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Taehyung wakes up, suddenly and all at once, and isn't sure at first why. He lies on his back, staring bleary-eyed at his ceiling for a few moments while his brain comes online.
Then, something touches him.
He glances down, expecting to see that his sheets have shifted in a weird position or maybe Yeontan, who sometimes sneaks in during the night.
It's neither.
It takes Taehyung a few confused seconds to realize what he's looking at. Then the… thing moves.
It curls slowly around his leg and now he can feel the weight of it—not heavy, but certainly present. Then it simply rests there, seemingly content.
“What the fuck,” Taehyung whispers after staring at it for a few long moments. He can't do anything else, his mind still slow from sleep.
He looks around. It's just his room, looking as it always has. There's enough light to see, coming from the windows where he’d left the curtains open. Nothing seems wrong or off, except for the fact that there’s something in his bed, clinging to him.
Taehyung does the only thing he can and reaches to try to pull it off.
As soon as his fingers grab it, he registers something moving in the corner of his eye and before he can turn around, he feels both his wrists be wrenched back, forcefully pulled up next to his head. Simultaneously the thing on his leg slithers up to his thigh and winds itself tight around it—and he feels the same sensation on his other leg.
It all happens in a blink and leaves Taehyung reeling, struggling to keep up. He tries to move his hands again, to no avail—as soon as he tenses up, the things around his wrists only tighten up, holding him in place.
He's pinned down.
The realization sets his heart pumping with adrenaline, making the situation he’s in finally register.
Wildly, he thinks of yelling for help, but—he lives alone. Instead, he tries to kick his legs, hoping to—
Faster than he can even finish the thought, he feels more of those things wind around his ankles and pin them down to the bed.
He can't move. He can't move.
Taehyung still tries, of course. He tries to wriggle, slip out of the restraints, and when that doesn’t work he tries to thrash his body, trying to throw them off.
It just makes the things around his limbs wind themselves up so tight he starts to worry about circulation.
The only thing his attempts actually accomplish is to move the last of his sheets off him.
As he lays there trying to catch his breath, it hits Taehyung what a picture he must make. He hadn't worn pajamas to sleep, so he’s only in his underwear. And now he's lying on his back, arms and legs held in place by these… these tentacles, he surrenders finally to the thought.
He can see them on the bed around him—his head, at least, he can still move freely—going over the edge and disappearing into the darkness. He thinks they must be coming out from under his bed, somehow.
It's a strange sensation, he considers as he lies there and tries to get a grip on the situation, having them on him: both rough and soft. Not pleasant by any means, but not so harsh as to be entirely un pleasant either. There’s a wetness to the tentacles themselves, making the slide of them over his skin easier but not impending their grip. Unfortunately.
He's distracted from his observation by the feeling of yet another tentacle slithering up his thigh. It sends a new pulse of fear through him and he wheezes out a breath, trying to calm down. Only this one doesn't join the others in pinning him down, instead moving higher.
He feels his heart jump when it reaches past the leg of his boxers and keeps moving over them. He knows where it's going, but still, he hopes he's wrong.
He's not.
Taehyung surprises himself with the low sound of pleasure he lets out when it finally reaches the cloth over his dick.
Fuck, he thinks, wild. He hadn't realized he was getting aroused. It's not that surprising, he is into being held down, but—
His somewhat hysterical thoughts are cut off as the tentacle starts rubbing over his underwear. It's very little stimulation, honestly, but the context makes every little feeling a thousand times more powerful.
So he doesn't think he can be blamed for the way his hips lift up or the way he tries instinctively to find more friction.
And it seems that's enough encouragement for the tentacles because suddenly, there's more of them on him.
Taehyung looks down his body as best as he can and feels incredulous at the sight of three new tentacles, slithering up his legs, faster now than the previous ones. The sensation makes his skin tingle, his growing arousal making the touches register as increasingly pleasant in spite (or because?) of the roughness.
He sucks in a breath when all three find their way under his boxers, knowing what's coming, and tries to prepare himself for the feeling of them directly on his dick.
It's more, in every sense of the word, than he could've expected and it makes him groan, throwing his head back. Two of the tentacles immediately start playing with his balls, twisting around them, while the third one winds itself around his dick and gets its end twisted around the head. The grip should be too dry, but it's not; it seems the tentacles have something to make themselves slick. And all the while the tentacle rubbing over his underwear keeps its even, unrelenting pace, enhancing the sensation.
It's all too much to keep still, so Taehyung doesn't even try. He tries to thrust up against the rubbing appendage, tries to make it go faster, but it’s useless. All four tentacles touching him keep to the same too-slow too-little motions.
It makes a whine build up in his throat and, fuck, he's far too gone far too quickly, and for this, but does it even matter? It feels good and it's not like he's going anywhere.
The thought, the reminder that he's completely helpless in this situation should make the fear that's still pumping in him take over, but if anything it does the opposite. It feeds into his arousal, making him feel it even more, and Taehyung decides it doesn't matter, now. It feels far too good to stop, even if he could.
He lets out the whine, hears it ring in the silence of the room. The only other sound is his panting, which he hadn't even realized he'd started doing. The small motions of the tentacles moving over his dick make almost no sound, even with the growing amount of slick and the now visible wet spot on his underwear.
Fuck, he thinks again. It isn't enough.
The tentacles have so far proven to understand his actions, so Taehyung tries to widen his legs, to give them the hint that he wants—needs— more.
It's more effective than he anticipates.
Once again moving faster than he can process, the tentacles around his dick all move off it, only to grab his boxers and take them all the way off. Moving with them, the tentacles holding his thighs down tighten their grip—they had never faltered in strength, so now they properly hurt—and then they wrench them wide open.
Taehyung gasps. The sudden air on his hard cock, the painful grip, the humiliating position, it all only makes his head swim with even more arousal.
And then he feels more tentacles slithering onto his body, but they're not touching his dick. He gasps again when he feels two of them start playing with his nipples, and again, louder, when a larger one—there are different sizes?—touches his hole, but he can't pay attention to either of those sensations because suddenly there are new tentacles in his field of vision, coming from somewhere behind, and they're entering his open mouth.
They’re not big, but there’s too many. One immediately settles on his tongue, holding it down, while two others pull his cheeks to hold them open. His mouth already feels too full, his eyes watering, but there's more. He can't tell how many there are, but they all slither inside, crowding into each other and making his jaw hurt from how wide open his mouth is.
When they start thrusting, slowly and evenly and all at once, Taehyung feels the first tears fall from his eyes. He can’t even try to suck on the tentacles with the way they’re holding him. All he can do is take it.
On instinct, he tries to move his arms, to do what he doesn't even know—the tentacles holding them simply become tighter, matching the strength of those around his thighs. The doubled hurt of it stokes the fire in him even higher.
Just as Taehyung begins to lose himself in the feeling of his mouth being slowly fucked, he's reminded of what else is going on as the tentacles on his nipples twist them harshly and the one that had been poking at his hole enters him.
The overwhelming, overlapping sensations make him scream, except his mouth is stuffed so it comes out muffled.
The tentacles don't pay attention to it.
The one in his ass doesn't try to play around or tease; it slicks itself and goes all the way in on the first try, filling him up and wringing another muffled moan from Taehyung. It starts fucking him immediately, pulling itself all the way out to the tip and then slamming back in, setting a slow, but entirely brutal pace.
Taehyung feels a new wave of tears fall from his eyes, closing them because it's the only move left to him. He can't even open his legs wider to welcome the fucking because the tentacles are already holding him as wide as he can go.
And just in case he's in danger of forgetting them—he’s not—the tentacles in his mouth decide to pick up the pace. Not only that, but he feels them bump, clearly aiming for his throat.
Taehyung groans in anticipation and tries to get ready, and then groans again when he feels several of the tentacles slide further in. They immediately start throat-fucking him, in time with the ones that remain writhing in his mouth. That, plus the still slow and brutal way his ass is being fucked, and the way the tentacles around his nipples make themselves known again by twisting them mercilessly, again, is what sends him over the edge.
His poor, neglected cock shoots out streaks of come and he feels it land on his stomach. Taehyung keeps his eyes closed and tries to breathe through the intense wave of orgasm, which doesn't stop. This is made harder by the fact that none of the tentacles stop either.
If Taehyung had been hoping coming would signal the end of this, which, in fairness, he doesn't know if he had, it's abundantly clear he’d have been wrong.
The only change is that the tentacles fucking his throat retreat back to his mouth and slow down their pace again, and the one in his ass picks it up.
Taehyung's post orgasm haze disappears as quickly as it came, as the tentacle fucking him is relentless and sends him hurtling straight into oversensitivity. The feeling is too much and Taehyung can't do anything about it except lie there and take it.
He gasps around the tentacles in his mouth and feels himself twitch, unable to help himself. He's not sure if it's his body's attempt at getting away or of he's trying to match the tentacle's thrusts, but either way the motion seems to encourage it because it shifts and—oh, fuck—starts hammering right up against his prostate.
The sudden and intense acknowledgement of the spot that had so far been ignored sends a jolt through Taehyung's body, making his cock that had slowly been getting hard again jump up and throb in anticipation. He moans at the thought of coming again, still barely touched, and then moans louder because the tentacle suddenly stops its movements. He wonders if that's it for half a delirious moment, but then he feels the way it seems to almost pulsate, and then he's being filled.
Taehyung can't do anything except throw his head back and moan, and moan, because there's nothing like this feeling and his mouth is being fucked, and the tentacle still hasn't stopped coming.
At last, after what feels like a thousand years, the thick tentacle pulls out. Taehyung shivers when it drags on his walls, when he feels its fluid drip out of him.
He can't lie there and enjoy the feeling of being throughly fucked out, however, because the ones in his mouth are still going strong and his cock is once again at full hardness. And because not even several moments after the tentacle pulls out, Taehyung feels more come back and drag his hole open.
He screams, still muffled, and his eyes shoot open. His sight is hazy and blurred and he becomes aware he's been sobbing openly for a while.
Taehyung heaves for air, as best as he's able, but that does nothing to stop the multiple tentacles that slither inside his stretched out hole. He can tell they’re smaller in size than the previous one and he’s distantly grateful for that. He can feel them, moving slower than the ones stuffing his mouth, but equally as relentless in their seeming goal of driving him out of his mind.
And then they're all inside, stuffing him and brushing over his abused prostate.
It throws him over the edge, coming again. The orgasm is shorter this time and he feels like crying tears he's running out of when he realizes the tentacles still aren't stopping.
Taehyung is barely holding on at this point; most of his consciousness has been consumed by lust and pain, throwing everything he has in chasing after whatever relief he can get. Still, somehow he manages to notice that the light in the room has shifted in such a way that he's now visible in the mirror on the wall in front of the bed.
Curious for some reason he can't explain, he manages to pull up his head, just enough to be able to see. And what he sees steals the last of his breath.
Taehyung can see the wanton position he's been forced in, arms awkwardly held next to his head, legs pulled wide open. That provides the perfect view of the way his hole is being stretched by the writhing tentacles. His dick is resting against his stomach and the mess of come he's made on himself. His nipples are hard and the tentacles are hovering near them, a hair’s breadth away from touching. And his face…
Taehyung can see the way his cheeks are bulging from being stuffed full. His eyes catch on the way saliva is dripping down his trembling, aching chin. His hair is a mess. His eyes are glassy and red, still leaking the occasional tear, but mostly he can see the evidence of having ugly cried for too long.
His entire body is trembling, giving the occasional unconscious twitch that gives away just how overstimulated he is.
And then, like what they've been waiting for is for Taehyung to realize what a mess he is, the tentacles start to move.
Like they're in a hurry, like they haven't been slowly fucking him for who knows how long, like the tentacles are suddenly competing who will make him lose it first, all of them set a punishing, quick pace.
It makes Taehyung want to scream again, but he's out of breath and can’t take in enough air. It makes him want to try and get away, but he couldn't move even if he wasn't restrained. It makes him want to close his eyes and just feel it happen, because he can sense his cock hardening again and he thinks he might actually be able to come three times in a row, something even the best of his partners have never managed, but all he can do is keep his eyes locked on his reflection, despite the awkward position.
Eyes wild with lust, still a mess, Taehyung sees the moment it all comes together, the way his spine actually curves off the bed as the tentacles in his ass pulsate. He keeps looking even when he can only keep his eyes half open, as the tentacles pull out one by one, leaving their come to flow out of him obscenely as his hole flutters. He sees the way he gags when the tentacles in his mouth suddenly surge back into his throat, the way it visibly bulges as they fuck it and the way he tries to gulp down their come. He sees his face when the tentacles don't stop fucking his face even though they're coming, the way the fluid overflows and drips out of his mouth, too much to swallow, and the way his eyes manage to go wider when the realization hits him that he's actually running out of air—
And he sees the way he spasms when he comes for the third time, dry, and how that leaves him heaving—
And they're still not letting him go—
And it's too much—
Taehyung's eyes slam open and he finds himself breathing heavily.
He stares blankly at his ceiling, watching the way sunlight plays over it.
He sits up. Looks around the room—everything is exactly how he left it last night. Looks down at himself—the sheets flung to the side of the bed like he was running too hot, his boxers soaked and sticky on the inside.
He blinks several times. Looks around again.
“Holy fucking shit,” Taehyung concludes eventually, saying it loud and clear just because he can. “I have got to get laid.”
He checks the time and realizes he's about to run late if he doesn't kick his ass into gear, so he shakes off the weird nightmare slash wet dream, and gets up to go shower.
As soon as he stands up, he feels something drip out of his hole.