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jksangelic · 6 years

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in the dark (m)

☾ Rating: M

☾ Genre: pwp, smut, slight crack, very minimal scary times.

☾ Pairing: jikook x female reader (kinda, read the warnings).

☾ Warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, light male x male action (kissing, their peepees touch but only because of), double vaginal penetration, oral (female receiving), casual sex, unprotected sex, they fuck in jungkook’s truck, maybe a slight noona kink? sorry.

☾ Summary: “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

Jungkook and Jimin have a very short attention span, and when you three are lost in the middle of nowhere with a truck that won’t drive, they busy themselves with you.

☾ Word Count: 6.1k

☾ Note: Here’s another exciting project done for Halloween Smut Fest, hosted by the wonderful admins of @/btssmutclub! I hope you love this little Halloween treat as much as I loved writing it, and if you want more deliciously spooky smut, please check out the club and all it’s wonderful writers!

Another note: I was supposed to post this on Halloween but ya girl was shleep! Anyway, this story was really fun to write considering it’s my first attempt at writing threesome smut! I really hope you all enjoy, and feel free to send me an ask if you liked it personally! (wink)

Another ‘NOTHER note: the “Read More” function is in here so don’t flame me.

You really felt the part, itching yourself in this god-awful over-sized knit sweater that screamed “cactus that died twice over!”. The faux flora that was hot glued on one boob threatened to fall off and if you knew your costume would be this much of a mess, you would’ve just gone for your signature devil that reappeared in the corner of your closet every Halloween. Fuck originality.

“How the hell do you get lost in the same town you’ve lived in for years, Jungkook?” you simmer, itching your bare legs with vigor. For the love of all things pure, this sweater is shedding.

Jungkook grips his steering wheel hard enough that you see his veins threatening to burst, “Well, shit, man. I’m not the one who wanted to take a pit stop at a boba dive that I’ve never been to before. I live in the boonies; no one around here should even know what ‘boba’ is.”

“You didn’t even like it,” he continues, “I told you that we should’ve just head straight to the store and then to Jin-hyung’s house.” You pout, it wasn’t your fault the tapioca was soggy.

“My phone doesn’t have any service,” Jimin pitches in, leaning atop the center console from the backseat with a voice of annoyance. Groaning, you coax your phone to turn on once more. All you get is a tantalizing depleted battery.

“And you left your phone at home? What kind of millennial are you?” you bag on Jungkook, completely horrified by the fact that he nervously rakes his eyes on every passing sign, turning hesitantly only to pull a U-turn, biting his bottom lip and picking at the fuzz on his cheek with his free hand. There was no sugarcoating it. He was lost beyond all comprehension of the word.

“Y/N, literally shut up. If you weren’t stuck to your phone 24/7, you’d have enough battery right now to get us back into town.”

“You’re such an ass, Kook. You’re lucky we even went with you in the first place to get the snacks you vouched to buy and forgot until thirty minutes into the party.”

“Both of you! Stop eating each other’s asses and shut up! I can’t hear my own farts back here,” Jimin growls, turning to Jungkook, “just keep driving, we’re bound to get back on a main road at some point. If you keep turning randomly, we’ll just keep getting fucked.” He was right. The more Kook authorized a new direction, the more the landscape changed and morphed into nothing recognizable.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jungkook spits with an added eye roll, “but there aren’t even signs anymore. I haven’t seen a house in the last five minutes. This is so weird,” he trails off in thought. Fog eventually clouded around the truck, getting denser until you all eased into soft white. Jungkook drove cautiously slow in fear of hitting deer; you were deep enough in the woods to do so.

It was beautiful in a creepy, Halloweenish way. It was the perfect night for the cold to bite and the moon to smile down menacingly, if only you were in the right place for it.

You sigh, “I wanna be at the party.”

Jimin scoffs, “Don’t we all. What are you even supposed to be?”

Pulling your itchy-ass sweater over your knees, you click your tongue, “I’m obviously a cactus. Can’t you see my thorns?” you pick at the random frayed knots woven into the cloth, pulling them to a point to exaggerate their spikes.

“Why couldn’t you do something sexy? No one wants to get laid with a cactus,” Jimin criticizes. You shrug. Not everyone understands the importance of ingenuity.

“No one wants to get laid by a mummy that only got their neck embalmed,” you retort, eyeing his all-white outfit with, not even joking, three rolls of toilet paper resting atop his shoulders. He didn’t even bother to get the good kind of teepee, 1-ply threatening to be blown away by Jungkook’s measly heater. “Even Kookie’s costume is better, and he painted the bones himself, for heaven’s sake.”

You both study said costume, a plain black long sleeve (way too small but damn it really hugged him in the right spots) messily painted with an anatomically incorrect skeleton on the front and alongside his sleeves. Jungkook snickers, “Look, I even drew a boner,” pointing to where the material is tucked into his skinny jeans and, yes, noticing a random bone sticking out of his pants.

“Penises don’t even—I don’t know. I can’t argue when its an eight out of ten Halloween pun,” you surrender.

The chatter dies down as Jungkook drives around aimlessly, your continuous glances at the clock failing to slow it down so you can get to the store and to Jin’s house before Hoseok drank everything out of the liquor cabinet. You didn’t know how to read a map, not that it mattered since Jungkook would never have one in his glovebox, but damn it all, you really were stuck and were potentially risking crossing the border to another country for all you knew. It would be a lovely, nostalgic feeling to be yelling at each other over a paper map instead, though, aesthetically pleasing and all that good stuff.

Jungkook’s face scrunches, leaning back to peer at his dashboard then leaning back in. He runs his hand through his hair and repeats the set of actions, looking at it closer like he was trying to read another language. It’s on his third round that you stare at him blankly, expecting him to explain why he’s fidgeting like a toddler on two packs of jolly ranchers and a monster.

“Fuck, oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmy—,” he panics, laughing as if he’s gone mad.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong with you?” Jimin asks.

The truck sputters and heaves on its wheels, easing itself off the side of the pavement and into the rocky soil. Nearly breaks the gearshift when he shoves it into park and shuts off the engine with an exasperated bleat.

“I—I didn’t think… My dashboard doesn’t calculate how many miles I have left like newer cars and I knew I needed to stop by the gas station but I was going to fill it up when we went to the store so I thought we’d be fine but I forgot when we got lost and—”

“Wait, shut up for a second. Just get to the point,” you rub at your temples, wanting him to strictly verbalize what you already know is happening.

“We’re out of gas. And I just used the rest of what’s in my extra gas can. We’re stuck.”

It takes a few empty stares between you and the boys for your denial to kick in, “That’s funny. You’re funny, Jungkook. It would be so completely idiotic of you to forget to get gas and just now remembering when we’re stuck on some empty country road with no working cellphones and nowhere for us to get help nearby. So tell me you’re joking.”

Jungkook stares straight through the windshield, simultaneously worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. You swear you can hear his heart beating in his ribcage. Turning on the ceiling light, you flash him a bright smile before lunging for his neck. Jimin catches you before you strangle the rest of his IQ out of him and coos you into sedation, “Hey, okay, bringing a dead body into the situation is not optimal!”

“Look, it’s not my fault! I thought we were going straight to the store but you had to change our course,” Jungkook defends.

“Any sane human would just say, ‘Oh, hey, I have to stop by the gas station first because we’re running on empty,’ but no,” you draw out the “o” with squinted eyes and venom in your voice, “you always have to challenge the odds, don’t you? Now we’re stuck out here in the middle of fucking whoknowswhere!”

“You’re being so dramatic, Y/N.”

Your pitch is way above normal, “You’re a dumbass!”

“You’re a bitch!”

“Chill out! The both of you!” Jimin yells, hands still securing your arms to their sides in case you were to claw out anyone’s eyes. “The sooner we find help, the sooner we can get out of this predicament. Let’s try to find a nearby house and see if we can use their phone. There’s bound to be a living soul somewhere around here. I already texted Tae our location, but my phone has yet to deliver it. Sitting here and doing nothing isn’t an option. Let’s go.”

You exhale harshly through your nostrils, nodding your head obediently and signing a truce through eye contact with Kook. “Should one of us stay here just in case a car passes?” you offer.

“I’ll stay here. Sorry, but a single female in an inoperable car is a little sketchy. Can you two function properly or do you need to stay here and think about your actions, Kookie?” Jimin drawls. Jungkook scoffs on cue and is already halfway out the door when the question is asked.

“Why can’t I stay here with you? Jungkook can look by himself,” you whine.

“Someone is more likely to help a couple than some random dude who’s roaming the street by himself. Please, Y/N.”

He was right. Hopping out of the truck, you pull your sweater as far down it can go and bounce on your toes. Damn, it was brisk outside. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Kook says, dripping with sarcasm. The road ahead stretched so far that it disappeared over the horizon uninterrupted. A straight shot. The only source of light is barely graced by a last quarter moon and you decide in your own head that it’s time to forgive and forget, clinging to Jungkook’s arm for warmth and a sense of security.

“Scared?” he asks without a hint of mockery. You shrug. You weren’t sure yet.

Pacing yourselves between a jog and a walk, it seems like way too long of seeing absolutely nothing; the trees and the fog and the road blending together and becoming so unrecognizable that you worry your mind is playing tricks on you. Even worse, you shake vehemently from the cold, goosebumps eating you alive.

“F-F-Fuck, Jungkook. Should we try going the opposite w-way?” your teeth chatter, “We shouldn’t go too—” He covers your mouth with his palm, the rest of your words mumbled into his clammy hand and your body stopped in its tracks.

“What is it?” you try again, licking his skin in attempt to drive his grimy little paw off.

“Shut up!” he whisper-yells, eyes focused on something in the distance off the road. Following his line of sight, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to what he sees: two warmly glowing orbs far off in the distance. The pace of your heart quickens at the sight, ecstatic to finally see something.

“Lights! It might be the entry to someone’s driveway! Jungkook, c’mon.” He wraps his arms around your body once more to keep it from surging farther down the street, impossibly warm against your back and this time you can feel his heartbeat through the layer of clothes. It beat fast and hard, telltale for the occasional emotion Jungkook hardly ever felt in all his years of living: fear.

“Those aren’t lights,” he breathes into your ear, eyes filled to the brim with dread and voice wavering. “It’s getting closer, what the hell.” Jungkook is right. You stare at them as the mysteriously yellow orbs inch, no, run to the both of you and it’s only then that you realize that they’re eyes.

“Run, fuck, don’t scream, runrunrun,” Kook squeaks as he death-grips your hand and sprints in front of you, your own legs catching up to him before you can fully process what’s going on. Terror suddenly rips through your limbs, propelling you forward like it’s all you knew what to do but even then, Jungkook struggles to keep you alongside him, breathless encouragements like “it’s okay” or “keep running” or “a little faster” keeping you from even thinking of stopping. He could run ahead of you, but here he was, desperately pulling you behind his body that was obviously much more fit for running than yours. Tears prick at your eyes.

You must have walked for miles since it takes another ten-or-so minutes before you see the silhouette of his truck that was, at that moment, the most beautiful hunk of metal you ever laid your eyes on. Porsche’s had nothing on Jungkook’s dinky old pickup.

Opening a rear door, Jungkook all but shoves you atop Jimin before jumping in himself, not bearing the thought of having to sit in the front seat alone. Jimin watches with a bewildered look as you two struggle to catch your breaths, peeking out the front windshield to see if the eyes were anywhere in sight. Thank the heavens, they weren’t.

You curl into Jimin’s chest and bite back sobs of anxiety. “What the hell was that?”

“Was what?” Jimin finally inquires, clutching you close despite lack of an explanation.

“There was something, a bear or a wolf or something. It started chasing us,” Kook informs, a questioning lilt in his answer because he didn’t really know. “God, those eyes. It looked tall, I don’t even know if it was an animal.”

“I’m not going back outside. Neither are you,” you deadpan, “not when that thing is out there.” The boys nod in agreement.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’m sure Tae will get our message soon and he’ll come get us. We just need to stay here and be patient,” Jimin says comfortingly.

Jungkook tsks, “What if he doesn’t?” Jimin punches his arm and he yelps in pain.

“If worse comes to worse,” Jimin glares at the younger, “then we stay in the truck until it gets light enough to look for houses without worrying about being mauled by bears or wolves or deer or anything of the like. Each of us will take turns as lookout just in case anyone passes by. We’ll be fine, okay, Y/N?” He must notice your quaking so you shake your head in compliance. After a few minutes of discussion, you properly seat yourself in the middle and bring your knees to your chin, foreboding residing and the bitter cold seeping back into your list of things that suck tonight.

The first thirty minutes pass as if it’s several hours, games of rock-paper-scissors and skeptical scopes out of the windows unbearably monotonous. Jimin’s sudden force of bladder earns a heated debate of whether or not you would allow him outside or not, eventually approving when Jungkook offers an empty beer can and you’d much rather not. At the time Jimin staggers out of the vehicle, you perceive that the temperature both within the truck and outside have reached equilibrium and try your best not to whimper at the fact.

“Why don’t you try to sleep, Y/N? We can stay up for now,” Jungkook offers after another twenty minutes of the knife game (but with a mechanical pencil), hands now shuffling over his biceps to stimulate heat.

“Can’t. Too cold,” your breath puffs between your lips.

“It’s because you’re not wearing pants, sweets,” Jimin starts, pulling his long sleeve by the collar and over his head before laying it over your thighs politely. When you open your mouth to claim that you don’t need it, you throw all of your manners away because damn his shirt is warm on your prickled legs. Besides, seeing Jimin’s protruding muscles from his immodest tank wasn’t the worst thing.

The younger scoffs, “God, hyung, you’re just trying to show off.” He tilts his head in a demeaning manner, an odd tension ricocheting between the men.

“What? No, you little shit. She said she was cold so I’m trying to keep her warm.” Jimin only receives a belittling tch.

Hubris truly was one of Jungkook’s worst faults, you and Jimin incredulous when his hands lift your waist so you plop down between his lap, one of his legs resorting where you sat before and holding you close to his chest. While you struggle to pry his arms off, he only looks towards his hyung and gives him an award-winning smirk, “I’ll keep her warmer.”

“J-Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, shuddering when he massages the meat of your thigh.

“I’m just trying to make you feel better,” he purrs, looming over your shoulder, “am I warm?” And even though every siren in your head blares, you melt into his heater-like body because, yes, he was warm. Who were you to deny such an offer? So you hum your answer.

Jungkook victoriously peeps at Jimin through his eyelashes, breath fanning against your shoulder, “See?”

Jimin raises an unimpressed brow, rolling his eyes before stretching out as far as he can with limited leg room and rests his arms behind his head with ease. You watch as every muscle beneath his tank moves and extends, pecs scandalously flexing in his newfound position.

You squint, “I don’t know what the hell you two are doing, but you better stop it.”

“What? You were so scared and cold, poor thing, I’m just trying to distract you,” his palms press against your hips, digging his crotch into your tailbone, “You shouldn’t be so irked, it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

Images flash through your mind like kaleidoscope; a scorching hot kaleidoscope that left you writhing in his sheets in a wet, moaning mess. Suddenly appreciative of how dark it is as so the boys can’t see your flustered features, you sneer, “That was a long time ago, Kook.”

Jimin’s interest must be piqued, watching him slither over and pout in your face, “Ahh, you’ve fucked Jungkook too? You didn’t tell me.” He looks thoroughly disappointed. Jimin was one of your closest friends but it didn’t mean you were obligated to inform him of every sex endeavor you’ve ever experienced. Even more so when he was on that list, several times, it just made things awkward.

If the sirens were blaring earlier, your head was aflame by now, two horny men toying with you like predators to their prey. “What’s it to you mongrels? I can do what I want.”

“Who was better?” For some reason you can’t differentiate either of their voices when they’re both low, husky, full of hunger, but you just guess it’s Jungkook, the competitive bastard.

“I’m not fucking doing this with you two right now, do you know what situation we’re in? Please keep your dicks tucked.”

“I kinda see a great opportunity to rid our boredom and warm up the car a bit,” Jimin soothes, pressing cold, plump lips to your propped knee, fingers weaving in the hem of your sweater, “Don’t you agree, Kookie?”

He foregoes answering his counterpart, keen on squeezing the answer out of you (quite literally, as his hands grip the plush skin of your inner leg), “Answer me,” he growls into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” your breath hitches and fails to brave a front, “I don’t know. You were both good in different ways. Kn-knock it off, Jeon.”

“But it’s been so long, noona. Let us take care of you. C’mon, I need a yes.” By this time, Jimin starts suckling on the opposite collarbone, hands flat on your stomach but never daring to touch lower nor higher until you give them your unwavering permission. You purr like a kitten and do what he fails to do, gliding his hands until he reached soft, supple breast and kneading your fingers through his.

Startled by your ministrations, Jimin releases his wet lips from your neck and stares through your eyes with primal want; need, even. It made your bones melt.

“So, do you guys do this often? Share your meals?” you say into his lips, pulling on the bottom between your teeth and eliciting a grunt from the boy.

“We share a lot of things, doll,” he mumbles back, tongue sweet for a reason unknown, a sickeningly sweet poison enwrapping you in sheer desire. Jungkook grows impatient, hooking palms under your knees to spread them up and apart, no shame in getting to the point. Despite the lack of light, the new position steals Jimin’s attention as he stares at what you hide between your legs.

“Thought it’d make it easier for you to get to, hyung,” Kook offers wickedly.

“Are we really doing this right now? Just going to have a threesome in the back of your truck, Kookie?”

“Do you not want to?”

“No I do, it’s just fucking cramped back here.”

You’re not facing him but you practically feel the satirical eye roll, “Sorry, princess, should I lay out a blanket in the middle of the road? Would that accommodate more to your specifications?”

“Better watch your mouth, or you’ll be watching me and Jimin only.”

He humps into your back once, well near whining into your ear, “Okay, ‘m sorry.”

All the while, Jimin prodded at your clothed sex with a thumb, long strokes from above your clit to the edge of your perineum, drawing out patterns that made your stomach flex in anticipation. “Jimin, please.”

Jungkook pipes in, “Are you going to taste her? I can smell her from here. Smells good.” Jimin quite likes the idea, pushing your legs even higher to sniff you himself, nose buried deep in the fabric and breathing you in. Occasional nips send shivers in your loins, audible gasps urging him on for more, please, more. Rather, he takes to the moldable flesh of your inner thigh, mouthing at it so ferociously that the spots ache but it only sends you further. You did love foreplay, after all.

Jungkook’s rutting cock to your tailbone doesn’t go unnoticed, looking back at the devilishly angelic face, eyes sewn shut as his focus tapers in to the movements of his hips, looking for any sort of relief. Feeling a little victorious, your words drip with pride, “Rutting like some sort of dog, huh?” His eyes snap open at your exclamation, warning, but never opposing. At the same time Jungkook shuts you up with his tongue in your mouth, Jimin sticks his own in your eager pussy, both boys lapping into your heats with such vigor that you had no distinct feeling of either—it all blended into euphoric bliss.

Kook swallows your moans without a complaint, teeth and tongue colliding into something so completely unorganized that it was pornographic. The older moans while collecting every drop of arousal he can, pretty nose rubbing against your bud, thumbs spreading your lips beautifully and sinful tongue working wonders in and out of you.

“Feel good, babydoll?” Jungkook mutters in the midst of open-mouthed kisses, “Jimin’s real good with his mouth, ain’t he?” The opposite chuckles at the mention, watching you cry in joy as he sucks your clit between his teeth. “Hyung, what does she taste like? Prep her for me, will you?”

Jimin halts his attention to you, taking a moment to stretch his back in the confined space that seemed to sway with his movements, chin dribbling with so much you that for even the smallest of moments, even you were a little ashamed. He winks at you, “Why don’t you taste her yourself?”

The proposition makes your face scrunch; the thought of having to rearrange so Jungkook could eat you out seems excessive, denoting your trait of lazy loving above all. What you find instead, is Jimin’s handsome face nearing yours, only to avoid you completely and inch closer over the shoulder Jungkook relies on. Watching Jimin slide his overly-moist tongue into Jungkook’s willing lips leveled to living in a wet dream, you can’t help but moan as your two closest friends elicit lewd smacking sounds from one another, drool accumulating so incredibly that it leaks down onto your skin. Fuck.

Your obnoxious whining is what separates Jimin from his other half with a rather reluctant growl, calming your rowdy self with a kiss of your own, strings of their saliva still connected as he transitions from Kook to you. His mouth sears, leaving you to believe that you’re quite literally melting into those god-gifting lips and you’ve never been more heated from a simple kiss in your entire being. Jungkook takes to his jeans, releasing his member from its restraints and giving himself a few sluggish tugs, knuckles scraping along your spine as he pumps.

“I don’t need to be prepped, just get on with it, Kookie.” Jimin quirks an impressed smirk.

“Oh? I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s how you ask for me, Y/N, you know that.”

“Fuck, Jeon, please fuck me, I’m begging you. Jus’ need to be filled,” you admit, using wobbly arms to try to hoist yourself up. Jimin does the rest, lifting your hips to sit on Jungkook’s lap, and even more importantly, propping you onto his dick all at once, girth stretching you oh so wonderfully that you squirm in his hold. The latter groans at the slick intrusion, hips hastily rolling upwards without prompt, but you don’t complain.

“You really didn’t need to be prepped, huh? You fit so nicely around me. Why’s that, babydoll?” he snarls, hands upon hands gripping your ass and beneath your thighs, keeping you in a hovered position above Kook so he can ceaselessly pound into you from mid-shaft to hilt, over and over and over. You wail in their clutches, hysterical in the feeling and arching beyond your limits so he can hit that aching spot deep inside you.

“Answer him when he asks you a question,” Jimin cautions, leaning back down to suck purples into your hipbones with lazy eyes.

“I,” you heave at a particularly hard thrust but try again, “I just got fucked last night hah—Jungkook, upupup.” He abides with a coo, aiming for your bellybutton and incessantly jabbing the place where you craved him most, fire roaring inside your stomach. You’re so limp, deadweight in their grips that you wonder how they even keep you in place, all the more when Jimin resumes his attack on your clit with that skilled tongue, licking stripes from where Jungkook’s skin slid into yours all the way to where the material of your panties started. “Having so much fun without us, yeah? I’ll make you feel even better,” Jungkook says, snapping you back into the moment.

Your vision starts to blend, inexistent stars appearing into an otherwise blind view as your limbs warn to give out even more than they currently are. “Fuck, please! I’m going to—ugh!” Jimin spits on Jungkook’s dick before pressing the rough flat of his wet muscle to your throbbing bud once more, assisting the younger’s glide and simultaneously working to wring out your orgasm.

And does it come, bones solid and muscles taut as you constrict around Jungkook like a boa, crying out in pained ecstasy as your pussy squeezes to essentially push out its intruder. Kook himself hisses, unable to move in your vice-like grip until you eventually free yourself of your high, Jimin kindly cleaning you with utmost care from below. Wholesomely exhausted, you rest your tired head on Jungkook’s shoulder, kissing his jaw appreciatingly, “Did you cum, Kookie?” Obviously not, you think, his cock still hard as ever and still sheathed inside you.

“No, princess. It’s okay, I don’t need to if you’re too spent.” He gives you a reassuring smile, bunny teeth so endearing, so profound alongside his normally prick-ish personality. Of course, he wouldn’t be your friend if you really thought of him as a nuisance.

“Mm-mm, go ahead boys. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

They look at each other briefly, telepathically debating on their next move. “Can we try something?” Jimin inquires sweetly. You nod willingly, always a little bit of a sucker for Park Jimin. “Good girl, if it’s too much, your safe word’s ‘red’, ‘kay? Use it if you need to, I mean it.” Jimin (and his very un-vanilla like kinks) of all people never pushed your safe word so far, your curiosity really getting the best of you as he sits up with an already warmed-up dick. He must’ve took it out long before, the thought of him jacking off to you igniting what used to be a dull flame in your belly.

It’s when he drags his head at your clit that the puzzle pieces click, his own precum dripping down your abused lips and Kook’s shaft. The other nibbles on your ear, whispering calming affirmations as Jimin desperately looks for an opening.

“Fuck, it’s so dark in here,” he barks, jarring in contrast to the saccharine notes Jungkook practically sing-songs in your neck. “Do you think you can take it, Y/N?”

The question isn’t challenging whatsoever, but it makes you determined to please. Even without his confirmation, there’s nothing more you want at this moment, so you reach out for him, pressing his soft, velvety head in the space right above Jungkook’s, inching ever so slowly closer and closer to his hilt. By the skin of your teeth is the pain almost unbearable, an embarrassing guttural cry wrenching out of your throat as Jimin’s hips kiss yours. “Fuck, ugh, hell, please just stay for a second,” you dig your canines into your lip, forehead resting on a worried Jimin’s.

“Should’ve let him prep you, princess,” Jungkook husks, not so skilled at hiding his own displeasure. If the discomfort didn’t freeze you in place, you would’ve dug an elbow into his ribs for revenge.

“Shut it,” your voice cracks, “No offense, Jimin, baby, but your fingers wouldn’t have done anything to help this situation.” Park scowls but takes it otherwise lightly. His fingers were, also, not a true indicator to his size; although smaller than Jungkook, Jimin sported a curve that resembled the best dildo money can buy. Even now as it settles into your most delicate nook, he essentially eases the pain, replacing the feeling with steady eagerness for someone to move.

“Please,” is all you muster, taking Jimin’s thick bottom lip between your teeth playfully and releasing it with a high-pitched moan as he tests a thrust, Jungkook biting into your shoulder with the increasing speed.

To describe it to the best of your ability, it was simply the pure definition of being full. It was the thought of two deliciously large cocks moving in tandem, scraping your insides as the boys chased their highs like wild dogs that got you off more than anything. It was the filthy squelches, the grunts and groans, the hands roaming over your body and the growing sways of Jungkook’s truck as Jimin rolls into you that makes you cry in unadulterated rapture.

“Ha-aah, hyung, my legs are falling asleep. Let me do it,” Jungkook pants, hand already reaching out to push Jimin’s abs, clearly not asking for permission.

Park carefully readjusts, his back laying on the seat, your head against his shoulder and Jungkook kneeling behind, cunt still stuffed with them both. “Please, please move, ugh—” you beg.

“Gonna finish this off, okay? Use the word if it gets to be too much,” he warns warmly, polar opposite of his future actions, but you nod in agreement.

He slides out almost all the way, wiggling his hips a bit before plunging back inside with all the force he can gather. You wail and subconsciously straighten your arms beside Jimin, unable to quietly lay down as Jungkook fucks you into oblivion. The position is worth it, seeing Jimin’s lidded eyes and mouth forming a pretty “o” and you can’t help but wonder what it feels for him, frenulum’s catching each other with each aching shove and shafts fighting for space within.

“D-Don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” he grumbles, rutting ever so slightly.

“Like what, baby?” you drawl, “Hey, how does it feel? Fucking one of your best friends with another one of your best friends? Don’t tell me you’re going to cum from something like that…”

He knew exactly what you were doing, taking no bullshit as he lifts a hand to your hair and yanks on it, “Watch it, babydoll. You’re not one to talk when you’ve already cum once. Not too long before you do again, right?” He laughs in your face, entirely dehumanizing.

You have no choice but to nod (a little stiffly, as his hand still tugs on your strands), “Y-Yes, Jimin.” He clicks his tongue.

“Won’t call me ‘daddy’ in front of Jungkook, huh? Shame.”

“I’d get confused of who she’s referring to,” Kook chimes in, revealing a shit-eating grin with a particularly hard thrust that makes you shed tears. You hang your head, unable to contain your moans as a familiar burn churns.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, palming the flesh of your ass and gaining even more momentum, “Noona takes our dicks so well, just made for us, aren’t you?” You sigh your validation.

Jimin picks up his own pace, out when Jungkook’s in, in when Jungkook’s out, pants turning into continuous groans, “Babe, I gotta cum. Where?” Your lips latch onto his in a crazed manner.

“Inside,” you speak in kisses, “inside, please, both of you.”

Jimin is the first to cum, seed only making Jungkook’s thrusts easier. Kook presses his chest to your back, unreservedly ramming into you with all he is that you collapse into Jimin’s shoulder once more. He follows shortly after, his own mix of white intermingling with his hyung’s, remaining there until he’s sure everyone’s breathing has calmed.

“Careful,” you wince, grabbing Jungkook’s arm warningly as he pulls himself out of your abused cunt. Jimin’s soft member remains with your request, already discontent with the emptiness after Kook’s depart.

“Ew, you’re drooling on me,” Jimin complains, and he’s right, your face sticky and wet when you lift your cheek.

“Shit, the cum’s leaking all over my seats, literally get up,” Jeon whines.

“Ugh I fucking hate you both.”

You’re the only one to get up, maneuvering around and arguing with the younger boy as he desperately tries to clean his seats, which were beyond repair in the first place. The windows are fogged up to the point of condensation, droplets threatening to grow too big and fall.

You brows cinch together in utter confusion, staring at the groups of water that start to tint an odd, orange hue. It disappears as quick as you realize it, though, and you figure the after-effects of the threesome was starting to make you hallucinate.

“Do you guys really think my fingers are that short? I think they’re fine,” Jimin pouts.

Jungkook snickers, “Yeah, those fingers don’t reach sh—"

BAM!

The three of you flinch and fly to Jimin’s side, watching with horror as, what looked like, a giant paw disappearing from the window’s view. Your mind sputters to the image of the thing in the woods and your sweat seems to freeze over, hair standing on end and fear coursing through your veins.

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck,” the boys ramble over themselves, clutching you close to their bodies.

In the reflection of the fogged glass, you see the orange tint you saw seconds ago, hesitantly turning your head behind you and making eye contact with the glowing orbs mere inches away. You shriek at the top of your lungs, the other two yelling because you are, then full-fledge screech when they see them too.

“Oh my fucking god, shut up! You’re no fun to scare. Unlock the door,” a muffled voice growls from outside.

“Taehyung?” you all accuse.

Jungkook all but shoves the door open, revealing a Taehyung with werewolf mask now propped atop his skull, smiling from ear-to-ear that he got you three so good.

“Hey y’all, sorry it took me so long to get here. I got Jimin’s message and—what the hell, Jimin, put your dick away—oh sweet mother of pearl it smells fucking carnal in there. Please don’t tell me you had a threesome when you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even attempt to shuffle your clothes fully back on like the other two, who were, blushing like elementary schoolgirls. “We got bored, and it was cold,” is all you say.

“Well, don’t you move on fast, Y/N. Was I not enough to satisfy last night, pretty thing?” he juts out his bottom lip, feigning hurt. On the contrary, you think.

Park and Jeon stare at you in disbelief, piecing together what Taehyung is saying. “What?” you snarl, “I told you guys.”

Taehyung paces a bit, palming himself through his jeans before shoving Jimin’s shoulder and crowding himself into Jungkook’s already-cramped backseat, “Fuck, I got a hard-on now. Can you guys handle one more round?”

omg I hope you guys liked, my BUSSY hurt writing it (~:

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sgtbellamyblake · 6 years

Text

not a very good santa claus

Summary: Bellamy deals with the responsibilities of being Santa Claus.

Word Count: 1,655

A/N: Hi again! So I decided to write another Christmas drabble one-shot thingy because I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and the lovely Emily made a really cute moodboard for my other Christmas one-shot and it really inspired me. I’ve had a rough day and these holidays have certainly not been the best for me but writing these little things have really given me something to work on, something to feel productive about… I don’t know maybe this is dumb but it’s been a distraction for sure. I’ve written about the kids once again, really excited to keep writing about them! Already kinda know what they look like and everything… working on the personalities. I love me a good family fic can you tell? Sorry for rambling. Merry Christmas!

[AO3]

For the first time in a while when Bellamy wakes up he feels well rested. There isn’t an annoying alarm clock, no cold little feet pushing against his ribs and when he turns to lay on his back in bed he realizes there’s also no Clarke. The room is bathing in sunlight streaming through the window and when the smell of cinnamon, sugar and vanilla hit him he remembers it’s Christmas Eve.

With each step he takes down the staircase he can hear there’s a lot going on, but then again when isn’t there? He can hear a familiar film playing on their TV, high pitched voices talking over each other and his wife’s trying to create some sort of order and peace amongst the cheerful caos.

He tries to peek into the kitchen quietly to watch them from the outside for a bit longer but two year old Levi shrieks as he sees him. “Dada!” He lifts his arms up, one of them holding a soggy cookie and Bellamy lifts him up from where he sat on the counter. Clarke breaking her ‘no sitting on the counter’ rules on Christmas Eve… as if they haven’t sat on the counter and done worse things before.

He kisses the little boy’s dark curls and leans over to peck Clarke’s lips before she’s turning around to look at the clock on their oven. “Almost eleven in the morning. That’s a record… at least for Bellamy post-kids.” She raises her eyebrows. He used to be a heavy sleeper until he became a dad. Sleeping in on the weekends nowadays meant seven in the morning, eight at most.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Daddy!” Rory smiles enthusiastically and he kisses hers and Jack’s head. It still astounds him how much she looks like Octavia when she was Rory’s age.

Said little girl and five year old Jack are quick to jump in and try to show him all he’d missed while he was asleep, starting with the mess of green, red and white frosting all over their hands, scattered throughout the counter top and clumsily scribbled over the gingerbread man and tree-shaped cookies.

“They’re for Santa Claus.” Jack says as he licks his fingers. “And we’re watching The Grinch.” He says, pointing his food coloring stained finger at the TV playing in the living room. It’s Bellamy’s favorite Christmas movie.

“And you couldn’t wait for me to watch it?” Bellamy argues playfully and Levi giggles. “You’ve watched it like a million times, Daddy.” Rory tells him and Clarke chuckles.

“Fine, fine. I’ll let it slip this time… but only because it’s Christmas Eve.” He says.

“We’re also tracking Santa.” Rory tells him, dropping her makeshift piping bag and running over to the dinner table where Clarke’s laptop is set up. Jack follows right behind her and Bellamy has to put Levi down so he can toddle behind his siblings. He follows them everywhere now.

Just when Bellamy’s about to wrap his arms around Clarke she trails behind the kids and he’s left on his own.

“Okay, let’s clean our hands before touching the computer.” She grins nervously and hands Rory and Jack baby wipes before leaving Levi with his cookie in hand, otherwise he’ll scream his head off. He isn’t going to touch the computer anyways, or so they hope. Kids and technology these days…

Bellamy’s drinking orange juice straight from the carton when Clarke comes back into the kitchen and catches him red handed.

“Bellamy!” She scolds him and he shoves the orange juice back in the fridge. “Shit, sorry.” He laughs lightly and pins her against the counter before she can say anything else, peppering her neck with kisses as she tried to push him away. “Bell, I love you too but the kids are right there.” She tells him, and he shrugs. “They’re busy following Santa…” He’s quiet for a moment after that, as if trying to figure out how to word the next question. “Why gingerbread cookies, though?” He frowns. He’s not the biggest fan of gingerbread cookies.

“Because they wanted to make those.” Clarke smiles and turns to start putting the cookies on Santa’s designated plate. “This was my last job as Mrs. Claus.” She whispers. “Yours was to wrap the presents and later tonight eat these cookies.” She reminds him and Bellamy freezes in his place. Wrap the presents. Santa has to wrap the presents because Santa doesn’t have elves to wrap them for him. His three little elves believe Santa’s real so they can’t wrap their presents themselves and Mrs. Claus had bought all the presents already. Her job’s done. His isn’t. Santa’s screwed.

Clarke’s wiping the counter and talking to him when he focuses on her again and has to shake his head. “Sorry?”

“The kids are calling you.” She repeats.

“Right,” He nods and walks out of the kitchen to Jack and Rory hovering over the laptop, the Santa Tracker on the screen. He had no idea that was even a thing. “He’s in Australia right now, Daddy.” Rory tells him and Jack speaks up. “But why? It’s not time for bed yet.”

“That’s because depending on where you are in the world the hours of the day change because Earth is turning. Right now our side is facing the sun so it’s daytime for us but Australia’s side is facing the moon so it’s nighttime for them.” Bellamy tries to explain as best as he can to the five year old. At least he’s not in Australia right now. It’s still not even midday… he can manage to find some time to wrap the presents.

____

So he doesn’t manage to find the time to wrap the presents. It’s kind of impossible when he’s got a house full of kids and a wife who thinks he’s already done the only job he had. He couldn’t possibly sneak off, not even for half an hour. Not that half an hour would be enough for all the presents he had to wrap but it was something.

Then they have to get the kids and themselves ready for dinner at Octavia’s and actually go to Octavia’s. The whole time they’re there he can’t stop thinking about the bags full of unwrapped presents hiding in their closet. What if they don’t have enough wrapping paper?! Or tape?! Octavia gets him some tape just in case, and he still hasn’t told Clarke about it because she’ll freak out. He’ll wait until she’s asleep to get to work.

They leave Octavia’s after spending the evening with her, Lincoln and the kids and arrive home with a sleeping toddler and two half asleep kids, who aren’t ready to give into sleep until they change into their Christmas pajamas, track where Santa’s currently at and lay out a glass of milk and cookies for Santa, carrots for the reindeers.

An hour later Clarke and Bellamy are lying in bed and Clarke’s putting up an alarm for one in the morning to put the presents up under the tree. He panics because he’s not sure he’ll be done by then but he prays she falls asleep fast. It doesn’t take her long, never does (mother of three) but she’s a light sleeper. Getting out of bed feels like mission impossible but when he manages to he slips into the closet and gets to work.

He wraps Clarke’s presents first just in case she wakes up and then starts on the kids’. He’s halfway through Levi’s when he hears someone clearing their throat and he feels like a deer in headlights.

“What are you doing, Bellamy?”

Bellamy takes a deep breath and speaks “First of all, it’s Santa Claus and second of all, I can explain.” He raises his arms up in defeat.

“You forgot.” She crosses her arms over her chest and he nods. “You should’ve told me. It was unfair of me to leave them all for you to do.”

“No, I could’ve done it. I just forgot and I didn’t wanna-“

She doesn’t let him finish before she’s leaving him in the closet alone. Yikes, he’s not gonna hear the end of it in the morning. He keeps wrapping in silence and a few minutes later she’s back… with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.

They toast to another Christmas together and spend the night wrapping the kids’ presents. ____

“You have to eat at least one and a half so it looks realistic.” Clarke whispers, as she finishes setting up the presents under the tree. She snaps a quick picture of the lit up tree in the dim living room while Bellamy sits in front of the plate of cookies. “You’re Santa Claus and you forgot to wrap the presents so at least do this.”

“I told you it was an accident. And why do I have to eat them? Can’t we just… hide them away and then you can eat them some other time?”

“No, they’ll get gross.”

“They’re already gross.”

“The kids made them with love.” Clare tells him and he stops arguing.

“Just do it! At least one cookie!” She adds in a hushed voice. “And half a carrot.” ____

They’re woken up barely a few hours after they went to bed and had a little too much wine.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Rory shakes his arm and he feels two other little humans crawling over the covers. “Santa came!” The seven year old tells him and even if his eyes are closed he can hear the smile in her voice.

“And he ate our cookies!” Jack cheers and Clarke turns in bed to look at her son. “Santa ate all of the cookies?” She asks groggily and he grinned with a nod. “All of them!”

Clarke raises an eyebrow and shifts to wrap her arm around Bellamy’s back. “Santa ate all of the cookies?” She whispered, kissing his jaw.

“All of them.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #g did a thing #one shot

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andrewjostenzarchive · 7 years

Text

until we go down

So, the loml, @jeremykonx has her bday today and she loves Kevineil and coffeshop!au’s. So why not combine both?

I apologize in advance because this should’ve been just a one shot and I think it’s gonna be a multi-chaptered fic, thus making this chapter one. I still hope you like it! <33

Also shoutout @gangseyys who is the best beta in the world. <3

Dawn already settles outside and yet the queue doesn't seem to get any shorter. Kevin feels himself getting grumpier, slacking slightly whilst writing names on the coffee cups and ignoring rants about how some people want a unicorn frappuccino, or whatever they call it.

He longs for his bed at home.

“Welcome to Starbucks, what's your order?” he says, repeating this sentence for what must be the four hundredth time that day. He doesn't get an immediate answer and lifts his head with a frown, examining the boy in front of him closer.

He's not very tall, perhaps reaching Kevin's chest. His hair is a dark shade of brown, uncannily similar to that of his eyes. He looks slightly nervous, constantly checking the door.

Kevin clears his throat impatiently. The guy snaps his head back to him and blinks a few times. “Um, just a coffee, please.”

“Which size?”

With that he stares at Kevin like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Normal?”

With a sigh Kevin takes a cup. “To-go, right?”

He nods silently, glancing back to the doors again.

“Your name?”

“What?” the small boy asks, unnerved.

Kevin's patience is clearly declining radically. “Your name? For the cup.” He lifts the pen in his hand and raises his brows.

“Neil.”

Since Kevin is too tired to think of some witty way to change the name, he simply writes it onto the cup as it is. The exchange of the money is quiet, and as soon as Neil gets the cup, he vanishes to the back of the store, heading into the toilets. Kevin is suspicious, but hell, some customers are even weirder.

Once there was one who sat on the floor and wanted to tell people their future by touching their tummies. Not only did it put off other customers, but they were certainly in the way.

Kevin is quickly distracted by the next order, though this 'Neil' does not leave his mind.

Suddenly, he feels the mood in the shop changing. He looks up to discover two grim men, covered in black from head to toe, stalking towards him. They completely ignore the other customers, shoving them roughly aside but gaining only weak protests. Kevin's hair stands on end. “Have you seen a kid? Around your age, 5 foot, brown hair?”

He looks at them, outwardly seemingly calm. His fast heartbeat betrays him, however. “No, I'm sorry.”

One of them comes closer to the counter and observes him with cold eyes. “Sure?”

“Oh, now that you mention it -" he starts, feigning recollection, "I saw someone like that walk by like an hour ago? Maybe two?” he lies, forcing himself not to glance towards the bathroom in which the boy was – yeah, what? Hiding, perhaps?

To escape the man's gaze, he nods towards the entrance. “Yeah, I think it was an hour ago.”

They both stare at him and he feels his skin crawl. “Uh, so did you wanna order something? Our coffee is really good.”

Without another word they turn around and leave. Kevin holds his breath until the doors finally swing shut behind them. There is a short silence before many customers start mumbling about those men, some shocked and others simply annoyed. Kevin, however, simply stares towards the bathroom door and the boy beyond it, wondering what the fuck he just got into.

Two hours later the shop begins to empty – finally. Kevin moves towards the doors, hoping to lock them, as his co-worker Alex stops him. “Wait, could you do me a favour? I have a date in twenty minutes and I look like a mess. Could you clean alone?”

“What the fuck, no, Alex, that's -”

“I owe you, man. Thanks!” Alex says and quickly leaves. He stares after her grimly, but sighs and locks the doors.

He gets the cloth and bucket out of the small room next to the counter, fills it with water and starts cleaning. Mid-cleaning his gaze falls to the bathroom door. Did Neil ever come out? He had to, the window is too small to get through. With a frown he puts the cloth down and opens the bathroom door. He checks the stalls and bingo! - the last is locked. The one right under the window, through which – Kevin suppresses a snort – Neil is clearly trying to get out at this very moment. But like he guessed, it's too small.

With crossed arms he leans back against the wall. “You won't fit through that.”

Neil's whole body flinches. As he spins around, he loses his balance and seconds later Kevin only hears a thud.

He makes a face and snickers slightly, leaning closer to the last stall. “You okay in there?”

Silence.

“Don't worry, they are not here, whoever they are. I sent them away.”

Still silence.

“Do you wanna stay in there forever?”

More silence.

“I still know you're in there, even if you're not talking, by the way.”

The stall door opens slowly. “I'm fine,” Neil says, rubbing his forehead and eyeing Kevin warily.

Kevin snorts. “You're bleeding on your temple,” he says, nodding towards his face.

“I'm fine,” Neil insists and goes around him to leave.

Kevin rolls his eyes and follows him back into the store. “You said that already. Wait and I'll get you something to clean the wound with.”

He hears the rattle of the door. “Why is it locked?” Neil asks suspiciously.

Kevin takes a clean cloth and lets a bit of water run over it. “So no one gets in while I'm cleaning.”

“Let me out.”

He sighs, turning around. “I saved your ass. They won't come here again. I don't even wanna know what fucked up shit you had to have done for people like that to come after you.” He throws the cloth at Neil who catches it with a confused expression. “Just clean up before that gets infected. Then you can grab the broom and help me.” He doesn't wait for a response and turns around, picking up a bucket and another cloth.

After a minute of him wiping the table in silence, he glances back at Neil. He still stands there, cloth dripping, staring at him like he is some kind of alien.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Call it a whiff of stupidity or whatever. I don't care. Now clean that cut and start tidying.”

They stare at each other before Neil lifts the cloth to his temple. Satisfied, Kevin gets back to cleaning. Still in silence, Neil eventually starts helping Kevin. There is no need for communication, neither getting in the way of the other.

As Kevin starts emptying the shelves that are filled with different kinds of food, Neil's stomach starts to grumble. “Did you want to eat something?”

“No, I'm fine.”

It was already the third time that the boy had said it, and Kevin had the feeling it was his standard answer.

“Seriously, take something. I'll only have to throw it away anyway.” Reluctantly Neil steps closer. “Free choice! The cookies are pure sugar, but the salad's really good, though it may be slightly soggy by now.”

From this close, he could see that his cut is still not clean. This boy, what a mess.

He leaves him to make his choice and goes back to the small room. Surely they had a first aid kit in here somewhere. He discovers it high up on a shelf, hidden behind countless other boxes. While trying to get it out, he triggers some kind of chain reaction that ends with him covered in dust and a box landing on his head. “Fuck!” he curses and rubs his head, grateful at least that he found the stupid first aid kit.

As he reenters, he sees Neil searching the room for something.

Kevin raises his brows. “I carry the keys with me, idiot.”

“What happened to your head?” Neil retorts, ignoring his comment.

He mutters something undecipherable under his breath. “A box fell on my head when I was looking for this," Kevin answers, holding up the small box to show him. "It's not nearly as bad as yours. Now sit down with something to eat and I'll patch you up.”

Why is he even tolerating this guy?

Neil begins to protest, but having glimpsed Kevin's glare he quickly stops.

"Just don't ask any questions, okay?" he says simply, sitting down to eat a sandwich while Kevin cleans the cut with a pad. Neil is clearly tense and again Kevin wonders who this kid even is. He can't be much older than him.

Absentmindedly he tugs at a few strands of Neils hair, pushing them away in order to get a better look at the cut. Instead, he sees a long and thin scar, starting roughly on Neil's temple and ending behind his ear. Stopping his movements, he looks Neil directly in the eye. The boy's warning glare reminds him of his promise not to ask questions, so he shuts his mouth and continues cleaning, his mind whirring.

He finishes cleaning the cut, properly this time, and checks for any other grazes before finally leaning back. "That is how you clean a cut, dumbass. I'd have thought you would have learnt by this age."

"Thanks," Neil grumbles quietly, barely decipherable and looking away sheepishly.

Acknowledging this was likely the best Kevin would get, he nods and puts the box away.

Finally he walks towards the main entrance, opening the door slowly. Neil quickly pushes past him, but turns for a moment to look back at him, his expression unreadable. At last he shakes his head and jogs around the corner, Kevin watching the boy until he runs off into the distance.

#kevineil #the foxhole court #tfc #all for the game #aftg #kevin day #neil josten #kevin x neil #birthdays #mine #*#writing

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