#then got real drowsy and passed the fuck out

[nothingweirdhere]

the fucking emojis… i love him???

[inkyquince]

Patreon Post: Wren's Unionising Perks (Wren)

content warning: Cheating, Cucking, Nasty Wren really into Remy's spouse

Wren always got what he wanted. Not while he was growing up, no, never then. But when he reached his twenties, he found out there’s a lot he could get, either with his winning smile, or with quick hands. Then his tongue could worm himself into some good graces in more ways than one. He liked getting what he wanted. Suddenly, he could put food on the table. Suddenly, he had a favourite leather jacket. Suddenly, life was a breeze and nothing could bring him down.

So, all in all, fuck you.

Fuck you.

God, he’d love to fuck you.

Regular little love story, you and Remy. Horse Ranch meets Riding School. Horrible father meets Horrible Future Husband. Married within 6 months.

Wren didn’t hate a lot of things. Bad hair days. Shit hands when playing poker. Maybe when those shark teeth cut his fingers when spending his Friday lunches at the prison. But fuck, he hated you. He really hated you. He hated you till his stomach was painted with his own cum, his cock sore as his fingers gripped the base too tightly.

Cute townie, trotting in here. Can’t ride a horse, looks lost when Remy rattles off facts about why his cows are the most excellent, didn’t even own a pair of boots until you ruined a pair of your fancy shoes in the mud. Real cute. The kind of adorable where if someone like you, with a face like that, Wren would definitely have you in his bed after a charming little riding lesson and some flirting. But he couldn’t. Because of that fucking golden ring adoring your finger.

He did do his best at first, keeping away from you, real polite, only sometimes swinging by to help out when you got lost on the stupidly big estate. One of his winning smiles, a squeeze of your elbow, and then he could disappear back into his work, only sometimes glancing over to see what you were up to. Sweet little thing. Sweet thing that he won’t lure into his bed at all, god no, because he will be fired at best, killed at medium, and turned into one of Remy’s best bulls at worst.

Which was annoying. He didn’t even pay attention to you. It’s like that one time when he was a wee sprog, his somewhat friend had a toy that they hadn’t played with in a while, and then acted so annoyed when he stole it for himself. Like, what did he expect? When people put stuff aside, Wren will usually take it and be halfway out the door before they realise it was gone.

He just happened to think that the same rules should apply to you. Get left in the corner too long, and he’s allowed to step in. No one puts baby in the corner and so on and so forth. But apparently Remy and the Church of England were against his very reasonable thought process.

Luckily, you seemed to agree with his thought process. Somewhat.

You were obviously bored. Leaning against the bedroom balcony, watching the cows be led out. Wren looked up from his horse, the scene mocking Romeo and Juliet as you barely looked at him, and he was getting a lovely view of your legs. But you did notice him. Soft brown eyed boy with the wicked smile. You didn’t get to meet him properly, only formally. Remy just vaguely gestured at him, called him Wren and moved on, with one gloved hand pressing against your back.

A gesture Wren also liked to do with you.

Spotting you, bored, petting one of the horses. Hand against your back. Inviting you to a poker game. You accept.

The others worry. They can’t have fun like they usually do. Nothing scandalous or perverted, not while the boss’ spouse is sitting so pretty at the table. You were fun, it turns out. Only got more fun as the others became drowsy and passed out from all the shots. Only you and Wren awake.

How could he resist?

Tit for tat, he offered. Which you countered with “Tits for Tattoos?”, which amused him. You pull off your shirt, in return to see one of his tattoos. He likes you naked, and you like him… Showing off to you.

You win a hand, he has to share embarrassing stories, tattoos, see if he can tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue. He wins one…

He gets to taste that pretty little mouth. Lick your teeth as his lean hands grip your thighs, pressing you close. Wren gets to grope and squeeze and touch, feeling his thigh get warmer from where you are perched so cutely. Best of all, he could tell that Remy had yet to do his husbandly duty and fuck you like a whore. You were his, and the thought of shoving your face into the pillows of the marriage bed to fuck your hole raw never crossed his mind.

Idiot.

Well, Wren was his right hand man for a reason. Pick up the slack where Remy can’t.

It isn’t the marriage bed, but it’s his, and fuck, you look good. Debauched and spreading your legs just for him. To be fucked, a couple of paces down from your mansion, in his little cottage. He couldn’t breed you, obviously, but the thought of keeping you full, sated and a happy little spouse for his friend had him stroking at your stomach greedily. All his, at least for most nights in the week, and maybe every other midday break.

Yes, Wren settles on, as he fucks into your hole roughly, enjoying the arching plane of your back as you grip his thin pillows and covers. Yes, this is how it should be. Enjoying a tight little thing in his own bed.

[venusthepirate]

like any unloved thing part seven : friends and coffee shops

Masterlist \ ao3 \ part one \ part two \ part three \ part four \ part five \ part six

taglist :  @avocado-writing @little-sunflower-bug @evangelineflowers @humbug5 @yume904 @sarcastic-sourwolf @chloeforde @illusionsnfantasies @cupofstarss @mystic-mara @staceysmomsposts @thatcharmingmushroom @www-interludeshadow-com @gingersass @hungoverhellhound @dunaahahah @raye2000 @eonnyx @supervoldejaygent​ @wanderedaway​ @princeresnikov​

Fawn doesn’t leave her apartment for the next few days.

The mere thought of going outside sends her careening into… Not panic, exactly. But every time she glances out the window, a strange sense of dread pools into her chest. She ends closing the curtains, and they stay that way, the room plunged in the dark for days.

She doesn’t mind it. She spends those days a bit out of it, either high or half asleep, drowsy in front of the tv. Maybe she ought to get better coping mechanisms or something like that, but she doesn’t feel like trying to be a reasonable adult. She at least remembers to call her agency and the coffee shop where she works to tell them she’s sick and can’t work at the moment.

She avoids responding to the few texts she receives. Though, every time her phone buzzes or rings, she can’t help but check. The disappointment every time is both maddening and pathetic. She should maybe feel scared that anyone’s trying to contact her. It could be the police. Could be… That asshole’s family, she doesn’t know. And yet, every time, she can’t quite stop herself from thinking that maybe Tangerine called her, or wrote to her.

He doesn’t. It might be the smartest thing. He helped her hide the body, if anything happened and police somehow got their hands on her phone, they would see that he contacted her.

She feels a bit angry at herself. When she has enough clarity to be able to think clearly, between two spliffs, she thinks about him, and Jesus, this is pathetic. She’s not some pining teenage girl. This isn’t some bullshit love story, some Pretty Woman thing. He’s an assassin-for-hire, and she’s a hooker, for God’s sake.

Violet tries calling her on the third day. Fawn doesn’t answer, but she sends her a quick text telling her everything’s okay, which prompts Violet into calling three more times. She doesn’t pick up, instead throwing her phone away from her and burrowing into the warm plaid around her, smushing her face against the pillow.

She killed a man. She killed a man, and here she is, getting high on her couch, and thinking about Tangerine.

She sighs, watching the way the smoke unfurls into the air, rising up to the ceiling. The whole apartment must reek of weed. She hopes her plants won’t mind too much.

She thinks back to what Tangerine told her. That she could come by his apartment to water his and Lemon’s plants. Her chest constricts at the idea. Fuck, she wants it. She wants the whole fucking… Domestic life. Not just the ideal, the fucking resemblance she gave him in those expensive hotel rooms. She wants the real thing. The intimacy. Waking up next to him. Reading with him. Water his plants.

She really needs to go easier on the weed.

Eventually, after one week and a half, she reasons that she has to go out. She can’t survive solely on instant noodles, no matter how good they are. She takes a long, scalding shower, scrubs herself until her skin turns pink. She carefully selects her clothes, throwing on black pants, the warmest black sweater she can find, a black beanie, and a long black coat. She puts on some makeup to hide the bruising on her face, and huge sunglasses. She’s glad it’s sunny outside, no one will suspect anything with the sunglasses.

She has to admit, the cold air is nice. She goes to the nearby grocery shop, wandering through the aisles. She didn’t even realize new year had passed until the cashier wishes her a happy new year. It’s already early January.

It’s weird, being outside. She feels strangely vulnerable. Like she should be different. She expects people to watch her, to instantly know what she’s done. But no one spares her a second glance. No one stops to point fingers at her and call her a murderer.

Nothing happens.

When she goes back, someone is waiting in front of her apartment. She freezes in the corridor, hands full of grocery bags, mind half wondering if she should make a run for it before the person realizes she’s here.

She must have made some noise, because the figure turns back to face her. Fawn recognizes Violet instantly, despite the big glasses encompassing her face, and the balaclava wrapped around her face.

“Fuck, Violet”, Fawn curses, trying to slow down the beating of her heart. She strides towards her door, passing next to Violet, and struggles for some time to find her key inside her pockets without having to put down her bags. “What are you doing here ?”

She lets them in, quickly putting down the bags on the floor and closing the door behind them.

“What am I doing here ?” Violet repeats, voice raising an octave higher. Shit, she’s angry. “You’ve been rejecting my calls !”

“Yeah, as a precaution ! It’s not safe to talk about this on the phone, alright ? We have to lay low for a bit.”

“Well, I couldn’t know that, since you didn’t tell me shit”, Violet retorts, crossing her arms on her chest.

They stare at each other for a moment, until Fawn realizes that they’re both still wearing those huge sunglasses. Violet must come to the same conclusion, because her lips quirk up, and then they’re both laughing. It’s more of a nervous laugh than anything, or maybe just because they’re relieved, but they can’t stop for at least five minutes. Every time Fawn thinks the laughter will finally die down, it starts again. Her chest starts to hurt at the end, and she kind of wants to sit down on the ground.

She’s worried she’s just going to start crying in the end.

“Fuck”, Violet says at last, wiping at her cheeks. She takes off her glasses and her balaclava. Fawn is met with the sight of the bruises on her face, not unlike her own, except Violet’s face is more battered than hers. There’s a huge purple bruise on her forehead, on the bridge of her nose and her temples.  “Was worrying myself sick, you asshole. I kept checking the news every ten minutes.”

“Sorry”, Fawn murmurs, taking off her beanie and glasses too. She finally gives up and sits on the floor, not quite feeling like her legs can support her longer. “How are you ?”

“Not bad”, Violet replies, sitting down too. “My nose was broken, but my boyfriend reset it. He’s a nurse.”

Fawn nods.

“That’s good. Did you… Tell him ?”

She shakes her head, looking away. “I thought it would be too risky. Didn’t want to rope him into this shitshow, in case of…” She cuts off. “What happened, after I left ? Did you… talk to the police ?

Fawn tries to find the words. Fuck, how does she explain what happened ? She can’t talk about Tangerine. She doesn’t want to break his trust, and Violet would worry. No one would react well to the news that someone is an assassin for hire.

Except herself, it seems.

“It’s complicated”, she murmurs. “Look, it’s best you don’t know, alright ? Someone helped me, and you don’t have to worry. The body won’t be found, nothing will be traced back to you. I promise.”

Violet stares at her for a moment, before nodding. She still looks unsure, like she wants to press Fawn for more answers, but she must understand that she won’t tell her any more, so she doesn’t ask again. She looks around, and turns up her nose.

“Your place reeks of weed.”

Fawn snorts out a laugh.

“You’re one to talk, you look like utter shit.”

Violet rolls her eyes.

“Girl, have you seen yourself ?”

They both can’t help but giggle. Fuck, this feels good. Being able to laugh, after spending the last few days wallowing in self-pity and pining.

“I’ve been smoking weed and watching TV for the last week”, Fawn tells her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do the same.”

“Well, I didn’t, actually. I smoked maybe once. And then I cuddled a lot with my boyfriend.”

Something in Fawn’s chest aches, of all sudden, pulsing hot pain against her lungs. She’s reminded of that night. Slipping into Tangerine’s bed. His arms wrapping around her, pressing his face against her throat. His breath against her skin. The grip of his hand at the back of her neck, gently holding.

Cuddling.

She shakes her head, trying to disperse these thoughts.

This is starting to get really fucking pathetic.

She forces a smile out.

“I’m glad you have him”, Fawn tells her. “How did you explain the bruises and the broken nose, though ?”

“I told him the truth. I couldn’t really lie. I told him a client did this, and that’s it.”

“Oh”, Fawn murmurs. “But… Is he going to be okay now with you doing this job ?”

“I’m not.” At Fawn’s confused look, she goes on. “I’m not going to do it anymore. I called the agency three days ago. Told them I quit.”

Fawn definitely was not expecting that. She doesn’t know why, because, in hindsight, she should have. A client attacked them, almost killed Violet. And she has her boyfriend now.

“I knew I wasn’t going to do this forever, you know ?” Violet continues, as if she wants to convince her of something. “It was kinda fun, at first. Pretending to be someone else, being desired. The easy money. But… I stopped enjoying it for while, I think. If anything, what happened is… A wake-up call, if you want. It’s best to see it that way.”

“Oh”, Fawn repeats, unable to say anything else.

She hadn’t really thought of it. She’s never really thought about… Stopping this work, before. It’s been a constant in her life. The pay is good, easy. But now that she thinks about it, she realizes that Violet may be right. It was fun at first. But now… She doesn’t know if she still enjoys it. Clients liked a conversation, but now there seems to be less and less of them. She liked that part too, maybe more than the sex in itself.

“What about you ?” Violet asks. “You still planning on taking clients ?”

“I don’t know. I told the agency I was sick, but… I never really planned on doing something else. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Violet nods.

“You should think about it. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life, I’ll support your decision no matter what it is. But I think you should consider it.”

Fawn thinks of Tangerine again.

She realizes now, how similar they actually are. He’s not just a client, is he ? She always knew that, could always sense that he wasn’t like the other clients she had. There was something too… wild, about him. He’s like her, in some ways. Selling his services to richer people. She wonders if he enjoys it.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it”, she finally settles on answering, voice quiet.

Violet reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing gently.

“I’m glad you’re okay”, Violet tells her, voice sincere. “If you had gone to jail, I… I don’t know what I would have done. I can never thank you enough for what you did.”

Fawn smiles, blinking against the sudden tears in her eyes. She nods, squeezing her hand back.

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who…” Killed him, she doesn’t say. She can’t really bring herself to speak it aloud, sometimes.

It sounds surreal, every time. When she tries to remember what happened at that moment, her mind goes blank. She can’t describe precisely the scene, apart from vague feelings and sensations. Wetness on her hands. The feeling of the knife tearing through flesh. The sound of Tangerine’s steps as he stepped into the pool of blood.

“You did it because he attacked me”, Violet argues. “If it weren’t for me…”

“Don’t fucking say that”, Fawn snaps. Violet stares at her, wide-eyed, surprised at her outburst. Fawn takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I don’t blame you for what happened and I never will. And I don’t regret what I did. He was a creep. Alright ?”

She nods after a moment, stunned into silence. Fuck, she shouldn’t have talked like that.

“I just… I just wish you didn’t have to do it”, Violet murmurs, at last, very quiet.

Fawn reaches out, pulling her into her arms. Violet’s arms come around her, hugging her back just as tightly.

It takes another week before Fawn feels like she can finally go back to work. Her bruises have faded enough that she can cover them with some foundation. She calls the café, tells them she’s no longer sick and can take shifts.

She doesn’t call the agency, though. She contemplates it, sitting in her bed, the contact open, her thumb hovering over the call button. But Violet’s words are still deeply anchored in her mind. Does she still enjoy it doing this ? She did, with Tangerine, and she didn’t at the same time. She liked the conversations, being wanted for tender touches. She didn’t like the way it sometimes made her feel. The way she started craving those touches too.

She wants him. There’s no denying that anymore. She wants the almost sickly sweet domestic moments with him, falling asleep and waking up together. Wants to sit at his kitchen and watch while he makes her tea like he did last time.

Does he want it, though ? He told her, the first time that he met her, that he wanted something other than sex. That he didn’t have time for making connections. It wouldn’t take any of his time here. They already knew each other, they were already… Intimate. She couldn’t think of any other words to describe their situation.

But every time, she’s reminded of his reaction, when she kissed him. He told her he didn’t want sex, but she doesn’t really understand what he meant by this.

She wallows in her thoughts, forcing a smile every time a customer walks to the counter to order something. She finds her café shifts relaxing. The smell of cinnamon, coffee and hot chocolate wrapped around her. The soft music playing into the speakers.

She’s busy wiping the counter and the coffee machine when she hears the entrance bell. She looks up, ready to welcome whoever arrived and to ask them what they’ll be drinking, but she freezes, stunned into silence.

Tangerine strides towards her. His hair is styled back like it usually is, curling at his nape. He’s wearing a navy suit and a long matching coat.

She’s so surprised she doesn’t even greet him, just staring at him as he stops behind the counter. His fingers lightly drum against it, his gold rings glinting.

“Tangerine”, Fawn finally manages to say, getting a grip on herself.

“Hey, love”, he replies, easily.

“What… What are you doing here ? How did you… No, don’t answer that, I don’t even want to know”, she rambles, struggling to find her words. Tangerine seems amused. She wants to bash his head with the coffee machine.

“I’ll take a coffee, black, please”, he says, instead of answering her question. She stares at him, aware that she’s doing it. What is happening. “When does your shift end ?”

She contemplates not answering him, but he came all this way. She realizes, with startling clarity, that maybe he’s here to talk to her about the body. What if something happened ?

“I have a break in twenty minutes”, she hears herself reply.

Tangerine nods. “Great. I’ll wait for you out back, then.”

She doesn’t know what to think of this. Her mind is half torn between panic and being glad to see him. She busies herself with making his coffee, tries not to look at him, but the way he keeps drumming his fingers on the counter is very distracting.

She finally slides his coffee in front of him. He deposits a few coins in front of her, drops a bill (is that a fifty) into her tip jar, and grabs his drink.

“Cheers, love”, he says. “I’ll see you in twenty”, and with that, he walks out.

Fawn stares at the door for what might be ten minutes after he’s departed. She’s not sure she believes what just happened.

He knew her phone number without her ever giving it to him. He knows where she lives since he drove her back, and apparently now knows where she works too.

Jesus.

She wants to chew him out for his disrespect of her privacy. But he’s an assassin. It seems like being aware of things is a given, in this situation.

She wants to tell him what she feels. Wants to ask him what he wants.

Fuck.

Her break seems like it might never come, and also like it came way too fast. Before she knows it, she’s unwrapping her apron, setting it down in the backroom, and opening the door leading to the small alley at the back of the café.

Tangerine’s waiting there, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He flicks the ashes off. His cup of coffee sits at his feet, empty.

She wordlessly extends a hand, and he passes the cigarette to her. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her as she takes a drag of it. She gives it back to him.

“So”, she finally speaks. “What are you doing here ?”

Tangerine half shrugs. He suddenly seems a bit self-conscious, his confidence from before melting away.

“Here to check on you, I guess.”

“You could’ve called”, Fawn points out. “You have my phone number. You even know where I live.”

Tangerine shuffles a bit. “Was trying to be respectful, or some shit”, he mutters.

Fawn can’t help the way her lips widen into a smile. “By showing up at my workplace ?”

“Oh, hush, will you”, he grumbles. “I’m shit at this, alright.”

She snorts, taking the cigarette from his fingers again.

“Called your agency, actually”, he adds. “They told me you weren’t available.”

Fawn’s throat gets suddenly dry. She manages not to choke on her next drag, breathing deeply, trying to clear her throat.

“Yeah, I… I’m taking a break, I think.” Tangerine remains silent, waiting for her to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll come back.”

“Oh”, he simply says. Fawn glances up at him, trying to decipher his expression, but his face is downcast, staring at the ground. Something in her chest twists at this.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore”, she adds, before she can second-guess herself. At this, Tangerine looks up.

“Yeah ?”

This time, it’s her turn to look away. She tries to swallow under the heavy lump inside her throat. His voice sounded so… Fucking hopeful. Vulnerable, and guarded at the same time. She doesn’t know what to think of it.

“Yeah”, she murmurs, quietly. She clears her throat again. “How’s Lemon, anyway ? Did you buy him real plants ?”

Tangerine snorts, taking a drag of the cigarette, before dropping it on the ground and stepping on it. Fawn almost wants to tell him not to leave it here, but she doesn’t.

“I wanted to, actually. But we’re leaving for Tokyo for a job tomorrow, so I thought it was best to wait until we came back.”

“Tokyo”, Fawn repeats.

“Yeah. Hence the visit. I wanted to give you this, too.”

She watches as he pulls out small box and an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit and hands them to her. She takes them slowly, a bit unsure.

“What’s this ?” She asks.

“That’s the money I forgot to pay you last time”, he replies, motioning towards the envelope. “Plus some interests. And that’s a gift.”

Fawn raises an eyebrow, glancing up at him. He looks a bit embarrassed, raking a hand through his hair.

She looks back down at the box, and opens it. There’s a pocket knife inside. She frowns, gently plucking it out and flipping it open. She can immediately see that this is not a cheap thing like the one she had. The handle is smooth beneath her fingers, the blade sharp and shiny.

“To replace the one you had”, Tangerine supplies, rather unhelpfully. He takes a step forward, gently taking it from her hands and closing it, putting it back inside the box.

“I… Thank you”, Fawn tells him, unable to find her words and to look at him.

“Hey”, Tangerine says, coming even closer, until he’s right into her space. She can feel his cologne, and see the way his chest rises when he breathes. “What’s the matter ?”

He brushes a finger against her chin, and pushes a bit until she has no choice but to look up at him. She’s met with his face, a few inches away from her. She sucks in a sharp breath. Why do his eyes have to be so fucking blue ?

“I…” She tries to say, but fails to come up with anything. She can’t think, not with his fingers brushing against her face.

He looks concerned, a little crease between his eyebrows as he’s frowning. It really should not be as endearing as it is. Fawn wants to do something stupid, like cry, or kiss him.

He opens his mouth to say something, and she does just that. Closing the remaining distance between them, hand curling around the curls at his nape and angling his face down to meet her. She presses a kiss against his lips, soft, almost chaste, before pulling away. He looks at her, wide-eyed.

She raises her other hand to settle it on his chest, just on top of his heart. She can almost feel the fluttering beating against her palm.

“Don’t freak out”, she whispers, almost pleadingly.

For a fleeting moment, fear grasps her lungs. She thinks he’s going to leave again and for good this time. Tell her that’s not what he wants.

But then his hand comes up to the side of her neck, and he’s leaning down and kissing her. She parts her lips, kissing him back, her fingers curling tighter around his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His mouth is urgent against hers, warm and soft. He tastes like coffee and smoke, and she can’t get enough of it.

She doesn’t realize he’s backing her off until her shoulders hit the wall behind her. He presses against her, tongue brushing against hers. Fawn feels like everything around her has collapsed into a hazy, foggy dream. She can’t focus on anything else than his lips against hers, and his hands on her skin.

She pulls a bit at his hair, and he whines against her mouth, breaking off the kiss. He doesn’t pull away, though, pressing his forehead against hers. They breathe against each other for a moment, panting.

“It’s okay”, she tells him, quietly. “It’s okay.”

His hands frame her face, his fingers warm and the metal of his rings cold on her skin. She lets him hold her, his grip firm but tender. She can feel how swollen her lips are. His are not better, pink and shiny with spit.

He presses his lips against hers again, long and insistent. She feels like the breath has been knocked out of her, warmth pooling in her lower stomach.

“Don’t be scared”, she murmurs between kisses.

When they finally break away again, his eyes are dark. But there’s something genuine, sincere and open in his expression.

“I’m not”, he tells her, voice rough. She closes his eyes, leaning against his touch. He kisses her forehead, and she almost wants to burst into tears, arms wrapping around his waist to hold him back. She can feel his breathing beneath her palms.

She looks up at him.

“I’m not”, he repeats, without blinking and looking away from her, and kisses her again.

[chaoticwastelandthing]

Life Lessons

Chad sat on the balcony of his new home.  A palatial estate with 8 bedrooms, an indoor/outdoor swimming pool, and a guest house, all overlooking a beautifully landscaped forty acres of land.  He and his college buddies had all landed 6 figure jobs out of college and over the last few years, each of them amassed a small fortune as they worked their way up the corporate ladder.  They were five ruthless businessmen that had each landed trophy wives that were kept in line and forced to maintain strict obedience to their desires.  When they were together, they would drink expensive whiskey, smoke Cuban cigars, and talk about how they must maintain control over the marriage because men deserved whatever they wanted, especially powerful men like them. 

He was remembering how they brought their wives over to his house last weekend and first made them eat each other out and then decided to allow their best friends take their wives' anal cherry.  He got to take Dan’s wife Barbera’s ass and “break her in”.  Mike had the privilege of taking Chad’s wife Mary’s ass.  Chad was thinking that since Mary had now had anal sex, he would insist on it from now on. 

While Chad was rubbing his growing cock thinking about anal sex with Mary, his phone rang.  Dan was calling to see if Chad had heard from Mike, Alan, or Rob in the last few days.  The five men spoke on a nearly daily schedule, and it was strange to not hear from them, but he had not thought of it until now.  “Were they going out of town?”  Chad asked.  “No, and their wives are not answering their phones either”, Dan said.  Chad said that he would go over to Mike’s house to see what was going on and get back to him. 

Chad rang the doorbell of Mike’s house and his wife, Tina, answered the door.  She was wearing a very low-cut crop-top and some of the shortest shorts he had ever seen.  Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail helped make her “casual” look sexy as fuck.  He was thinking that if Mike was not there, maybe he would get to fuck Tina.  Mike wouldn’t mind and he would let him fuck his wife when he gets back into town.  “Hey Tina, is Mike here?”  She smiled and said “He should be back in a few minutes, why don’t you come in and wait for him?”  “I will fuck her next time”, he thought, but said “sounds great” and walked through the door into the living room where he was floored by the woman that was sitting there.  She had the biggest tits he had ever seen in real life and that is saying a lot.  Everyone he knew had made their wives get the biggest implants they could handle.  As Tina handed Chad a drink, she said “this is my friend Julia who just came into town and will be staying here.”  Julia stood, held out her perfectly manicured hand and said “Chad, it is a great pleasure to meet you.  You are even sexier than Tina described you.”   

Chad shook her hand while taking a drink of the brandy Tina had given him.  As impressive as Julia’s body was, the rest of her body was even more so.  Long legs, tiny waist, waist length wavy hair, and an ample butt.  Julia reached down and started rubbing Chad’s growing cock and he knew that he was going to be fucking this bitch before the day was over.  Maybe he could convince her to come by his house and have a 3-way with his wife.  While trying to think of something to say, he realized that he was getting very drowsy, so he sat down and passed out.  He woke up with Tina standing over him and he realized he was strapped to a bed.  He then realized that his wife Mary, Barbera, Alan’s wife Debbie, and Rob’s wife Anne were all in the room as well.  He figured they all wanted to do some sort of bondage thing with him and started to tell them that he was the alpha, he was the one in control, but he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move his arms or legs either.  What the fuck is going on???   

Mary came over and said, “You boys have been torturing us for too long now and we decided it is about time that you learn what it is like to be treated like a whore.  We found a great way to do this where you will never be able to forget.  Turns out, one of Mike’s companies had developed an experimental serum that performs gender reassignment without surgery.  It was shelved because the transformation was too effective.  It would turn men into bimbos by giving them huge breasts, long legs, long hair, tiny waist, and an insatiable desire for sex.  To make things worse, as they received sperm, the effect was amplified.  The women became even more voluptuous and horny.  They craved more cock, and more cum making them sexier and sexier as they received it.” 

“Bullshit!” thought Chad.  Tina said “You probably don’t believe her, but you have already seen the results.  Even we were impressed with Mike’s transformation into Julia.  We are going to have fun teaching you what it’s like to be treated like a whore.” 

To be continued...

[feiar]

this is a long one so heads up. most of it is world and character building so I'm sorry if that's not what you're looking for.

I had finally, after some very hard months of training and practice with the other guild members, been selected to join.

a crow tapped on my window at dawn, it had woken me up quite suddenly. I opened the window and the crow helped itself inside, knocking over several things before landing on my kitchen table. In its beak was a letter addressed to me. The crow let me take the letter after a bit of haggling and I read it carefully.

"I hope this letter reaches you well..." blah blah blah, I honestly just skimmed it over. My eyes immediately stopped at the most important sentence in the entire letter; "you have been accepted as an official member of the dragon riders guild." I had to reread that a few more times to make sure my drowsiness wasn't making me hallucinate. It was in fact real.

"we ask of you to meet the rest of the guild for initiation at dusk. Do not be late, else you will not be able to join until the next selecting process; next year." Well that's nice, I didn't have to rush to be there on time. I could go back to my blissful- ah right, there's still a crow in my house. it didn't seem to want to leave despite my efforts. I gave up trying after 5 minuets and just went back to sleep.

I woke up about 20 minutes later to the crow squawking in my ear. I honestly didn't know why it was still here but if it was still here than it wants something from me. I 'gave' it some of my breakfast (it stole my bacon) and got ready for the day.

I figured I would just do things like I normally do on a Wednesday; go to the shops and see what's on sale, train for a little while, and a bit of dragon study. overall, a simple short schedule but it really does stretch out over the hours, especially with an annoying crow who won't leave me alone for 5 minutes. I really hate this crow.

The shops didn't have anything special, there was some fruit on sale which I decided to buy, along with some herbs that would be useful for the dragons. There also wasn't any traveling merchants in today, which was disappointing but there was nothing I could really do about it.

I couldn't focus during the rest of my day, I was too excited. to be fair it was me; Jasson Richard (stupid name, I know, I have no clue what my parents were thinking.) the guy who was known as "the creepy dragon guy" for a good majority of my life, the guy who was way too nerdy and pathetic to have the ability to be with creatures as large and majestic as dragons. I don't blame them for calling me pathetic, I am pretty pathetic. I used to believe the stupid tales of monsters lurking in the dark. Children are so gullible.

If my excitement wasn't enough to be a distraction the crow was definitely the distraction. Why the hells is this annoying bird still here? I should probably take that up to the guild when I see them.

The guild selects a few members each year out of thousands of applicants, and they choose based off of a number of different things. Most people would assume strength is the most important but that's not exactly the case. They are looking for people who can actually handle the dragons; people who will care for them and treat them like how they would treat a child. Dragons are intelligent beings themselves so its not surprising.

I reviewed the final pages of some books before I deemed it the right time to leave. The crow was silent by this point (thank the gods) and I got ready. I figured I should dress somewhat nice...on second thought maybe I shouldn't, after all these are dragons; they may be majestic but they are still quite messy. I stepped outside to see the sun was already basically gone over the horizon...

FUCK

welp my previous plans of not having to rush are out the window as I booked it across the city. That little bastard crow wanted to annoy me when I wasn't time but the moment it was it wants to keep silent. I passed carriages and wagons packing up their supplies for the night and ran into a few people in my scramble to get there on time.

I eventually reached the guild house. it was so much bigger in person than in passing. the outside walls were well made with sturdy stone and quartz lining the edges. on both sides of the house were the stables; where the dragons are kept and mostly handled. I read about a lot of the stuff that was released to the public by the guild and plenty of books about theories and news relating to the guild, but i never thought I would get to be a part of it.

I very nervously knocked on the door to the gates. Was I too late? are they not going to let me in now? Was I going to have to wait another year for this opportunity?

After a couple moments of suspense the door opened; it was a larger man, more muscular; the type of person you would definitely think the be a dragon handler. he greeted me with a smile.

"welcome in. I assume you are the last of the new members? you made it just in time!"

"I'm not late?"

"nope! your lucky, can I have your name?"

"Jasson Richard"

"right! its a pleasure to meet you Jasson!" he smiled again. for someone who looked tough he was quite nice. "I'm Derek Damian, i believe you've heard of me?"

I had heard of him, this is one of the guild leaders, the current ones that is. he's known for his tributes to the central kingdom of chershlov and how he somehow managed to train dragons specifically for battle; something that has never been done successfully. and- "I'll take that as a yes then?" he chuckled a bit. I had no idea I was lost in my thoughts like that, whoops. "y-yes sorry-"

"no need for apologies, now come inside so we can get you in here officially" he motioned me inside and I followed in, well more like bounced in; I was still extremely excited.

The house was much bigger on the inside it seems; the walls were lined with dark wood that looked especially nice with the stone pillars you would see every 10 feet or so. I followed Derek down a few central hallways, my nervousness made the walk seem like hours rather than a few minutes. He opened large double doors that lead to a very large and intricate room, carvings of dragons covered the lining of wood that separated the celling, and the pillars were made out of various crystals rather than stone. The room was pretty empty other than four more people standing around a pedestal. looking closer the pedestal had one singular egg resting on top.

This was it. This is the moment i had been waiting for all my life. The four other people looked toward me. they all had pleasant smiles on their faces. It made me a little less nervous.

"you are Jasson Richard, correct?" said a lady, she looked like she couldn't hurt anything, not even a fly if she wanted. she looked so kind and innocent.

"y-yes"

"there is no need to be nervous Mr. Richard. I can assure you everything is fine" she said with a soft reassuring smile. It did make me feel better.

"you have been selected to join the dragons guild." said another man, he was definitely the oldest of the five. "this initiation is an honorable thing you know. take it with pride like how you will take your first dragon."

I stood there like an awkward dork for a while. all these great people just staring at me; the said dork who has no clue how I'm here. eventually Derek gestured to the eggs and I realized now's the time I would take one, shit. I'm doing a great job screwing this up.

I go up to the pedestal and reach out to the only egg, touching the shell carefully.

the egg wiggled a bit under my touch.

I stared in awe. this was my first time being close to a dragon egg let alone touch one. this was definitely a 'holy shit' moment.

anyways the egg continued to wiggle and even begin to crack. If I wasn't trying to be professional in that moment I totally would be bouncing up and down out of sheer joy and excitement.

the egg cracked more...

and more...

and more...

eventually I saw a little eye peek out at me and I could hardly contain myself.

the dragon emerged from the eggshells a few moments later...

it was small...

very very small...

why was it small? dragons aren't supposed to be this small? the average size of a baby dragon is about the size of a grown mans torso, and this little guy was the size of my palm. and he was skinny too, this was a strange dragon. was it even a dragon? or was it just a snake with wings?

it rested its head in my hands and I stared at it with the most pure confusion. and its not like I was the only one either, everyone else had some sort of confusion on their face.

why was it me who got the strange dragon?

Every dragon rider gets a dragon egg to hatch upon their initiation to the guild. When your egg hatched, Your dragon came out a bit… Different.

[pointreyesjournal]

The Amnesiac : ep35

Saturday Morning Pancakes and Other Fucking Amazing Shit

I’m somewhere in a state of consciousness between asleep and awake when I feel River wrap her arm around me and cuddle up against my chest. I open my eyes and begin to say good morning but I stop myself before a word comes out of my mouth when I realize that River is completely asleep in my ams. The skies are dark and cloudy as the rain lashes against the window. My left arm is under River, so I have no way of checking my wristwatch to see what time it is. I decide that lucky is the man who gets to lay in the arms of a Scandinavian California girl, so I nuzzle up against her tightly and drift back into the state between consciousness until she begins to stir.

When she awakens, there’s no sign of drowsiness. Her eyes are immediately bright and focused on me and she leans in for a morning kiss. “What time is it?” she asks. I wriggle my arm out from underneath her and take a glance at my watch. “Oh wow, nine twenty! We really slept in.” I tell her. “I was dreaming about you so I stayed asleep as long as possible” she tells me with a thrust of her tongue in my mouth. I pounce on top of her, thrust her arms high up over her head toward the headboard and kiss every square inch of her body from wrists to ankles. A few extra kisses below the belly button net me explosive results and she finishes me off in reciprocal fashion.“Still hungry for breakfast?” I ask her jokingly when she’s done with me. She glances up at me from under the covers. “Pancakes sound really good right now!” she says. “I’ll bet they have them downstairs” I tell her “and we’re going nowhere fast with this lashing rain.” She gives my bare thighs a hard squeeze with her claws and with glancing smile she tells me “let’s go!”

We clean up with a warm shower (together again), get dressed and wander downstairs to the cafe in flip-flops. The hostess seats us against a window overlooking the raging sea as the rain continues to lash down. River orders pancakes, and I do too. They’re incredible. Buttermilk batter that’s been allowed plenty of time to rise, so they’re light and fluffy under real maple syrup.  We gorge and enjoy beautifully crafted lattes. A vent at the base of the wall is gently pumping warm air onto our feet. It’s cozy and when the pancakes are gone we order a second round of coffees so we can just sit by the window and enjoy more time at the table. We are completely simpatico and it makes me realize that I’ll probably never have to spend another night alone for as long as I live.

The rain is lightening up by the time the second coffees arrive and by the time we’re finished, there’s a little patch of blue sky far out on the horizon that appears to be headed our way. River asks the waitress about the weather forecast. She checks her phone and says it will be all-clear by noon, so we pay and then ask the front desk for a late checkout.

River turns on The Weather Channel when we get back to the room and looking at the forecast, it’s pretty obvious that making a beeline for Leavenworth would put us into the eye of the storm. We’re better off staying west and following the coast north for as long as possible. So that’s what we’ll do.

By the time we’ve got the Ducati loaded with the panniers at noon, the rain has largely passed, but this is the pacific northwest where weather is unpredictable and more-often-than-not unpleasant, so we visit a local fisherman’s supply store before leaving town and get a couple of rain slickers … just in case.

Onward north.

There’s a chill in the air that we haven’t experienced yet and River clings tightly to me for warmth. The plainly descriptive location names continue as we pass Otter Rock and Seal Rock en route to the cheddar capital of the pacific northwest, Tillamook. The big glass cheese factory building is quite unusual for the area and catches our attention immediately. There’s a hip, rustic looking coffee shack across the street so I pull in there for a quick word with River. “Cheese factory tour?” I ask. “Coffee first” she replies.

Excellent idea! Rain and fog are more common than sunshine on the Oregon coast so the local people have developed the art of coffee making to a level only seen in European cities like Vienna, Rome and Venice. The little coffee shop is empty except for a gorgeous native American looking girl with long back hair and perfect chocolate colored skin working both the cash register and making the coffee.

“Welcome in” she tell us.

“Such a cute little coffee shop” River exclaims.

“Thanks!” the barista replies.

“Where’s your bathroom?” asks River.

“Right over there” the barista points to a little black wooden door in the corner with a sign on the door with three pictograms on it - a man, a woman and an alien - and text underneath that reads “we don’t care what you are, just wash your hands when you’re finished.” River has a giggle as she latches the door behind her.

“Quad shot whole milk latte again?” the barista asks.

“How do you know my order?”

“I remember from last time. We roast strong coffee here and nobody orders quad shots unless they have a defibrillator nearby. Aren’t you the guy from California on the motorcycle?”

“Holy shit. You’ve got a good memory! Much better than mine.”

“Thanks. Not a lot of motorcycles in these parts. What does your friend want? I don’t remember her order.”

“You wouldn’t remember her, she wasn’t with me last time.”

“That’s weird, I could swear she was with you last time.”

River comes out of the bathroom with a spring in her step. “Miss, what can I getcha?” the barista asks. “Vanilla latte please” River tells her, and then I pay. The barista pulls the shots and assembles the drinks and has them on the bar in lighting speed while I ponder what just happened. We take our drinks from the bar and I offer a toast to River in light of this most recent discovery … “To convergence!” I toast with our paper cups.

“You won’t believe what just happened.”

Under the window, sat at a little two top like the one we sit at in our home coffee shop I tell River the incredible story of the barista recognizing me and even remembering my order. Then I tell her that the barista remembers her too. River is genuinely perplexed. It’s clear that I’ve been here, but this is River’s first time to the Oregon coast. I truly believe that River’s spirit had followed me on my previous journey, that’s why I keep manifesting her in my memories. But only I can see that, and unless we’re living inside of some science fiction movie, there’s no way the barista could have seen her before. River shakes her head in confusion. Her incredulity is completely justified.

“Floody, there’s a lot of weird, mystical, spiritual shit going on here.”

“Yes. Yes there is.”

“The problem is, I always joke about manifest destiny and karma and crap, but I’ve never actually seen it come true. Like, there are coincidences from time to time where you say ‘wow, that’s amazing’ … but this, this is truly amazing. I look at you and us and how we’ve become one on this journey, and I think about the universe and the stars and God and magic. I feel like something truly remarkable is unfolding before my very eyes, but I keep telling myself, this isn’t possible!”

“Well … it might seem impossible, but it’s not.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s happening, and there’s no denying it.”

River takes the last gulp from her drink, stands up and tosses the cup into the wastebasket.

“No fucking way, it’s just crazy” River exclaims as she’s heading for the door. Then she stops right in the middle of the room, next to the empty wine barrel acting as a merchandise display and looks right at the barista.

“What was I wearing last time I was here?” River asks.

“A white sweater, and right as you were about to walk out the door you asked me if the cheese factory tour is worth doing.” the barista replies.

River turns and looks across the room at me in absolute astonishment and disbelief. “I was totally going to ask her that” she tells me.

I just shrug my shoulders. This is happening.

[facks-stories]

Twins - part 2

Initials key:

Mi? - milan [story]

Mi - milan [irl]

Ad - Adrain

So - Sombra

Ca - Capa

To - Tocada

-9:14am-

mi - "no-, nope-"

she tried closing the door but milan stops her, pulling her into the shed in a way that looked a lot more painful then it actually was, she stumbled in but over all was fine.

the other 3 couldn't be seen by animals or people other then milan so none of them bothered to move, though Sombra softly stoped Tocada from getting closer.

mi - "what the FUCK?" mi? - "can you be quiet"

mi - "no- I'm looking at myself and it isn't in a mirror, are you me?"

mi? - "no, not at all, what happened to your book?"

the other 3 looked at her confused, they had the art book, especially Capa, was he was drawing in it right now, but he was quick to realize she had one for writing too,

mi - "my art book?"

mi? - "no the story"

mi - "shit, I never wrote the full story down, thought about a few things but- wait still who the hell are you?"

mi? - 'fuck just finish your thought' "a character you made,"

mi - "uh.. which one?"

mi? - "the only one you didn't bother naming,"

mi - "uh, well I didn't ever draw you like this, you were kinda a void, being thing. why do you look like me?"

mi? - "we changed a bit, and don't ask me how I got here, I don't know, i'm trying to get back now"

...

mi? - *sigh* "now where is the book?"

drowsy, who would have thought not sleeping well for years now would make you sleepy if you were all of a sudden more human and real then you could ever be in a book.

mi? - "fuck.. I didn't sleep before this all happened"

a slight head ache, now the mix of light from the door paired with the lack of it in the shed was only making the slight headache mild. this was the first time in years feeling pain and a head ache wasn't the best first pain. it made her feel powerless.

mi - "I mean you could sleep in my room I guess"

mi? - "I was going to anyway."

mi - "I- uh, I'll show you my room"

mi? - "I don't need you to, I know where it is"

mi - "uhm.. how??"

mi? - "some shit fucked up when you made me and I get almost all your memories, just stay here, when does your bother get home?"

mi - "uh, about 12- 2 maybe"

mi? - "i'll guess 1, bye"

she left the shed, a few seconds later and milan heard a clicking sound, she tried opening the door but couldn't, she looked out the window, passing right though Capa on her way over to It, but she was already gone, only seeing the back door close.

-1:30pm-

milan hadn't slept, instead she cleaned the house, just as she started to not care about a horrific dream she could have, a knock on the door woke her up out of the mer seconds of sleep.

she opened the door, Adrian was at the door, leaning next to the door frame, he expected her to be a little later then she was.

ad - " holy shit you are alive and well,"

mi? - "I wouldn't use well-" -mi-

ad - "yeah, when did you sleep last-"

mi? - "shit, i've been up since 10 last night" -mi-

ad - "dude, at that point just go to sleep, you look like you are about the drop"

mi - " I was until you forgot your keys, you know theres a spare under the doormat" -mi-

ad - "why use a spare when my little sister can just open the door"

at this point they walked together into the living room, where milan was about to sleep, she sat back on the couch and he continued walking to his room. she grunted but got up and went outside, not locking the door behind her. she used the house key, which was the same key for the lock, to open the shed, the real milan was asleep, Capa was sitting next to her and Sombra was still with Tocada in the far back.

she shook her softly,

mi? - "hey.. wake up."

mi - "huh.. what, A-"

she only got the very first part of the scream out before milan covered her mouth while she calmed down

mi? - "I cleaned the house, your brother is home, and say you have been up since 10 if anyone asks."

milan didn't let go of her face so she just nodded 'yes'

[adoringhaikyuu]

you have a nightmare that they cheated on you

characters: akaashi + iwaizumi + oikawa + (gn!reader)

request: hi! can I request a headcanon where akaashi, iwaizumi, and oikawa wake up to you having a nightmare that they cheated on you? something fluffy please 🙏🏼🥺 • by @vitamingummies

warnings: mentions of cheating ig but it doesn’t actually happen obvi– + a lil bit of angst

notes: hope u enjoy <3 i tried to make them all a bit different! (i don’t think i’ll do anymore of these tho cause i feel like i’ve run out of possibilities for it to go)

akaashi:

akaashi stirred awake slightly when he felt you moving around on your side of the bed

he was half asleep, drifting in and out

and he felt the bed dip as you got up, which he assumed meant that you were going to the bathroom

but once he realized it’d been a while since you left, he checked the time, 3am 

he got up to go look for you, wiping his eyes sleepily

he went to the bathroom and frowned when the lights were off and you were nowhere to be found

he slugged off to the kitchen, then the living room and was shocked to see you sitting there in the dark, wrapped up in a blanket

“baby?” his voice was deep and groggy as he padded over to you, yawning before continuing. “what are you doing out here?” 

you noticed him, but didn’t look up, trying to hide your face from him, which, even in his drowsy state, he knew was a bad sign. 

he bent down in front of you and felt the fatigue jump out of his body when he realized you had tears falling down your cheeks. “what’s wrong? what happened?” he brought his hands to your cheeks and tried to wipe the tears, but more kept falling seemingly at a faster rate once he touched you. 

he tried to catch your eye, but you wouldn’t let him. “come on baby, please talk to me? i’m not going anywhere until i figure out what’s wrong.” 

he sat down next to you and pulled you into his lap, making sure the blanket was secure before holding you tight and running his hand up and down your side soothingly. 

when your cries had reduced to sniffles and you calmed down a bit, you spoke up, playing with the collar of akaashi’s shirt to distract yourself. “i just...it’s stupid––”

he interrupted immediately, “of course it’s not stupid, if it made you this upset then we should talk about it. i wanna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

you nodded and swallowed, psyching yourself up to reveal everything to him. “well i––i had a dream, no, a nightmare really,” you laughed humorlessly. “where you um...you left me? well that was after you cheated on me but...” you felt him take a deep breath, “it just felt so real, you know? it hurt like a lot and then i woke up because it was so painful and i guess...the emotions carried through even after i left the dream.” you sighed, “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to worry you, i just...i don’t know, i needed to clear my head, i guess.” 

a few seconds passed before you felt a gentle hand under your chin, raising your head. you finally looked into akaashi’s eyes and he spoke up. “baby, i’m sorry that you experienced that, even if it was just a dream. just hearing about it hurts me too.” he swiped his thumb over your cheek and you nuzzled into his touch. “but know that i would never ever do that to you, i could never hurt you like that and i won’t, okay?” he waited for you to nod in agreement before nodding as well and pulling you into a hug. “i’m here to love and protect you, remember that.” he kissed your cheek but didn’t let you out of the hug. 

“are you better now?” again, he waited for you to nod. “let’s go back to bed, yeah?” he hugged you tight. “i’m not letting you go tonight.” 

iwaizumi:

iwaizumi grunted, confused when he felt you moving around more than usual behind him, 

no longer wrapped around him with one leg over his waist like how you had fallen asleep

when he heard you mumble a few things under your breath, he thought maybe you were just dreaming 

but when he heard a whimper of his name, followed by “please no––”

he turned around immediately, and turned on his bedside lamp, concerned and alert

he noticed that your face looked like it was in pain, like you were hurt

he put a hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb

“wake up sweetheart.”

you shook your head from side to side, seemingly wrestling with what you were seeing in your nightmare

he kissed your forehead, “come on, come back to me. open your eyes for me baby.”

he shook your side a few times and you finally opened your eyes, but he frowned when he noticed the pain still hadn’t left your face

his eyes widened when you suddenly threw yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck, sniffling as you blinked the tears away. he wrapped his arms around you immediately, “hey it’s okay, i’m here. you’re safe.” 

he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly and whispered reassuring things in your ear, kissing your temple every now and then. 

after a few minutes of holding you, he spoke up. “do you wanna tell me what happened in your nightmare? i’m right here, nothing bad’s gonna happen i promise.” 

your hand came up to hold the side of his jaw and neck and you sat up slightly, but he made sure to keep you secure and not let you run off, not that you were going to. “um...well i was coming over to your house cause we had a date night planned...” you trailed off slightly and felt his hand rub your thigh reassuringly. you sighed, “the door was unlocked so i came in, and i noticed another girl’s shoes in by the door?” you felt him stiffen under you but you went on. “so i went to find you, to ask you about it...but when i got to your room, you were...on top of her, and you can...fill in the blanks i’m guessing...” 

he opened his mouth to say something but you spoke before he could. “and you don’t have to apologize or anything, i know it wasn’t you and you wouldn’t do that...it just felt real and that really hurt me. but i’m sure i’ll get over it soon.” you tried to smile but it felt like a grimace more than anything and iwaizumi sighed. you mistook it for annoyance and your eyes widen, “oh i’m sorry, you’re probably tired, i’ll just––”

you tried to get off his lap but he stopped you, confused. “no, darling i don’t care what time it is, this is important. i only sighed because i don’t like how you’re pretending to be okay when you’re not.” he put a hand under your chin, “it’s okay if you’re not okay. but i’m here for you, to help you feel better, yeah?” he kissed your nose lightly. “you have nothing to apologize for, and i know you said i don’t either, but i’m sorry that i hurt you, even if it was in a dream.”

you smiled for real this time and kissed his cheek, making him blush lightly. “you’re too sweet to me, you know that?”

his brows furrowed, “not possible.” he gave you a quick peck on the lips and lied you back down on the bed with a small smile before turning off the light. he slid back in with you and put his arm around your waist to pull you close. “you ready to sleep?” 

you nodded, “do you mind cuddling me until i fall asleep?”

“of course not, but you’re funny if you think i’m letting you go at all, even in my sleep.” 

oikawa:

oikawa was sleeping peacefully, rolling over to wrap his arm around you and pull you close and his brows furrowed when you swung his arm back to his side, but he stayed asleep

he kept sleeping even after you repeated this three more times 

but when you did it one more time, this time with more force, he whined and blinked his eyes open slowly

“y/n-chaaan, let me hold you~”

you simply huffed and kept staring in front of you, into the darkness of your room, your arms and legs crossed as you sat up against the headboard

you don’t even know how long you’d been awake, it was 4am, but you couldn’t be bothered to care

as soon as you saw oikawa with his tongue down another girl’s throat, while she sat in his lap, you were so mad you couldn’t think

...this was in a dream of course, and you know that––

but it still pissed you off

“wha––” oikawa leaned up on one arm to get a better look at you and make sure he wasn’t imagining things. “what are you doing up?” he turned his head to look at the clock on the nightstand, “wh––four a.m??” he turned back to you dramatically, and while normally you would’ve found it amusing, today was a different day. 

you felt oikawa drag himself to a sitting position as he stared at you frantically and utterly confused. “what is going on here??” when you didn’t respond, his shoulders drooped down and he placed a hand on your thigh which you quickly slapped off. he squawked, “baby??–”

“you don’t get to call me that.” 

his head bobbed back, offended. “what do you mean?! what happened in the hours that i was asleep?” 

again, you stayed silent and of course, he kept talking. “y/n-chan you can’t just not tell me what’s wrong, this is outrageous!” 

you sat there, brewing in your annoyance for a few moments before cutting off his rant, voice completely monotone. “you cheated on me.” 

there was a brief silence, a moment of processing before he exploded. “i’m sorry, what?! i most certainly did not! what are you talking about ?! i am loyal!”

you shrugged, only fueling the fire and his eyes widened. “what do you mean?” he imitated your shrug mockingly, “where did you get this insane theory from?!” 

he was talking far too loud for 4am, and you did not want a visit from the neighbors. “tooru––”

“tooru?! who is that?! i’m baby! love! your loyal boyfriend! soon to be husband when we’re ready!––”

you finally turned to him, “you’re being too loud! it’s four am––”

he glared but lowered his voice, maybe a fraction. “y/n-chan you are not gliding over your preposterous accusation like this––why on earth do you think i cheated?!”

you blinked, unfazed. “i saw it.” 

“that’s impossible because it never happened!”

“yes it did! i saw your tongue go down her fucking throat and your hands were all over her and she was in your lap, tooru. that’s why i woke up because i saw it and i got mad. how dare you do that––” 

“i’m telling you that never happened! i don’t know who you saw but it wasn’t––wait.” he blinked a few times and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “did you say you saw it and you woke up? are you talking about a dream??” 

you clenched your jaw, “more like nightmare but that’s irrelevant, the point is you cheated–”

“y/n-chaaan––” he threw himself on you and wrapped his arms around you, ignoring your protests. he placed his head on your lap and looked up at you, with a pout. “you scared me! i thought you were really mad at––”

“i am mad at you.” 

“what?! but it wasn’t even real!”

“dream tooru and real tooru are basically the same.” 

“when are you going to stop calling me that?” he frowned, giving you puppy dog eyes and you groaned, slapping a hand over his face (gently), but he still yelped anyways.

“don’t look at me like that.”

he took your hand off and kissed your palm softly. “why, is it working?” 

you sighed and looked away. “...i know it wasn’t real but it still hurt seeing you like that, you know? that’s why i was so annoyed––it wasn’t even real but it still affected me so much.” 

he sat up against the headboard and pulled you into his lap, pleased to see you weren’t complaining. you placed your hands on his shoulders and kept your eyes down, focused on his chest. he squeezed your waist and ducked his head down to peck your lips, smiling victoriously when it made you smile. 

“i would never be as dumb as dream me and throw our precious relationship away, i love you way too much and value having you in my life far too much to do something like that.” he kissed your cheek, “you’re it for me, got it?”

you nodded, looking up into his eyes to see how serious he was. you could see the love he had for you. “okay...i love you baby.”

he smiled, “i love you too. so much.” he kissed you on the lips gently. “now can we please cuddle? we both need our beauty sleep.” 

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[malfoysstilinski]

the rose garden | DRACO MALFOY (SMUT)

MASTERLIST 

Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco fucks Y/N in his mother’s rose garden. 

REQUESTED by anonymous “Could I request were draco and his girlfriend has been together for a year or 2 and their parents are really good friends. Y\Ns parents are also death eaters. And y/n is slytherin. It would be their 5th or 6th yr? Preferably a smut?” 

WARNINGS: smut, public sex, extreme dirty talk, slut shaming, blowjobs, face fucking, fingering, riding 

Hogwarts was out of session for the summer, and due to students living all across the United Kingdom and Ireland, it meant a lot people didn’t see their significant others for a long two months or so. However, fortunately, that was not the case for you and Draco. 

You didn’t live far from each other and your parents were all friends-- they had been since before you and Draco were even born. They had been loyal followers of Lord Voldemort and passed them down to the two of you even after he was gone. 

Whilst you questioned some things, you never said it out loud, and neither did Draco, allowing your parents to think that the two of your were perfect for each other. It was probably one of the only things that they were right about. 

You and Draco had taken the Hogwarts Express together, you’d been sorted into Slytherin one after the other, you had all of the same friends-- Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Daphne, Crabbe, Goyle-- and during your fourth year, after dancing with each other all night at the Yule Ball, you’d kissed and realised that maybe what you had had been more than a friendship this entire time. 

For nearly two years now, you and Draco had been dating. Despite being such a dick to everybody else, Draco treated you exactly how you deserved to be treated-- like a real princess. In his eyes, you were a princess. The most beautiful of them all. Especially around your parents, who adored him as much as his parents adored you. 

Currently, you sat beside each other at the Malfoy’s dining table, Lucius and Narcissa sat at the heads of the table whilst your parents sat opposite the two of you. A starter of some sort of soup was in front of you and you took small spoonfuls delicately, portraying the table etiquette that you’d learnt before you could even spell properly. 

“Y/N, how was your fifth year?” Narcissa asks softly once the conversation changes from your father’s business to the new Potions teacher Hogwarts was supposedly getting next year. 

You smile politely as you glance up at your boyfriend’s mother. You’d always liked Narcissa, she was the more loving of Draco’s parents and you could tell that she genuinely cared about Draco. You were sure Lucius did too, but the blond-haired man often refused to show emotion which you knew took a toll on Draco growing up. 

“It was great, thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” you say, “I spent a lot of it studying for my O.W.Ls, which went well.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” Narcissa smiles back. 

The rest of dinner seems to go by swimmingly, your parents mainly talking to each other but making small talk with the two of you as well. You’d all known each other all your lives, so it wasn’t really awkward at all. You’re finishing off the last of your drink when you feel a palm touch your thigh. 

You know better than to react. 

Draco’s cold hand smooths up and down your soft skin whilst he talks with your father and his father about something to do with the Ministry, your mothers both engrossed in Narcissa’s latest additions to her personal garden. Your father makes a joke that has Lucius laughing and Draco chuckling politely, your mouth absentmindedly forcing a small smile to act like you were listening, but all you can focus on is Draco’s hand. 

He’s such an asshole. 

You nearly shiver in delight as his slender fingers trace up and down your leg, growing warmer the longer they resided there. However, when you feel the pad of his index finger make contact with your sex, sliding underneath the thong that you’re wearing tonight, you purse your lips and grip the table, shocked. 

He swipes his finger through your folds, gathering up the arousal that’s already there and swiping it across your clit. He starts to rub at it agonisingly slow, making you bite down on your lips lightly. You grab your drink and lift it to your lips to distract yourself, but you choke slightly on it when Draco rubs it at the perfect pace, spikes of arousal coursing through you and dampening your panties even more. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Narcissa asks worriedly, “You’re looking rather flushed.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, forcing yet another smile. “I’m just feeling rather... hot, that’s all.”

“If you would like, you and Draco could step outside for some fresh air before desert is served?” Narcissa offers, her face brightening, “Oh, Draco, you can show Y/N the new roses I put in the garden.”

“They’re all the way at the back, mother,” Draco began to complain, before something mischievous flashed in his silver eyes, “Oh, well I suppose it’s only polite I do so. Come, Y/N.”

He retracts his hand from your leg and stands, offering it to you. You send a weak smile to Narcissa and take his hand, your mothers cooing happily as Draco leads you out of the dreary dining room. As soon as you’re out into the fresh air, you shove Draco with a small glare. 

“You dick!” You grumble at him, “Look, in the common room is one bloody thing, but in front of our parents? Merlin, Draco! If I got off in front of my father I would never be able to look him in the eye again. Especially if we had been caught!”

“But you liked it really, didn’t you, my little slut?” Draco growls, turning and grabbing your jaw with his slender fingers. “You love it when I get you off in front of people. Your cunt aches at the thought of nobody knowing what’s going on beneath the table.”

You whimper at his words, reaching up and placing your hand on his wrist. Draco smirks and looks back at the house. 

“Come on then, Y/N,” Draco drawls, “Since you made such a fuss, I guess I must show you the rose garden now. Such a brat...”

Draco never talks to you like this in normal day circumstances, so you know what’s coming. This is foreplay for the way he’s probably about to bend you over and fuck you outside the house your parents are currently sat inside. 

You can’t wait. 

You feel yourself grow slick at the thought, slightly dampening your thighs as he sends you a look and jerks his head, gesturing for you to go up the path first. As soon as you’re in front of him, you feel his large hand smack against your ass, making you jump a little. 

He grabs your arms from behind, forcing you against his front and pressing his lips to your ear. You can feel his erection pressing against your back.

“Be a good girl,” he hisses, his breath smelling faintly like the alcohol he’d been drinking with his dinner.

You make it towards the end of the garden and Draco whirls you around before dropping down onto his mother’s favourite bench. The seating was wooden, however, the arm wrests were dark green serpents, Draco’s hand curling around them as he parted his legs wide. 

His silver eyes glinted with mischief, daring you to come closer. 

“Draco,” you breathe. 

“Come on, princess,” Draco unbuttons the top of his trousers. “On your knees. Show me how much you want me.”

Without thinking much at all, your brain foggy with arousal, you drop down onto your knees in front of the bench, unzipping Draco’s smart trousers. He sits up a little to help you drag them down his thighs. You reach to pull at the waistband of his underwear, pulling it back an inch and then letting it go so it snapped lightly against his erection. 

Draco hisses in a mixture of pain and pleasure and grabs your wrist, glaring down at you. 

“Enough,” Draco snaps, “Put your lips where they belong, slut. Around my fucking cock.”

You nearly moan out loud at his words, this time actually peeling his underwear down so that his erection sprung out the top. It was red and angry, the vein along the shaft practically pulsing beneath your gaze as precum made itself present at his tip. 

You lean up further on your knees, one hand on his thigh and the other moving out to gently grasp his dick. Draco groans under his breath, eyes focused on you as you jerk slowly up and down his length, your thumb gliding out to swipe the precum off. Draco relaxes further against the bench, a drowsy smirk crossing his face when you lean forward and take him in your mouth.

“Good little slut...” he drawls, his lanky hand reaching out to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly when you suck your cheeks in, making your mouth feel so much tighter around him. “Fuck, Y/N. So fucking good for me. Best cock sucker there is.”

You moan around his cock, your hand moving to jerk off the part that you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth. Your tongue runs up and down him, feeling his vein and making its way up to the tip where you give it kitten licks. 

“Mm, stop teasing,” Draco grunts, his other hand moving out to grab your head. 

He keeps your head still and you know what’s coming. Slowly, he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock in and out of your mouth so that his tip hits the back of your throat every now and then. You make slight gagging sounds, your eyes watering as spit coats his length. Draco loves the sight, he wishes he could take a picture. 

He stops thrusting his hips, finding it tiresome from his position sat down, and instead uses your head like you’re a toy, forcing you up and down his cock. You moan, hands grabbing his thighs, focusing on breathing in and out of your nose. 

Before he can cum, he pulls you off of him abruptly, a string of spit joining your lips and the tip of his cock. Draco smirks and brushes your lips with his thumb. 

“My beautiful little cock slut,” he mutters, sitting further back against the bench. “I think that you’ve deserved some fun of your own, don’t you?”

“Yes, Draco,” you pant, nodding. “Please.”

“Since you asked so politely.”

Draco reaches forwards, hands on your waist as he tugs you towards him. You fall so that you’re straddling his body on top of the bench, out in the open where anybody could see you. He tugs up your tight dress and grabs at your ass, squeezing it and leaning forward to lick a stripe up your cleavage which is on show from your dress. 

You can feel his cock brushing against your soaking heat. Your clit is throbbing so bad it nearly hurts, whines leaving your lips as Draco grabs the thin straps of your green bodycon dress and tugs them down, revealing your breasts to him. As his mouth dives forward to grab one of your nipples in his mouth, you can’t help but lower your body, grinding down against his hard cock and making him groan against you, vibrations running through your body. 

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, pulling away once he had left a hickey on your breast where it wouldn’t be seen in your dress. “Such a fucking slut. You get off letting me fuck your face, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you’re too aroused to really know what you’re agreeing to. All you know is that you need Draco to do something before you explode. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please fuck me, Draco,” you beg him, “please make me cum.”

Draco smirks and reaches to grab your waist harder. You lift up on your knees more and watch as one of his hands disappears between you both. You feel the tip of his dick brush against your eager folds and you whine even louder, biting you lip and nodding at him quickly. 

“Please, please, please.”

Draco guides it through your soaked sex before he finds your hole and takes one more look at you. The nod of consent is all he needs before he plunges himself into you. You both moan, breaths hitching in your throat. As you slide down so that you’re sat on his lap, his cock buried balls deep inside your pulsating heat, you feel so full, like if you were to put your hand against your stomach then you would feel him there.

“So fucking tight,” Draco hisses between gritted teeth. “Come on, slut. Ride me.”

You obey his command, growing slicker at his choice of nickname for you. Your hands move to his shoulders and you use them to help you bounce up and down on top of him, inches slipping out before being forced all the way back inside you, hitting spots that you didn’t know existed. 

Draco was panting slightly beneath you, his silver eyes flickering from where he could see his cock coming in and out of your pussy, slick with your arousal, and up to your face where your head was thrown back in pleasure as you whined and moaned. 

“So beautiful.” He reaches up and grabs your neck. “Look at me.”

You listen to him, feeling his fingers tighten around your neck and slightly blocking your airway. You feel lightheaded in the best possible way, eyes fluttering and your walls pulsating more around his cock as it drives in and out of you. Draco realises you’re starting to feel hazy and starts using his hips so he can pound up into you harder.

The sounds of your bodies colliding and your soaked pussy that normally embarrass you but turn Draco on don’t humiliate you today. You’re too focused on the grip he has on your neck and the way he keeps his pace thrusting in and out of you-- like it’s his only purpose in life. You know you’re going to cum soon.

Draco’s face dives forwards and nuzzles back to your breasts that are bouncing right in front of him. He licks and sucks and bites anything he can, his hot breath fanning your skin and making you cry out. 

“Draco,” you cry. 

“That’s it,” Draco grunts, forcing a few extra hard thrusts. “That’s it, Y/N. Fucking slut. You’d let me do anything to you. Such a fucking whore.”

You can tell that he’s close from how his hand has moved from your neck to your clit. His fingers create hard figures of eights against your throbbing bud, coating his digits in your arousal. You moan louder, this time driving your hips up harder and faster to keep up with his thrusts.

“Come on, Y/N,” Draco hisses, “you gotta cum for me. Cum all over my cock.”

His words are enough to send you toppling over the edge, your loudest moan yet half-buried by your teeth sinking into Draco’s shirt-clad shoulders. Your walls clench and shudder around him, tightening against his cock and causing his eyes to scrunch shut. Your breathless whisper of his name once your orgasm rolls by has him cumming straight after you. His hot seed shoots up inside in spurts, coating your walls and making you whine out against him again. He thrusts a couple of more times before he pulls out. 

“Mm, Dra- Draco,” you mutter as he pulls you off of him and pulls the top of your dress back up. 

Draco chuckles as he fixes his own underwear and trousers, pulling your dress down for you as you slide your panties back up. He presses a loving kiss to your lips. 

“Not too much, was it?” Draco asks worriedly. 

“No, that was perfect,” you admit, stroking some of his hair back into place. 

“Good. I agree. Now, let’s get back to our parents. Desert must be ready soon.”

-

my mum came extremely close to catching me write this so i hope it was worth it honestly 

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[mellowswriting]

Hey lovely lady! Just wanted to say your such an incredibly talented writer! You make every scene seem so real and tangible and I LOVE IT. I came across your Javier Peña pieces and can't stop rereading them! If I may can I please request a morning scenario with Javier and perhaps some softness? Lots of love ❤

just let me love on you

pairing || Javier Peña x Reader

summary || soft morning fluff with Javi

word count || 1,067

warnings || nonexplicit mentions of sex (this is Javi we’re talking about here LMAO)

a/n ||  I will forever be in love with Javier being all soft and precious smh I hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

A warm breath stirred the hair at the back of your neck as you slowly drifted into consciousness. It was new, the feeling of Javier’s arms keeping you close through the night, but it was something you couldn’t get enough of. Somehow, he always managed to curl his body as close to yours as possible - his legs tucked around yours, bare chest pressed flush to your back, one arm tucked under your head and the other wound around your chest just to cup his hand around your breast. It was a simple comfort, one you both adored.

You almost always woke first. Javier was a surprisingly deep sleeper, though he did grumble a bit and tighten his hold on you anytime you tried to get up while he was still sleeping. It was a quickly learned lesson that it was best for you to wake him up before you went to start coffee or go to the bathroom or else you would have one grumpy boyfriend trailing after you moments later to get those cuddles he so rightly deserved.

A small ache began to form in your shoulder, your muscles full of complaints over being stuck in the same position for hours, so you shifted onto your back, slowly as to not jostle Javier too much. He mumbled something unintelligible, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you got settled in a more comfortable position. His face buried into your neck by habit and he almost immediately relaxed at the familiarity of your warmth.

Those moments were something you cherished. Javier liked to pretend he was all bite and no bark, but he was too good at the softness he claimed he didn’t have in him. Sure, he was sharp-tongued and witty, great with a gun and reliable in a fight, but he was also the type to bring you coffee in bed on the rare mornings he woke before you. He greeted you with soft kisses no matter if you had been apart for a few moments or days. Whispers of how much he missed you and the hushed ‘I love you’s met your ears every time you opened your door to welcome him in.

But mornings. Mornings were even softer. Javi was all sloppy, sleepy kisses and wandering hands, his sentences half-finished with drowsy affection. He couldn’t get enough of you and you couldn’t get enough of him, either. The smell of him clung to your sheets, hints of his cologne and that natural scent that was so distinctly Javier, and it left you burying yourself closer to him just for more. Plus, he either slept in just his briefs or entirely naked, which made him that much more tempting.

Your fingers found themselves a home in the curls at the base of his neck, twirling them between your fingertips and gently scratching his scalp, and you smiled sleepily at the feeling of his arms tightening around you. The daze of those first waking moments left you both practically nuzzling each other, arching closer and humming with sluggish happiness. The roughness of his facial hair grazing along the sensitive skin of your neck made you laugh quietly and push his face back with a hand against his forehead. The sleepy smirk on his face was gorgeous.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Javi rumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips, mindful of the morning breath you both certainly had. A sharp twinge low in your belly reminded you of your bladder’s current state, and you tried to wiggle your way out of the vice of his arms. “Javi, I have to pee.”

He grumbled but let you go nonetheless, rolling over onto his belly to bury his face in the pillows. You were quick to take care of business, pausing to brush your teeth and tame your hair before slipping into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It didn’t take long for Javier to find you, his eyes scrunched up against the lights as he ambled up behind you to hook his chin over your shoulder, his hands finding their way under your shirt to grasp at your waist.

“Took too long.” He said, his tone missing any real annoyance.

“I'm making you coffee, Mr. Grumpy.” You teased as you slid his mug where he could reach before making your own.

“ ‘M not grumpy.” Javier grumbled - quiet grumpily, you might add - and took a quick sip of his coffee before kissing you softly, his tongue sliding right into your mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

It didn’t take long for Javi to drag you up onto the counter and smother you with kisses that tasted of his typical black coffee and a hint of his toothpaste. His hair was soft beneath your fingers as you gave in to his little tryst, meeting his every kiss and touch with eager reciprocation. It was too easy to get lost in the way he kissed you, his hands wandering over your thighs and up your back as if he were exploring the contours of your body for the very first time. You hooked your ankles around his thighs, smirking when he hissed at the feeling of your cold toes against the heat of his skin.

“How are you so cold?” Javier rubbed your biceps gently. “C’mon, let’s take our coffee to bed.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know,” You feigned, trailing your fingers down his neck and over his collarbone lightly. His pleased hum had you leaning in to kiss at his neck along the route your fingers had taken.

“What if I promise to fuck you in bed, too? I’ll even make you breakfast after…and we can take a shower together.” He offered and you laughed against him, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as you did. “Mhm, you know you want to. Just let me love on you, baby.”

It was too good an offer to pass up. You hopped off the counter, mug in hand, and raced down the hallway towards the bedroom with Javier hot on your trail. The sharp smack he landed on your ass shouldn’t have surprised you, but it tore a yelp from you anyway, and you barely managed to safely set your coffee on the nightstand before your boyfriend was yanking you into the sheets and climbing over you with that damned smirk on his face.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl

[infernalinvert]

I am Once Again going through that thing where I'm looking back on my childhood and thinking "Oh that was actually REALLY FUCKED UP"

Like. How I thought my family didn't have healthcare for about 7 years, but I found out recently that we *did* actually have healthcare! It's just that, for most of that time, no one took me to the doctor. And the entire time, I thought I was helping by not asking for help, because we couldn't afford it.

And when I did ask for help, it was usually met with frustration and/or dismissal. So, I did tell my mom a few times that I had insomnia, and she just told me to try taking otc medicine that made you drowsy. So I did that. And then, as one of Baby's First Compulsions (and because it wasn't working, and because I had insomnia every night,) I started taking it every night, and then more of it, to the point where I was taking 10+ pills every night until it made me sick.

So in that case, I was actually *really really* lucky that I research things as a compulsion! Because even as a pre-teen, I looked up all the medications' side effects, and one of those medications was Acetaminophen PM, which causes liver damage when taken at above a normal dose! And I was a small malnourished child! So I *really* could've gotten hurt, huh!

(sidenote, I just looked this up, acetaminophen pm starts causing liver damage in adults at 4000mg, and is available in 500mg tablets. So it would take at least 8 pills to cause liver damage in an adult. Which is less than the quantity of pills I was taking, just of other medications. Also, in hindsight, I was probably taking entirely antihistamines. At least one of which was diphenhydramine. Which starts becoming toxic at 300mg, and is available in 25mg tablets, so that's 12 pills. Which is the amount of pills I took at least a few times. And I took more at least once. So uhhhh, also bad)

I forgot what I was going to say. Because I'm wondering if, that time I took like 14-20? pills and got sick. Did that count as an overdose? I didn't puke or pass out or anything, I just felt bad, and I went to school the next day. But did I overdose on antihistamines as a pre-teen and not seek medical care because my parents stopped taking me to doctors?

I'm beginning to see my circumstances growing up as a Real Thing That Happened To Me. I'm just worried about over-dramatizing things. I mean, I'm surprisingly not upset during this particular "wow that was fucked up" session, but it still feels like it should've been a bit more dramatic to be "real". I know that's what everyone thinks, even when really fucked up things happen, but it *is* possible to over-dramatize things. So I guess it just has nuance. So I don't know

[little-diable]

Dripping Syrup - Tom Holland (smut)

Just a small fluffy tho smutty drabble. Remember your feedback and your comments are very much appreciated. Enjoy my loves. xx

Summary: Who would have thought that it would only take a few drops of syrup to push the two roommates closer together, finally falling into place in one another's embrace?

Warnings: 18+, shower sex, pretty fluffy, slight breeding kink

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader (1.8k)

The sweet scent of muffins filled her nostrils as the first sun rays began to dance on her face. Slowly her eyes fluttered open, trying to catch a few more minutes of the morning bliss, but the loud “fuck” that echoed through the apartment ripped her from her drowsy state.

(Y/n) shot out of her bed, stumbling into the kitchen with her fuzzy socks sliding against the wooden flooring. There he stood, chest bare, legs hidden beneath a pair of dark sweatpants. Tom kept jumping around the kitchen, trying to cool his aching finger without letting the sizzling pan out of his gaze.

The chuckle that spilled from her lips ripped him out of his frantic state, eyes meeting hers. He couldn’t help but let them wander, down the exposed legs she hadn’t covered just yet. Deep down he felt his adrenaline shooting through his veins, what a view, a view he could certainly get used to.

“Morning to you too.” (Y/n) stepped closer, reaching for her coffee cup before pressing a small kiss to his burning cheek. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his half naked frame, holding onto her for dear life. The sweet scent of her shampoo stuck to him, pushing him back into the daydream he’d slip into as he would take a shower, imagining her body pressed against his.

“I made us some pancakes.” The boyish grin he wore left her heart jumping in delight, eager to spend her morning with the roommate she had been crushing on for weeks. From the second she had moved into the apartment there had been some kind of tension between them, growing with each rising of the sun, strengthening their bond with each wakening of the moon and the twinkling stars.

“You’re a lifesaver.” (Y/n) smiled at the plate he pushed into her free hand, settling down on their sofa. Slowly Tom began to prepare a plate for himself, making sure to place himself right next to her. As if they had studied this routine for days, (y/n) moved her legs towards his, keeping him chained to her, moaning at the taste of the pancakes.

Both ate in silence, sharing glances every now and then - with widening smiles on their lips. How they ached to feel one another, hoping to experience what they were oh so needy for.

She had her eyes focused on his lips, watching the small drops of syrup that stuck to his skin, dripping onto his plate. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from moving towards his chin, collecting the sweet drops. His eyes followed her thumb, how she brought it towards her mouth, sucking it clean. A gasp rolled off his tongue, filling the silence like a book that crashed from the shelf, falling onto the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly both snapped into action, plates getting placed down on their small table, heads moving closer. Something about this moment, about this morning, felt all too good to be true, like a dream they had managed to turn real, like a written page ripped out of a book, allowing them to experience the stories only heroes would get to live through.

Their lips met clumsily at first, trying to get used to one another’s skin, the feeling of their burning vessels pressed together. But the longer they kissed, the more they fell into place. Tom tugged her into his lap, sucking on her tongue to hold onto the sweet taste of the syrup, mixed with the coffee she had sipped on.

(Y/n) gave him a slight push back, allowing him to rest comfortably on his back with her straddling his waist. Not once did they break apart, lips hungrily chasing one another, hoping that their moment wouldn’t end just yet, they hadn’t reached the end of the chapter, couldn’t stop the story as it was just starting to take on its pace.

Cold hands found their way underneath her shirt, stroking along her sides to move closer to her bare chest. (Y/n)’s hips met his, rubbing her core against him, all too excited to overthink her movement, not once did she wonder where her confidence came from. Tom made her feel things she would only read about in the books she would find comfort in, the lives she longed to live.

“I don’t think I can stop myself if we go any further.” His raspy voice shot shivers down her spine, vibrating on her middle with an electric buzz following shortly after. “Don’t stop, please.”

Her whimpers rang in his ears, hands wandering to her behind, gripping her close. He rose from his position, didn’t want to take it further on the couch, wanted to offer her as much comfort as possible. But as her eyes found the clock above their counter, she mumbled his name, stopping him from walking towards his room.

“Class starts in an hour, how about we shower together?” The sly grin she wore on her lips found its way onto his swollen ones, feet changing their direction towards his bathroom, stumbling right into it. He placed her down on his sink, making sure that she wouldn’t fall before he turned on the shower.

Tom stepped out of his trousers, underwear barely hiding his hardening cock, the outlines that left her mouth watering. Greedy hands reached for him, pulling him flush against her frame, kissing him again as he tugged on her shirt. Her naked upper body burned in heat, his strong gaze studied every inch of her skin, making sure to perpetuate the view in front of him in his mind.

“You’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” His accent thickened with each word he spoke, projecting him losing power over his senses. (Y/n) pulled on the waistband of his boxer shorts, letting the elastic snap against his skin. The cheeky grin she shot him seemed to push him into the right direction, undressing himself with some kind of arrogance and confidence laced in his glance.

She didn’t waste any more time, hopped down from the sink and undressed herself, stepping into the shower without giving him a chance to admire her. But Tom was just as impatient, following her into the steam filled cabin, hands pushing her against the cold shower tiles.

Water cascaded down their bodies, leaving their skin glistening. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing her nipples, while her hands moved closer to his cock, making sure to tease him before she would touch him. Slowly she wrapped her fingers around him, pumping him, stroking his every vein.

“I need you-” a small moan left her as he tweaked her nipple. “I need you to fuck me.” The growl that clawed through him left her clit pulsing in excitement, walls fluttering around nothing, praying that he would finally give in. (Y/n) had lost count on how many times she had touched herself to the thought of him, trying to imagine how his cock would split her in half, leaving his marks as she would climb higher and higher.

“Somebody’s impatient.” How foolish he was. Both felt impatient enough to cry out in frustration, wondering who would make the next and final move. He dipped his head under the stream, wetting his hair before he gave her a harsh tug, hand moving around her throat. Tom held her in place as he brushed his length through her folds, toying with her for a few seconds too long.

She growled his name, holding onto the last drops of air that lingered in her lungs, burning with each breath she took. Just as she felt herself passing out, losing focus on the man in front of her he gave in, loosening his grip, pushing into her tightness.

Their moans got mixed together, dancing around the room while they tried to adjust to one another. His cock perfectly filled her, her walls hugged him tightly, a perfect match for the two that had fallen in love days, weeks, months ago.

“Feels so good, fuck, you’re so tight.” His breath crashed against her lips, Tom grasped her leg, hugging it around his waist, slowly beginning to pull out of her. He was careful at first, making sure that (y/n) felt comfortable and safe, not wanting to hurt her. But as his name fell off her lips, urging him on to fuck her roughly against the tiles, he snapped into motion, making sure that he would coax the most powerful orgasm out of her.

“Tom, please-” (y/n) tried to grasp his hand, pulling it closer to her aching clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves that begged for his attention. Soft fingers met her skin, circling her in the right tempo to match his ferocious thrusts, cock slipping in and out of her as if he was fucking her on their last day on earth.

Their bodies meded together, like snow that met the ground on a warm day, like water that met other bodies to follow the stream to the ocean. They fitted together perfectly. His heavy pants filled her ears, followed by her own moans. Soon they would reach the high they had always dreamt of, bodies connected in the most intimate way.

“Look at me, want you to look at me when you cum.” (Y/n) couldn’t protest, glassy eyes found his. She moved one hand up to the one he left placed around her throat, holding onto him to stabilize her trembling frame.

“Fill me up, god, please.” She kept on blabbering, too drunk on his taste and the adrenaline she worked on. But Tom found pleasure in her words, moaning in confirmation, urging on his thrusts, adding more pressure to her clit with his thumb. He would push her over the edge, would make her wait for his release while she would scream out his name.

“There you go, let go for me.” Like a guiding hand in the darkness he clung to her, allowing her to cum on his cock, walls fluttering around his length. She pulled him closer, making sure that he wouldn’t let go, that he would follow her words and paint her walls white. Her head fell against his shoulder, breathing against his skin as Tom’s orgasm took over every inch of his body.

His warmth filled her, cum dripping down her legs, bodies trying to come down from their powerful highs. Neither of them moved, both stayed placed in the shower, bodies still connected like their hearts.

Today they would cling to one another, would make sure to savor their moments together, fueled by the fire they had awoken in the shower, a fire both would try to keep alight till their last breaths would leave their love drunken souls.

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

[sweethvnny]

late streams

request: yes | no

Can you write something where quackity needs reassurance from the reader? You can choose if you want to make it about his looks or whatever comes to your mind. Any pronouns you want🌷

genre: romantic, fluff, irl, gender neutral, they/them

warnings: none.

notes: i just realized reader kinda sounds likr a parent lol. also this is relly bad but i already wrte it so yeah👍 like all of my future works and this one, not proofread

"bye everyone, thank you for joining the stream." alex said, making his voice softer as he had just ended stream. 'your welcome' and 'bye's' erupted from the call.

alex had done a jackbox stream with some of his friends and it was finally over. he shut his pc off and stood up to walk to your shared bedroom.

"hopefully they're still awake," alex got a glass of water while passing by the kitchen. "it's pretty late."

thr clock read '4:37 am'

he pushed open the door lightly, trying not to make it creak. to his surprise, you were still awake. but you looked drowsy as you scrolloed through your phone.

you felt your eyes get heavier but you kept blinking to stay awake. alex lets out a sigh and walks in the room.

"hey baby." he puts the glass of water on the nightstand and sits next to you. you open your arms signaling him to lay on top of you.

"what are you doing up so late?" alex says as he positions himself comfortably on you. "what are you? my dad?" you say and he chuckles.

"no but don't you have work tomorrow?"

"yeah but i think being late is worth it if i can fall asleep next to you. i mean, you've been streaming a lot recently so i haven't seen you a lot."

an 'o' shape forms on alex's mouth. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean it." he intertwines his hand with yours an lays a small kiss on it.

"it's alright."

you both sit there in silence for a few minutes, "i think we should sleep now, i'm pretty tired." you say while yawning.

alex just nods and lays next to you. as soon as you both in eachother's embrace, yoh fall asleep immeadiately. on the other hand, alex was still awake.

it wasn't 'cause he wasn't tired, it was 'cause he was reflecting.

did he really stream that much? how many nights have you've been waiting for him? was he a good boyfriend these past few days?

alex felt bad. you should rest, not wait up for him.

he started to feel anxious. he pulled you closer to him, as if he were to let go, you would be lost forever.

after what felt like hours, he finally went to sleep.

this went on for days. he would stream late, you would wait, he would arrive to you being tired and drowsy, and he would go to sleep with thoughts flooding his mind. the cycle repeats.

however, you started to notice. you noticed that he felt so distant yet so close at the same time. like he was trying to do two things at once.

you decided to confront him since you started to get worried.

alex was on staring at his monitor, editing a video. "alex?"

"yes?" he responds, not looking away from his screen. "we need to talk."

fuck.

"it'll be quick, i promise." you reassure.

"oh- sure i'l just do something real quick." he stutters. you nod, "meet me in the dining room, 'kay?"

"yup." he says, trying to sound as calm as possible. as soon you shut the door, alex goes on full on panic mode.

'oh god, oh fuck, is this because of what i did?' alex thinks to himself.

it's like getting the "talk" from your parents. there's a 50 percent chance that ut's good news but at the same time there's a 50 percent chance its bad news.

right now, all he has to do is hope that he wins that 50 percent chance that it's good news.

he met you in the dining room where you sat, legs crossed on a chair. alex walked over and sat on a chair. he cleared his throat and twiddled with his thumbs.

"so, why did you call me here?" he said, eyes on his thumbs. "are you okay?" you reach over to hold his hand.

"what?" he stopped looking at his thumbs and looked up at you. "what do you mean?"

"you've been acting really weird lately and i just want to know if you're alright."

in response, alex just bit his lip. like he wanted to say something but he couldnt.

"i'm sorry." he said.

"what?"

"i'm sorry for not spending enough time with you. i'm sorry for negleting you." alex started to feel a pit from in his stomach. "i'm sorry i'm not good enough."

you look at him softly and sigh. "you don't have to apologize alex. it's not your fault." you pull alex into a hug and peck his forehead.

"you were busy with school and streaming, but you never neglected me." you reassure. "i'll always love you, even if we don't often see eachother."

alex doesn't respond and justs hugs you back tighter. "thank you." he whispers while burying his head in the crook of your neck. a sigh leaves your lips as you run your hands through his hair. "no problem."

you both sit there, in eachother's embrace as you enjoy the comforting silence.

"so," you click your tounge. "wanna watch a movie?"

"yes please."

[breakyeol]

— WHAT HE LOST

So you got dumped. It sucks, but hey, at least you’ve got your best friends who always seem know exactly what to do to help make you feel better.

┗ Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: friends to lovers au, angst, fluff, smut

Words: 12.8k (I wish I was kidding)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, drinking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, explicit sexual content ; dom(?)baekhyun, switch sub!chanyeol, switch!reader, their roles ended up being very blurred, you’re the bologna in a chanbaek sandwich, threesome, very mild dirty talk, teasing, oral (f. & m. receiving), gentle throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, yeol just wants to be a good boy but baek just wants to break the headboard

A/N; the poll I did for this fanfic was so fun!!! I seriously love interacted with you guys and receiving your feedback! I definitely think it’s something I’d like to do again in the future! I hope you guys enjoy the results! PS, I low key suck at writing endings sorry loves. 

It’s half past two when you show up in front of their door, clothes soaked and heavy from the rain you hadn’t bothered to shield yourself from, heart bruised and aching from the ruthless beat down it had been forced to endure. It’s been a really long night.

Chanyeol is the one to finally open the door, face flushed and swollen, pink lips dry and pouted, dark hair unruly and disheveled with a ridiculous cowlick you would find incredibly amusing if not for the crushing weight of the night’s previous events still weighing heavily on your chest.

“Y/n?” He rasps, blinking hard twice, as if he hadn’t recognized you at first. You wouldn’t hold it against him, you probably look like a drowned rat in your current state.

A shaky grin pulls at your lips, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Yeol.”

His brows furrow and he swipes a large hand down the length of his face. “What time is it? What– what are you doing here?” There’s no malice in the question, only drowsy confusion as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together in his sleep hazed mind.

Instead of answering, you tip your chin forward and ask one of your own. “Mind if I come in? It feels like my fingers are about to fall off.”

All of a sudden his eyes pop open real wide and he gasps, as if just then realizing that you were standing outside his door in the freezing night air, drenched to the bone. He immediately ushers you inside, appearing genuinely distraught. “Jesus, you’re soaked. Did you walk here or something?”

Combing your wet hair out of your face, you offer a blunt nod of confirmation. “Yup.”

His jaw drops and he splutters in disbelief. “You walked here? In the pouring rain? Are you insane?! It’s the middle of the night! Something terrible could have happened to you! And you’re not even wearing a coat!” He gestures wildly at your waterlogged t-shirt and jeans, all drowsiness gone from his eyes.

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.” You sigh, moving past him and into the warmth of his apartment.

“Y/n, that really wasn’t smart. You should’ve called me.” He insists in that disapproving tone that reminds you of a parent scolding a petulant child.

You turn to him with raised brows, the vague outline of amusement tinging your words, “Would you have woken up?”

“You should’ve called until I did,” he shoots back without missing a beat, following close on your heel as you make your way into the living room and fall onto the couch with a soft grunt, “or you could’ve tried Baekhyun. Or literally done anything other than walk all the way here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.”

He’s right, of course. It was dangerous walking alone at night, no matter how tough you think you are, bad things can happen to anyone. But the danger of walking the streets at night hadn’t been so much as a second thought when you left. There were far more prominent concerns plaguing your mind.

“Yeah, well.”

A beat of silence passes, and you feel the shift in Chanyeol’s gaze. You don’t dare to look over as he sinks into the space on the couch beside you, though all you really want is to lean into the comforting warmth of his body.

“Hey... are you alright?”

A painful lump forms in your throat at the question. “I—” you wince as your voice cracks, words falling dead on the tip of your tongue. Fuck. Why was it so hard to say?

“Y/n?”

The way he says your name nearly shatters the dam, and you just barely manage to pull yourself together enough to avoid turning into a sobbing mess on his couch. Snagging your lower lip roughly between your teeth, you offer a weak hum that pitches strangely in your throat– which most definitely does not go unnoticed by the boy who knows you too well for your own good.

Chanyeol’s concerned eyes sweep over your expression, those damn eyes that can see right through any mask you attempt to wear, before he speaks again in a voice so soft you could feel the steely grip around your heart ease. “Let me get you something dry to wear. Then we can make some hot cocoa and you can tell me what happened, okay?”

The idea of being dry and warm again was more than appealing enough for you to force the corners of your lips upward and manage a light nod of agreement. “Yeah.”

He shoots you a sweet smile, reaching over with a large hand to affectionately ruffle your wet hair and pushing himself off of the couch before you can retaliate. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, I don’t need you and all your drippiness flooding the apartment. I’m pretty sure you’ve already ruined our new couch.” He teases lightheartedly, that familiar bubbling laughter erupting from his lips as you swing your middle finger up at him.

You feel yourself deflate somewhat when he vanishes into his bedroom, leaving you alone once more. It was unusually quiet. Though understandable given the time, you aren’t used to the silence of the apartment and find yourself craving Chanyeol’s booming voice and Baekhyun’s obnoxious teasing. Without them, there’s nothing to distract your scrambled mind, and you can’t stop it from lingering on the frustration and sense of betrayal that torments your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sink into the plush cushions, a soft groan escaping your tensed lips.

This. Sucks.

Luckily, you aren’t alone long enough to dwell on it too deeply.

Your head snaps up at the sound of a door thudding shut, a murmur of gratitude on the tip of your tongue, but you are surprised to see a very much still half asleep Baekhyun come stumbling into the living room, donning a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt that hugs the gentle swells of his chest. His eyes are barely open as he all but throws himself onto the couch, immediately curling up into your side. You only chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his cinnamon scented hair and petting down his unruly bed head as it tickles your chin.

“You’re wet.” Is the first thing he murmurs into the silence, voice thick and hoarse in his throat. You can’t suppress the shiver that ripples down the length of your spine as his warm breath washes over your icy skin, the sharp contrast in temperature startling to your senses.

“I didn’t notice.” You hum, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

“And cold.” He grumbles additionally, arms coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and tugging you flush against him. The heat of his body is more than welcome, and you’re happy to allow him to cuddle into you. It’s easy to find comfort in his familiar embrace.

“Chanyeol is getting me something else to wear.”

His head tips back at that, and you have to draw away to keep your noses from colliding. Hooded eyes drag slowly over your face, warm and searching. You swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze and quickly turn away, hoping he hadn’t seen the tell tale signs of your internal turmoil. But it seems both of your best friends are more observant than you give them credit for.

You jolt in surprise as he suddenly grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to face him again. The unexpected proximity has warmth rushing into your cheeks, and you clear your throat, eyes looking anywhere but his face. Nonetheless he still manages to read you like the pages of a children’s book.

“You’ve been crying.”

Instinctively, you try to put some distance between you and him, swatting his hand away and plastering an unconvincing scowl across your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips part, and you brace yourself, knowing by the look on his face alone that he’s going to push the matter.

“Ah, Baekhyun, you’re awake.” You let out a breath of relief as Chanyeol steps out of his room, a set of black sweats and a towel draped over his arm. Perfect timing. Baekhyun nearly topples over as you jump up from the couch, quickly making your way over to where the younger boy stands. “Y/n, I got y—”

“Thanks, I’ll go change.” You rush out, cutting him off abruptly as you pull the clothes from his arms. You manage a quick smile of gratitude before you’re hurrying past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door more harshly than you intended behind you.

Very subtle, y/n.

“Fuck.” You hiss through clenched teeth, silently cursing yourself out.

Moving towards the sink, you stare at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with a weak grimace. You knew you looked like a mess but damn. You really look like you’ve been put through the wringer tonight. Which, of course, you kind of had been, but still.

It takes longer than you anticipated to wriggle yourself out of your wet clothes, nearly falling on your ass more times than you care to admit out loud in your numerous attempts to peel off your jeans. But in the end, it was more than worth it to feel the soft, warm fabric of Chanyeol’s oversized clothes against your skin. The faded scent of his aftershave eases the tension in your shoulders, but you can’t fight the buzz of nerves that come to life in your stomach as you step back out the door.

The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate is the first thing to greet you upon your return. Noting the emptiness of the living room, you come to the quick conclusion that they’re both most likely in the kitchen. On quiet feet, you shuffle over to the entrance, peeking your head around the wall. They’re facing away from you, leaning against the island and exchanging whispered words, voices just low enough that you can’t make out what they’re saying. Though, there’s little doubt in your mind that you’re the subject of their heated conversation.

Deciding to make your presence known, you clear your throat and step onto the cool tile. Two heads whip in your direction, startled. The looks on either of their faces makes you think of two children being caught doing something they definitely should not be. Exactly... what had they been talking about? 

Chanyeol is the first to move, plucking up the mug from the countertop and making his way over to you. “Extra marshmallows and extra whipped cream with a pinch of cinnamon,” he says, a soft smile on his lips and a warm blush on his cheeks, “just how you like it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, grateful for the warmth of the smooth white ceramic against your palms. “Thanks, yeol.”

“Let’s sit!” Baekhyun exclaims before you can even take a sip, hands finding your shoulders and steering you back towards the couch. You’re too focused on not spilling the contents of your cup to make any sort of objection.

It’s only when squeezed between their two bodies on their slightly too small couch, their concerned but curious eyes burning into the sides of your face, that you begin to wonder if it was the wisest idea to come here. But then remember just how badly you were craving a good hug and sigh, knowing if anyone was gonna give you one, it’d be one of these two dopey boys.

It’s obvious neither of them are going to speak first, probably not wanting to push you incase you weren’t ready to talk about it yet (though, the intensity of their stares were doing just that), so you decide to take the initiative before the awkward tension can get even more unbearable.

“We broke up.”

You bring the mug to your lips, taking a tentative sip of your gradually cooling hot chocolate as you allow them to absorb the new information.

“Well, shit.” Baekhyun coughs. Chanyeol reaches behind you to smack the back of his head, hissing something about being insensitive but you’re already more than aware of how they feel about your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend.

Since you first started talking to him, neither of the boys were his biggest fan. To their credit, they tried their best to be supportive, but it was hard to miss the dampening of the mood whenever you brought him up and the glares they’d shoot in his direction when they thought you weren’t paying attention. You called them out on their passive aggressive behavior on a number of occasions, and they were always quick to defend themselves with the claim of getting ‘bad vibes’.

Looking back, you probably should’ve given their suspicions some deeper consideration.

But you had just liked him so much. It was hard for you to see past the handsome, charming exterior to what really laid beneath. Gilded boys had always been your weakness, always enchanting you with the prettiest of lies only to shatter you with their ugly truths.

You should have known better.

“Are you alright?”

You shrug, sucking your lower lip into your mouth with a heavy exhale from your nose. “I’m fine, really. I’m just... embarrassed, I guess.”

Baekhyun blinks at you in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed? He should be the embarrassed one for losing someone as amazing as you.”

“I’m embarrassed because—” you wince, bracing yourself for the response that you just know you’re about to receive, “because he dumped me.”

“What?!” Chanyeol erupts, nearly making you spill your hot cocoa from the sheer explosiveness of his reaction, “you let that literal piece of walking human trash—!”

“Chanyeol.”

At Baekhyun’s sharp interruption, the emotional younger immediately slumps, guilt painting his face as he looks at you with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You only smile, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“So,” Baekhyun begins cautiously, “what happened?”

No point beating around the bush now. “We were hanging out at his place. I found a pair of underwear that weren’t mine in his bedroom. Confronted him. He called me a clingy bitch and told me to get the fuck out and never come back.” You say this as nonchalantly as you can manage, but your hold on the cup tightens substantially and an unmistakable thickness rises in your throat. You curse yourself silently for feeling like shit over a guy who obviously couldn’t be bothered to give even half a shit about you.

“He cheated on you?” Chanyeol leaps up from the couch, eyes wide and furious. If you were to look close enough, you were almost certain you’d see fire burning within them.

“That fucker.” Baekhyun all but snarls, hands balling into tight fists. “What’s his address?”

“Baekhyun—” you sigh, leaning forward to set your hot chocolate down on the coffee table.

“No, I’m dead serious, what’s his address?” He pins you with a look that tells you he is very much not messing around. They were being ridiculous, angry over things they couldn’t change. It was pointless and harmful to dwell on things that had already happened. You’d much rather pick yourself up and move on than allow yourself to keep hurting over a stupid boy.

Of course, that’s easier said than done. And your best friends are not the types to just let things go. Not when the people they care about are wronged.

Chanyeol seems to be off in his own little world, ranting furiously to himself while cracking his knuckles in a way that is probably meant to be intimidating (though, to you, the giant puppy is anything but). “There’s no way I’m letting a piece of shit like him get away with this. God, I knew he was a scumbag the moment I laid eyes in him. I should’ve—”

“Guys, please.” Your voice cracks when you finally intervene, and that’s all it takes for their immediate anger to fizzle out.

The tension in their shoulders melts, their features softening drastically as they spot the glistening of tears in your eyes despite your feeble attempts to blink them away. In an instant, they’re cuddling back up against you, murmuring soft apologies and pleading for you not to cry over someone like him. But the dam is already broken, and salty tears are swelling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Everything you’d been holding back comes bubbling violently towards the surface. Sobs wrack your chest, and you cling onto the hands of either boy as they watch you helplessly.

Chanyeol, the big softie that he is, has to bite his lip to keep the tears threatening to swell in his own eyes at bay. He’s never been good at holding himself together when he sees you hurting. He feels everything with his entire being, his empathy for his friends and the people he cares about on another level. But that big, stupid heart of his is one of the many reasons you adore him.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, is not the most suave when it comes to comforting people. Most of the time he’ll try to crack jokes and make light of the situation, but he knew better than to break out his usual antics when you were in such a state. So he held his tongue, opting to wrap his hand around yours in hopes of comforting you in even the slightest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You groan once your sobs subside into sniffles and you feel the warm flush of embarrassment filtering into your cheeks at your own outburst. You really hated crying in front of people. So it wasn’t too often that your friends, or anybody for that matter, saw such a raw display from you. “It’s just so frustrating and humiliating, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence as you wipe the tears from your face with the hand not held in a death grip by Baekhyun. It’s the nice kind of silence though, the kind you don’t have to fill and don’t really want to, encasing the three of you in a little bubble of comfort. Of course, with these two, you can’t expect it to last long.

“If I ever see him again,” Chanyeol huffs, dropping his chin onto your shoulder, “it’s on sight.”

You laugh at that, the sound hoarse and nasally and just plain awful, but genuine nonetheless. Raising a hand, you comb it through his soft black locks in a show of gratitude.

“Baek?” You turn to him with a sniffle. He hums softly in acknowledgement, tracing comforting circles against the top of your hand. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“What? Is my hot cocoa not good enough for you?” He teases light-heartedly and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“It’s delicious. But I was thinking of something… a little stronger.”

A mischievous grin upturns the corners of his lips as he realizes what you’re suggesting. “I’ve got just what you need.”

“You know what, FUCK MEN. They’re all stupid. Who needs ‘em? Not me.”

“Yeah men are assholes!” Baekhyun agrees loudly, thrusting his empty shot glass in the air, before pausing and reconsidering his words. “Wait, I’m a man.”

“You and Yeol are the only exceptions.” You reassure, slapping your hand down on his shoulder. He grins widely at that, satisfied. “But every other man— they can all suck my dick,” you continue your tirade, swinging your hands around animatedly, “they’re all liars and cheats and idiots and I’ve had enough of they’re bullshit to last three lifetimes.”

Chanyeol giggles softly from where he’s situated on the floor between your legs which are draped lazily over either of his broad shoulders, his head resting on your thigh, obviously amused by your tipsy antics.

The first shot went down hard, more bitter than your resentment for your piece of shit ex-boyfriend. The second soothed the ache in your chest and allowed for the tension in your muscles to gradually ebb away. And the third? Well, you opted to take your time sipping on that one, not wanting to completely lose yourself in the intoxicating buzz.

You were never the biggest drinker, but sometimes a few shots of something a little stronger than beer helps take the edge off. Right now seems as good a time as any for some liquid courage.

“You wanna know the worst part?”

However, one of the biggest reasons you erred on the side of caution around alcohol was because you had a tendency to spill things that didn’t necessarily need to be exposed. Especially not to your tipsy best friends at three in the morning when emotions ran high and couldn’t be easily stifled.

“What?” Baekhyun leans closer, eyes wide and burning with curiosity at the sudden somberness of your voice. Chanyeol tilts his head back at the shift in tone, looking up at you through dark lashes.

“In the three years we were together,” the two boys strain their ears as your voice drops into a careful whisper, as if someone other than them was around to hear the secret you hadn’t dared to share with a single soul up until this point, “he only ate me out once.”

For a moment, you think the disbelief that flashes across their faces is because you’ve brought up something of a sexual nature. But that thought is quickly squashed.

“Once? In three years? Is he insane?!”

“Shows what kind of man he really is.” Baekhyun scoffs, clicking his tongue. “Did you go down on him?”

You nod in reluctant confirmation, still sober enough to feel the slightest pinch of shame at your admission.

“That’s not how it works! Sex is about give and take, balance,” Chanyeol enunciates the word carefully, and you can’t help the upward twitch of your lips at the seriousness of his expression and the passion behind his words, “You can’t just receive without giving anything back!”

“He said he didn’t like it. And he only did it that one time because we fought on my birthday two years ago and he felt bad.” You explain, pouting heavily as you recall all the times he refused to go down on you.

Baekhyun blanches, jaw dropping. “You haven’t been eaten out in two years? Oh, baby...” you can feel the empathy rolling off of them in thick waves as they allow the new information to really sink in.

“I know, I know! Please don’t make me think about it anymore.” You whine distraughtly, rubbing your hands roughly down your face as frustration and annoyance bubble up inside of you. “I’m already pent up enough as is. That selfish bastard— he couldn’t even make up for it with his stupid dick either. He was all talk when it came to things like that. He only ever cared about getting himself off. It didn’t matter if I felt good as long as he could get his dick wet. What bullshit! Do you even know how many orgasms I had to fake?!”

Everything you’d kept inside comes exploding out of you in a rush of fiery passion, refusing to remain bottled up for even a moment longer. But of course, the moment it’s out and unable to be taken back, you regret saying anything about it at all. Red hot embarrassment floods your senses and you sink in on yourself, slapping a hand over your offending lips.

Damnit. You really shouldn’t have taken that third shot.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. That was— I shouldn’t have—” you attempt to backtrack, mouth twisted into a grimace.

There’s an exchange of glances that you don’t see, too wrapped up in your own humiliation to notice.

Then, a gentle hand slides over your thigh and you jolt in surprise, head snapping up to find a very serious Baekhyun looking back at you. You’d never seen this kind of expression on his face before. It was different then his usual playful grin or teasing smirk. Darker, somehow... dangerous. Like he was looking right through you and seeing everything you’d kept so carefully bottled up inside. It incites within you a vulnerability you had long forgotten.

“When was the last time you came?”

The question catches you off guard, to say the very least.

“Shit, i-it’s not like I keep track.” You laugh weakly, trying not to focus on the warmth seeping into your lower belly or the proximity of their bodies. But then his fingers are feathering over the curve of your knee and your heart is picking up speed and you’re left wondering at which point this conversation took such a turn.

Between your legs, Chanyeol shifts and your gaze snap down just in time to see him turn to face you fully, something dark and unfamiliar stirring within those big brown eyes. On instinct, you try to close your legs, but the sheer largeness of his body nestled comfortably between them prevents you from doing anything of the sort.

There’s no ignoring the rush of heat that ignites in your core, the closeness too much for your body to process all at once, only fueled by the long neglected desire for some kind of release.

And the fact that all he needed to do was get just a little bit closer—

But those are most definitely not the types of thoughts you should be having about your best friends. No matter how attractive they are. No matter how good Baekhyun’s pretty hand feels, slowly edging it’s way higher and higher up your thigh. No matter how cute the look on Chanyeol’s face is, a searing blush turning his full cheeks a fiery shade of red that easily consumes the entirety of his handsome face.

Fuck. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Y/n…”

Oh god. Why did your name have to sound like that coming from his lips?

Baekhyun’s fingers find your chin, gently coaxing your attention away from the man kneeling before you and back onto him. Your breathing has become shallow and fast, the insufficient amount of oxygen making you feel somewhat lightheaded. But the sensation is not a wholly unwelcome one. Not when his own smooth, liquor stained breath is like ambrosia on your tongue— heavy and rich and dangerously tempting.

“That piece of shit couldn’t make you feel good, could he?”

“No.” You swallow around the word, willing your treacherous eyes away from the entrancing curve of his pink mouth.

“No…” he repeats softly, tracing his thumb lightly over the flesh of your lower lip, “but I can— we can.” He lowers his gaze, tempting yours to follow as he ticks a brow at the younger boy. “… can’t we, Chanyeol?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol breathes without a moment’s hesitation, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your knee, warm fingertips teasing the cool skin of your ankles before he’s quickly amending, “if it’s what you want.”

Baekhyun’s lips feather over the shell of your burning ear and you feel consumed.

“Do you want it?”

“This is crazy.” It’s a deliberate avoidance of the question and you both know it.

He cocks his head, the corner of his lip curling into a teasing little grin that makes you feel like he can read your mind. “Is it?”

Yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue. But you would be a dirty, filthy liar if you said it had never crossed your mind.

The thought of you and them.

Usually one... sometimes both.

But those had just been fleeting fantasies when nothing else could satiate the unrelenting heat in your belly, shameful fantasies that, for the most part, you kept locked up tight in the furthest corner of your mind and only let out at the darkest hour of the night, when the midnight winds carried away the trembling breaths of their names, a whispered secret shared only between you and the moon. Only then would you dare to bask in their phantom caresses, allow your mind to conjure up images of their faces, twisted in beautiful bliss.

It was a dangerous game you played, but god, it felt too good to be wrong.

Or maybe that was just you trying to rationalize getting off to the thought of your best friends.

After a few moments of you grappling for the right words, Baekhyun tentatively intervenes with the thick, tension-filled silence that had encased the space around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. No pressure from us, sweetheart. I understand two at once can be a bit... intimidating.”

Though he started out in a tone that suggested reassurance and understanding, that last phrase, donning an underlying pitch of provocation, gives you pause.

“Are you suggesting you don’t think I could handle the two of you?” There’s a low scoff to your words, a spark of competitiveness that only Byun Baekhyun himself could draw out of you igniting in your stomach.

He smiles at you innocently, walking two fingers up the length of your thigh. “Not at all.” Something about the glint in his eye tells you that that is exactly what he was suggesting.

A light pout touches your lips and you lower your gaze to the man on the floor. “Chanyeol?”

You don’t need to elaborate for him to understand what you’re asking, that familiar boyish grin curling across his face as he props his chin on top of your knee.

“I think you could handle me just fine.”

A shiver ricochets down your spine at the divine way the words drip from his lips, thick and honey like, sensual in their suggestive nature. You hold his burning stare for a few moments longer than you probably should have, feeling yourself slowly being devoured by the dark, ravenous hunger that swirls within it. This was a fire you were not accustomed to seeing ablaze in Chanyeol. You were used to the fire of his competitiveness, the searing flame of his imperishable passion.

But this— this was something new all together.

If you were to touch him, you wonder if you would be able to feel the savage heat of it against your fingertips.

At your sides, your hands itch to find out. But a gentle tug at the string of your- er, Chanyeol’s sweatpants pulls your mind away from that specific thought. You can’t help the shaky gasp that catches in your throat at the sight of Baekhyun’s hands hovering dangerously close to your heat. You can only watch, melting into a puddle of pure need as he twirls the string nonchalantly around his beautiful fingers, slipping his two middle digits into one of the loops and proceeding to curl them in a way that made your mind jump to highly inappropriate possibilities.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His teeth graze the shell of your ear and the wetness forming between your thighs increases tenfold as the smooth tenor of his voice thrums through your skull.

“I’d love for you to prove me wrong.”

You’re not sure who leaned in first. But the next thing you know, your lips are on his. There’s no time to dwell on the fact that you’re kissing your best friend, your mind rapidly growing hazy from the unexpected intensity. There’s a certain viciousness in his ministrations, a brutality to his lust that he breathes into your lungs and sends blazing through your veins. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

You can’t help the surprised moan that escapes you when he takes your tongue between his lips and sucks, a low content hum reverberating through his chest before he releases you with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Fuck,” he groans languidly, “You taste like chocolate, baby.”

Calloused hands are curling around your jaw before you can fully recuperate, drawing your attention away from Baekhyun just in time to see Chanyeol’s rapidly approaching face. His dark eyes are hooded and wanting, the faintest of pouts residing on his red-bitten mouth as he breathes in an almost whining tone, “I wanna taste.”

You can think of no reason to object.

His lips slip over yours with a gentleness that is almost staggering. Despite his impatience, there’s an underlying hesitance to his motions, an uncertainty that gives you the feeling that… he’s waiting for you to take the lead. And you do such with fervor.

Raising a hand, you slip gentle fingers up the length of his throat and give an experimental squeeze, not hard enough to do anything other than apply a bit of pressure, but just enough to get your message across.

I’m in charge.

The delighted moan he produces in response makes your lips curl devilishly.

But you’re not given the opportunity to relish in the hot rush of power long, a second pair of lips attaching to your throat making you waver. A hot tongue laves over your collarbone, followed by the sharp pressure of teeth and your jaw goes slack.

Did Baekhyun just bite you?

And… why didn’t you hate it?

Chanyeol takes your open mouth as an invitation, smoothly tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Fuck. He tastes like cinnamon and liquor, a combination you had no idea could be so addictive.

Mind dazed and sufficiently distracted, you don’t notice the hand slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats until a shock of pleasure bolts up your spine. You gasp, breaking the kiss as your eyes drop in order to see which of the two boys is the culprit. Baekhyun lets out a low groan, feathering gentle touches over the soaking fabric of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He growls dangerously in your ear. “We’ve barely even started. Are you already that excited?”

You shudder involuntarily, only managing a hoarse moan when he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He chuckles tauntingly, as if you’ve just proved his point, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed with the way his skilled fingers are stroking your clothed heat.

The heaviness of Chanyeol’s gaze boring into you, devouring every detail of your blissed expression, only serves in making the sensations all the more intense. You attempt to grind yourself down into Baekhyun’s touch, seeking more friction, only to whimper in dismay as he withdraws completely, leaving you cold, unsatisfied, and aching for more.

“Baekhyun—”

“Take them off.” The abruptness of the command has your breath catching in your throat and a telling warmth fluttering through your core. You weren’t accustomed to hearing Baekhyun’s voice like this, so different from his usually light hearted teasing and playful jibes that it throws you for a moment. He cocks a brow amid your stunned silence, licking over the seam of his lip. “What? You need help?”

Snapping yourself out of it, you swing your gaze over to Chanyeol, offering him a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Can’t say I’d mind it.”

“I’m happy to lend a hand.” He hums, shooting you a playful wink that has a wide smile breaking across your face. He makes quick work of your borrowed sweats, easily tugging the loose fabric down the length of your legs and casting it aside carelessly. You watch the way his eyes flit greedily over the expense of your bare thighs, relishing the low, strained groan that flutters from his gaping lips when his attention fixes on the thin, black, lacy material that separates him from your soaking pussy.

“Those, too,” you instruct softly, sinking your teeth into the inside of your cheek. He swallows, and goes to reach for them, only to draw back abruptly when you swat his hands away with a sound of disapproval, “uh-uh. Do it with your teeth.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches, a severe blush rushing into his cheeks.

Beside you, Baekhyun grins wildly. “That’s my girl.”

You smirk to yourself at the praise, but don’t remove your eyes from Chanyeol’s for a single moment, absolutely loving the pretty shade of red his handsome face has taken on.

Slowly, he dips his head, not daring to break your gaze as he latches his teeth onto the thin black lace on your underwear and begins to drag them down the length of your legs. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, soothed by the press of his hot palms as they trail his descent down your thighs, over the curves of your knees, down your calves, until you are left bare and exposed before them.

Fuck. That was so hot.

“Cute, isn’t he?” Baekhyun hums playfully against your jaw, like the whisper of the devil in your ear. You let out a trembling breath as the younger boy presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, nodding with an airy sigh of ‘ so cute’. Baekhyun nips at the juncture of your throat, and you can only watch with bated breath as he reaches a hand between your thigh, dragging his long middle finger through your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Want your sweet Chanyeollie to eat your pretty cunt, baby? Hm? Want him to make you feel good?”

Your chest rises rapidly, fast, shallow breaths swirling into your lungs. His filthy words curl beneath your nose, thrumming in your ears, intoxicating and disorienting in their deadly temptation. Desperation tugs at every nerve in your body and your hips buck and roll, chasing his caress. Want pools, dark and heavy, in Chanyeol’s hooded eyes as he watches his friend’s teasing ministrations. He licks his lips, full and pink and glistening in the low light of their apartment and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Fuck yes.” The words are nothing less than a growl in the back of your throat, a sound you never thought yourself capable of producing.

Baekhyun suddenly reaches forward, weaving his fingers through Chanyeol’s thick hair and tugging him forward. The younger gives no resistance, bracing his hands on your lower thighs as he allows himself to be guided to you. His lips part, tongue peeking out, and your anticipation skyrockets. But then he stops just short, and all you’re left with is the faint caress of his warm breath to soothe the insatiable ache between your hips. You almost whimper.

Chanyeol’s nostrils flare, eyes sharpening in annoyance as he shoots a glare up in Baekhyun’s direction. He only grins and arches a brow. “What? You’re not gonna ask for it first? Where are your manners, Yeol?” He gasps mockingly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

You don’t expect Chanyeol to give in at first, not with how competitive he could be and especially not with Baekhyun acting so damn condescending. But then he does, and you forget how to breathe.

“Please, y/n,” he pants hotly against your skin, “I wanna taste you so bad. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good. Please. Fuck, please.” A low, needy groan trembles in the back of his throat, clinging to that last ravenous plea. He snags his lower lip between his teeth and you feel yourself throb. The man looks down right sinful, Baekhyun still clutching onto his inky locks, forcing a slight strain in his neck as he looks up at you with those damn eyes that make your stomach churn and your mind spin.

God, he’s so beautiful.

Overwhelmed with the need to touch him, you nudge Baekhyun’s hand out of the way and replace it with your own, immediately loving the feeling of Chanyeol’s soft hair sliding between your fingers. His eyes flutter under the gentleness of your grip, lips parting as he breathes a delicate sigh, gazing up at you expectantly.

“Come here, Yeolie.”

He’s more than happy to comply.

The first stroke of his tongue sends sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body, a silent gasp shaping your lips. He looks up at you through dark lashes, encouraged and invigorated by your responsiveness to him, licking eagerly at your cunt. Soft moans flutter through his chest, and you shiver at the faint vibrations that are sent pulsing through you.

“Fuck, Chan,” you hiss, rocking your hips forward when he laves over your clit. The friction makes your skin tremble, a dangerous heat rising beneath it. If you knew he was this good with his mouth, you would have jumped his bones a whole lot sooner.

Another moan builds in your chest, but it’s abruptly stifled when Baekhyun tangles a hand into your hair and pulls you into a kiss that doesn’t fail to knock the air out of your lungs. Having both of their mouths on you makes your head spin and you can’t decide which to focus on. You’ve never been with more than one person at the time and it’s slightly overwhelming to suddenly have two men— two gorgeous men at that, both eager and willing to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.

Warm fingers suddenly slip beneath the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, and you shiver as they glide over your skin, light and teasing in advance towards your chest. A tremor wracks your spine when he pinches a nipple, squeezing his digits around the shape of your breast. Your back arches unconsciously, and you feel him smirk. Distracted, you don’t feel the burn of Chanyeol’s impatient glare until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Yelping in shock, you snap your gaze back down to the younger boy, disbelief coloring your features. He has the audacity to smirk at you, cocking a brow in a manner that has a mixture of annoyance and arousal flaring up in your gut. Any glimmer of smug accomplishment is quickly washed from his face when your hand shoots down and roughly grips the hair on the back of his head, yanking him upwards until your nose to nose.

“Watch your teeth, Yeolie.” You murmur darkly.

“Or what?” The corner of your mouth twitches at his gutsy response.

“Or I’ll make sure to edge you until you cry.”

His eyes widen at the threat and he swallows thickly. From your peripheral, you see the crotch of his grey sweatpants rise.

“Oh? But it looks like you’d like that.” A deep crimson flush rushes into his ears and tinges the tips of his ears and he lowers his eyes, unable to hold your mirthful gaze any longer. “I guess I’ll just have to think of a better punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes out airy and desperate, the natural rasp making the knot in your stomach tighten, “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” You search his blown pupils for any sign of dishonesty, but find only sincerity and intoxicating lust. Satisfied, you release your tight grip on his hair in favor of gently stroking your knuckles over his blushing cheek.

“Then be a good boy and show me what this pretty mouth,” you trace your thumb gently over the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip, “can really do.”

The moment he’s released from your entrancing gaze, his mouth is on you again, eating you out with a fervor you’ve never before experienced. Your hips buck against him, your head tipping back as you let out rasping groans.

“Fuck, Yeol. That’s it, baby. Good boy.” He moans against you as spill praise after praise, lapping hungrily at your soaking pussy.

“That was so fucking sexy.” Baekhyun growls roughly, kissing you hard once before he’s pulling away to speak again. “Watching you boss him around, take control like that…” his voice drawls into a low groan, “really does something to me.”

“Yeah?” You ask shakily, mind whirling as Chanyeol buries his tongue inside of you. Baekhyun grins, humming lightly in confirmation. “Maybe you should let me boss you around, too.”

“Not a chance.” He chuckles. “Maybe next time. But tonight…” your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so gently, “your mine, sweetheart.”

Next time. He said next time.

There’s going to be a next time.

The amount of joy you receive from those two simple words borders on irrational.

“I— oh fuck!” You can only cry out in bliss as Chanyeol wraps his lips around your clit, sucking roughly. Your hips jerk and grind, moving on their own accord as he draws you closer and closer to your high. God, you’re so close you can taste it. Your trembling hands find purchase in his hair once more, desperate to hold onto something as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“You gonna cum all over Yeolie’s tongue, baby? You gonna cum for us?” Baekhyun coos encouragingly against your jaw, and you can only whimper and nod frantically, unable to speak when Chanyeol sinks a long finger into your wet cunt, fucking you skillfully with his digit while he focuses his mouth on abusing your throbbing clit until your reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess on their living room couch.

“Yes— oh god, yes.”

When the coil snaps, it snaps hard. You can only manage a strangled whimper when it crashes over you. How long had it been since you last come on something other than your own hand? Weeks? Months? You can’t recall. But honestly how much does it really matter when your best friend’s face is nestled snug between your thighs?

The muscles of your legs seize and tremble beneath the force of your release, only held open by Chanyeol’s strong hands. He is unrelenting even as you come undone around him, tongue rolling over your clit, finger curling against your walls as his heady, hooded eyes devour you. You only manage to get him to detach him from you when you give a weak tug at his hair, the post-orgasm sensitivity proving too much for your body to handle.

“F– fuck.” You shiver, panting as tendrils of residual pleasure lick at your senses, the cold phantom of his tongue making you clench around nothing but empty air is pathetic greed. “Fuck, come here.”

Chanyeol is quick to rise onto his knees, obedient as ever, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as you cup his face and draw him into a heated kiss. He melts into you, large hands finding purchase on your thighs (which are still shaking) and caressing them soothingly.

“Thank you,” you breathe against his mouth, “thank you. Thank you.”

You feel him smiling as you continue to express your gratitude in gentle words spoken between deep, passionate kisses and it’s not long before his smile turns into something wide and toothy and uncontainable and he’s bursting into a fit of giggles as you resort to peppering the rest of his face in playful kisses.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Save the aftercare for when we’re  done, yeah?” Baekhyun’s lilting hum draws your attention, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“We’re not done?”

His brows jump, that familiar lopsided smirk offsetting his pretty lips. “Are you kidding me? We’ve got two years worth of orgasms to make up for. We’re nowhere near finished.” A shiver of excitement ricochets down your spine at the promise laced into his words, and you have to bite your lip to keep a wide grin at bay.

Suddenly, Baekhyun rises from the couch and it’s with immense effort that you refrain from staring directly at the prominent bulge straining against the thin fabric of his plaid pajama pants. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him as he extends a hand. “Come on. The bedroom is  much more comfortable to get your brains fucked out in. Speaking from experience.” You scoff at the sleazy smirk he shoots you, but slide your hand into his nonetheless.

The moment you’re on your feet, your knees buckle and you nearly topple. Luckily for you, Chanyeol has remarkable reflexes (when it counts) and catches you by the waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Shit, Yeol. You really did a number on her.” Baekhyun remarks teasingly. A feverish blush rises up your neck and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up.”

He bites the corner of his lip, gives you a heated once over that leaves your skin burning and trembling, before spinning on his heels sauntering in the direction of his bedroom door. He stops in the frame for a brief moment and shoots you a sultry wink from over his shoulder. “Come make me.”

Fuck.

Chanyeol let’s out a yelp of surprise as you lace your fingers through his and tug him hurriedly in the direction of his roommate’s bedroom. The very second that you’re through the door, lips connect with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs and obliterating any last remaining bit of your sanity. Hands seize your half naked body, eagerly exploring the expanse of your feverish skin. They tug at the hindering fabric of your sweatshirt, until all at once it is being pulled over your head and cast off carelessly somewhere in the darkness. You don’t even shiver, the heat of their bodies surrounding you and warding off the cool air.

Chanyeol takes the opportunity to slide a hand beneath your chin and tilt your head back so that it rests on his shoulder, the tip of his tongue flicking over your lips until they part, welcoming him in. Reaching back, you grab hold of his hips, tugging them forward and guiding them in a slow grinding motion against your ass. He moans hotly at the frictions, kiss turning sloppy as pleasure rushes through him.

You’re distinctly aware of the pressure of Baekhyun’s own mouth beginning a slow descent, starting from your jaw, gliding down the length of your throat, pausing to lick and suck at your sensitive nipples, kissing with a staggering tenderness over your belly. Then you hear his knees hit the floor. All at once, his tongue flattens against your clit, and you have to break away from Chanyeol as your body jolts violently in response. There’s still lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm, amplifying the pleasure tenfold.

And god, it’s so good.

“F– fuck, Baek—” your voice breaks off into a trembling whimper, hips bucking as he sinks a finger into your heat. Followed shortly thereafter by a second. Then a third. The stretch has you keening, leaning the full weight of your body against Chanyeol’s sturdy chest. He’s the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. Had you been left to your own devices, you would have already collapsed.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for us, baby.” Baekhyun hums with a lightness entirely unfitting for the current situation, nipping at the inside of your thigh. He supplies you with a slow, calculated thrust, biting his lip harshly as he watches your glistening arousal coat his digits. “Fucking hell, your soaking.”

You whimper shakily, head tipping back as Chanyeol nips and sucks at the juncture of your throat, his large hands gliding over the shape of your body as if he intends to commit it to memory— caressing every curve, fondling every edge, touching you, worshipping you with a reverence that pours into your very soul. You’ve never been touched like this before. Most men just think they have a right to you the second your clothes are off (some even before that). There’s no respect, no appreciation, nothing but dirty lust.

But this— this is different. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put into words. The way he’s touching you, like you’re a precious work of art, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel… beautiful. Something you rarely, if ever, felt when you were with your ex.

Baekhyun swirls his tongue around your clit and simultaneously curls his fingers, successfully stroking that long neglected bundle of nerves inside of you. The sensations it sets off inside of you are intense and overwhelming, and within seconds you’re coming for a second time. This orgasm comes completely unexpectedly and without any real warning outside of the breakneck explosion of pleasure that has stars scattering across your vision.

“Baek—!” you can only manage a broken yelp of his name as your body convulses above him, wracked and disoriented by the sudden, explosive burst of ecstasy. Now your shivering, trembling and gasping violently, but not from the cold. He watches in wonder as you unravel, clenching so tightly around his fingers that he can only begin to imagine what you’ll feel like coming around his cock. Shit, he can’t wait to be inside of you. He’s throbbing at the mere thought of it.

Chanyeol’s no better off, barely holding himself back from rutting against you like some kind of animal. But he wants to impress you, show you he has some semblance of self control even when it feels like he might burst in his pants at any given moment. He wants to be good for you. So for now, he can only watch with bated breath, painfully hard in his sweats, as your face contorts into an expression of pure bliss. God, you look so beautiful like this he almost can’t stand it. How could anyone let someone like you go?

“Holy f-fuck.” You whimper, attempting to catch your breath as your high begins to fade. Baekhyun has plastered a cocky grin across his face by the time you look down at him, though his eyes still sparkle with something indecipherable.

“That was a good one.” He says, carefully retracting his fingers from your heat as Chanyeol hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose behind your ear comfortingly when you shudder and whine at the emptiness. “We’re gonna break her at this rate.” 

“Not a chance,” you interject firmly, albeit somewhat breathlessly, “I’m a lot tougher than you think.” It’s the truth, but the quiver in your voice begs to differ. 

“So you can handle another one?” Baekhyun asks, rising to his full height. 

You hold his fiery gaze. “I can handle anything you give me.” 

Something in his eyes darkens. “Careful, sweetheart. You have… no idea the kind of filthy, depraved things I want to do to you.” His voice drops an octave, and, despite having already come twice (twice as many times as you were used to), your greedy cunt still throbs with need. 

Boldly, you extend a hand, caressing over his clothed length, and feel a surge of pride when he inhales sharply, hard gaze faltering. 

Leaning forward, you feather your lips over his, teasing. It’s a dangerous game you're playing, you know that. But you’re enjoying it far too much to stop now.

“Show me.”

Those two little words are all it takes to break Byun Baekhyun. 

“Bed. Now.” 

Perhaps you’re just a little too eager to comply, barely biting back a grin of excitement as you turn tail and scramble to his king sized bed. 

The disheveled sheets welcome you into their embrace, still warm in the spot Baekhyun had occupied prior your unannounced visit. They smell of him, you notice, the coconut of his shampoo, the milk & honey of his body wash, the soft vanilla of his perfume. You recognize the latter as the bottle he “borrowed” from you a few months back and had yet to return. Not that you really mind. You secretly like the fact that he smells like you. 

Chanyeol is first to round the side of the bed, ridding himself of his clothes along the way. Shirt first, then pants, and you can’t help but giggle as he hops clumsily out of his boxers, nearly bumping into the nightstand before he falls gracelessly onto the mattress beside you, offering up a sheepish grin. 

“Sexy, aren’t I?” Sarcasm bleeds through his tone, embarrassment hot on his cheeks, though it’s quickly soothed as you draw him into a gentle kiss. 

“Excruciatingly.” You enunciate teasingly, nipping at the tip of his nose. 

The bed dips around your ankles, and you peer down to see a very primal looking Baekhyun crawling towards you, like a predator honing in on his prey. The carnal hunger pooling in his hooded eyes hits you straight in the chest, and for a moment you forget how to breathe. 

Slotting himself between your hips, you could easily make out every inch of his length resting against your stomach, hot and hard and throbbing. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone inside of you this badly. His head lowers to your throat and he sets your skin ablaze with open mouthed kisses. Chanyeol makes sure the opposite side of your neck isn’t neglected long, feeling the erratic pulsing of your carotid artery beneath the slow strokes of his tongue. Your head falls back into the pillows, a sigh fluttering from your lips as you’re bathed in their affections. 

Baekhyun slips a hand beneath your knee, hooking it over his hip. Your lungs tremble with excitement when he slides his tip slowly through your wet folds. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see stars.” 

“I already have,” you smirk lazily in response, snagging the corner of your lip between your teeth, “Twice.” 

He doesn’t seem discouraged, curving a hand around the shape of your jaw and feathering his mouth over yours as his eyes glint with something sinful and electrifying. “Then I’m gonna show you the goddamn galaxy.” 

There’s no time to respond before his hips are rolling forward, filling you to the hilt with one smooth stroke. A breathless gasp trembles from his throat, “fuck.” 

“Does she feel good?” The question that escapes Chanyeol is weak and needy, strained and rough, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He almost sounds like he’s struggling, battling with himself internally as he watches his best friend’s cock disappear inside of our cunt with a lewd squelch. The searing heat of his gaze makes you whine in pathetic desperation, no longer unable to form coherent words to express your desire. 

“Fucking Christ, Yeol. She’s so tight a-and wet— ah, fucking perfect.” Baekhyun’s shoulders arch, a tremor rippling down his spine as your walls constrict around him, squeezing so tightly he almost loses himself then and there. But he manages to hold back, bracing a hand on your hip as he pushes himself up right. 

“Baek, please.” 

There’s no need for elaboration. He knows exactly what you’re asking for. And hell, he’s more than happy to provide. 

The first thrust of his hips has your back arching off of the mattress, mouth opening in silent bliss. The pace he sets is punishing, fast and deep and rough. His blunt nails dig harshly into the flesh of your hips, but you relish in it, pain and pleasure coming together to create the perfect cocktail. The lingering sensitivity from your two previous orgasms only serves to heighten the ecstasy that you're experiencing. And with Chanyeol pressed against your side, large, calloused hands and gentle lips making sure each and every inch of you is receiving attention, it doesn’t take long at all before you feel that coil in your stomach tightening. 

“I’m not gonna last.” You moan weakly, clinging to Chanyeol like he’s your one and only lifeline. 

“Fuck, come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” Baekhyun growls, snapping his hips roughly into yours. You cry out desperately when Chanyeol trails a hand down your body, circling a careful finger around your clit. 

“Oh god, please. Please, Yeol. Harder. Baek— fuck, please.” You’re on the verge of tears, muscles shuddering violently as the white hot pleasure pulses through your veins. 

“Who are you begging, sweetheart?” Baekhyun grins down at you devilishly, licking at his teeth as his eyes glow with something dangerous and powerful. Your stomach whirls, and you nearly headbutt Chanyeol when your body lurches, entirely overwhelmed. It’s so much— too much— but, somehow, not enough. 

Your legs squeeze around Baekhyun’s hips, heels pressing into the swells of his ass, urging him deeper as you implore him wordlessly for more. You want everything, however selfish that may sound. You want it all. Every last piece of him. 

This time around, you’re more than grateful that he can read you so well. 

Simultaneously, the two boys fiercen their ministrations: Baekhyun, fucking himself into you so hard that the headboard is slamming into the wall; Chanyeol, applying enough pressure to your sensitive clit that your sanity nearly flies out the window. Within seconds, entangled in the staggering heat of their bodies, you come undone. 

Damn. Baekhyun wasn’t kidding about showing you the galaxy. 

Never in your life have you experienced an orgasm like this. One that tears through your very being like a raging tsunami. You feel it rippling through every cell, igniting every nerve ending in fiery ecstasy. 

Baekhyun is barely able to hold himself together as you unravel beneath him, his entire body trembling and sweating with the effort of fighting back his own high, which is threatening to break over him at any given second. The mere sight of you is almost enough to do him in, but he wants to make sure to ride you through yours before he allows himself even a taste of his own. Harder said than done when you look so good and feel ever better, clenching and pulsing around him and god he’s about to lose his fucking mind. 

He’s panting and groaning, rolling his hips deeply into yours, keeping himself teetering dangerously on that edge. But it’s you, your voice whimpering his name, your fluttering, teary eyes barely able to keep themselves open looking up at him, that finally breaks him. He bucks into you sharply, hips spluttering, body shaking as he spills himself. It’s sudden and it’s messy and it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed. 

The moment he’s finished, he collapses on top of you, completely out of breath and red in the face; thoroughly fucked out. But that doesn’t stop him from bathing you in whispered praises. 

“You’re so amazing. You did so well. You’re so beautiful.” 

His words warm your heart, which is just barely beginning to return to a more natural rhythm. They lick the wounds from the nights previous events, soothe the ache that was long forgotten in the thralls of your best friends’ soothing touch. 

Baekhyun pulls out of you carefully, and you have to physically stop yourself from pouting at the emptiness and loss of the weight and warmth of his body as he rolls off of you, flopping onto the mattress at your side with a huff of hazy laughter. 

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, a dopey smile plastered across his face as he tosses an arm over his eyes, “that was amazing.”

“So fucking amazing.” You emphasize, trying uselessly to catch your breath.

It’s only when you feel something nudging at your opposite hip that you're able to refocus your bleary mind on the unfinished task. You turn, finding the adorable scrunched face of Chanyeol, cheeks red, eyes wanting. 

The younger boy chews on his lower lip, swallowing a groan. He’s trying his best not to come off as too desperate, but you see right through him. You see how hard he is, veins thick and throbbing beneath the angry red skin, his flushed tip weeping with precum. Honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t touched himself yet. It looks like it hurts. 

Licking your lips, you can’t help but to wonder what he might taste like, how he’d feel against your tongue, the kinds of sounds he’d make when his body was overwhelmed with pleasure. You bet he’s loud when he comes. Fuck, that deep, raspy voice would sound so good moaning your name. 

… perhaps you are feeling just a little greedy. 

“Yeol,” he snaps to attention at the wispy call of his name, inhaling sharply when your fingers graze his thigh, “come here.” 

He blinks in confusion, not understanding what you want him to do. Recognizing the lost puppy dog look, you chuckle before elaborating in far more blunt terms to avoid further misunderstanding; 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” 

If he were to open his eyes any wider, you were certain they’d fall straight out of his head. “I– I can’t– you just—” he stutters clumsily, shaking his head, but you can feel his body practically trembling in excitement at the implication of your words.

“Please. You’ve been so good for me. I wanna make you feel good, too, baby.” You coo, tugging at his knee once more before leaning up to graze your lips over the shell of his flushed ear. “Let me make you feel good, Yeolie.” 

He shivers violently, a strangled moan breaking from his swollen mouth, and you smirk to yourself, knowing you’ve got him. He seems nervous as he pushes himself up and crawls to kneel next to your head before hesitating, blinking as he tries to figure the right way to position himself. 

He’s cute when he’s concentrating. 

“Like this—” you chime in. Chanyeol gasps and flushes a deep red when you guide him forward until his knees are on either side of your head, his hard length swinging proudly above your nose. 

Reaching up, you take his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers. “If I tap on the back of your hand—” you demonstrate, “it means stop, okay? You have to stop immediately when I do that because I won’t be able to speak.” 

He nods, expression serious, “I understand. I’ll stop if you tap on my hand.” 

“Good,” you pause, a gentle smile upturning the corners of your mouth, “I trust you.” 

His breath hitches. “Thank you.” 

Instead of responding, you tip your chin up and trace your tongue over the underside of his cock. His hips stutter forward, a surprised moan escaping him at the unexpected contact. 

“Stop teasing and feed her your cock, Chanyeol. Can’t you see how bad she wants it?” Baekhyun chuckles mockingly, sliding a lithe hand around your jaw and squeezing, forcing your mouth open even wider. Chanyeol looks down at you through blown pupils, chest heaving, lust practically radiating from his every pore. But it’s only when you offer a nod of reassurance and a look that you hope gives of even the faintest of glimpses into your immense desire for this, for him, does he finally move. 

With a tenderness only Park Chanyeol could possess in a position such as this, he guides himself between your awaiting lips. You moan unabashedly as the bittersweet taste of him hits your tongue, tipping your chin up to make more of him in. A shuddering moan pulses from his chest, pitched and broken on red bitten lips. The sound is somehow even more beautiful than you imagined. 

Languidly, you swirl your tongue around his weeping tip, eliciting a strained whisper of your name as the grip he has on your hands tightens substantially. He offers a slow, shallow thrust, his head dropping forward as his length slides deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. The pressure of your tongue against the underside of his cock and the heavy reverberations of your soft, encouraging moans invigorate him to set a careful rhythm, hips stroking gently forward. 

Your knuckles dig into the messy sheets as he pivots his weight forward, and you quickly relax your jaw when you feel him inching closer to your throat with every thrust. Chanyeol is even more considerate than you thought he’d be, pulling out far enough between steady strokes that you can swallow lungfuls of oxygen before sliding smoothly back in, deeper and deeper each time. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, mouth straining in order to accommodate his impressive girth. But hell, it’s worth it. Totally worth it.

His breathing became harsh and labored, filling his lungs with sharp, ragged inhales that shudder through the deep cavity of his chest. “F– fuck, y/n,” he groans hoarsely, head dipping as his eyes squeeze shut, “your mouth is— s- so good.” 

Your core tightens around nothing at the rasping whimper, the faint caress of his warm breath rousing goosebumps across the damp skin of your belly. The subconscious clenching of your thighs is wholly unintentional, but it does not go unnoticed. 

Chanyeol lets out a choked gasp as a hand slides into his hair, his upper body suddenly forced downwards. 

“Come on, Yeolie,” Baekhyun coos tauntingly in his ear, “you were the one going on and on about balance. So why don’t you provide some… ‘give and take’, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he barely whispers, but you still feel a rush of hot breath over your core and moan throatily around his cock. He tenses and shudders in response to the delicious rush of vibrations, tightening his grip on your hands as Baekhyun guides him lower. 

Honestly, you aren’t sure at first if you have another one in you. Three orgasms in one night was unimaginable before tonight. Four seemed simply unrealistic. Your poor pussy is still pulsing and trembling from the last. But the moment Chanyeol flicks his tongue over your clit, the most delicate of kitten licks, you know that you do. 

This time though, it’s like molten metal boiling in the pit of your stomach, a wholly unfamiliar sensation. Each press of his lips and roll of his tongue fans the fire blazing through your veins. You try your best to keep up, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue, but it’s difficult when it feels like your brain is short circuiting. The pleasure is fiercer, more intense, rolling over you in thick, devastating waves. You’re reduced to little more a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, barely able to keep yourself from choking on his cock. 

Chanyeol’s hips buck frantically as your throat constricts, his own ministrations getting rougher and sloppier the closer he gets. You feel his teeth against your clit, then two long fingers slipping through your slicks folds and fucking themselves into your pussy. Baekhyun can only groan hotly at how easily you take his digits, squeezing his opposite hand around the base of his hard dick. 

“I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol whimpers hurriedly, “oh fuck I’m gonna come.” 

Suddenly, his hips pulse and your bottom lip make contact with the flat of his pelvis. It takes every ounce of control you have over your body to push back your gag reflex, but the way he trembles and breaks above you is undoubtedly worth the strain. A jumbled mess of words tumble from his lips as he comes, though only your name and a select few curses are intelligible between the deep, violent moans that burst from his chest. 

Tears fall from the corners of your eyes as he fucks himself into your mouth, motions stuttered and sloppy. But you swallow around him eagerly as he fills your throat with his release, which only serves in prolonging his orgasm until he’s shivering and whining and hell— each sound, each tremble has the coil in your stomach squeezing tighter and tighter. 

All the while, Baekhyun’s fingers are loyally exploring your silken walls until he once again discovers that small bundle of nerves that make your head spin. Combined with Chanyeol moaning and growling against your clit— you're a dead woman. 

This final orgasm is the equivalent of having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Every hair on your body jumps to stand at attention, oxygen suddenly igniting into flames in your lungs. You scream around Chanyeol’s cock, back bowing off the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. It’s so intense you honestly feel like you might pass out. But it’s so good, too good —fuck, it’s the best you’ve ever had!— and you want to relish in every mind numbing moment. 

All at once, Chanyeol is gone from between your lips and you gasp, a rush of cool air like a glass of ice water in the torrid desert flooding into your lungs and soothing the angry blaze. 

“Holy shit.” 

You’re too gone in the high to make out who the strained whisper had come from, or to notice the sudden substantial amount of wetness painting the insides of your thighs and seeping into the sheets below. Your brain feels thoroughly scrambled, effectively stupefied by the prodigious pleasure and you can do nothing but bask in it. 

“Have you ever done that before?” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize that the question is directed at you. 

“Hmm?” You hum blearily, not bothering to try and lift your head. 

“Squirting,” Baekhyun clarifies, voice thick with wonder, “have you ever done that before?” 

“Squirting? No, I’ve never—” your head snaps up, eyes bulging, “I squirted?!” 

If the excessive arousal currently coating (and dripping from) Chanyeol’s astonished face and the unusually large wet spot staining the sheets is anything to go by, the answer is a clear yes. 

Panic strikes your chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I- I am so—”

“Don’t apologize! Don’t you dare apologize.” Baekhyun abruptly cuts you off, splaying a hand over your belly. “That has to be the most— amazing thing I have ever seen. No girl has ever squirted on me before. I’m honestly honored.” 

“Baekhyun, please.” You whine, pulling a pillow over your feverish face and snapping your legs shut. 

“I’m serious!” He yelps indignantly, tugging the pillow away from you and tossing it to the side despite your noisy complaints. Two strong hands find either of your thighs and pry them apart in spite of your stubborn resistance, revealing the slippery mess you made on the sheets below. 

Heat rushes up your neck as Chanyeol falls into position between them like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world and begins licking at your wet skin. The muscles of your thighs shake and tighten uncontrollably under the intimate ministrations, the post orgasm sensitivity extending beyond your core and into each of your limbs. 

“Chan,” you whimper remorsefully, clenching your fingers in the duvet, “I can’t. I can’t.” 

He smiles against your skin, licks turning into gentle kisses that make your heart flutter and melt in ways it definitely should not in response to your best friend’s big, sweet eyes. Then again— this entire situation is remarkably unconventional in regards to a typical friendship. Not that you’re complaining because really, how could you? Four orgasms? In one night? Unheard of. A part of you wonders if they were actually just trying to kill you. 

While Chanyeol bathes you in his limitless affection, Baekhyun vanishes from your side and into the attached bathroom, returning only moments later with a towel saturated with hot water. You hum gratefully as he carefully scrubs away the sheen of sweat and sticky arousal clinging to your skin. And he’s considerate, too? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

“You guys are going to ruin all other men for me, fucking hell.” You huff out a hoarse chuckle. Chanyeol suddenly flops down beside you, nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder. 

“Who needs other men when you have us?” He rebukes, large hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. 

You can honestly find no reason to disagree. 

“Guys,” Baekhyun chimes once finished scrubbing you down, “let’s move to Chanyeol’s room. I need to throw these sheets in the washer before they get crusty. Made that mistake once. Never again.” 

“I would totally do that but I’m pretty sure my legs are numb.” 

“Ain’t no thang, pretty lady. I’ve got you.” Chanyeol chirps gallantly, slipping his arms beneath your legs and back. Before you can make any kind of protest, you’re being swooped off the bed and pressed into a warm chest. Shrieks of laughter peel from your lips as the gentle giant spins, and you throw your arms around his neck just for extra precaution. 

“Yeolie,” Baekhyun whines mockingly, stomping his foot childishly as he plasters an exaggerated pout across his face, “you never pick me up and twirl me around like a pretty princess.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you tease, extending a leg and pressing your toes against his chest, “only room for one pretty princess in this apartment.” 

“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” He scoffs as he stumbles back and falls dramatically back onto the mattress, hand splayed over his heart like you had somehow managed to wound him. 

“Speaking of washing,” Chanyeol chirps, glancing down at you, “How does a warm bath sound?” 

“Like heaven.” You groan. “Baek, feel free to join us after you're done doing your laundry.” You shoot him a mirthful grin as Chanyeol pivots and carries you out of the room that bears the musky, filthy scent of sex. 

“Wait you’re just gonna— but I—“ Baekhyun wavers, looking between your retreating figures and his stupid dirty sheets before letting out a groan of frustration and scurrying after you. “Fuck it. I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

“Is your bathtub big enough to fit three people?” You question, gaze landing on Baekhyun’s cute ass as he jogs ahead. 

Chanyeol shrugs, humming thoughtfully. “We can squeeze.” 

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“We can definitely squeeze.”