entrance. One digit dips into your core, and you tense around it. He starts to pump it into you, but the movement is too shallow, and your mind is honestly thinking about something else entirely. He knows this, you’re fairly sure, but Mark isn’t usually one to tease, so when he does, you let him get away with it.  

Still, you instinctively let out a frustrated noise, and he catches it. His finger slows in you, and your nails bite into his forearms as a tiny form of revenge. He doesn’t even sound perturbed when he speaks again.  

“What’s wrong?”

“I want…” You huff, hips moving in a bid for some kind of friction. “I want more.”  

“More?”  

“Cock,” You demand. “I want your cock, daddy.”  

His other arm frees your waist, moving to press his palm against your back. You take it as a signal to lift yourself, and your thighs get an unexpected workout as you wait for him to align himself under you. The same hand leads you back down, and you let out what might be the lewdest moan you’ve made for the day so far, feeling the familiar girth of his cock stretch you in that subtle, delicious way you’ve come to love.  

Mark doesn’t even wait for you to settle back down on his lap; you’re only halfway down before he lifts his hips to meet yours, burying himself into you completely. It knocks a little bit of wind out of you, but you won’t deny the fact that his eagerness is a peak turn on at this point. You’re glad that he’s firmly holding your waist, because you don’t know how much strain your legs can take anymore — partly because of practice, but mostly because Mark is funneling all of his energy into thrusting deep into you, which just renders you incapable of focusing on any other task requiring more than minimum effort.  

There’s slight movement in front of you; Donghyuck’s hand has found its way back to his cock, and he’s stroking himself to hardness again, his expression half-pained, half-amazed. His eyes keep moving back and forth, once again unsure on what to focus on. For a while, his gaze is fixed on your breasts, which are bouncing slightly with the force of Mark’s thrusts, but for some reason, he ultimately decides to focus on your face. His fingers tighten around his shaft for a moment.  

“Are you hard again, baby?” You ask the obvious, but he doesn’t seem to mind, considering the fact that he nods immediately. “Does it turn you on —watching daddy fuck me like this?”  

“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, locks sticking out at odd angles. “Jesus Christ.”  

“His cock feels so good in me. He’s filling me up so well, baby. Can you see it?”  

He nods again. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your head tilts back a little when Mark bucks his hips up a little more sharply than before, mouth falling slack to allow a groan to escape; you feel yourself tighten around him, legs twitching in response. You think you hear Donghyuck call out to a deity again. When your head lifts back up, you lock eyes with Donghyuck again, and he speaks before you can think of anything filthier to say.  

“Can I fuck your mouth, noona?”

He’s already half-standing before you say yes, and Mark has to slow down for a moment as Donghyuck clambers up to line himself up to your mouth again. He doesn’t even need any prompting anymore, one hand immediately moving to tangle into your hair and keep your head still. He uses the other to guide his cock past your lips, and you notice that he feeds you more length than you had taken in earlier.  

Seeing Mark resume his movements is what gives Donghyuck the cue to start, too; he uses his hold in your hair as some kind of leverage, hips rolling forward in slow, controlled thrusts. There’s very little you can do apart from suck with whatever strength you have left and moan intermittently when Mark shifts down a little so he can pump into you at a different, slightly deeper angle. One hand has also found its way back against your pussy, picking up where it left off and toying with your clit. You feel your legs shake slightly with the overstimulation, and it takes a lot of concentration for you to keep yourself from going limp.  

In an attempt to stay preoccupied, you look up at Donghyuck. The sight of him feels almost criminal, with his tongue curled up against his upper lip and his brow furrowed with concentration. His thrusts are growing a little more confident, and with this newfound boldness, he pushes more of his cock past your lips. It doesn’t seem to be an accident, either; his hand leads your head forward a little every time, and if you had to guess, you had probably just about a quarter of his length left before you took it all in.

Suddenly, he pulls his hips away, and you gasp out a soft fuck when he frees your mouth, once again unable to focus on much else apart from Mark’s thrusting, which has also increased in pace and intensity. You’re practically praying in swear words, and Donghyuck has to call your name twice before you look back up at him.  

“Noona, do you think you can—” He swallows hard, fingers falling away from your hair. “Can you relax for me?”  

“I’m getting the dicking down of my life over here,” you rasp between moans. “I don’t think I can.”  

“I meant here,” his hand falls down to your jaw before tracing a line down your throat. His forefinger hooks into the ersatz choker you’ve fashioned out of his tie. “I want to see if you can take all of me.”

You nod, not even bothering to tease him about how uncertain he’s acting even when he’s asking for a goddamn deepthroating, and he tugs on the tie, once again bringing your slackened mouth closer to his tip. You feel Mark’s fingers tighten around your hip, and his hips start lifting up harder; the slap of skin on skin is obscenely audible, almost like applause as Donghyuck slides himself past your teeth again.

He doesn’t bother with thrusting anymore; it’s one smooth motion until your mouth is back where it had been a moment ago. You remember he’d asked you to relax, so you try not to give into your instinct to moan over and over, letting your jaw go slack. You know he feels the tension go down because he starts pushing forward again. Your tongue is pressed up flush against his cock, but you can’t move it at all. The rest of Donghyuck’s fingers join the one wrapped around the tie, gripping it a little tighter as he tugs you forward to meet his hips, and you have the good sense to breathe in right before he slips the remaining length into your mouth.  

The tip of his cock presses up against the back of your throat, and you feel the expected tears pool in your eyes and streak down your cheeks; you try to focus on Donghyuck’s expression, which is completely blissed out, but it’s a little hazy. When you start feeling lightheaded, you reach out to blindly swat at his thigh. He gets the signal, pulling away right before you can gag, but he doesn’t leave your mouth. Instead, he resumes thrusting, deciding to follow Mark’s quicker, rougher pace.

You’re pretty sure you would be moaning like crazy now, but you can’t even make noise properly. Without any warning, Donghyuck tugs at the tie again, and your throat instinctively loosens when you feel him pushing in deeper again. He stays there, buried in your mouth for what seems like forever, almost growling when he feels you trying to swallow around him.  

On his second withdrawal, he pulls out all the way; a long, escalating groan leaves you, and you feel your legs buckle suddenly as your climax hits unexpectedly. Mark’s arms wind around your waist, trying to keep you steady, but his hips move relentlessly, hellbent on keeping you going until your high ends. You collapse against his chest when it does, breathing heavily, your eyes closing halfway. Donghyuck inches closer, though, still lining his cock up against your mouth, and your tongue comes out to greet it, running messily along its side.  

“How was it?” Mark asks softly from under you, one hand gently rubbing your stomach.  

“Fucking amazing,” Donghyuck replies, watching you mouth at the tip before you suck on it languidly. “You’ve never tried?”  

“Not yet.”  

“It’s out of this world, hyung.” Your heart swells at the praise, and your mouth becomes a little more enthusiastic. Donghyuck lets out a shaky exhale. “Pro level.”  

Mark chuckles, the sound rumbling against your back. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“If you add that to the fact that she basically swears like a pirate, she could really make a career out of it.”  

“That is something that’s never going to happen,” Mark squeezes your waist. “Like, over my dead body.”  

“I’m just saying it as a hypothetical thing. You know. To drive the compliment home.” You try to interrupt them, but Donghyuck’s shaft is still pressed up against your lips, muffling the sound. He angles his hips away so you can speak. “Sorry. What was that, noona?”  

“More,” you breathe out. Donghyuck’s eyebrows fly up as you repeat yourself. “More. Please.”  

“Are you sure? You can take a break. Trust me, with what just happened, we’ll still be hard.”  

You shake your head, carefully pushing yourself up off Mark’s lap; you’re still fairly wobbly, so he has to keep his hand on your back just to make sure you don’t reel backwards. He looks up at you, wide-eyed, wondering what you’re planning. You motion for him to scoot back near the armrest, and he does so, adjusting himself horizontally once he understands what you want. He reaches out a hand to help you back onto the couch, where you straddle his lap for a moment before you raise yourself, reaching between the two of you to hold onto the base of his shaft. His teeth come out to dig into his lip as you once again take in his cock, biting back a moan.  

When you turn back, Donghyuck is still in the same position, watching you; he’s clearly wondering where he fits into this equation. You beckon for him to come closer, and he complies wordlessly. You need to twist your arm a little to reach out for his, leading his fingers to your mouth. Your tongue presses up against his digits, rolling around them slowly for a long, fairly intense minute before you let his wrist go.  

He cottons on belatedly, after you’ve leaned back down to press your chest against Mark’s, pushing out your ass. Your fingers grip your cheeks, spreading them slightly, and Donghyuck lets out a strangled noise.  

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you murmur, pressing the side of your face against Mark’s shoulder.  

“Are you — I’ve — hold on,” Donghyuck falls silent trying to form the best possible sentence, which is, apparently, “How are you this calm about this?”

“What do you want me to do?” You laugh breathily. “Cry about it?”  

“Have you ever done this before?”

“No,” you admit. “So you better stretch me out, or we might have a problem.”  

“Yeah, okay, no pressure.” You feel the couch dip a little as he inches forward, and in the next second, his hand finds its way to your ass, helping you push your cheeks apart. “Why hasn’t Mark hyung done this?”  

“He’s too scared.”

“That you’ll get hurt?”  

“That he’ll cum right away.”  

Donghyuck barks out a laugh, and even Mark snorts a little. “What about me? I’m afraid of that too.”

“Yeah, but we already know you’re kind of a quick shot.”  

Something cool presses up against your ass, and in the next moment, Donghyuck is sinking the first knuckle of his forefinger into you. You let out a slightly surprised moan that he talks over. “Am not.”  

“We’ll see,” your words come out short as you hold your breath in anticipation. Nothing happens, though; his finger stays completely still. “Fuck. You’re really taking your sweet time.”

“You’d kill me if I just stuffed one finger in right away,” he complains. You clench around him unexpectedly, and he pulls his finger away. “Okay, can you not do that first? My finger is just going to get sucked in or something.”

“That was the idea. Hurry up.”  

“Are you always this impatient?” More shifting happens behind you, and a moment later, you feel something softer and wetter press up against your entrance. You jerk forward in surprise, but Donghyuck’s hands are keeping your hips steady, allowing him to lap at the puckered flesh. You let out a breathy, incredulous laugh.  

“He’s eating my ass,” you inform Mark, who grins up at you. “This is the kind of kinky shit I could have done for you instead of reading Homer.”  

“You passed the exam, which is more important than my personal pleasure.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Mark doesn’t reply, allowing you the space to moan as Donghyuck’s tongue lubes you up. When he pulls away, you try to crane your head back in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his lips, which are shiny with saliva. His hand moves towards you again, and he eases his finger in slowly until it’s in entirely. You start to moan a little more loudly once he starts pumping his finger, and Mark slowly starts rolling his hips up again to add to the stimulation. You have to tuck your face into the crook of his neck to soften your groan as Donghyuck slowly pushes another finger in, spreading them out carefully before he resumes pumping.  

You think you could pretty much get off like this, and you actually feel pleasure building in your stomach, but it’s a low-burning fire with how slowly they’re taking it. A couple of times, you try to push back against them, but Donghyuck in particular seems to be enjoying taking his sweet time. The third finger enters when the buzz of ecstasy has settled in your nerves, adding a bit of spark to the low thrum coursing through your body. Even Mark doesn’t see the necessity in speeding up yet. You’re breathing deep against his neck, inhaling his scent constantly and getting heady from it, and you don’t even register the fact that your mouth has been half-open for the last ten minutes, just letting low, weak moans pass through. At one point, you actually cum quietly again, even with that horribly slow pace, and no one says anything; Mark just turns his head, pressing a firm kiss against your forehead.  

“Please,” your voice is barely audible. “Please. Give me your cock. I’m begging you. I want both of you in me already.”

Donghyuck doesn’t respond, but he does acknowledge your words, slowly tugging his fingers out of you. A moment later, something hard presses up against you, and your moan escalates exponentially once you feel it stretch you. You have to constantly tell yourself not to tense up, but with how desperate you are, you can’t help but feel a little tightly wound, and there’s a small bite of pain when the tip of Donghyuck’s cock makes it past the first ring of muscle.  

Mark’s hands leave your waist, lacing into your fingers and squeezing them reassuringly. You’ve gone back to swearing again, your voice more guttural this time, as Donghyuck works his way further into you. His hands are back on your cheeks, trying to help himself in by spreading them slightly as he moves. It takes what feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, and you let out a long, heavy sigh of relief, belatedly realizing you’d been holding your breath this entire time.  

Donghyuck’s breathing is pretty loud at this point; his hands are roaming across your back aimlessly. “You’re tight as hell. How does it feel?”  

“Fucking incredible,” you whimper. “I feel so fucking full.”

You don’t know if they’d quietly agreed on something, but Mark and Donghyuck start moving at the same time, at the same pace. It’s difficult to decide which feeling to focus on, and you have to shut your eyes to block out anything else that might distract you from the pleasure. Your nails bite into the backs of Mark’s palms, but he doesn’t say anything against it; his breathing is coming out a little more labored too as he thrusts up into you.

Donghyuck loses his reluctance a lot more quickly than Mark, you’ve come to learn; once he’s realized you’re not complaining, he starts speeding up, trying to match Mark’s practiced intensity. You let go of Mark’s hands, letting them move back to their original position as you press your palms against the couch, lifting your torso up slightly. Donghyuck’s hands, on the other hand, find their way to your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers.  

“Harder,” you whisper, now fully adjusted to the situation. “Fuck me harder, please, please.”  

No one objects at this point, each one of you ultimately more concerned with chasing your highs. Mark adjusts himself under you so that he has more mobility, and his thrusts become sharper in tandem with Donghyuck’s. The moans leaving you are shorter but more frequent, breathless and a little too loud, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. A small part of you is astonished at the idea that twenty-four hours ago, it had never crossed your mind that you’d be naked in between your boyfriend and his best friend, but that small part is ultimately shunted by the knowledge that, twenty-four hours later, you are, in fact, in haphazardly planned threesome with the aforementioned people.  

You haven’t said anything for a while now, having lost your own ability to form anything coherent and replacing words with garbled moans. Your expression has probably been dazed for the last few minutes, and when you look down, Mark is staring intently at you. Without any prompt, you lean down, pressing your lips hard against his; his mouth moves against yours, engaging you in a messy and wet kiss that ends with his tongue in your mouth and you suckling on it. Donghyuck’s fingers are digging into your breasts, squeezing them tightly as he briefly interrupts his thrusting to grind his hips up against your ass. You groan in surprise, letting go of Mark’s tongue, and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to tug you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands move in opposite directions, one hand snaking around your waist tightly, the other dragging up against your cleavage and landing at the base of your throat, tightening a little.  

“Want to tell us what’s going on?” He seems to be taking a page out of Mark’s book. “Tell us what’s happening to you.”  

The first thing that leaves you is a whimper; you’re pretty sure you’ve been speaking in tongues for the past five minutes or so, and your mind is blanking out. Donghyuck’s fingers squeeze a little more against your throat before loosening again.  

“Come on, mommy,” he whispers into your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, trying to keep yourself from imploding at that second. “Talk to me. What’s happening to you right now?”  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss out, feeling his fingers tighten and loosen again. “I’m getting fucked so good, holy shit—”

“Yeah? So good you’re going to cum for us again?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God,” your voice is thick, and it doesn’t help that Donghyuck’s hand squeezes around your throat in increasingly longer intervals. “I’m going to cum so hard. Please — don’t stop, don’t stop—”  

You yelp as Mark’s hips jerk up sharply, stopping for a second before he continues; the result is him falling out of sync with Donghyuck, thrusting in just as Donghyuck pulls back. The new rhythm gives you very little pause, and you feel your arousal heightening much more quickly. You know that Mark, at least, is close; his eyes are shut, and he’s starting to moan lowly — usual tells you’ve noticed over time. The timing seems perfect, then, as Donghyuck presses his lips back to your ear.

“Where should we cum, noona?” He murmurs. “It’s your choice this time.”  

You’re in no real state to make decisions, so you don’t answer right away. The only prompt you have to do so is Donghyuck’s hand once again closing around your throat, cutting off your air supply for a sweet second before letting you breathe again. You’re so close, you can’t care about logistics, and moving would just ruin everything.  

“Cum in me, baby,” you reply hoarsely. “Fuck — please, cum in me.”  

Donghyuck gives your throat one last squeeze, a slightly longer one, fingers flexing against your neck as he buries his cock into you with a throaty groan. You feel the heat almost immediately, and your vision whites out around the edges for a moment before he frees you. You use the air that fills your lungs almost immediately, moaning unrestrainedly as you climax once again, pulsing around both of their cocks. Mark moves his hips for your sake, hitting your sweet spot help you ride it out until you come back down. Donghyuck gently pulls his hands away, and your spine suddenly feels like jelly; you collapse into Mark with a soft thud.

A moment of stillness follows, filled only with heavy breathing and the occasionally whispered curse word. The three of you stay that way for five blissful minutes, until Donghyuck’s phone starts ringing obnoxiously from his bag near the door. The call drops and goes to voicemail because he takes his time pulling out, wasting a couple more seconds to watch a bit of his cum dribble out with an appreciative hum. When the phone rings again, you swat him away, and he sprints across the floor to dig it out of his bag. It’s Renjun, you learn when he answers the phone.  

You and Mark watch him converse with Renjun naturally, like he hadn’t been deep up your ass a moment ago, talking about an assignment he had forgotten to do research on. When he says he’s going to go online so the two of them can discuss, he shoots the two of you a look, like he’s asking you for permission. Mark mouths for him to stop dawdling and get to work, and Donghyuck pulls a face as he picks his backpack and trudges into his room. You notice he peeks at the two of you surreptitiously just before he closes the door.  

“Good job, mommy,” Mark murmurs when Donghyuck is finally out of earshot. He pushes your hair away from your face, tucking locks messily behind your ear to keep them from falling into his face and tickling his nose.  

“I could really get used to that name, but I might miss the title he stole from me now and again.”  

“I don’t mind either way,” he chuckles. “They both kind of suit you.”  

“At least we worked that out,” you hum softly. “I kind of felt bad for him at the beginning.”  

“He pouted and got to cum twice. Things work out.”

You stare down at him, confusion suddenly seeping into your expression. “Yeah. But you didn’t. At all.”  

“I know. It’s not like I can cum like this,” he laughs. “You have to move off of me. Quick, too, because I’ve been holding it in forever.”  

“Why?” You ask, perplexed.

“What do you mean, why? Because I can’t reach your mouth from down here.”

“You don’t have to,” you press a hand to his chest, stopping him from moving up. He meets your eye, now confused too. “I meant what I said. I want you to cum in me.”  

Shock crosses his face. “But—”

“Didn’t you want to? The first time?” He nods, and you tilt your head questioningly. “Do you not want to now?”

“I do. I mean — it would be so hot, but I’m just — I mean, are you sure?”  

“I’m sure.” You lean down, pressing a kiss to his nose. “It’s okay. I want to feel you.”  

He looks up at you, unblinking, assessing your expression like he’s trying to figure out if you’re just pranking him. When he decides you aren’t, he nods, and you dip your head again to press your lips to his. His hands grip your waist once again, and you feel him start to thrust — slowly at first, his speed building gradually. Your hands are pressed to his jaw, thumbs running up against his cheek as you kiss him — adoringly, carefully.  

His movements still for a moment, and you think he’s already climaxing, but you only feel your body shift in position; the next thing you know, you’re lying back against the couch, Mark hovering above you. He thrusts in deeper, sharper, and you whine, reaching out to press your hand to the back of his neck and bringing his head down. Your foreheads touch, and there’s very little gap between your lips and his, but you don’t close it. Instead, you keep your gaze locked on his, letting the breath that accompanies your moans wash over his lips as his hips start to move more intensely.  

That same expression you know so well starts to form on his face again; his eyes, however, are still uncertain, searching yours, offering you room to back out. You shake your head, but his brow only furrows deeper.  

“I’m okay,” you whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. “Please. I want it.”  

“You’re sure?” He rasps out. His voice sounds a little broken, like he’s doing all he can to keep himself from tipping over the edge. “I can still… I can still pull out.”  

“Don’t,” your voice comes out a little more sharply. “I want all of your cum. Please, daddy.”  

“I—” You feel his cock twitch in you, and his eyes start to close again. “God, I’m—”

“Daddy, please,” you urge him, your fingers pressing hard against his sides. “I want it. I want your cum. I want your baby. Please. Fill me up.”  

“Fuck—” His hips jerk, and he snaps them forward, burying himself inside you. You feel his release a moment later, and you mewl softly, tightening around him. He doesn’t move this time, and when his eyes open, they immediately shine with concern. You shake your head, tilting your head up to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.  

Even with him slowly softening inside you, he doesn’t pull out; you stay in the same position for some time, exchanging light kisses. At one point, he leans in, pressing a kiss much firmer than the others, and when he pulls back, words that break the silence tumble out.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve never… I’ve never wanted anyone but you. Ever.”  

You lie there, stunned at the sudden confession. Mark doesn’t even look remotely abashed or regretful; he just stares down at you, and it doesn’t even look like he’s waiting for a response. You reach up, trapping his face between your palms and inching your head forward to press another deep kiss to his lips.  

“I love you,” you murmur against his mouth. “I always will.”  

At your words, he tugs you up with him, gathering you into his arms. His lips rest on your forehead, unmoving, hand rubbing your back lightly.  

It would have ended an extremely heartfelt moment, if not for the soft cough that had caused you to look up and see Donghyuck standing by his door, now fully clothed and slightly amused.

“So you guys decide to act like a normal, loving, not-kinky couple now?”

#mark smut #haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct smut #mark x you #mark x reader #haechan x you #haechan x reader #mark drabbles #mark imagines #mark scenarios #haechan drabbles #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #nct imagines #mark lee smut #nct drabbles #nct x you #nct scenarios

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 20: clinical

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [19: burial]

wc: 6k

chapter warnings:  gross misuse of medical terminology (don't correct me, taeil is just tired) and some smut under the pretense of medical care (pelvic massage), mentions of vomiting

recommended listening: love is a beauty - nct 127

Moon Taeil [Nyctereutes procyonoides α] - magna cum lauda Imperial Academy of Medicine Physician, 2nd rank

>>> patient 1 recovering, expected rate for non-developed hybrid form Felid. sustained fx, inj. are as follows: >>>> gross injury to levator scapulae, supraspinatus, teres major and minor >>>> humerus luxation treated with closed reduction w/o sx intervention, possible crush injury to humeral head, imaging negative  >>>> clavicle and scapula injuries healing w/o sx fixation, blood flow to right arm inhibited by subclavian artery and thyrocervical branch closure, recommend amputation if unable to restore bloodflow to lower extremities >>>> wounds to scalp from forcible claw damage, penetrating, inc. possible puncture of sphenoid bone. temporal skull fissures healing without leakage, no artificial grafts available for outer ear, treated with amputation of dead tissue and cauterization >>>> platelet levels depleted, multiple donations made including from known genetic rejection variants >>>> sx intervention to insure subclavian artery reformation, rapidity of healing within 2-3 hours. may be grafts, or donated plasma. a full genetic spectrum analysis is rendering, delayed by recombination, captured >>>> abn variant detected on scan, will need confirm by biopsy if deep tissue or contam. suspect contam, due to multiple sx performed under non-sterile non-quarantine procedures. patient 0 is recovering from sternum, mult. rib fx from chest compressions, deep tissue calcaneal tendon refixture, performed with local anesthetics only, report to follow

To say Taeil is exhausted is an understatement. Spiritually, emotionally, and especially physically–he feels much older than his age.

When he's caught a break to shower he's scrubbed blood off that’s no longer there, still smelling and feeling it's tacky, flaking texture on his skin. The last time he's truly slept was when he’d shoved your dose of ketamine into his cephalic vein, woken up to a nightmare that hopefully, mostly, has come to an end.

Performing surgeries better suited to specialists with one amateur combat medic and a decades-old TraumaTeam surgical bot wasn’t easy, but he's managed it. It was the only solution while in lockdown. Yuta had clapped him on the shoulder with his forearm after they’d performed the first round of Mark's intervention, blood smeared on the Felid's face from wiping sweat and hair from his forehead.

"Just like the old days," he'd said, smiling ruefully. Battlefield humor never ceased in Nyctos, not for the old guard.

It hadn't been as funny when they'd been tasked with treating Jaehyun, or you. 

Now that he could feel you, knew you, he understood how much you'd kept locked away. It penetrated past every defense he'd trained into as a war medic, as a physician treating young and old, alike.

For the first time in a decade of being a physician he'd heaved up the non-existent contents of his stomach. If it weren't for an IV after that, and maybe a careful injection of sedation and caffeine, he wouldn't still be standing.

But he had to be, for his most important patient.

Mark's recovery had begun without the accelerated genetics of a fully designated hybrid. From what Taeil knew of Mark’s childhood he’d received twice as much anti-shift therapy as someone like Jaehyun–treatment for an accident on base when he was a teen had almost ended his life. It had delayed his development so long everyone had assumed he’d never present, not as he neared his 25th year without the markers.

But all that had changed overnight. Mark’s ancestral genetics had returned with a vengeance. If human healing was a problem, so was rapid cell reconstruction without a stable network for tissue to form or the biological materials to build it out of.

Johnny, Jungwoo, and Haechan had managed the night mission to obtain grafts, replacement cartilage and bone scaffolding while the other Felids donated plasma. It had taken another 4 hours in surgery to make sure there was no long term damage, this time with surprisingly efficient results–Taeil had watched as muscle tissue and skin reconnected, the only visible sign of injury in the shiny, faint scars on Mark's neck and torso and claw marks on the shaved side of his head. 

The little cat would be fine, given enough time. 

He's sure nothing can prepare Mark for the burden of healing from what he'd been through, emotionally, but he has hope for that, too. Jaehyun had stayed most of the night under the guise of wanting to donate more blood if needed, but he'd recognized the same impulse in him that had kept you holding Mark's hand the first day: survivor's guilt. All three of you seemed to be connected by it.

From an outside observation, it felt almost intrusive to see the two Felids together. The older Alpha slept folded over Mark's legs as if he could keep him fixed to this plane of existence. Perhaps it was the deep rumble of Jaehyun's breathing, or the way Mark's hands occasionally dug into the sheets with the delicate, white claws he'd begun expressing after the first twelve hours. More than that, their scents had combined in a tell-tale way, a little like meadowgrass warmed under the sun.

He doesn't want to chase down the possibility of a claim caused by injury–he still has never heard of any made that way that didn't involve you–but he's also a scientist. Phenomena observed once are an anomaly, multiple times a basis for a hypothesis.

Whatever occurred, Taeyong and Doyoung had agreed to keep the reports of Mark's condition as quiet as possible. They didn't need Third Princess Lee Eunchae finding out about her son's brush with death by any means, especially second-hand.

Taeil knows he'd be the first to suffer her wrath, Taeyong and Doyoung would follow. The Princesses' late-life vows as an Allfaiths nun did not preclude her from rending him or the former Crown Prince to pieces. He's sure once she sees Mark's scars she'll do it with words, alone.

Thankfully Mark would be able to relay the news, personally, now that he was conscious. The would-be Prince of Goryeo is currently experiencing his first real painkiller and sedative cocktail, his forkful of melon dripping into the sheets as he attempts to referee Yuta and Haechan's card game.

"Is it poker? Man. You can't play poker with two people. Where's the pot?" he laughs, feet kicking beneath the sheets. “Deal me in.”

"Go fish," Haechan says, throwing a Jack of Hearts on the pile that's begun to slide off the overbed table.

"Koi koi," Yuta answers, picking up another card to add to his hand from the stack.

A goofy smile appears on Mark's face as he tries to parse the rules Taeil knows they're making up on the fly just to fuck with him. It's good his friends are here for him. Johnny would join them once he was back from the lower levels–Taeil had messaged the prime the moment his ward came to. 

He busies himself checking the supplies in his field kit, unable to escape the scrutiny of the three others in the room.

"Doctor, are you going somewhere special looking that good?" Mark slurs. The other two share a laugh, but not at Mark.

"He's got a date," Yuta says, picking up the discards to shuffle. Haechan snorts, laying down his hand. 

"Dinner with the queen," Haechan says, eyes darting up full of spite. 

Taeil ignores it, checking himself in the mirror over the handwashing station. 

"Just a housecall," he says. He adjusts the slim tie he's knotted over his dress shirt, the tightness on his neck reminding him of a noose. Black on black: for his own funeral, he supposes.

"____ really made it, huh." Mark has already heard a few words to relay the current situation but it's never broached past a general sense of your condition–as if the details would be too much for him. 

"She's fine," Haechan says, lightly. "I saw her this morning. Looked good as new. Maybe a little . . . peckish."

"Princess has an appetite," Yuta says. Haechan snickers at it, folding back in his chair, as Mark takes small bites of his fruit salad contemplatively. Taeil watches him for a bit, unable to anticipate the younger man's response to the news or the lewd jokes the twin devils at his bedside are exchanging in a tone they know he can hear.

"She’s doing surprisingly well," Taeil says, voice level. "For being dead for a minute and a half."

The hum of equipment is the only sound in the wake of his statement. He expects Yuta or Haechan to say something glib, but they just look at him expecting him to continue–their faces masked.

"It felt a lot longer." Taeil adds, palm spreading over his shirtfront. His chest still aches with the memory of the broken breastbone and ribs you'd sustained during chest compressions. “I hope you never have to feel what that’s like.”

Taeil feels badly that Mark looks deathly ill, again, but at least so do the others.  

He waves his hand over the door control. "I'll be back before midnight. If there's another emergency, I want to be the last to know."

Being off-duty after a double shift has always made him giddy (he's joking with himself, in a way–he hasn't been off-duty in his entire adult life) but it does feel like he’s back in the early days of his training doing days-long shifts, looking forward to the long break.

Even if it's with you, in your . . . state. Your perfume has saturated the entirety of the executive floor, perceivable at the lower levels.

Based on the interesting nature of his dreams when he’d managed a brief nap last night, as well as the scent on Johnny that morning when he’d checked in on Mark, you weren’t adhering to the appropriate schedule for rehab. 

He doesn't blame you for breaking your fast with what you need, but he's also riddled with anxiety over how soon you've begun your descent into the next dip in your cycle. You're back on bio-monitoring and the expected hormonal spikes are, just as he imagined, off the charts.

Back when he'd been in the Imperial College a favorite pastime of his dorm mates had involved a contraband bottle of ginseng wine and dramatic readings from the private journals of the old Imperatrix's personal doctor (and rumored lover). Not one to indulge, they'd been burnt into his memory ever since.

Subject appears to be in a constant state of estrus. Diestrus is non-existent in this particular line of vulpes vulpes forma amicus. Breeding her has surpassed the abilities of a mere mortal. She is described as having the stamina of a dozen of her kind wrapped up in one. During the second ceremonial mating ritual a team was quietly dispatched to resuscitate the Imperator and administer numerous fluid IVs, as well as a recommended reprieve from additional intercourse. The Imperial palace was almost burnt down for the first time since it was last sacked in the 16th century. Perhaps we have made a mistake in our calculations of Vulpine appetite.

You're at least burning nothing but candles, and certainly not the meal you'd prepared for him, when he enters the suite. Your shoulders are relaxed as you work in Taeyong's kitchen, listening to what he thinks might be 20th century music, tail keeping time with the fits and starts of a piano recorded a few centuries ago. 

You look over your shoulder at him, coquettishly, adding green onions to a clay pot of samgyetang.

"I asked Doyoung your preference of foods, if you don't mind," you say, looking up at him with a hint of slyness on your lips. "Samgyeoupsal?"

It could just be white rice served a grain at a time for all he cares but Taeil nods, smiling a little in return. 

"I was surprised when I got your message about dinner. I thought I was just checking your ankle," he says. "How does it feel?" 

He doesn't have to ask, distant throbbing in his heel, but he knows your language now better than anyone, sees the way your black-and-orange ears fold back with a touch of shyness and delight. You do love being cared for, but even more, listened to.

"Much better, thanks to you," you reply, half-curtseying so your robe pools on the floor. He thinks it must be one of Taeyong's many embroidered silk luxuries, so long it almost trips you. What’s more notable is the way you've wrapped the sleeves back, tie criss-crossed over your torso in an ancient fashion. 

"How about your dreams?" he asks. He feels like a fool the moment the words slip from his mouth, moreso when you look at him with concern. 

"I mean, did you sleep well?" He course-corrects. 

"Very well," you say. "Most of the day, actually. When I wasn't learning how to make kimchi." 

Your eyes do look irritated, but he thinks it might not be from onion or garlic. He drops his bag to help you bring dishes to the table, mouth watering not just for the spread on the ancient wood table. 

After he catches himself staring for the hundredth time he realizes now he's never seen you with your hair drawn back from your face. You've always made an effort to hide your scars.

He's never once entertained the thought of running his finger down them without your permission but he can't stop his hand from raising unconscious, wanting to touch them.

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, rubbing at your cheek with your sleeve.

Damn his rut, and damn his awkwardness as he flounders. You're looking at him with amusement, intuiting his emotions easily.

"Oh, no." he says. "Sorry. It's been a long day." Days.

"Of course," you say, dipping your head. "Please, eat. I have a selection of drinks for you, as well."

He refuses your offering of alcohol with the excuse of being on duty, too sure he'll stumble again. He regrets it immediately, watching the artful way you pour your own glass of soju.

"Don't worry, I won't poison you," you say wryly, expression going sad as you sit down beside him. He understands where your emotions are taking you, stopping it firmly with a hand on your head, stroking your ear absentmindedly until the movements of your tail warn him off. 

"Thank you for treating me to such a nice meal. It's a very nice gesture," he says.

It's strange being on the receiving end of a home-cooked dinner, after all the ones he's prepared for the pack. He has to stop himself from over-indulging after days of convenience store fare, picking choice bites of spring chicken from the samgyetang and letting the broth and sweet rice heal his queasy stomach. 

You continue to serve him, taking charge of the electric grill like you're in one of the old pop-ups he's used to frequenting, conversing while your eyes dart up to him. You talk about the weather, ask about the news. It feels comfortable in a way he's completely unused to–to the point that he can barely hear what you're saying until you ask about Mark. 

"Oh," he says, choking on too much lettuce and ssamjang in his last mouthful of velvety pork belly. "He's doing well. Awake. He might still need a few more transfusions but he’s recovering much more quickly than we expected."

"He needs blood?" you ask, drawing up. "Could I–?" 

"No. No," he says a little too forcefully. "He'll survive. The other Felids are more suitable donors, anyway."

Too close of a genetic match, too likely a rejection of the grafts he's received, he thinks, but it's better left unsaid. Your scent has changed, mournful chrysanthemum as present as when you'd lain beside Mark the day before–the same he thinks Jaehyun smells like, now. 

“You should go visit him once you’re feeling up to it,” he says. “Although . . . I think we’ll have time tomorrow.”

Another message had been fed through the internal network, pushed to all parties–well, not the recruits, but they'd enjoy the leftovers, if there were any. You'd crafted a beautiful invitation in the style of Old Seoul's etiquette, individual messages written in brush strokes of digital ink. 

Dearest Doctor . . . 

He'd barely registered the words after that, just that you'd planned a formal dinner, early, to recognize the pack's tribunal. And, he thinks, your likely departure. 

“Yes,” you nod, poking at a piece of garlic skittering on the hot plate. “I asked Taeyong if I could prepare another meal. For the whole pack. As a way to give thanks, I suppose. My mother taught me that when one doesn't have much to offer they can at least find a means to ease another's burden." 

"That reminds me," he says, "I think this might be the first time we've eaten together. Unless you count cup ramen." 

You nod, laughing a little dourly at the memory. "One of the many benefits to having Doyoung and Taeyong back is that the grocery deliveries are more suited for an Imperial palette."

You look up at him, smiling. It's the first time he's realized you're wearing cosmetics–nothing immediately discernible but your lips are shaded rouge, your eyes circled in black making the orange in them that much brighter. 

"Could I ask you something personal?" 

You wait for him to respond, fingering your untouched glass.

"It depends," he says. "Shoot."

"Are you still . . . ?" Your voice drifts off, husky.

He feels his ears burn at the implied question. He must be addled from lack of sleep if he's letting a simple matter of biology embarrass him, but then you'd put a damper on his professional facade the moment you'd put teeth in his wrist. 

"It doesn't matter." Taeil waves you off, stealing your drink to take half of it in one quaff. The liquor is sweet on his tongue, tasting a little like you. 

"Why do you ask?"

You play with the ties on your robe, black-tipped claws tugging the satin.

"I need your help," you say, beginning to ramble. "I know that you'll probably say no–not that I don't think you like me enough just that–it's a great deak to ask. I hope I can convince you of the urgency of the situation–" 

He's been wondering if this dinner was a gambit again, a way to make him comfortable. But a good physician is always prepared.

"You don't need my permission to have intercourse with Johnny," he says, at a much slower cadence. "While I can advise against it, especially so quickly after your injuries, your body is your own."

You look disturbed for only an instant before gasping out a curse under your breath, your uncomfortable laughter growing into peals as you fold over your knees.

"I was going to ask you if you–" you say, wiping away tears, laughing again when you see his droll expression. "–if you could help me cook. Tomorrow."

You pour yourself another glass of soju, pushing it towards him after a moment.

"I hope you don't think I'm laughing at you," you say, hiccuping a bit. "Just at the absurdity of this situation. Thank you for the approval."

"Of course I'll help you," he says, loosening his tie, reaching to turn off the grill. "What are you planning?"

"You'll find out," you muse. "Let's not focus on plans right now. I think you should relax."

Relax? 

Taeil measures the way your hand reaches out to him but doesn't respond as your fingers encircle his tie and tug on it, softly. If his body follows, it's just to save himself from being strangled.

"Now that I have one favor do you think you can grant me another?" you ask, the fall of your lashes dark in the light from the chandelier. He can see you fight the smirk of knowing whatever response he gives he'll be completely at your disposal.

"I value my life enough not to fuck you," he says, words distant. "Anything but that."

"You really are an old dog," you tease, claws pricking through his shirt when you drop the tie to run your hand down the line of buttons. 

"The favor isn't related to that. Although we can kill two birds with one stone here if you'd like to give me the blessing to consummate with Taeyong. No one's told me what that will entail and I'm a bit tired of feeling foolish–"

"Oh," Taeil says, backing up quickly. "I would just need to do another exam. I admit, I didn't bring anything for that–"

"We can start with the exam. But like I asked before . . . it would be nice to have some instruction. Just a physical demonstration, of course."

You're having so much fun at his expense, flustering him, but worse is the crackling heat of your arousal, as if having a cold metal instrument shoved inside you would be something to look forward to. 

"Why don't I send you a few papers on omega male physiology, and come back tomorrow once you've had a bit more time to recover. And read."

Once I have enough time to remind myself why I played anesthesiologist on my own vein rather than spend another moment alone with you, he thinks.

"Do I scare you?" you ask. Your hands move lazily as you begin to undress in front of him. There's not much to remove, though thankfully you're wearing something under the robe, just a blur as he focuses on your face to keep from running for the door.

"No," he says. Yes, he thinks. 

You're not a patient anymore, not off-duty. But you are his prime's mate. Johnny hadn't even bothered to get his agreement in the farce of his pack order, confident as an elder and a healer he'd follow the correct and righteous path in the face of an omega in heat. 

"Truth be told," Taeil begins, "Suh hasn't been himself lately. I would like to avoid getting on his bad side."

"Noted," you say. "I'll be honest as well. I'm actively trying to get on it." 

There's that Vulpine deviousness and playfulness again–which any sane person would run at the sight of. You do look different when your eyes are narrowed and your fangs are bared. It's enough to make him dizzy, feeling you preen a little at the thought of malice towards your mate. 

"Have you considered another target than the one person who can treat mortal injuries in this pack," he says. 

"Of course," you demur, leaving your robe open as you climb on to the table from your chair. "But what excuse would he have for mistreating you if you were simply performing your duty as a physician?" 

Taeil's breath hitches in his throat, paralyzed at the sight of you pulling your underwear off, kicking it from your foot into his lap. You don't remove your robe but you lean back against the table, legs opening so the dim light catches on the shimmer of your slick. 

"Where are you going?" you ask, when he immediately gets up and turns away.

"I need–"

"Instruments? Gloves?" you ask. 

"To wash my hands."

He feels himself crumbling like a sun-crisped leaf, maintaining a facade that neither of you are fooled by as he puts his glasses back on, rolls up his sleeves, and spends more time than necessary scrubbing under his fingernails with the soap at the sink. Knowing Doyoung, it's antibacterial.

"Before I do this I'd like you to swear you won't play around. I would like you to take this seriously," he says from a safe distance. 

You smooth the crimp in your mouth, eyes dancing. "Of course, doctor. No orders, no games. No biting." 

All your rules seem to be a joke, your tail swishing. "Well, I won't. You're welcome to. It's only fair." 

He gives you an exasperated sigh as he attempts to clear the table with his forearms, preoccupied with the thought of you ending up sloshed in cold broth. "Hands and teeth to yourself, this time."

"Shh," you say, pulling on his tie again until his hips cage yours. "I'll be a good patient."

"Then why don't you be a good patient and get into position," he says, leveling your attempt at dominance with as much seriousness as he can muster. 

You scoot to a clear part of the table, feet placed flat once you've kicked them free of the silk beneath you. You know the drill, have probably been forced into this position from the time you came into breedable age, expected to continue to live permanently in it when you bore pups.

He's performed and watched thousands of exams, but it's remarkably different when it's with you. You're spread before him, physically unremarkable, nothing he hasn't seen before. It's only the first time again for the way you look at him now, hair pooled against the rings of dark wood as your head rolls against the table, your ears folded back with curiosity.

He digs in his bag for sanitizer, gloves. He hadn't even thought to bring a speculum, but he thinks it's not right to involve a device, considering the last time he'd subjected you to it. He finds gloves, at least. He doesn't need that scent under his fingernails.

"All the doctors I knew from the Palace treated me like just another test subject. But you never have, have you?" 

"No," Taeil says, pulling you by the legs, helping you slide to the edge of the table with your knees relaxed, fabric falling beneath. "I've never seen you that way." 

"How do you see me?" you ask, tail moving more inquisitively now that it's between your legs.

"You're going to feel a little pressure. Just relax." 

His left hand rests on your twitching belly as his right hand gently pushes in. He's never done this without the safety of a clinic setting. He doesn't have to tell you to breathe after that initial inhale, your next breaths transmitted through your belly as you focus on relaxing for him.

The rough patches of scab tissue are no longer present, but you gasp all the same when he palpates your walls to check for any remaining soreness, slick oozing warm around his fingers the longer he stays embedded inside of you.

"Everything check out?" you ask, breath hitching when he presses firmly on the dip below your navel, fingers curling up inside. He is trying to perform the examination with as much efficacy as possible and you seem to be trying to hold it together as well, muffling each spontaneous cry out into your shoulder.

This angle affords him a view of your ecstasy, smelling it so deeply that he knows it will linger regardless of his efforts to wash it away.

"Any pain?" he asks, voice a croak.

Your answer is inaudible as well, face towards the ceiling as you swallow whatever else you have to say.

There's no way that Johnny mated you; the only lubrication is the copious amounts of slick you're producing. You'll need another IV, he thinks. He gently curls his fingers into the rough patch of your silky insides, well below his other hand and feels a wisp of delight in the back of his mind as your hips rise up from the table. 

"You know–you know where it hurts," you shoot back between caged breaths. "Is there anything else wrong with me?"

"Nothing, unless you count being an incorrigible little vixen," he mutters.

He sees your indignation disappear the moment you realize he's horrified at his own words.

"I'm sorry, that–it really has been a long day." He breathes shallowly through his nose at the first squeeze of your laughter around his fingers. In another strike against his professionalism he's as hard as a rock, trying to keep from crushing himself against the table.

"Doctor, I didn't know you had it in you," you say. 

You're so accepting that he forgets the context of his penetrating you, his collar much too tight, exhales sharp as he stays buried. You sit up a little, elbows bent back and just as out-of-breath.

"Are you alright?" you ask. Your mouth is agape, expression lit from within with unchecked arousal. From the look on your face you're about to dare him to continue.

He's not going to be able to maintain that distance. Not when you can read him like a book, making micromovements to bring him deeper inside.

You're a furnace radiating warmth on a winter's night, opening up for him, as he finds himself pushing into you in soft strokes that have absolutely nothing to do with medical care and everything to do with observing you come undone.

"This–" you gasp, moaning a bit. "This isn't standard protoc–fuck."

"What was that about being a good patient?" He keeps his voice steady, his own erection throbbing in sync with the little spasms inside you as you're stimulated exactly right. "Want me to stop?"

You throw your head back, shaking it.

"Consider this a part of your treatment," he says.

It's not unprecedented–some of the best passages in those old notes had to do with the various ways to cure omega hysteria, although he knows there's no cure for yours. Not one he can provide, at least.

He digs in a little more, hand spreading over your core, thumb lowering to the dip of your folds. Clinically, of course.

"Thank you, thank you," you mumble, biting your lip. "Please don't stop, please keep going." 

"Open up your legs for me, relax," he says, decisively. When you've stopped fighting him he adds a third finger to better stretch you, the impact of it felt palpably in his hand pressed over your pubic bone. Your cervix is right there against his fingertips, body adjusting to take him. 

Wouldn't that be nice? He knows it would be easy. If he let himself he'd be knotted in you until this expensive dinner table would need to be burnt from how much slick you spilled on it.

"Don't stop, please, please don't stop," you beg, taking his hand so well. "Please." 

He leans forward to curl his hand around your nape, holding you by the scruff like they'd been trained to keep your kind from squirming. You're arms brace behind you to hold yourself up, unsure of your position until he pulls you forward to rest your head against his shoulder, making you watch his fingers disappear inside of you. 

You're a whimpering, desperate mess, robe hanging off your shoulder, hair coming loose. It's even more lovely inside of you, walls tensing around him with each spasm of your pelvic floor muscles, a light brush of his thumb against your clit with each thrust propelling you forward into your climax. 

He's not much better, rocking against your limp leg and the sharp table's edge. He can hold it together even as you lose yourself. You come on his hand with a sharp little sound, music to his Alpha's ears as he closes his eyes to ride the same tremor ghosting through his groin.

"Good girl," he murmurs, movements easing in time with the lengthening period between each contraction.

His hand is cramping by the time he releases you, webs of slick between his flexed fingers wiped on your robe, as saturated as it already is. He removes his gloves, discarding them without much concern for where they land, not when you're still pressed into his chest. 

"You'll probably want to get one of those every few hours, until you decide to break your heat," he says, back to himself. "You have options."

You lean against him, breathing hard.

"Please don't leave me," you say in a tiny voice, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets you hold him for a little while longer–there's no reason not to enjoy being immersed in the satisfaction he's given you, or to provide you with the comfort you both crave. 

"You can just say it's treating me. It doesn't have to be anything else if you don't like me that way."

Anger trickles down his neck, sullying the glow he's feeling having you against him. He's never thought of himself as a jealous or dominating person, content to be the one others came to for help or guidance even if he wasn't prime, but the thought of you underestimating his feelings and your own worth, again, has him livid.

You feel it, eyes widening as you peer up at him. 

"Did I say something wrong?"

"What ever gave you the impression that I would use you?" he asks. "Or that you're not important to me?" 

"I marked you against your will–"

"You have a bad habit of giving into your animal urges. But you're also fully capable of defending yourself when you need to," he says, brushing a sweat-pinned strand of hair from your forehead. "I was . . . angry. I still should be. I just don't blame you for it."

Something Doyoung had said a few days ago had stuck with him, unneeded advice offered as he drank bitterly strong coffee and indulged in a vaporizer pen for the first time since residency. 

"It's not any consolation, I know, but if she chose you, it means she trusts you." 

"I knew you were a good choice." You look up at him, eyes glazed over with something impenetrable. He catches himself before he can lean in to kiss you. 

"I think that's as far as we go before we cross a threshold I'm not sure you can come back from," he says. 

It's too early to feel anything real with you but there's a tiny corner of his mind that can't help but be occupied by the hope you'd look at him as fondly as the others. That you wouldn't take for granted his feelings when you were overwhelmed by your own or of the more vocal members of the pack.

You nuzzle into his chest, scent-marking him even more with the side of your mouth, nipping slightly at the pocket of his shirt. 

"I know you think I'm compromised because of the heat but I don't feel that way with you. I want to take care of you, like you take care of me."

You look up at him, blinking wetly. "You deserve to be treated well. It's the least I can do."

Physician, heal thyself.

"As sweet as your offer is–" he begins to laugh, changing tack when he sees that you're serious. "I would prefer it not be under the obligation of us both needing physical relief." 

You don't seem to understand what he means in his rambling, a twinge of embarrassment passing through him. He lets his guard down for a bit, petting the back of your neck and shoulders to make himself more comfortable, closing his eyes and imagining what he wants in a way more easily communicated than with words. If his dog growls a little, at least you don't laugh at him for it. 

"You're worried I don't like you for who are," you state, voice breaking. "That you're not someone I would have chosen." 

"I . . . I think we have a long time and different circumstances before you reasonably could care about any of us."

"Because I might have to leave?" you sigh.

"Because you're not just a convenient remedy for an Alpha's needs. And some of us . . . well, I don't want to have a purely physical relationship with you," he says. "I could have that with anyone."

"Anyone?" you ask. You look intrigued, lips curling in an amused smile. 

"Poor choice of words. I've had my share of beta companions. Not every relationship we have is communal here, you know."

"Is that a backhanded way of calling me shared property?" you flirt, not helped by your core dripping against his pants. "Or are you calling me a whore?"

You drop into bliss again when he adjusts so you can press into his thigh. Johnny is going to kill him if he doesn't find a way to extract himself from your clutches.

"You're neither of those things," he corrects. "I just mean I don't think your biology would allow you to be satisfied with one of us."

"No," you admit. "But I have a choice in who I want to mate. I chose you."

Somehow that admission feels more genuine than he can allow himself to accept. "I'm flattered. But you're far too important for me to take advantage of."

"And you're much too polite for your own good." You lean up to nose his jaw, lips pressing to his throat. "You should accept that this is a perfectly reasonable way to start to get to know each other." 

"You don't know what my rut is like." He swallows, keeping still as your tongue darts out to taste him. Everything about being held by you feels indecent, overstepping. Which is ridiculous considering he'd just finger-fucked you.

"Who better to teach me how to take care of Taeyong than someone I trust?" you ask. "Someone I already know can treat me well . . . with experience . . ."

You angle his head with a tug on his hair, kissing his neck with a little more tongue and teeth than he expects. This close to the gland has him reeling–the Alpha inside of him waking up from its slumber as starved as he knows he's felt for the past few days. 

"A favor for a favor, then," he says, pulse thundering in his ears. If he's damned either way, he may as well enjoy it.

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

#agtbtb #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct imagines #taeil smut #moon taeil smut #taeil x reader #nct omegaverse au

[polyamzeal]

Kiznaiver - Anime Review via Polyamorous Lens

I watched Kizaiver long before I knew what polyamory was and ever since I learned this series is one that sometimes comes up as having polyamorous themes. So I rewatched it to scan it for how pro or anti polyamorous it is.

A basic overview of the series is that a group of teenagers are experimented on and altered so that they share each other’s pain receptors. It is hard to bring this series up without mentioning the Netflix series “Sense 8” as it has an extremely similar concept. Course the execution of this plot is very different. As a minor spoiler, eventually they not only feel each other’s physical pain but also emotional pain, especially in terms of heartbreak as affections are confessed and rejected. 

Let me talk about the negatives first or the anti-polyamory themes. In the end, the romantic relationships are pretty harshly monogamous, although I could argue one execution of such is at least fairly cute in a way that a viewer could imagine a non-monogamous solution after the series ends. Mid-way through the series it implores a series of lover triangles and other shapes as you get a complicated diagram character A likes character B who likes Character C who likes Character D and so with none of these affections going the other way. While they learn to maintain friendships though them, they are still fiercely monogamous and protective of their endgame romantic relationships.

Now that sounds like a lot of negatives that paints this show as a very pro-monogamy only show. But on the other hand it does touch a lot upon the concept of close friendships between an umber of people that are more than friends but not quite lovers. I believe at one point they might have even said this kind of relationship might be stronger and more important than lovers. While the “showing” of the rest of the series kind of contradicts that “telling” it is still an ice concept. As a representation of a platonic polycule this actually succeeds quite a bit. Despite romantic pair-bonding being involved it is very clear about how all of the main characters do end up really caring about each other in a chosen family sort of way. A lot of anime has strong themes of “friendship” but this series really does seem like it puts forth a legit effort to show something more than your typical friendship and show a relationship structure that is slightly outside the norm. Throw in the supernatural sci-fi element of being able to literally feel the pain of every one else in their group and I think you do get some large polycule vibes weaved into the series.

My verdict is that the series will disappoint if you are looking for romantic non-monogamy it does tell a great story of strong comradery that transcendence simple friendship between a fairly large group of characters. Putting the frustrating romantic drama aside you do get a wholesome story of multiple platonic bonding which may be relatable to aromantic polyamorous folks. Overall it is also just a very enjoyable series to watch and has strong emotional weight to it.

#Kiznaiver #Anime Review Via Polyamorous Lens #Polyamory #Anime review #PolyamZeal

[quinnlarrabee]

2023's subversive relationship trend: monogamy

Last year, if you were in a stylish social setting and you asked anyone remotely relevant - e.g. under 40, not quite employed, technically residing in the more expensive parts of Williamsburg, Greenpoint or Bushwick but actually flitting between CDMX, Lisbon and Nosara - about their relationship status, they’d launch into they-splaining why having two or many more significant others was vastly superior to having just one. They’d tell you that being with just one person was an unrealistic construct forced upon us by religion and habit, and that humans evolved to have multiple meaningful partners concurrently. After pausing to do a bump of k and ask someone what deep house set was playing on the Sonos, they’d go on to assert that the more evolved and secure one becomes, the more natural it feels to be in an open relationship, a throuple or a polycule. Jealousy is a sign that it’s time to do more self-work and yoga, they’d conclude, eyeing you for signs of dissent. You might have reflected on your many failed relationships and wondered if they’d have been more fulfilling if there’d been a bunch more people in them. But along with higher prices and much higher anxiety, 2023 has brought a much lower body count within the average relationship. The coolest people in the world are now experimenting with a concept called monogamy. 

Unlike polyamorous relationships, which have no boundaries and impose vague, capricious rules that mean different things to each member of the relationship, which isn’t actually a relationship, monogamy is when two people decide to be together and aren’t with other people at the same time, either openly or secretly. Monogamy is what happens when two people don’t feel like they’re settling and don’t need to hedge their bets, and actually like each other enough to be with just each other, potentially for a long time (i.e. greater than three months).

Before digging further into this new concept of monogamy, it’s worth taking a look at the origin of polyamory. Like everything that was once creepy and weird that ultimately becomes breathlessly cool and globally on-trend, polyamory was born in Brooklyn. 

There were a number of factors that led to the ubiquity of polyamory in Brooklyn. 

There was a time - prior to 2008 - when no one in Brooklyn was attractive enough to have sex with more than a few times without introducing lavish distractions, such as lots of other mildly attractive people in the same double bed. People would meet each other at coffee shops that only sold drip coffee with cow milk and unethically sourced sugar in granulated format, talk about their favorite Proust passages  or quote their favorite lines from the movie, Sideways, and then find themselves having mediocre, clenched-eyed sex in someone’s double bed with beige sheets and foam pillows followed by bodega burritos and Seinfeld reruns on their medium-blue sectional sofa.

These furtive pairs rarely woke up together, partly because of double beds, but also because of large pores in unforgiving morning light. Inevitably, they would grow to like each other enough to spend time together, but would need additional stimulation to continue having sex. This is why the sadly discontinued Craigslist Personals was invented: to find other people to spice up these three- or four-week-old relationships that had gone stale because of terrible facial hair choices and cankles. Polyamory became a way for couples, who had the same obscure interests and could share a unisex American Apparel wardrobe, to tolerate their sex life.  

Polyamory was also a practical solution to the resource scarcity that defined Brooklyn up until the past few years. There were no restaurants that served mezcal negronis or truffle fries, so dates were exceptionally dull, and since everyone in Brooklyn was a freelance urban planner, a Human Design practitioner or a spoken-word poet, no one really had the money to go out on dates anyway. The residents of Brooklyn resorted to neighborhood potluck dinners, which featured rice and beans in various shapes of yard sale pots, and all different shades of dark homemade beer. These parties were ostensibly low-cost ways to socially eat, but everyone knows that potluck dinners always were and still are just wholesome pretense for polyamorous play parties where throuples are born of attrition.

Another less obvious cause of polyamory is ayahuasca. For those of you who don’t live in Brooklyn or California, ayahuasca is a hallucinogenic tea made from the bark of a Peruvian tree that makes you regret your entire life and compels you to torch everything the moment you get back from the jungle or Upstate. Taking the medicine has many prerequisites, chief among them interrupting one’s dependence on brain and nervous system medications - like SSRIs and attention-deficit disorder prescriptions. Everyone in Brooklyn is on one of these, because everyone in Brooklyn thinks they have anxiety, depression or ADHD. Around 2012, everyone in Brooklyn started sitting in ayahuasca ceremonies, and after being forced to stop taking their meds by their shamans, they decided prescription medication was for people who hadn’t seen the secrets of the universe in a yurt after throwing up for 90 minutes. Fueled by their new delusions of wisdom and entirely unsedated, having sex with lots of people at the same time and talking openly about it with everyone except for their parents suddenly seemed correct, transcendent and essential. Hence, ayahuasca as a root cause of polyamory. 

So, because Brooklynites were poor, ugly and attention-deficient, polyamory became de rigeur. 

But when attractive people who lived in Manhattan lost a lot of money in 2008, they moved to Brooklyn in shell-shocked droves, and they brought their facial symmetry, yoga bodies and shiny hair to these potluck-dinner-cum-play-parties. Like spiking rusty-pipe tap water with Spindrift, Brooklyn got incrementally hotter, but the romantic constructs remained the same, because migrating Manhattanites are always desperate to ape whatever is indigenously cool in the lower-cost place to which they retreat. Good looking people kept moving to Brooklyn even after white collar incomes stabilized, which meant not only synthetic mylk lattes, truffle fries and mezcal negronis but also shockingly attractive polycules all over Brooklyn…but especially in the more expensive parts of Williamsburg, Greenpoint and Bushwick. 

Because Brooklyn was suddenly the coolest place on the planet, polyamory became cool. 

Fast forward to today. Everyone in Brooklyn is poor again, because its sources of prosperity have evaporated: crypto was revealed to be one massive ponzi scheme, NFTs are now understood to be worthless jpegs, you can basically buy weed at CVS, no one can afford a new logo, and the rates of Human Design practitioners have plummeted to zero dollars an hour because it was dumb to begin with. With Brooklyn’s sweeping gentrification and soaring prices, dating multiple people has become far more expensive than the humble days of beans and rice potlucks, and everyone has become ridiculously good looking (except in Park Slope). The pandemic eliminated hallucinogenic tourism, so people stopped taking ayahuasca and needed a drug to tell their friends they were taking on the reg, so they renewed their Adderall and Zoloft prescriptions. 

With the three root causes eliminated, polyamory is no longer necessary, and its many challenges are suddenly more apparent and seem super stupid when recreational drugs wear off. Monogamy offers a practical solution to all of them:

It’s way cheaper

Only one name to remember

Only one that-one-thing-that-gets-them-off to remember

Only one name to shout when you (pretend to) come

Agreeing on the rules is pretty intuitive and don’t require a 5-day workshop in Rhinebeck with a $300/hour moderator to write

Max of two types of milk / mylk in the fridge

You know you’re the primary partner

Holidays with family who don’t live in Brooklyn or Santa Cruz are slightly less of a cortisol-bath dumpster-fire sham-fest clusterfuck

Only one person whose IG stories you are required to ❤️ / 😂

Only one person to dump when it get boring 

Polyamory had a good run, right alongside chlamydia, that quirky little bacteria that rose to prominence underneath Z Cavaricci jeans and neon boy shorts in the 90s and was passed around modern Brooklyn like a dodgeball in gym class. But these sobering, penurious times require a simpler, more efficient romantic container for a more beautiful, gym-fit, botoxed and face-lasered population. We thank polyamory for the wild memories, ceaseless drama and poorly edited art films, but the next few years will find bleeding edge hipsters walking the gangplank above the perilous waters of a flailing economy and detonated geopolitical climate into the Noah’s ark that is their parents’ Greenwich guest house in pairs of only two. Long live monogamy…at least long enough for the favorable terms of the prenup to kick in.  

This essay was made possible by a generous donation by the Divorce Attorneys Special Interest Association (DASIA)

#dark humor #jokes #satire #humor #culture #essays #news

[dracharenae]

anonymous asked : does polyamory count though? like would rhaenys view cheating as an opportunity to go poly?

༺✹༻ FIRSTLY, POLYAMORY IS NOT CHEATING. SECONDLY, RHAENYS would most definitely not looking at a cheating spouse or partner and conclude the solution to their problems was to just become polyamorous. that is the exact wrong thing to do, take notes, guys. cheating = cheating. polyamory is about consent and boundaries and respect and love, not a partner looking for an excuse to sleep around like a free pass.

but, anyway, rhaenys isn't really poly. rhaenys is more along the lines of monogamy. she isn't exactly interested in keeping multiple partners up at a time or going the targaryen route with multiple spouses. that all sounds like a headache and too much upkeep for her liking. she might involve herself with someone who has multiple partners, but she herself wouldn't have multiples on her own. again, too much upkeep, and this girl has too much on her plate to balance already.

that being said, there are exceptions to the rules. for example, i have an absolutely beautiful and wonderfully chaotic verse with the divine @rcsegilded where margaery is engaged to aegon, but rhaenys woos her first. now margaery is in a poly relationship with rhaenys and aegon, with the pair separate from each other. ( rhaenys would quite literally rather die than think about touching her brother like that, targaryens or not. ) it's unhinged and i love it very much.

as i stated in my previous anon answer, if rhaenys was in a loveless marriage based on alliance, she and her spouse might decide to go the rhaenyra and laenor method in an effort to be happy, but i don't know if that necessarily counts. if it does, please correct me.

so, no, rhaenys wouldn't use that as an out. quite frankly, if a partner did cheat on her and tried to use that excuse, rhaenys would probably laugh hysterically. and what would follow next wouldn't be very, well . . . fun.

#༺✹༻ anonymous ; answered. #༺✹༻ ooc. #༺✹༻ headcanons.

[writers-blogck]

A History Lesson ( Bad Batch x Reader )

Warning(s): This is going to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots surrounding the Star Wars - Bad Batch (+Clone Wars) universe. The stories will follow a Harem-type trope where multiple people are interested in the reader. Polyamory may be a thing at one point. This will include spoilers for the following: Star Wars - Bad Batch and Star Wars- the Clone Wars. 

Reader will be female/use female pronouns

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥  　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥  　♡　♥ ♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　

So this has a huge info-drop section, sorry about that. I needed to explain the reader and I wasn't sure how to put it in naturally throughout the story because I feel like it would be easy to forget stuff and not create a little character profile, if that makes sense. So, just get some history for your character! Plus, some protective clone buddies.  Title: A History Lesson Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader  Fandom: Star Wars - Bad Batch (+ Clone Wars) Word Count: 3,335 Chapter: Two  Previous Part ● Next Part

        After a nap and some lunch, you decided now was as good as time as any to look up these clones that you were going to be working with for, however long.

Clone Force 99, the Bad Bunch. 

Four Clone Members: Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair

        You noticed that your name and personal profile had been added under Jedi Consultant and Assistant Leader. Assistant leader? Your hands gripped the sides of your holopad in annoyance. Still, you decided to read on and went through each profile individually to read about each of the members. 

        Hunter: 5'11''

        Hunter is the sergeant of Clone Force 99. The members of Clone Force 99 are all clones that were seen as defective but had useful mutations that allowed for their survival. Each member seems to be an exaggerated piece of Jango Fett's DNA, the DNA used to create all of the clones. The names that the clones have taken tend to reflect something in their personality and with Clone Force 99, their names refer to their mutations. Hunter was created by focusing on Jango Fett's innate tracking skills and survival instinct. This means that Hunter is skilled in tracking as well as other skills needed to survive out in the wilderness. He also seems to have inherited Jango Fett's level demeanor. 

        Wrecker: 6'6''

        Wrecker is the clone shield of Clone Force 99. This clone had his strength enhanced as well as his muscles genetically modified so he is naturally stronger than the average clone. This allows for him to take hits for the other members of Clone Force 99 and be less likely to be injured. It is unknown if this is due to his creation or if it comes from having too many blows to the head, but Wrecker has a lower than average IQ for a clone. Wrecker is very loyal and will only take orders if they come from one of his fellow squad members, especially Hunter. 

        Tech: 6'4''

        Tech is the brains of Clone Force 99. His enhancements focused on his brain and unlike Wrecker, his IQ is on average much higher than that of other clones. Tech has been tested and found that he has a photographic memory. Along with his overall intelligence, Tech has an affinity for anything technological. It is not known whether this is something to do with his DNA enhancements or if it is due to his photographic memory which simply allows him to memorize the solutions.

        Crosshair: 6'4''

        Crosshair is the marksmen of Clone Force 99. He rarely ever misses and has an impeccable aim. Crosshair also is the one member who has the most control over his emotions. The clone has been identified to have a superior sense of balance and is skilled in both stealth and climbing movements. He has perfect control over his breathing which allows for him to hit his mark. The only one who is thought to rival his stealth skills is the previously mentioned Hunter.

        Notes: While the Clone Force was intended to be enhanced, each clone has some type of setback related to their talent as well. This is where their name Bad Batch comes from as it is what the other clones would call their grouping. Due to this and their continuing success on difficult missions, the squad was allowed to continue to stay in their small grouping, and that is why they are given the small amount of freedom that they have. They do not work well with others.

        Hunter suffers from sensory sensitivity and can become overloaded if kept in certain environments. Wrecker can have problems understanding his own strength and will begin to hurt if he doesn't use his muscles after a certain amount of time. Tech suffers from an ever-racing mind and if in stressful situations without a resting period, he can become overload and suffer an anxiety attack or something similar due to always thinking. Crosshair suffers from severe migraines as well as compulsory mastication, which has been dealt with by using items such as toothpicks.

        Clone Force 99 are sent on dangerous missions as they may be unconventional but they always find a way to get the job done. They are the most useful when placed against droids as Clone Force 99 is impossible to predict their actions. This squad approaches each mission and task in an individual manner. They are known to be a chaotic bunch but that is one of the reasons they are such skilled troopers. 

        Below were files of every mission that they had ever been on and had completed. These were all probably reports filed by Hunter, or perhaps the occasional Tech. Did you really want to go through all of these? Understanding their dynamic and how they worked together would be helpful for your own planning when it came to working together but it was hard to force yourself to continue. Groaning, you hit your head on the back of your chair's cushion. It didn't help that the group was giving you no respect. Before you had to decide, the sliding of your door got your attention. 

        Two clones made their way in, one far more upbeat than the other. When you were a part of the 501st, you interacted with these two quite a bit. You knew a great many of the troopers under the 501st, especially those that fell under Captain Rex's direct control. While the Jedi Code said not to make any attachments, it was hard for you not to. You had spent most of your life with these clones.

                                                    ♥　♡　♥

        You had been taken from your family at the age of five when you began to show force sensitivity. You had apparently pushed your sibling over with the force when you were having a temper tantrum. After that, it wasn't long until a Jedi Master came to take you away. Your family was surprised at first but the more they explained it, the more accepting they became. You wondered if it was because they were scared of you. All you could remember was your mother whispering that you were a danger to her other children and that would only increase with age. She had phrased it as if you weren't her own daughter...The first few nights were hard but a certain member decided to help you adjust. 

        On the first night, you had cried as hard as your small body would let you. It was scary, you had never even been into space before and you were surrounded by all these strangers. You shrunk away from anyone who tried to approach you until a small green thing came forward. He sat a few feet away from you, not trying to pull you out like the others. He simply sat there, not saying anything, waiting for you to be comfortable enough to crawl out on your own. 

        He was kind and showed you all kinds of tricks that he could do until you were tired. He stayed in the room all night, refusing to leave your side. When you asked him about that night once you were older, he said that he had a soft spot for children. Each Jedi needs a chance to fly and you were just frightened in a new place. Luckily, you had adjusted quickly, only needing a month before you were following around the other younglings. 

        At the young age of ten, you were made a Padawan. This was less of a collective choice than it was you being a little brat and getting into too much danger to continue without training. At this point in time, you had gotten your little eyes hooked onto a female Jedi Master known as Namid Tamira. She was so cool and had accompanied your class when you went in search of Kyber crystals. Since that day, you thought she was the coolest and followed her around as much as possible when she was on Coruscant. 

        This was fine until you had snuck into one of the Jedi mission debriefings that she had been assigned. That had been a harsh punishment but it didn't deter you as you decided to go on a mission yourself. This led to you sneaking on her ship, a small one meant for four people at max. She hadn't noticed you were there until she arrived on the mission site, surprised that you had been able to hide your force waves enough for her not to notice. After a long chiding and almost getting killed, she asked what you wanted. When you said you wanted to be her Padawan, she was taken aback as she had only had one before you. It took some convincing but somehow you were able to have her agree to take you in. You swore you could see Master Yoda smiling when she had to report this new development. 

        It was during this training after a visit to Kamino that your Master began to notice your affinity with the clones. There were times where you worked better with clones than you did with other Jedi. The clones themselves seemed to be more willing to listen to you and the older ones were far more protective of you. Namid was confused, trying to figure out what could be happening. What she ended up noticing was the strange lasting effect you left on the clones. 

        The woman decided to do her own research on the topic, taking a clone you had interacted with recently and a clone that you hadn't interacted with to test a theory. The clone that hadn't interacted with you felt normal to the Jedi Master but the other still felt of you. These clones had what she would begin to call 'Midi-Chloriane Essence'. There seemed to be no effect from the essence left behind and this had her moving on to her next theory about why the clones seemed to interact to their fullest extent when they were with you. 

        The next mission you went on, she assigned a personal clone to you known as Jester. He was a young boy, six years of age which meant he physically was the same age as you. During this mission, you interacted with the other clones as well, but Namid made sure that Jester spent most of his time next to you. She used the excuse that he would be your guard, something you didn't understand and were annoyed with in the beginning. Did she not think you were strong enough? 

        Continuing her testing, Namid came to her conclusion after you had been successful in retrieving the item that you were sent to collect. While you were present in the room, she could feel your own Midi-Chlorianes surrounding the clones. The feeling was stronger around Jester than the other clones who you had spent less time around. As you left, so did the Midi-Chlorianes. With the clones that had stayed, she could sense the 'Midi-Chloriane Essence'. As time passed, the essence faded until there was nothing left. Like a scent, lingering on someone who you had hugged. This was quite interesting and she would have to bring it up to the council when she returned. 

        With further testing, it was decided that you would be trained to specifically take a position of command with the clones. You had a strong connection to them and became a beacon of hope for the clones when in battle. When you were younger, you were seen more as a mascot to keep morale up but as you got older, the more control you were given. Namid would sit back and allow you to take control, simply watching to make sure that everything was safe. 

        The only issue that she was beginning to notice was the attachments you were gaining with the clones. You were young, she hoped you would grow out of it. If not, she feared for your chance of becoming a true Jedi.

                                             ♥　♡　♥

        "Hey, Dollface. We came to see you as soon as we got the message. Some boys giving you a hard time? We can go rough 'em up for ya. Can't have our Clone Whisperer feeling down now, can we?" Fives spoke in a loud voice, flopping down on the couch next to you and slinging his arm over your shoulder. Echo was much slower than his companion and you could already see him rolling his eyes. You could feel it even if he had his helmet on. 

        "Which squad is it anyway?" Echo sat down on the other side of you in a less chaotic fashion. He surely wasn't a stick in the mud but everyone seemed rather normal when comparing them to Fives. Even still, you bet that the two of them were best friends. Echo may not admit it but you know the truth, he couldn't lie to you. Not with how many late nights you had spent together at 79's. 

        "99." 

        "The Bad Batch?" 

        "The Rejects?" Echo and Five spoke at the same time, both mirroring the other's look of shock at this new revelation. They had been shocked enough when they heard that you wouldn't be placed with any of the 501st branches. Rex had a soft spot for you, the other clones liked to tease him about it but that normally ended with extra training for them as punishment. Jester was part of the 501st but was shipped out at the moment, or else you would have sent him the 79s invite as well. You loved your boys, you did, but Jester was different. The rest were like a strong group of friends while Jester felt like a big brother. The idea of kissing any of the other clones didn't bother you but kissing Jester? That was a no-no. 

        It sounded like the Bad Batch was well known throughout the other clones. You had heard the name before but you had never heard anything further. The group was rarely ever on Coruscant, which left you with limited knowledge about them. That had never been an issue as they mainly kept to themselves, cutting off the other clones. It must be a defense mechanism...But, you bet they would like some of the 'Regs' (as they called them) if they got to know them. 

        "Yeah, the very same." Slumping your shoulders, you moved to rest your head against Fives' shoulder. 

        "I don't know what they're thinking, putting you with them. I mean, why wouldn't they put you with someone you know? You've worked with a butt-load of clones, more than I could ever count, but they end up picking ones you've never even met? I don't get it." Fives nodded his head as if he was agreeing with his own words. 

        "I know, I know. That's all I've been thinking about for the last day. And they were jerks! They think I'm gonna be a liability to them and that I won't last a mission. One of them even said that! Like, don't they know I'm a Jedi? I've worked so hard for this and they decided they are going to walk all over me like I'm some youngling." Your voice was muffled by the civilian clothes that Fives was wearing, burying your head further as you groaned. 

        "So you gotta prove 'em wrong! Maybe they are testing you to see if you can deal with even the worst clones and you'll get transferred after this mission!" 

        "You have to show them you know what you're doing." Echo's warm hand moved to rest against the top of your back, rubbing small circles for comfort. It was going to suck to leave these guys. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time but it never got easier and now you were leaving to go with people who didn't even want you there.

        Fives shot Echo a look and without saying a word, the man knew what he was telling him to do. He pulled back as Fives continued to comfort you, moving to turn his comm device on. Sending a message to a certain Captain about the situation, he nodded back in Fives' direction. Plan heard and executed. They may not be showing it but both men were fuming at what they heard. No one messed with you. Everyone stationed on Coruscant knew that! 

        They didn't have to worry about other clones bothering you most of the time. There wasn't a clone you couldn't win over! Fives used to joke that all the clones were trained to like you, especially the younger ones. Perhaps it was because you treated them each individually or that you were powerful, but many of the shinies were head-over-heels for you. To them, who wouldn't like you? Of course, it would be the messed-up batch that doesn't like you. 

        "...If it really becomes an issue, I'm certain you could request a transfer." Echo's voice was soft, soothing. Even Fives was calming down, something that was a rare occurrence. The mood between the three of you was almost always upbeat but you did have these moments. You were happy you had someone to talk to about your problems, someone that wasn't a Jedi. 

        "But Master Yoda specifically placed me here, with 99! I don't understand what he sees. I trust him, I do and his power with the force but I can't see what the force is doing to get me placed with them. I just don't know what to do..." You whined, puffing your cheeks out. You knew this might be childish but you didn't care at this point. This was the last time in a while that you would be able to express these emotions. Soon you would be stuck on a ship with those four defective clones. 

        A light popped up on Echo's Comm, indicating that he had received a response. They didn't want you to know what they were doing or else you would chide them. You didn't like others trying to solve your problems but, that wasn't what they were really doing. They were doing what any concerned squad member would do. Echo nodded in Fives direction, enough of a cue for the man to act.

        "Come on, let's forget about that! We gotta go to 79's tonight, right? We gotta decide what you're going to wear! We can have a little fashion show, you know, something that isn't those robes you are stuck in all the time. Maybe something sparkly? You can be a disco ball." Fives hoped up, the grin returning back to his face as he pulled you up with him. Before you could respond, you were being pulled into your small bedroom where all of your clothes were kept. 

        Two rooms and a refresher, that was your lodgings. You were lucky when you considered it, some got worse. You didn't have to share the space with anyone. You got your alone time and had enough room to comfortably move around. Fives was already going through your closet, pulling out items he thought you should try on. Rushing over, you tried to contain his chaos to some extent. 

        While the two of you were in your bedroom area, Echo was left out in the common area. The familiar profile of Captain Rex popped up as they continued to speak to each other. Echo and Fives couldn't do much but they could at least let their captain know. He had told them to keep him updated. He was not happy about your earlier interaction with Bad Batch and Echo let out a little sigh as he wondered what the future had in store for you. 

        The clones knew that the Bad Batch were sent on dangerous missions and that sometimes they weren't expected to succeed. You would be placed with that without having any of them there to help protect you? They knew you could protect yourself but still, the urge to keep you safe settled in their stomach like the pit of a peach. 1 ● 2 ● 3 ♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥  　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

#bad batch #bad batch x reader #the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #reader insert #x reader insert #readerinsert #xreader-insert #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter #hunter x reader #wrecker #wrecker x reader #tech #tech x reader #echo #echo x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #rex #rex x reader #fives #fives x reader #stars wars x reader

[beauregard-s]

Cherry Vodka [Part I] | Richie T. + Eddie K.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak (21+)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: language, nsfw material but no explicit sex (yet), alcohol, polyamory mention, kind of a modern au too

Anon said:  “ okay so based off that art you reblogged of the richie x bev x eddie, what about like a reader x richie x eddie fluffy smut based off that (i hope that makes sense bahahha)”

A/n: Yeah, I had to split it in two parts because 7k words... I’m sorry it took me so long to post it, dear anon, if you’re still outta there. I rewrote and changed the plot of this one three times and it’s inspired by this post and by the song Sleep Apnea by Beach Fossils, by the way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Richie…” “What, doll?” You felt his hand trailing down the small of your back, slowly and treacherously. 

You rolled your eyes from your book to meet Richie’s little smirk. He had his black wayfarers on, even though the sun was down in the horizon now, and behind those you knew his eyes have been glazing all over you. He was all careless laying on his side right next to you on the towel, unruly wind-dried curly hair, head up resting on a hand, the other free one teasing you because he just couldn’t help it when you’d put on that black high-cut swimsuit of yours. Eddie shared the curly-haired boy thoughts but, on the other hand, he laid peacefully flat on his back by your right side. Arms resting under his head, eyes closed, but here and there he’d peek at your and Richie’s constant bickering. You, laying on your stomach in between them, were still in your swimsuit from earlier. After lunch, it was Richie’s idea to go to this lake nearby by his parents' vacation house. It was also Richie’s idea to spend spring break there. Usually, your break trips would include their other friends, who ended up being your friends too over time, but that was being a harsh semester for quite everyone. With Bill and Stan stuck with their academic duties, the best idea was to drive to the Tozier’s vacation house in a small town in Pennsylvania. It was a simple, untouched, two-floor house. Richie told in the car his parents bought it when he was a teenager so they could travel and spend some time there, but ended up not doing that as much as they intended on once it was too far from his city. “For fuck’s sake, Richie!” Laughing was not what you intended, but you did it and you heard Eddie giggling behind you. Richie’s hand had finally made its way to your hips now, while he leaned closer. “Come on, toots. Just one kiss…” He whispered in his best charming tone, but you pushed him away, playing cool although you felt your cheeks burning, the known hots already hitting you like a truck. “No! Fuck off… I already told you we should stop doing this,” you muttered. “You always say that,” it was Eddie who reasoned, and you turned for him, eyes threatening him with no words while he shrugged. “Yeah, and I’m sticking to it,” you retorted. Indeed. It had been over a month since you last… Did what you did. “Plus I think Stan has been suspicious…” Richie snorted, “yeah, like lil old he would give a single fuck about it, y/n.” You breathed out, closing the book because now your concentration was ruined. Richie, Eddie, and you met at the creative writing class, 8 am on Tuesdays, your first semester of college. You remembered as it was today how you found them “lost” less than 10 feet away from the lecture hall but arguing like an old couple without realizing that. You helped them find the right way, and Richie flirted with you as you walked into the class, while Eddie scoffed at him for making them get lost and almost late. You knew those boys had been friends their entire life, but from that moment on the three of you became inseparable. If someone needed to find one of you on the campus, the other two would probably be found at the same place. The pureness of your friendship didn’t last long. It only lasted until the first party you went to together, when you lost to Richie at a snooker game and he claimed a kiss as his prize, the smooth motherfucker he was. You kissed him and only that, but ten minutes later you were making out in the bathroom. You made him swear he wouldn’t make things complicated between you two and he had been keeping his promise ever since. Eddie was a whole out of the curve story though. After what happened at said party, you noticed how fidgety he got about the matter of you and Richie been together once, although he did a great job hiding it. Took a while for him to leave it alone, but you didn’t. Something pestering inside wouldn’t let you. You were at his dorm, studying for a complicated final exam while the sky fell apart in rain outside when you asked him why he got upset. He denied to his death he had jealousy of you and Richie running through his veins, but you knew he was lying when his eyes started to avoid yours, saying ‘Richie’s a better ladies' man, anyway’. You shoot your shot without really thinking about it, told him ‘he was just as desirable as Richie’ and it seemed to light a spark between you two. You were the one who leaned closer but he closed the gap, nervously, pulling you into his lap as soon as you kissed him back, building up his confidence. Just like when Richie and you had your thing, you felt no need to hide from him what happened between you and Eddie. It was an embarrassing talk, but it worked. The three of you quickly and naturally warmed up to the facts: you were friends with benefits with both of them and there was nothing complicated about that for you. But you wanted to keep it low because casually making out with your best friends regularly here and there over time whenever you all desired to was none of people business. Eddie rolled over to lay on his stomach, just like you were, shoulder to shoulder. After a couple days constantly under the sun, you noticed he had more freckles than usual over his nose and cheeks, a few on his shoulders. “You’re being more uptight about it all than me, and everyone knows that being more uptight than me is a big deal...” His self depreciative statement made you flash a half-smile, but didn't stop you from leering at his soft lips because you remembered how he tasted like mint whenever you’d kiss. And it had been a long time since you did for the last time. “I’m just being cautious, Spagheddie.” He smiled at the silly nickname, just when you freed yourself from Richie’s grip, grabbed your book and got up, leaving them on the grass while you walked towards the backdoor. “Where ya’ goin’?” Richie called, but you didn’t look back. “Taking a shower!” You shouted. ‘I fucking need to cool down,’ you thought to yourself. In your silly head, about a year ago, this whole situation was a great idea. Now you found yourself utterly screwed. There was pining going on since the very first beginning in between you and them. You always knew it was there, you just didn’t expect it to escalate like it did. You thought once you had tasted from Richie and Eddie, you’d be done. Checked them out of your possibilities, life goes on, but now you were bonded to them in a way you never intended on. You fell for them. For both of them. And that was making you act up. Since your high school years you understood you were an afraid-of-commitment kind of person. No big deal, no attachments, no pain, so you weren’t ready to fall for a single person alone. Falling for two at the same time made your brain short circuit. You had debated the matter with yourself multiple times before. Since you became aware of it happening, you weren’t able to choose between them, you didn’t even know someone was capable of splitting their feelings like that. Your only solution was to stop it somehow. You couldn’t just leave them completely, so you decided to break the colorful side of that mess of a friendship. It wasn’t easy because it was not just about physical bonds. They were everywhere around you. Eddie would buy you coffee on the test mornings he knew you were tired after studying the whole night and hand it to you kissing your forehead. Richie would always hold your hand, keep you close and protect you somehow, doing that thing where he’d distractedly run his thumb over your knuckles. You knew that maybe you were not just an arousal let-out for them too and that made things even worse. You ruminated the facts the whole time you were under the cold water upstairs, and when you came down later, all damp hair and sleep clothes, you found them both in the kitchen, struggling with dinner although it was just frozen lasagna for three. Beach Fossils played from Richie’s phone, open vodka bottle on the wood table in the middle of the small kitchen. Richie was the one who first noticed you there, smiling over his shoulder. “Gonna leave you watching Eds so he doesn’t implode the house while I take a shower, doll. Help the poor man.” he said, walking past by you and running upstairs. “You’re talking like you weren’t the one struggling to turn on the oven!” Eddie shouted at him. You laughed just like Richie did at distance, joining Eddie by the stove. “Do you want a hand there?” “Never mind,” he said, closing the oven door with a proud grin, “it will be ready in twenty, I guess.” “Talented boys you two are!” you scoffed. “Oh shut up!” He faked a disgusted face at you. Your eyes laid over the cherries you bought the day you arrived, placed in a fruit basket on the counter and, while Eddie sat down at the table you grabbed a glass, the vodka, and a handful of cherries. He didn’t ask you what you were doing, but your peripheral sight allowed you to know he was keeping full attention on you while you fumbled around. You mashed the fruits in the glass until they were a reddish pasta, collecting the seeds and pouring alcohol over what lasted in there. As you swayed everything together, you remembered drinking it once, but not quite where was it. You gulped it turning around to finally face Eddie, and he was splayed in a chair, a ghost of a smile on. “The hell you doin’?” he asked lowly and you shrugged. “I don’t know… But it worked.” He raised his brows, getting up and walking towards you. “Yeah? Is it good?” You hummed in response, feeling it burn down your throat. In the deep of your mind, watching Eddie coming closer and closer, you knew what was about to happen, but you didn’t act fast enough against it. “Let me taste it” And he did. Not from the cup but straight from your lips. Eddie leaned in and kissed you softly, an arm around your waist while his free hand went for the back of your neck. And you ease in melting into him was embarrassing, leaving the cup onto the sink as soon as he pressed you against it before the glass ended up shattered on the floor. His tongue slid over yours, hands going to grab your hips, lifting your shirt a bit in the process. You instantly wished he took it off, already built up after spending that time alone in the middle of nowhere and with that aching tension all over the place. You had sex with Richie twice already over time, one of them a bit drunkenly, the other completely sober and thirsty for it, but you had never done it with Eddie. And you wanted it bad. Been wanting for a long time now, since that fucking rainy day in his dorm. But you knew you couldn’t, not when you shouldn’t even be kissing him like that after managing to stick up to your chastity for over a month now. So your hands palmed his chest and gently pulled him away. “Holy fuck…” Richie’s whispered voice made both you and Eddie startle. He was right there, at the kitchen entrance with a towel around his waist, mouth agape looking at both of you and you had no idea of how much time was standing there now. But he for sure saw shit happening. “That was the fucking fastest shower ever,” Eddie said, so casually it disturbed you. “N-no… I just came back to grab my phone.” Richie muttered. You froze, having no idea of how to move or what to say now. Yes, they were pretty aware you messed around with both of them, but one never saw the other in the act. Never, nor even a peck, and now Richie just witnessed a goddamn show. You were ready to tell him how you were sorry because you had just denied him a kiss when you were sunbathing outside and you have been constantly denying him for weeks now, but he didn’t give you the chance. Richie grabbed his phone over the table and stopped the music. You had the hint that maybe he wasn’t upset once he had that little mischievous smirk of his while he made his way out of there and upstairs again. Of course you didn’t talk about the matter over dinner, but Richie acted like nothing happened and Eddie just followed the lead completely unbothered. You tried to go on as naturally as they did, but something about Richie’s furtive looks over you made you think he was definitely not cool about catching you and Eddie together in the kitchen. You just couldn’t tell if either he was jealous or whatever was that and it pinched you from the inside the rest of the night while you watched old TV shows reprising until it was past one in the morning. That was when Eddie started yawning and decided to go upstairs, to the room that’d be Richie’s formerly, kissing your forehead and smiling nonchalantly before shoving Richie’s shoulder. So it was Richie, you and silence in the living room lighten up by TV flashes here and there. He was already sleepy, laying on the couch he had been sleeping since he insisted on leaving his parents’ bedroom for you, claiming he'd be a terrible host if he had you or Eddie without a bed. You, curled in the armchair, hated unsolved matters and worse than that, you hated when said unsolved matters had to do with Richie because you knew how he internalized everything he felt if it was slightly messed up. So you went straight to the point to avoid any evasions from him. “Did you get jealous of me and Eddie?” You asked right away, eyeing at him from your safe place. He looked at you, dead in the eye, no single sign of emotion perpassing his face. “Not at all, sweet thing,” he said, shrugging. “Why would I be?” You didn’t explain it, because you knew he knew where you were trying to get at, so your raised eyebrow was enough. But Richie raised his back and you had to get up because the lack of words from him, the one who’d never shut up, was bothering you beyond belief. You walked over the couch, passing a leg over his, straddling the Tozier boy for his slight astonishment, his reddish lips curving in a half-smile. Richie also had freckles, darker and more numerous ones than Eddie’s, all over his nose and cheeks, some across the rest of his face and none on the rest of his body. When he sat up with you still in his lap, you could smell that cologne you didn’t know exactly which was, but that you loved. Loved how its scent would stay ghostly on your clothes after you made out in his truck like a mark of his, just like the hickeys he’d give you sometimes, on hidden places so only you could see them. “Don’t fucking play dumb with me,” you whispered now, “I’m sorry, okay?” Richie snorted. “I’m not lying to you, y/n/n. I’m definitely not mad at you nor at Eddie. You’re making up things in your pretty head, doll” His hands drifted up your thighs. “I miss you, that's true. But it doesn’t make me jealous of that hell of a scene I saw earlier.” You noticed how he swallowed dry. “So you trying to convince me you’re not utterly disgusted and hurt?” Richie snorted once more at your tease and the light air of his relieving a lot of pressure from your chest. “Far from that, y/n/n...” The way his voice slowed down and his eyes drifted away from yours to his restless fingers on your skin...You finally understood where the problem laid on. And you wouldn’t even need the light pink shade of his cheeks to assure that. “Oh God, you liked it…” You whispered in disbelief and Richie laughed, hands on your hips now, pulling you closer. “What if I did, doll?” He didn’t let you answer, lips on yours before you recovered from your shock. He kissed slowly and passionately, it was always like that, kisses that after a few seconds already got you wanting to rip his clothes off. He was warm against you, bare chest pressed against still clothed yours. As earlier with the Kaspbrak boy, you had the urge of pulling away from him for your own sake, but you couldn’t this time. Richie peppered kisses all the way from your mouth to your jawline, kissing the spot that got your underwear ruined every time, earning himself a low whimper from your lips. You felt dizzy. “Eds is my best friend, toots,” he whispered against your skin, “there’s no one I’d be more glad to let spend time with you, touch you...” His hands ran up your sides underneath your shirt and your nails dig into his shoulders. “Kiss you.” He sucked a hickey on the crook of your neck that finally had you moaning out loud. “Richie-” His name. You could feel him smiling at that. “Or have you.” “For fuck’s sake, Richie…” You knew how to read in between his lines and in his darkened eyes when he pulled away to look into yours, glasses off. You knew he couldn’t see you quite well, but you could see him. If Richie was implying what you thought he was… “I told you I’d never lie to you, and I’m sticking to it.” Richie didn’t smile this time. “And believe me when I say I wish Eddie had taken you right on that counter.” You were the one dry swallowing now, thoughts running a mile a second. “For you to watch?” You scoffed, trying to hide how flustered you were. Richie remained serious when he laid down again. His moves underneath you let you feel him hardened under you. “No. I’d for sure join.” You read him again, tried to find whatever proved you he was just teasing. But he wasn’t. And that left you speechless, made him smile, tapping your hips gently. “But go to bed, toots. We can talk about it any other day. When you're ready and the cat doesn’t get your tongue.”

#it #it imagine #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it smut #richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfic #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier smut #it fic #richie tozier fic #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak imagine #eddie kaspbrak fanfic #eddie kaspbrak fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak fic #eddie kaspbrak smut #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #beauregardwrites

[vgriffindor]

aMusketeer Fanfic Master Post

Calling all Musketeers! We’re all in need of a serious dose of our favourites, amirite? I’ve seen a few queries floating around lately asking for some great Muskie fanfic recommendations. I thought I’d do 20 weekly posts, each with a different theme, and ask for your help! There are a ton of great Muskie fics out there, let’s help each other discover them.

How this works: For each theme, please give me your TOP recommendation. It can be a one-shot or multiple chapters, complete or still a WIP, your own or some one else’s, just shout about that one fic that fits the theme and you want people to READ! Reblog to spread the word, with your recommendation and tag me @vgriffindor, or DM your recommendation so that I can post it! I’ll keep each theme as a pinned post up/keep adding to it for the entire week.

Week #2: AUs

It sure is fun to place these four in a different world, and see how they react! Whether it’s the quiet heaven of a bookstore, the flirty, caffeinated vibes of a coffee shop, the perfume of a flower shop, the hard-bitten reality of a detective bureau, or just about anything else you can think of, the boys seem to handle whatever universe we throw at them with their trademark personalities and humour intact.

Midsomer Musketeers by Suzie_Shooter: Exactly what you think and want this to be, when you combine the Musketeers and Midsomer Murders. 

Fraternité et Égalité by BazinMousqueton: Clever, funny, sexy and gorgeously written modern AU in an architectural firm’s office. Slash, but not explicit, almost everyone is bi, and the whole thing is perfection.

(Below is all due to the hard work and enthusiastic response from @animanightmate! Thank you, you are awesome!)

E: yeah, you got me by cherryfeather - modern au graduation party oone-shot with a game of spin the bottle that gets angsty with forthcoming farewells and then very fulfilling indeed.

T: Chapter 10 of the collection of unrelated shorts (very short) His Smile Me Draws, His Frown Drives Me Away by akathecentimetre is entitled  In Goodly Colors Gloriously Arrayed and is a modern au where the lads are working for the Sûreté in Paris (though it’s never confirmed precisely as what) and it’s basically a series of three (the original Inseparables) character studies as they get used to being Responsible Adults. No filth... well, apart from Aramis’s feet...

G: Fancy is a very short modern au short by AnathemaDevice about the cats owned by (or owning) the various season three characters. Includes one of the most beautiful word-sketches of Sylvie I’ve yet read.

E: Mis Adventures by Doom Canary is an utterly filthy, modern British police au short featuring a trans male character that blew my mind in the best ways. If there’s a plot, I blinked and missed it.

T: born like a vapor by mellyflori is - and I can’t believe I’m typing this - a modern au where two of the Four are genies (yep, you read that correctly). It is utterly, unforgettably gorgeous, and just works. Angsty and charming, and has one of the most elegant solutions I’ve seen for “what happens with Constance?” The world-building is done so well it’s almost seamless, and I’m weak for that kind of thing.

T: Brand New Start is a short modern office au by potentiality_26 from Constance’s perspective and is melancholy, sweet, and vivid. OT3 but nothing graphic.

E: One in Ten Thousand by breathtaken is a novel-length modern soul bonds au that, as usual with her, subverts the trope and delves deep into the psyche of an intensely depressed Athos who was in no way prepared to meet his soulmate. It’s hard going at times, but utterly beautiful and very hot.

M: my heart upon my sleeve by cherryfeather is a novel-length modern Shakespearean actors au and I avoided it for ages because the synopsis was written in a deliberately tabloid style and I assumed the whole thing was like that. It is not - it is the most elegant, eloquent, literally tear-tugging bit of angst and mutual pining I’ve ever encountered, and takes in: hurt/comfort, Only One Bed, and friends-to-lovers tropes along the way. Basically, if they were a character in the first two seasons of the original, she finds a place for them in this gorgeous work.

E: The Humbling River (author unknown) is the only A/B/O fic that I will ever recommend, ever. This short is canon era, but I guess it still counts as au? I fell into it accidentally, but it was written so well that I didn’t care about the premise.

E: Une histoire de bleu by ceeturnalia is long. A 100k word modern day au where the lads are security specialists for a private firm in Paris. It is vividly stark and lushly compassionate in one go, and also explores a developing D/s relationship in great detail, so if that’s not your bag, that’s the main core of the story. And it’s handled so well that I have zero hesitation in recommending it, even though that in itself is not really my thing. It’s just so very, very good and, even at that length, still manages to be very tightly written.

M: Death in Waiting by Suzie_shooter is your actual 1920s country house murder mystery with all our favs (seasons 1 and 2 anyway) in a short-novel-length interbellum piece of Upstairs-Downstairs only of course there’s lots of forbidden sex all over the place, and a genuinely gasp-inducing (at least in me) set of reveals.

M: Still Waters by evilmaniclaugh is a modern office au with a twist. It’s porn with a plot (and a great deal of angst), and is startlingly hilarious in places (for good reasons, I promise).

M: Gentlemen of the Road by Suzie_shooter is a highwayman au set, from my vague enough understanding of the descriptions, about 100 years or so after the canon era. As usual for S_s, it’s Athos/Porthos pairing, from the perspective of Porthos, and I keep coming back to it, for the humour, the story, and the sex. Bonus points for Ninon and Rochefort showing up, and our brief glimpses of d’Artagnan being an utter little shit.

M: Mise en place by breathtaken is a short series featuring season 3 characters as chefs. And it’s stunningly beautiful, intimately told from a conflicted Constance’s perspective (something I’m utterly weak for) and I want there to be more because dammit - food and polyamory and found family and so many of my favourite things and I wish she was going to write more and aaaaah. Anyway, everyone is bi and kinky and I am so there for that...

I have so many of these, but I’m going to leave it here while I retain any shred of sanity or dignity, and finish by telling you about my own only (so far) modern au, entitled Summoned (rated M), set in modern-day Cambridge, UK, complete with references to Brexit and climate change, and a detailed depiction of the Fitzwilliam Museum. The MacGuffin is a museum anti-heist. Or is it reincarnation? Or music? Or synaesthesia? WHO KNOWS?! Anyway, it’s 75k+ words of conversations, misunderstandings, music, musings, museum architecture, poetry, stolen kisses, awkward flirting, and confusing flashbacks. There is one extended explicit sex scene and the rest is more along the lines of innuendo and a great deal of heated kissing. And I wrote it in about fives weeks and am rather proud of it, actually.

#musketumblr #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #fan fic requests #fan fic #fan fiction #alternate universe

[ashleybenlove]

Title: Tabloids

Prompt: imagine person a of your polyship is a celebrity, and the paparazzi’s caught pics of them with their different partners

a lot of tabloids write articles about how a is cheating with multiple individuals until a comes forward on their own to clarify that they’re polyamorous, and all their partners know about (and are dating) each other, too

Fandom: How To Train Your Dragon

Pairing: Hiccup/Astrid/Fishlegs/Snotlout/Ruffnut/Tuffnut (polyamorous gang)

Word Count: 1366

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Slurs, commentary on the media/paparazzi

Disclaimer: I don’t own the source material in this fanfic. That’s to whatever company or person owns it. I would never claim to own it.

Notes: There are probable influences from fandom and whatnot in this story. This was written for @polyshipprompts’ polyship week. I used the following prompt which is reprinted above. This story is a modern AU and it is loosely based off of my experiences of playing The Sims 4 with the Dragon Riders. My tag for that is ashleybenlove Sims the Dragon Riders. This is also on AO3.

And it is under the read more.

     Astrid growled. Just going to the supermarket to buy groceries meant she was confronted with the tabloid fodder that was currently proclaiming how she was cheating on one of her partners with four other people. Right there, as she was trying to check out. What trash! Not wanting to take it out on the retail clerk who had nothing to do with the tabloid’s contents, Astrid took a deep breath before she completed her transaction.

 It bothered her immensely to see those telephoto shots of her on a date with one of her partners, or kissing them, and then seeing a headline that said, “Trouble in Paradise?” or “Astrid Cheats Repeatedly!!!” or “Astrid Has Multiple Affairs!” or some other version of a clickbait title except with magazines.

 Maybe she should have Fishlegs shop for groceries. He was fantastic at this sort of thing.

 She could have stayed at home, cuddling with some of them. It was much preferable than being confronted by incredibly judgmental and highly inaccurate nonsense.

 At least all her partners knew it was garbage.  

 They knew the truth, and ultimately, that was most important.

 But… ugh, she didn’t want to be seen as a cheater, because it was categorically wrong.

 Plus, as a celebrity, she had to maintain a certain reputation, and unfortunately, she was beholden to public opinion in the way that only famous people are. And given that she used multiple social media accounts, she had to deal with that as well.

 She was currently ignoring her social media accounts.

      “How was grocery shopping?” Fishlegs asked, later, as everyone worked to get their groceries put away.

 “Fine. It would have been great except for tabloids!” Astrid exclaimed. “You were right, you should have gone instead.”

 “I don’t take pleasure in being right about that,” Fishlegs said.

 She probably would have kissed him or he probably would have kissed her if they didn’t have bags full of groceries in their arms.

 “You didn’t run into any paparazzi?” Hiccup asked, putting away various canned food items.

 “I’d be happy to punch some for you,” Snotlout said, sticking various frozen meat items in the freezer.

 “Same!” Ruffnut exclaimed. “I’m always willing to fight paparazzi.”

 “Yes, I certainly saw some inside and outside the store, but I don’t think it’d be good publicity if my partners fought the paparazzi,” Astrid said. She released a sigh.

 “We could always flip the bird on our dates,” Ruffnut said.

 “Flipping the bird!” Tuffnut exclaimed.

 “Or yell at Internet commenters,” Snotlout said.

 “Oh, let me guess, the Internet’s talking about my love life too?” Astrid said. She growled. She did not want to deal with that. Far too overwhelming. The Internet could be overwhelming for anyone, but for a famous person? Even more so.

 Once the groceries were put away, Astrid sat on their lovely large couch, and was surrounded by her partners.

 Astrid sighed happily, snuggling close to them. She felt calm and safe and her worries drifted away.

 This was short-lived.

      Whoops.

 Checking her email was not fun. Ugh.

 She didn’t want to deal with this.

 She was tired of the assumption of cheating.

 And the way people treated women who they assumed were cheating really made her furious.

 She yelled at her computer.

 She wanted to take her computer mouse and throw it at the wall, letting it shatter—

 “Astrid, Internet blackout, remember!” Fishlegs shouted from another room.

 “They’re being misogynistic!” she exclaimed. “And they’re wrong!”

 A few moments later, Fishlegs entered the room she was in, and gently moved his hand to indicate to come with him.

 “Let’s go meditate, hmm?” Fishlegs asked in a calming, soothing voice.

 “I don’t want to meditate; I want to yell at people on the Internet!” Astrid exclaimed.

 “That’s not gonna help, you know that?” Fishlegs said softly. “Come on, we’ll all meditate together. It’ll be nice and soothing.”

 And it was.

 And it provided help to her situation because she realized she had a simple solution to it.

 Considering that she lived in a world where celebrities, such as herself, had social media accounts where they could sound off on their topic of choice, usually to promote their work and to interact with fans.

 She could easily just… come out with the actual truth, instead of letting the tabloids say whatever they want. She was allowed to do that. She would talk to her partners about it first, obviously. Just to make sure no one was outed without their consent.

 Thus, while they were relaxing together, she said, “So, I’ve been thinking about this whole… the tabloids and such think I’m a cheating whore situation.”

 There was definite negative reaction to the slur.

 “Yes, I know they’re misogynist jerks,” Astrid said. “Moving on. I think the best course of action would be if I released a statement, written or video, that is me saying: actually, I am a polyamorous person, and those five people? They’re all my partners. It’s all above-board, they all know about each other, and are dating each other as well. The twins are not dating each other, obvi, blah blah blah.”

 She saw Hiccup in particular nod in response, clearly thinking it made sense. Fishlegs looked to be thinking.

 “I won’t do it unless you all agree,” Astrid said.

 “No pressure,” Ruffnut said, in a teasing, joking tone. She paused and then added, “But all joking aside, I agree with you doing that.”

 “Same, actually,” Tuffnut said.

 “Yeah,” Snotlout said. “Do it.”

 “It’s bothering you, I think it might make you feel better, so I think you should do it,” Fishlegs said. He looked over to Hiccup.

 They all did.

 “I have no problems with it. You should do it. And I definitely agree with Fishlegs. It might make you feel better,” Hiccup said.

 “And I think we’re all in agreement that we want you to feel better,” Fishlegs said. He smiled at her.

 They all smiled at her, in that way that made her feel so loved five times over.

       As a result, Astrid took some time to write out a statement. The statement was meant to be a statement that could be used with or without a video complement. Whilst she definitely had some strong opinions about the media and the press (especially paparazzi), she avoided spending much time on addressing them, since their behavior was generally unlikely to change. She already had a good idea of the media’s response.

 “Astrid Hofferson Breaks Silence!”

 They did that a lot. Especially in the wake of celebrity deaths and responses of celebrities to that death.

 Once she had prepared a statement that she felt was satisfactory she had her partners read it so they could give her any feedback they might have had.

 And once she was fully satisfied with that statement, she set it aside and put it where she could reference it while she made a video.

 “A lot has been written recently about my romantic life. Which, despite the fact that I am a very famous person, I still have a right to privacy. But I still would like to clarify some things, as what has been written is wrong. So, those five people I’ve been seen kissing in paparazzi photos? Those are all my romantic partners. My name is Astrid Hofferson and I am polyamorous. These five people all know about each other, and with the exception of the set of twins I am dating, also date each other. So that’s about the sum of that.”

 Included in her statement was a brief description of polyamory from the Internet, complete with a source so that people who didn’t really understand it could do research on their own. In addition to that, she had hired a professional photographer to take some great photographs of her and her partners, together, smiling and happy. The main purpose of the photo session was to share pictures of her partners and herself on her social media platforms but the gang was incredibly happy and excited with the work the photographer did, that they made sure to get framed versions of the photos to hang in their home and digital versions to keep in their phones.

#polyshipweek #how to train your dragon #ot6: we’re fast we’re fearless and we ride dragons #ot6: where hiccup goes we go #Hiccup and the Gang #hiccup #astrid #fishlegs #snotlout #ruffnut #tuffnut #polyshipprompts #ashleybenlove fanfic #modern au #The Sims #The Sims 4 #ashleybenlove Sims the Dragon Riders #slurs

[inkpotlanterned]

Coming to Terms

What does it mean when you fall in love with multiple people at the same time? Not separately, but as a unit. Like loving the dynamic you have when the three of you are together and loving the idea of them loving each other and loving you.

What do you do with these emotions? With these visions that appear so clearly and simply the solution. We speak of polyamory in hushed tones and quiet whispers; my friends tell me it’s not for them and they don’t understand it. I respond in neutral words that don’t give away my feelings.

But I look at a friend, a girl that I could see myself falling in love with, falling for a boy that we both love and I wonder what life would be with the three of us. I wonder if we could work because I love them both and they love each other and they love me and I don’t understand how I can feel all of this.

It’s a year later that I fall for a boy and it is like I am plummeting through the constellations and breaking every rib. We bump knees beneath the table and I desperately want him to feel the same bright stars that I do. My favorite moments with him are with a friend though, one I hold so close to my heart, I’d burn the world down for. I tell my friend, “I’d love you at any time of the day,” and I know he’d kiss me if I asked. Instead, I close my eyes and convince myself I love only one of them and I am selfish for thinking otherwise. (But God are they happier together than apart.)

I feel I am alone in this. I’ve never met someone like me so I never bring it up. My friends carry labels like bisexual with its cotton candy skies and gay with its brilliant flag waving at Pride. Gay used to be the punchline at the end of the second. I see the weird girl introduce her boyfriend’s boyfriend on television. My family and friends and the entire nation are laughing but my stomach twists as I think of the people I have loved.

I wonder what they’d say if I told them of how I’ve fallen in love with pairs of people I think would make each other incredibly happy, of how I wouldn’t mind being friends with my significant other’s significant other, of how I feel no sexual attraction yet I have romantic attraction spilling out of me in spades.

I love them, I’d say. Is that okay? Can anyone accept me this way?

#polyamory #lgbt #love #prose #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #poetry #poem #poet #writing #my writing #bisexuality #asexuality #forreal though #i've never spoken about this before but it's been on my mind #and i cant #like #idk what to do with these kinds of emotions #i feel like i could be monogamous and happy #but also #its a part of me that ive ignored for a long time #and i want to talk to it about people #but idk anyone who'd be okay talking about this #it's weird #i feel weird #ahn writes