there’s a whine on jeongguk’s lips already, back arching as he works his hand over his cock—quickening with each second, desperate to meet his release. it’s been so long since he’s been able to do this, too bogged down with university and his apparent social life, but there was no getting around it tonight—he’s too horny for that. there’s something itching just below the surface, something that needs to get out and this is the only way: fisting at his cock with reckless abandon, moans pitching into whines in the silence of his room.
he’d considered inviting someone over, getting back on tinder after the last failed attempt, but—but. he wouldn’t trust anyone else. no one knows what he likes, how he likes it. but jeongguk knows, knows himself too well—thumbs at the head of his cock, sensitive enough to make himself gasp. his eyes are squeezed shut, imagining—someone. something. big hands on his waist, on his thighs, pushing them apart. soft lips on his, sucking on his mouth. whispering disgusting things into his ear, things that should make his toes curl but have him gasping instead.
it’s too hot—he forgot to open a window, but it’s too late now, as he’s already sweaty, shirt rucked up past his chest. he rakes his nails over his stomach and then up again, thumbing at one of his nipples as he twists his wrist just right, gasping as he moves his hand more rapidly over his cock.
he can feel it building in the pit of his stomach, coming closer and closer to what he’s been waiting weeks for; jeongguk moans high in his throat, his free hand now dipping between his legs instead to ghost over his rim: hardly wet enough to do anything with, but he’d been too desperate to work for that either.
this should be enough. it should.
jeongguk works his hand faster faster, pressing his thumb past his rim at the same time, hoping to push himself over the edge. but it’s not enough. he could do this all day, and it might not be enough, because behind his eyelids, he’s seeing—someone. someone, the only thing that’s going to do this the right way. the way that he wants, the way that he needs.
it would have been easy, better, probably, to invite someone over. to let them fuck him into the mattress, make him whine and beg to come the way he’s been begging himself for weeks. but he knows it wouldn’t have been good enough. and jeongguk usually tries to hold out, usually tries to take care of himself as best as he can, but the frustration mounts along with his arousal as he squeezes a hand around his cock, fucking up into his fist and arching off of the bed at the same time.
he needs more. needs—
“hyung,” jeongguk whines, too far gone now to feel bad about it. “hyung, hyung, yoongi-hyung—” he chants the name like a prayer, like a summons, breathless and wanting as he continues to work at his cock, chasing something he know he won’t find himself. but there’s more—he knows there’s more. he has to ask. “f-fuck, yoongi-hyung, please—please, i need you—”
on cue, there’s a thump from under the bed. something like i heard you, something like i’m here. jeongguk catches his bottom lip with his teeth, arching into his hand as he moves faster and faster. he feels on the verge of tears, each second stretching on forever as he waits and still can’t bring himself to come, and then—it’s just a touch at first, something light and barely there, like a warning. like a prelude, just letting jeongguk know. he whines again, though, nods to give permission, and then he finds himself entirely at the mercy of that touch.
something wet slides over both of his hands, curling around them and instantly tearing them away from himself. and he whines again, despite having given permission, eyes flying open in time to see the tentacles encircling his wrists and pinning them above his head. by now, it’s a welcome sight—relief, despite his cock left hard and aching against his stomach. the tentacles are jet black and rough, something jeongguk once complained about it, but it makes sense. makes it feel dirtier, somehow.
they’re wet, too, two pinning jeongguk’s arms over his head as he looks down to see others curling over the side of his bed and creeping upon him. anticipation curls within him, hot and heavy, and he lets out a moan of, “please please please,” as he watches. yoongi likes to tease him, is the thing—is never fair, as though jeongguk has to pay for this by being patient and not complaining about how yoongi wants to have his fun, too. his fun is seeing jeongguk squirm.
jeongguk squirms on the bed, watching the tentacles’ slow crawl; one slides over his stomach, two around his thighs as they slowly pry his legs apart. he whines again, about to complain before the sixth tentacle finally creeps between his legs, where he wants it; it curls around his cock, cool and wet, making jeongguk hiss at the contact. it tightens just slightly, just holding for a second, and jeongguk throws his head back again, squeezing his eyes shut.
he’s completely helpless now—arms pinned above his head, thighs held open, cock wrapped up with no hope of friction on his own. and the tentacles just—stay there. they don’t move. jeongguk tries to keep it in, tries not to move, because that’s not how this is supposed to go. he knows the rules.
and yet—“yoongi-hyung,” he whines again, barely audible against his heavy breathing. “don’t be mean.”
“don’t be needy,” comes the response—jeongguk’s eyes snap open again, lifting his head to see yoongi sitting in the desk chair at the end of jeongguk’s bed. he looks the picture of nonchalance—slumped in the chair, chin propped up by one of his fists. jeongguk would guess that he wasn’t a part of this at all if it wasn’t for the fact that the tentacles he’s currently trapped in are attached to yoongi, snaking out from his back where they’ll retreat to once all of this is over. other than that, he looks entirely human. it wasn’t always like that, and jeongguk knows that yoongi isn’t human, doesn’t look like one normally. but he knows that it makes jeongguk more comfortable when he looks like this: two eyes, two hands, two legs. six tentacles, sure, but jeongguk can at least pretend that yoongi is human if he looks like one.
(it’s less about comfort, maybe, more about loneliness—)
“what if i was busy?” asks yoongi, like he’s actually upset. “what if i had better things to do than help you with your… hormonal little problem?”
“so you’d rather i invite someone over and let them fuck me in front of you?” jeongguk gets out through gritted teeth. the tentacle around his cock still hasn’t moved, almost squeezing tightly enough to hurt. “you wouldn’t get jealous?”
“you’re hardly mine, jeongguk-ah,” says yoongi with a shrug. he drops his hand, leans back in the chair. “i just think that if you’re going to expect me to just show up like this every time you need me, you ought to be a little grateful and play by my rules.”
jeongguk lets out a frustrated groan, but he knows that yoongi has a point—he doesn’t have to show up. he could let jeongguk fuck his own hand and pretend to be satisfied with it, and besides, jeongguk always comes hardest when yoongi is the one in charge anyway.
and he knows that yoongi will sit there and wait until jeongguk submits to him. sometimes he likes being a brat, likes arguing and getting yoongi riled up enough to do something about it—makes yoongi get involved with more than just the tentacles. but that would take too long and jeongguk is already on the verge of tears just from this, so—so.
“please, hyung,” he whispers. “i’m sorry, didn’t wanna be—be mean, just needed you so badly.” he sniffs, squirming against the hold of yoongi’s tentacles again even though it’s no use. “really want you to fuck me, hyung, please, just—please fuck me, please. i’ll be good, i promise.” when he looks at yoongi again, he’s not sure it’s worked—yoongi looks bored. sometimes he shows up with a book and reads it while his tentacles are fucking jeongguk, working him open and only pausing once in a while to make sure that jeongguk hasn’t passed out in the meantime.
today, he looks keen on watching. and jeongguk is keen on letting him watch, if only there was something to watch, and he lets out another pathetic whimper, hoping it’ll help his case. yoongi has mercy.
“okay, baby,” he says. “what do you want?”
“whatever,” gasps jeongguk. “whatever, just—fuck. just fuck me, please.”
that’s dangerous, too. yoongi never does anything that jeongguk doesn’t want, a nice sort of monster under the bed that at least understands consent. all in all, it could be worse. but giving yoongi permission to do whatever he wants sometimes gets him into hairy situations, and yet jeongguk is just desperate enough that it doesn’t matter. he sees yoongi’s lips quirk into a small smirk, just for a second, and then he’s crossing his legs, then crossing his arms over his chest. looks every bit as though he’s just examining something interesting, and says, “as you wish.”
it’s not the tentacle around his cock that moves first, but the one around his stomach—unravels itself, leaving a trail of slick behind, and jeongguk closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see: either yoongi looking at him like he’s in a lab, or what the tentacles are doing next. he likes to be surprised. so he lets out a gasp of oh when he feels the tip of one tentacle circling his rim, getting right to the point—which is good. which is what he needs.
it’s slow at first, pushing in, and jeongguk lets out a moan as he tries to settle into it, letting the tentacle push in and out just a few inches, just enough for him to handle. his body knows this well, opens up for yoongi so easily as the tentacle stretches him slowly, little by little. when he whines again, wanting more, the tentacle moves just a little deeper—he gasps anyway, even though he’s used to it. even though he wants it.
and as desperate as he was—is—for release, yoongi doesn’t move his tentacle more than that little bit, slowly but surely fucking in and out of jeongguk’s hole just to stretch it. jeongguk lets out little gasps of puffs of air, struggling just slightly against the tentacles holding his arms down—not to break out, but because he can’t always control what his body does at times like these. the tentacles keep his legs open, too, squirming as the tentacle in his ass moves slow, slow, dragging against his walls at an achingly frustrating pace.
“hyung,” jeongguk finally lets out when he’s had enough of the teasing—because that’s what it is. yoongi is well aware that jeongguk can take whatever yoongi wants to give him, so giving him this is almost cruel. “hyung, please—”
“please what?” asks yoongi, sounding bored. “you asked me to fuck you. i’m fucking you, aren’t i?”
tears spring to jeongguk’s eyes suddenly, frustration building. he tries to grind down onto the tentacle fucking him, but it’s not enough. “please,” he whimpers. “please, please—want more.”
the tentacle stops—buried only a few inches inside of him. jeongguk knows that he’s stretched enough for more, and he’s so hard. he hasn’t gotten any friction on his cock because of the tentacle still wrapped around it, and it’s not nearly enough. “please,” he adds again, lifting his head to look at yoongi. he’s just sitting there watching. he’s dangerous. jeongguk remembers when his mother used to tell him not to be afraid of the monsters under his bed, but he doubts she imagined not being afraid of them would lead to this.
to yoongi cocking his head, watching jeongguk—drinking in the sight of him spread out on the bed, flushed and sweaty and desperate, one tentacle stretching him. “more?” he asks. “you want more, gukkie?”
jeongguk lets out a whine of, “yeah, yes, please hyung, please, i want—” but he doesn’t get a chance to finish before yoongi grants his wish. the thing about yoongi, jeongguk knows, is that there are no in betweens. he’s either here or not here, either completely mundane or horrifyingly dangerous. he’s either fucking jeongguk like that, or—like this.
all at once, the tentacles on jeongguk’s body become a flurry of movement. every bit of his sensations are overwhelmed as yoongi smirks at him, and then: the tentacle gently fucking him pushes all the way in, filling him and stretching him wide wide wide and then leaving just as quickly before starting up a brutal rhythm that has jeongguk arching, gasping as both pain and pleasure overwhelm him. the tentacle around his cock finally moves, too, tightening and loosening to stroke him as he’s assaulted with both sensations. one of the tentacles from around his wrist lets go, instead curling over his chest and flicking over his nipples, making jeongguk gasp as he realizes he may have made a mistake, that all three is too much, but.
there’s no use in asking yoongi to slow down. that’s not how this works.
the moan gets caught in jeongguk’s throat as yoongi fucks him hard and fast, the tentacle in his ass ruthless as it slams into him and back out again; the slick sounds of it echo through the room, mixing with jeongguk’s gasps and moans, with the sound of his body practically writhing on the bed as all of it overwhelms him. he can practically hear yoongi’s smirk from here, letting out a cry as the tentacle on his chest flicks one of his nipples particularly hard.
he has no idea what to focus on—can’t focus on anything, as his orgasm builds extraordinarily quickly. he feels so full, the tentacle fucking him deeper and deeper with each thrust, and still, he whines. still—“you look so pretty like that,” yoongi tells him, finally bordering on interest. jeongguk can’t breathe from how hard he’s panting, trying to hold in everything as one of the tentacles continues to work over his cock. “you like when i fuck you like that, guk-ah? when you’re so full that you can’t even say anything?”
jeongguk whines again, tries to say yes but can’t when the tentacle fucking him brushes against his prostate and he lets out an aborted moan instead, body jerking into it.
“that’s why you can’t bring anyone home, isn’t it?” asks yoongi, almost monotonous. “because humans just aren’t the same, hm? their pathetic little cocks, just like yours. all pink and hard and barely enough to satisfy you. you just need me to fuck you the way you deserve, you little slut. need your hole all sloppy and loose, and i’m the only one who can do that for you, hm?”
and it’s—true, probably. jeongguk doesn’t bring people home because he already has someone, someone who will fuck him like this—ruthless, without needing to stop because it’s not doing anything to yoongi other than bringing him to orgasm. just a tentacle drilling into his hole over and over even when jeongguk has tears forming at the corners of his eyes, overwhelmed—just a tentacle stroking his cock almost lazily now. he’s lucky. he’s also desperate, only able to whine through it because he doesn’t have the words, not even enough to agree with yoongi.
the tentacle pushes ever deeper inside of him, impossibly so—jeongguk lets out a cry as he feels his hole stretch around it, to allow it deeper access even though it hurts, and then yoongi makes this little humming sound. jeongguk hears the chair creak over the sound of the tentacle fucking him, over the sound of his own breathing and moaning.
“look at that,” yoongi says. he’s amused. “jeongguk-ah. i said look.” so jeongguk does—lifts his head, blinking away some of the tears, and what he sees is: his own body shaking from the force of the tentacles thrusts, one of them still working his cock. yoongi sitting at the end of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees now and a dark look in his eyes.
it’s not a new sight. but then he focuses on what yoongi is focusing on, eyes gazing around past the sight of the tentacle buried deep inside of him, hole stretching around it, or the tentacle on his cock, leaking with precome. it’s his stomach—with each thrust of the tentacle inside of him, jeongguk sees his stomach bulge with the force of it, the hard end of the tentacle poking through the skin. he can see it—can see where the tentacle is fucking him impossibly deep, pushing into his stomach and making the skin bulge.
jeongguk stares at it, hazy, holding himself up with one arm while the other is still restricted by another tentacle. yoongi says, “cute. look how deep you’re taking me, gukkie. such a good boy for hyung, hm? letting him fuck you like that, right through your pretty little belly. like when hyung fucks you like that?”
and jeongguk can only drop his head back down, letting out something akin to a sob at how good it feels—he’s so full, stretched wide as the tentacle continues to fuck him like that, and he can feel it, can tell he’s going to come. he lets out a wanton wail, arching up into the tentacle around his cock, and it’s as though yoongi knows—of course he knows. how many times as he just watched this, not having to lift a finger to bring jeongguk to the edge like this, letting his tentacles do all the work? it’s like his own private show. he knows what each of jeongguk’s noises means, what each twitch of a muscle means, so—
the tentacle around his cock squeezes at the base, hard, and jeongguk lets out a cry when it stops him from coming. doesn’t stop yoongi from coming, though, the tentacle fucking him suddenly pushing into him one last time as it comes inside of him. jeongguk groans, both from being edged and the feeling of yoongi filling him with come, and then—and then the tentacle around his cock is gone entirely, along with the one fucking him—he’s left empty and cold, hole clenching around nothing as the lack of sensation pushes him over the edge. a different edge, of course, an emotional one, and jeongguk lets out a sob as the tears immediately spill over onto his cheeks.
“what?” asks yoongi, ever cruel. the rest of the tentacles let go of him, too, leaving him alone and exhausted on the bed, dripping come out of his hole. he feels one of the tentacles move over his face carefully, wiping away some of his tears, and that’s not fair. “you asked me to fuck you, jeongguk-ah. i did that. what more do you want?”
he can’t say anything, too busy crying—and he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it’ll leave him more satisfied at the end, but for now, he’s upset and overwhelmed and still extremely hard, still feels like he needs something back inside of him to make it better. and yoongi just laughs, and jeongguk gasps in a breath, just enough to stutter out a, “please, hyung—i-i—”
“spit it out,” yoongi tells him. “if you’re going to keep crying and blabbering like that, i’ll have to put your mouth to better use.”
jeongguk lets out another gasping sob, because that’s what he wants. and something more, maybe—anything to fill him, anything to make him come, finally, if yoongi will actually give it to him. “hyung,” he chokes out. “please, please—”
“use your words, baby. what do you want?”
“more,” jeongguk finally gets out.
surprisingly, yoongi is gentle about it—at first, anyway. the tentacles manoeuvre him carefully, turning him over until he’s pressed into the mattress on his front, turning his face to be able to breathe—still crying, trying to be quieter about it now that he’s getting what he wants. yoongi lets him have his hands this time, planted on either side of him as the tentacles take hold of his legs and move him until he’s kneeling, ass presented to yoongi with his chest and face pressed into the bed.
“good boy,” murmurs yoongi. “stay like that, okay?”
jeongguk nods, just slightly. from here, he can’t see what’s happening, but he feels it—feels two of the tentacles wrapping around his thighs again, holding his legs open. feels one of them rubbing over his perineum. he lets out another sob, feeling his hole clench in anticipation—still stretched and loose from the first round, and he wants more. yoongi gives it to him, because he asked, and he feels the first tentacle slip inside of him with barely any resistance.
he lets out a groan, melting even more into the mattress at the feeling of the tentacle filling him again. already, he has no strength, barely able to keep himself upright, but the tentacles around his legs do that for him, forcing him to stay where he is even as he opens his eyes and blinks back at yoongi, sees him leaning forward enough so that he could reach out and touch jeongguk if he wanted—and jeongguk wants him to. but he never does.
“needy little thing, aren’t you?” yoongi murmurs, the tentacle fucking him with a steady rhythm. “i wish you could see yourself like this. just swallowing me like that and still having room.” as if that gives yoongi an idea, jeongguk feels another tentacle creeping over the backs of his thighs, and then up and up until it settles by his rim. it’s tentative at first, just pressing on his stretched hole, and jeongguk lets out a gasp when he realizes what yoongi is about to do the moment before it happens.
the second tentacle slips inside with the first, just a few inches at fist, and jeongguk lets out a cry as his hands curl into the sheets, overwhelmed with the stretch already. both of the tentacles work at him slowly, not fully inside but enough to make him gasp with the stretch, the burn of it.
“hyung,” he lets out, squeezing his eyes shut. “hyung, hyung, hyung—” it’s a chant, a prayer, and yoongi just chuckles from behind him. it must be music to his ears to hear jeongguk begging, wanting more, utterly wrecked by all of it, and then he stops being gentle about it. both of the tentacles pick up speed, fucking him relentless and so, so deep as he gasps and jerks away from it, but the tentacles don’t give up; jeongguk begins crying in earnest again, overwhelmed and too full, the tentacles fucking him deeper and deeper with each thrust until his rim is stretched impossibly wide around the both of them.
jeongguk can’t stop shaking, slumped entirely against the bed with the tentacles around his thighs as the only thing holding up. he can only whine again with how overwhelmed he is, beginning to blabber the first thing that comes to mind—whining and begging and yoongi’s name over and over, louder and louder as the tentacles push into him and leave him aching. he’s drooling.
“you’re being awfully loud,” yoongi comments. “it’s hard to focus on how pretty your slutty hole is when you’re talking like that. fucking distracting.” and jeongguk only has time to gasp in a breath before another tentacle is creeping over his back, curling under his chest and around his neck, and then directly into his mouth. he lets out a moan as it just sits there on his tongue, but his mouth clamps around it instantly, sucking—at least it’s something to focus on, sounds muffled around it as yoongi makes an appreciative hum.
“you’re so cute, gukkie,” says yoongi, like they’re just casually having a conversation—jeongguk closes his eyes, panting around the tip of the tentacle in his mouth and trying not to crumble entirely with the two tentacles fucking him—“looks like you belong with my tentacles fucking you like that. think you can take more than two?” jeongguk lets out a muffled cry, although even he’s not sure if it’s a yes or not—either way, it doesn’t matter because one of the tentacles brushes his prostate again, and then again and again and again with each thrust, and jeongguk seizes up, pleasure burning down his spine before he comes just like that, with two tentacles buried deep in his ass and another filling his mouth.
it’s almost violent how hard he comes—and he was right, of course, that the edging and abuse of his hole leaves him more satisfied, and he comes over the bed between the sheets and his stomach. he shakes with the force of it, the tentacle in his mouth disappearing and instead curling over his cock to milk him. his legs give out, held up only by the two tentacles wrapped around his thighs, and he’s still shaking and sobbing, trying to catch his breath.
but the tentacles don’t stop fucking him.
“want hyung to come in you?” he hears yoongi ask, and jeongguk doesn’t even think before he’s nodding with a sob, desperate for it. “want hyung to fill you? breed you like the good boy you are?” he nods again, already slumping against the bed before he feels, through the aftershocks, both of the tentacles inside of him coming, too. yoongi doesn’t make a sound.
he stays like that for a while, trembling as he keeps his hands curled into the bedsheets and his knees digging into the bed. he can feel yoongi’s come fill him, an endless amount, it seems—and he keeps panting, shaking as he finally opens his eyes enough to look down at himself. from here, he can see his stomach is distended just slightly—just enough to know, and he groans again, entirely boneless. he has absolutely no strength, too spent and exhausted to move. the tentacles inside of him move slowly, pulling out and leaving him whining as he’s left empty again, as he feels yoongi’s come begin to trail down the back of his thighs, dripping out of his hole in a steady stream.
the tentacles around his legs finally let go and jeongguk finds himself toppling sideways, too tired to hold himself up. and it hurts everywhere, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. for a time, yoongi doesn’t say anything either, but jeongguk knows he’s still there. he never just leaves after.
finally, jeongguk manages to whisper, “yoongi-hyung.”
“yes, baby?” asks yoongi. “you don’t have to thank me; i already know. need help cleaning up?”
jeongguk makes a whine of protest, because—because suddenly, he needs something else. it’s not often that he needs anything more after yoongi has fucked him like that, giving him what he asked for originally. but maybe he’s thinking about what yoongi said in the heat of the moment, about jeongguk not bringing someone home. and how frustrated he’s been, and how sometimes just being fucked isn’t enough.
“what?” asks yoongi. “you want me to leave you here with copious amounts of come drying in your ass? you’re going to be upset if that happens.”
“no,” whines jeongguk. he turns his head so he can look at yoongi, making a grabby hand at him. “hyung. please.”
yoongi, still sitting in the chair and watching him, narrows his eyes. he knows—of course he knows. but he still asks, “what do you want now?”
jeongguk’s bottom lip juts out in a pout, tears still collecting in the corners of his eyes. he’s spent and exhausted and stretched to his limit; his hole hurts, loose and still seeping come, but. it’s less about the physical end of it now. he just looks at yoongi, sees yoongi looking back at him—and then yoongi finally lets out a little sigh and leans back in the chair. “alright,” he says. “come here, then.”
his words are met with another whimper, because jeongguk doesn’t have the strength to move. it’s the tentacles, then, that move him—they wrap around his wrists, gently tugging him up until jeongguk can move a little on his own. they get him onto his feet, holding him up before he manages to stumble toward yoongi, and then straddle his lap. it’s not the most comfortable position, especially in the chair, but they make it work; jeongguk keeps himself up on trembling knees, chest almost pressed to yoongi’s as he looks down at him—at this monster that looks just like a man, only because jeongguk asks.
but he’s not a man. of course not—doesn’t work like one, just giving off the illusion when he’s sitting here in jeongguk’s room. he could choose to take just about any shape, but he takes this one. because jeongguk asks, because he always does what jeongguk asks. sometimes jeongguk convinces himself that that counts as love.
anyway—yoongi slides his hands up jeongguk’s sides, just lightly, making jeongguk shiver. he knows he’ll be overstimulated, but he doesn’t care, too desperate for one more thing. for what he maybe needed all along. he’s very good at pretending. so he doesn’t look down, knowing it’ll shatter the illusion—but he knows, anyway, that one of yoongi’s tentacles is now sitting between yoongi’s legs, the end exactly where yoongi’s cock would be if he were actually human. he can feel it brushing against his thigh, just waiting.
yoongi’s hands come to rest on his neck, fingers curling around it and into jeongguk’s hair. he angles jeongguk’s head downward, tugging him a little, and jeongguk goes willingly until their lips can meet in a kiss—and he likes how yoongi kisses. it’s surprisingly tender for how he treats jeongguk otherwise, lips gentle as they work over jeongguk’s. he tugs on jeongguk’s bottom lip gently, hands trailing down his chest until they reach his waist. from there, he slowly guides jeongguk downward onto the tentacle—the tentacle that jeongguk is pretending is yoongi’s cock, because that’s what he really wants.
that’s why he doesn’t bring anyone else home—it’s not about having someone with six tentacles who can fuck him better than someone with a cock. it’s because maybe jeongguk is half in love with yoongi, and maybe they could never be anything because yoongi is the monster under his bed, but. when they’re like this, he can pretend—he can pretend that yoongi is human, and that they could maybe have something.
it hurts—jeongguk’s hole is almost too loose to even feel anything, and he’s oversensitive, but he sits down on the tentacle anyway. feels his hips flush with yoongi’s, fully clothed. their bodies are pressed together as he slowly rocks down on the tentacle, just something slow and gentle. just for pretend. and yoongi kisses him, lets him pretend, lets him have this.
“you’re so pretty,” yoongi whispers into his mouth, and jeongguk makes a noise in the back of his throat—a protest, maybe, or something that tells yoongi to keep going. either way, he feels tears in his eyes again, and yoongi must notice because his hands return to jeongguk’s face, wiping them away carefully. jeongguk continues to rock down on him, just enough to give him the sensation without overwhelming himself too much, but it’s—enough. “my pretty little baby. you’ve been so good for hyung.”
jeongguk sniffs, dropping his head onto yoongi’s shoulder. and yoongi holds him—properly, kind of. it’s enough to let him pretend it’s real as yoongi’s hands smooth over his back, his sides. as they help him grind onto the tentacle serving as yoongi’s cock, just gentle, just careful.
“tell me,” whispers jeongguk, pressing his lips to the side of yoongi’s neck. “hyung, hyung—”
yoongi turns his head, kisses the side of jeongguk’s cheek. “love you, guk-ah,” he whispers, and jeongguk—cries. yoongi holds him through it, whispers things into his ear that are entirely different from what he was laughing at him earlier—but he’s not mean about it, not when he doesn’t have to be. he strokes his hands over jeongguk’s skin, letting him rock onto the tentacle until yoongi comes inside of him again, filling him up like that, and jeongguk cries maybe from the overstimulation, maybe from yoongi holding him like it’s real.
later, after yoongi has gently put him back on the bed and cleaned him up, jeongguk finds himself tucked safely under the covers. he still feels empty—less about not having something to fill him, more about being alone. he’s exhausted and on the verge of sleep, too spent to do anything else, but he still feels yoongi smooth back his hair and press a kiss to his forehead.
jeongguk has enough strength to slip a hand out of the covers and reach for yoongi, curling a hand into the front of his shirt. “hyung,” he begins. “hyung—stay?”
yoongi kisses his forehead again, says, “i can’t. you know i can’t.” and that’s the problem, too—if yoongi could just take the form of a human forever, he could probably stay here. if he didn’t have his own home, through the strange little portal under jeongguk’s bed. but being part of a different realm means he can only stay here for so long. he’s pushing it already with how much taking a different form takes out of him, jeongguk knows, so. it’s selfish to ask. but he asks anyway. sometimes he just wants yoongi to stay and cuddle him after.
still—“just for a little bit?” asks jeongguk, pouting as he looks up at yoongi looming over him. “i wanna watch ponyo.”
yoongi makes this pained noise in the back of his throat; the first time jeongguk asked him to stay after and they ended up watching a studio ghibli film, yoongi spent the entire time staring at jeongguk’s laptop screen like he’d never seen something like it. which—made sense, actually, because he’s a monster and they probably don’t have things like that in his world. it made jeongguk giggle.
“is this another one of your animated things?” asks yoongi.
“it’s really good, hyung,” says jeongguk. “please? please, hyung?” the truth is that he could just fall asleep like this—probably should. but he falls asleep much better with ponyo playing in the background and yoongi playing with his hair, even if he’s never there when jeongguk wakes up.
yoongi makes a pained face again. “jeongguk—”
“i deserve to watch ponyo with you,” he snaps, mustering up enough strength to fist his hand in yoongi’s shirt and tug him down onto the bed. yoongi trips right on top of him, tentacles flailing as they land on the bed with him. “you were especially mean today and i think you might have ripped my asshole. you made me cry.”
“you would have cried anyway.”
“hyung,” jeongguk frowns. “say you were mean.”
yoongi wiggles off of jeongguk, sliding over to the other side of the bed. “fine,” he says. “i was mean.”
“good,” huffs jeongguk, swatting at a tentacle that has ended up in his face. “can we watch ponyo now? can you be a fucking man and watch ponyo with me?” he knows he’s gotten yoongi when yoongi reaches out for him, curls a hand through his hair again. and they’re not together, not by any means. but yoongi has a hard time denying jeongguk anything, whether it’s fucking him with his tentacles or watching anime with him.
so they watch ponyo. and yoongi holds him—with his hands as well as his tentacles, because it’s extra comforting that way—and halfway through the movie, when jeongguk feels himself drifting off, he plants his face in yoongi’s chest. mumbles, “come back tomorrow?”
he can feel yoongi grinning against his skin, where his lips are pressed to the top of jeongguk’s head. “sure, baby,” he says. “not to fuck you, though. your ass could probably use a break.”
“then cuddle me,” mumbles jeongguk. “like you.”
“watch the movie, jeongguk-ah.”
“you watch the movie,” says jeongguk, eyes already closed. he falls asleep like that, wrapped up in warmth and wondering when on earth the monster under his bed turned into this—although he’s not complaining. there could be worse things hiding under there.