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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 9 months

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Under Orders - Part 5

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: Marshall x reader || Sy x reader

Summary: Sy decides to take August up on a very intriguing offer...

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, face sitting), p-in-v sex (protected and unprotected), use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, sugar, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love, darling and bunny), established polyamorous relationship, very light spanking, light choking, hair pulling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, verrry slight humiliation/degradation(?), facial irresponsible wearing of high heels after hurting an ankle, mention of guns and knives, and a very tense macho moment. (I think that's it but if I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Again, dedicated to my dearest Charlie, without whom this pairing wouldn't exist in the first place... It took a while until it clicked - another 3 months, to be precise... You sowed this little seed of inspiration in my brain in March, and I have to admit I took care of it about as well as my boyfriend does houseplants. Not at all. But, after all these months, it's still alive - thriving, even, possibly - and everyone can finally enjoy some fun Syverson dick. Which is what this fandom is all about. Right?

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @know1udno @ylva-syverson @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @livisss @sycochick

You’re fixing the porch light. It’s hardly a job you’re suited for, because you can still barely reach it from the top of your ladder, but someone has to do it, and August won’t get home until tonight, so you’re on your own. That means you’re also on your own when you get on your toes at the top of that stupid ladder, lose your balance, and come tumbling down. At least… you should be.

“Sugar, are you alright?” When you first open your eyes, you see nothing, because your face is pressed firmly against a solid, hairy chest. You don’t have to ask whose it is: the drawl and the nickname gave that away.

“I’m fine, Sy, thank you.” But as soon as he stops holding you up, you wince.

“Now, I’m gonna ask again,” Sy says sternly, “and this time I’d like you to tell me the truth. Are you alright, darlin’?”

“My ankle hurts a bit,” you admit reluctantly. Before you’re even done speaking, Sy has lifted you up again and carries you into your house, where he puts you down on the kitchen table and examines your ankle before asking where you keep your first aid kit. For the first time – today, at least –, you take a good look at him. He’s in a pair of run down jeans, and equally worn out work boots. A faded black t-shirt is hanging out of his back pocket.

“It looks like a mild sprain, but I’d like to get some tape on there just in case. Keep ya from movin’ it around too much.” You’re more than happy to point him in the right direction.

When he sits down in front of you again, and lifts your foot into his lap, your skirt creeps up your thighs. The opportunity is perfect: As of a week ago, you have August’s blessing, and Marshall’s, Sy is half naked in your kitchen, his face roughly level with your pussy, and you’re not wearing any underwear. This is your moment… Sy works on your ankle quickly and efficiently, while you sneak your skirt a little further up, spreading your legs a little wider than the situation calls for, wanting to give him a good view. Every time he touches your leg, you moan, and you squirm a tad too enthusiastically when he moves your ankle in a way that hurts ever so slightly.

Sy’s complete lack of response is just starting to get on your nerves when he finally snaps.

“You know,” he growls. “I have a standing invitation from your man to take you for a spin.” He gets up, putting a hand down on the table on either side of your hips, caging you between his arms. “And I don’t get the feelin’ you’re opposed to that idea. Puttin’ this naked pussy on full display, squirming in my arms like a bitch in heat. You gotta know it does somethin’ to a man, sugar.”

“Are you going to take him up on the offer?” you ask coyly while spreading your legs even further.

“Well, you’ve got the prettiest little cunt,” Sy growls in your ear, “I have to say I’m tempted.” His words – especially in that voice – make your heart flutter in your chest. It’s always those compliments – the crude and sexual ones – that get you the most, so it’s not a surprise, but there’s something in Sy’s voice that adds a new dimension to it. Maybe it’s the less-than-subtle Southern drawl, or the gravel in his voice, or the fact that there’s just a rougher edge to him than to your other guys… That same edge August used to have. The one he swears you filed off of him.

Without thinking, you raise a hand, placing it lightly on the side of Sy’s face. Some of the tension in his immensely broad shoulders disappears and he lets his head hang until his forehead is resting against yours.

Then, he kisses you, leaving you surprised at how gentle he is. His lips are soft, yet demanding, and you happily yield to his touch. As his tongue explores your mouth, you let your hands wander the incredible width of his shoulders. You can feel scars on scars on scars in some places…

“I ain’t gon’ tell you where they all came from, so if you’re curious: tough shit.” Whoa. Okay. His voice is hard and cold, and so are his eyes. “I did a couple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, that’s all I’m willin’ to say ‘bout it.” You run your fingers through his beard until his ice-cold demeanor melts a little. He’s still cold and distant, but you’re getting there.

“I won’t ask if you don’t want me to, but always feel free to tell me whatever you want to tell me. I’ll listen.” Your words seem to trigger something in Sy, to hurt him in some way that makes you uncomfortable…

“Quit talkin’ like you’re a girlfriend when you’ve already got your lucky guy.”

“I think you might have misunderstood something.” You can’t help but chuckle at his apparent confusion, even though the situation isn’t funny at all. It looks like you have some explaining to do… “I’m not dating August and screwing Marshall, Sy. I’m in a relationship with both of them. And I’m not necessarily looking for just an extra dick to jump on – although that’s a nice bonus.”

He considers your words for a moment, then he nods and sinks back down in his chair. “I do prefer to take my women out to dinner first,” he says, as a cheeky grin begins to grow on his face, “but I guess this time around I’ll have to start with dessert.” Right. He can take you out to dinner later.

Sy grabs you behind your knees, pushing your legs apart abruptly, making you squeal. Your reaction makes him laugh – a deep, rumbling huff that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, but you can barely move in his iron grip.

“Keep these open for me, wouldya?” He lets go of your legs, his eyes giving you a clear warning to listen to him. His hands now slide up your thighs, hooking around the back, grabbing your hips, just so he can pull your ass closer to the edge of the table. “C’mon baby, spread ‘em wider. Gimme a good view of this pretty li’l pussy.” His voice alone would be enough to drive you nuts. You lean back on your elbows and open your legs as wide as they can go. Sy puts a hand on you, and slowly drags his thumb over your clit. You can’t seem to decide what’s better: the way Sy touches you, or simply the fact that he finally is, after weeks of pining, yearning and being patient as August invited him over far more often than you thought was strictly necessary. Sy gets up again, never taking his thumb off your clit, just gently rubbing circles around it in a way that has you squirming again.

“What’re you thinking, sugar?” he whispers softly before kissing you. During the kiss, he runs a finger along your slit, chuckling as he feels how wet you are. You let out a long, low moan when he slips two fingers into you without warning – and without any problem at all. “Can’t wait to taste this wet li’l cunt,” he growls. Involuntarily, you arch your back when you hear him speak, making him laugh again. “Looks like you can’t wait, either. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

You know that game – inside and out, you might add – and you’re indescribably glad Sy likes to play it, too… “Please, Sy, please – oh!” His fingers pumping in and out of your pussy make you lose your train of thought.

“What, sugar?” That fucking grin… And those fingers, dammit, this man has skills.

“Fuck, Sy… Please eat me o-oh my god!” The last bit of your exclamation is lost when Sy kisses you fiercely.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he says with that same grin you hate – love. Hate. Love. Hate? – while he sits back down. For a moment, you think about what just happened, and what’s happening right now… You came – and hard, too, god damn – without permission, you should be in trouble. But you’re not in trouble – not if the divine feeling of scratchy facial hair between your legs and a wet tongue against your clit are any indication.

You were impressed with him before, now you’re convinced he’s not even from this planet. These are the skills – and enthusiasm – of a man who eats pussy for breakfast. Keywords include ‘skilled’, ‘meticulous’, and ‘goal-oriented’. Not ‘romantic’, ‘sweet’ or ‘caring’, but that’s okay. He’s on a mission. He’s making a point – even though you’re not quite sure what that point is, exactly. And the worst part? He’s so, so very good at this that you forget his name first, and then your own while he continues to lap at your clit until you come once, twice and a third time… The kiss afterwards is divine, tasting yourself on his lips makes you squirm like never before – which in turn makes him laugh. But the weird part… you’re still not in trouble. And you’re weirdly okay with that.

The next kiss is gentler, slower, maybe bordering on sweet or romantic or something else you don’t necessarily want to feel – not from him, not right now. Something about him is freedom and defiance, something… You’re dragged back to reality when you feel Sy’s shoulders tense up, and he looks to be on high alert over something he’s heard that you haven’t – but in the end, it’s you who sees what’s going on, first.

“Jesus Christ, Marshall, put the fucking gun down!” You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s had a tough shift, but this is excessive, even for him. Actually, this is the type of shit you'd expect from August. And you’re talking paranoid, ‘just returned from a three week mission' August.

“Not until I can see his hands and whatever the fuck he’s holding.” Sy scoffs when he hears that and lifts his left hand – which you hadn’t even realized he’d moved to the front of his jeans. “Drop the knife and turn around.”

“Walter,” you hiss, knowing he hates it when you use his first name, “this is Sy. The neighbor I’m fairly sure August told you about.”

“This the other guy?” Sy asks. He’s pretty calm for a dude who has a gun pointed at his back. You nod in reply to his question. “Cheerful.”

“Not really,” you say. This is annoying as fuck. “Marshall, seriously. Put the gun away and play nice.” You’re seeing your chances of Sy breaking into your little family the easy way dwindle to nothing right before your eyes, and it upsets you more than you had expected it would.

“As soon as he puts the knife down.” Stubborn as a fucking bull, both of these guys.

“I’m gonna put it back, and turn around. My advice would be to put that gun where I can’t see it before I do see it. Being threatened ain’t gon’ make me any nicer.”

“Taking a few steps away from my girl might help your case.” There’s something in Marshall’s voice. Exhaustion. Pain. Panic, almost. Sy slowly backs away while putting the knife back where it came from, and Marshall finally holsters his gun.

The standoff lasts a few moments longer while the guys size each other up. You should be annoyed by their antics, but now that no one is threatening anyone else with any weapons, it’s kind of hot.

“You always threaten guests with a gun?” Oh yeah. Low growling, teeth gritting, jaw clenching… Both sides of this argument pass Super Ultra Manly Man 101 quite nicely, but…

“When they’re unfamiliar to me and inches away from my girlfriend, I do. You always bring a knife to visit your neighbors?” The schtick gets old really fast, to be quite honest.

“In case some nutcase pulls a f-“

“Boys,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “Enough with this unnecessary display of toxic masculinity, thanks.” It’s almost a shame you have to break it up, but you don’t want to be cleaning blood off the kitchen floor. These guys don’t even need weapons to beat each other to a pulp.

“Lieutenant Walter Marshall.” He holds a hand out to Sy, and you roll your eyes. Was the rank thing really necessary? Probably not.

“Captain Dave Syverson. Call me Sy,” Sy replies. You get to experience the incredible joy of witnessing the tensest handshake you’ve ever seen.

“If you two are done measuring dicks, Marshall, can I get a hug? I hate guns.”

As soon as Marshall’s arms wrap around you, he apologizes. He can’t make it through the word ‘sorry’ before his voice breaks. Sy walks past you two, towards the kitchen counter, and after a few seconds of him rummaging around, you hear the coffee maker.

“Who’d you lose?” Sy puts a cup of coffee in front of Marshall, who takes it without saying a word.

“No one, yet,” he answers, “but an officer got hurt because of me.”

“What could you have done?” Sy doesn’t sound at all convinced Marshall had anything to do with it.

“I don’t know!”

“So, nothin’,” Sy says, as if that’s the end of it. “Can’t always protect ‘em all.”

After a while – and an interesting conversation between the guys that you decide not to get mixed up in – Sy gets up, telling you it’s time for him to leave.

“I’m pickin’ you up for dinner, though,” he notes as casually as can be. Your brain immediately goes haywire; August is coming home tonight, he’s not going to like it if you’re not home, and yes, you were the one to tell Sy that you weren’t looking for a one-time thing, or something that’s just sex, but…

You come up with a million new excuses every passing second, which makes it all the more surprising when you open your mouth and the word that comes out is ‘okay’. It’s like you have no other option – as if your mouth moves by itself. There’s just something so uniquely attractive and incredibly charismatic and roguishly defiant about him – something very cocky and very… cowboy. And he knows it.

“He’s going to get you in so much trouble, darling,” Marshall chuckles behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you watch Sy walk out the door. He is, he really is – you know it, Marshall knows it, and if you know August at all – and you like to think that you do – he’s known it from the moment he first saw you looking at Sy. “August isn’t going to like his influence on you.” It’s all music to your ears – and not just your ears, if you’re being perfectly honest. You involuntarily clench your thighs together when Marshall kisses your neck lightly, which instantly reminds you that you were so rudely interrupted after a few glorious orgasms, but nothing else.

Of course, Marshall notices. In fact, you’re willing to bet he was already suspicious when he came in, and of course he would have been right, because he always is. He always knows exactly what you need… Is he going to be a dick about it? Probably. Not that you mind – not at all… You gasp when he reaches around you, pulling up your skirt to get his hand between your legs – and upon arrival, he lets out a low whistle. “He knows what he’s doing,” he chuckles, “I’ll give him that.”

“Would you stop toying with me and just fuck me, please?” you beg when Marshall’s fingers brush past your clit. You’re still sensitive from Sy’s generous treatment, and you want – scratch that: need – someone inside of you right. fucking. now.

“So needy,” he hums softly in a way that draws a soft whimper from you. He could tease you, play with you for another few hours until you’re a mess and barely able to stand on your own two feet, but he’s not that cruel. You’re honestly lucky it’s not August behind you right now, because he wouldn’t have hesitated to draw this out for as long as possible. Marshall, however, is apparently in a giving mood and just takes his cock out, plunging all the way into your drenched pussy without warning. Good.

He unceremoniously bends you over the kitchen table – a piece of furniture that may or may not have been selected because it has the perfect height for such purposes. The old one didn’t, but it… broke. In mysterious ways.

Marshall is ruthless, thrusting into you almost recklessly, but with enough restraint that he can keep you away from the point where pain overtakes pleasure. Clearly he still has some residual anger to deal with from his encounter with Sy – or his bad day on the job, and you don’t mind one bit that he’s decided to take his frustrations out on you. He doesn’t speak, he just pins your chest to the table with one hand between your shoulders and fucks into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. You won’t feel it later; he’s careful not to hurt you, mark you, or do anything else that will remind you – or anyone else – of his presence later. All it will take is a single shower and you’ll be a blank page for your date tonight… In other words; he’s being incredibly considerate. Which is a strange thought to have while being railed six ways to Sunday over the kitchen table, honestly. Right when he’s about to finish, he pulls out, leaving you almost disappointed, until he spins you around and forces you onto your knees. A few harsh strokes are plenty to drive him to the edge, and he lets out a deep grunt when he comes, splattering his cum all over your face.

“Go get cleaned up, and call August about your date,” he growls. Of course he’s right. August will want to know. In fact, you doubt you’ll leave the house in an outfit of your own choosing. But there’s one thing that confuses you – disappoints you, even.

“You’re not coming with me?” you ask in a small voice. Showering with Marshall is… it’s the best. And he’s not joining you? That’s no fun!

“I’m going to borrow the home gym for an hour, because I have some… stuff to deal with. Sorry, love,” he says as he pulls you off the floor and presses a kiss to your temple.

You’re out of the shower and you’re cutting it close time-wise, so you decide to stop putting off what Marshall told you to do: Calling August. As you expected, he’s not happy to hear you won’t be home when he gets back from his trip, but he’s willing to admit he’s the one who gave you his blessing to figure things out with Sy, so he’s not going to complain. In fact, he seems thrilled when you ask him for his help. He loves knowing he’ll play a part in your night one way or another – and so do you.

You finish getting dressed just as Sy arrives.

“Lookin’ good, sugar!” He makes no attempt to hide the fact he’s checking you out, and you revel in the attention until he reaches a hand out to you and you take it, letting him walk you to his truck. It doesn’t take more than five minutes during the ride to the restaurant to figure out how tonight is going to end – in fact, you already knew this afternoon, but still, you tried very hard to not get your hopes up in case the date wouldn’t go as planned. Now, however, your doubts have disappeared without a trace. Sy is funny, he’s kind, he gets along with your guys great – save for the occasional gun-involving dick-measuring contest, he’s on board with your slightly unorthodox relationship – even willing to consider being a part of it – and he’s an incredible flirt. So, when you’re done with dessert and he’s squashed your idea of splitting the bill with nothing but a snort and a cocked eyebrow, you’re all but ready to jump him right on the spot. You don’t – ten points for you and your incredible restraint.

“Normally I’d ask ‘your place or mine’,” Sy chuckles when he turns onto your street, “but I believe your boyfriend is home?” He’s unbelievable… Not even asking if you want to keep this date going, he just… assumes. Correctly. But still.

“Your place it is, then,” you say in a failed attempt to regain some control of the situation. You notice your hands are trembling, and your breath is slightly faster than it should be. Nerves. Perfectly normal. This is a first date, after all. Except it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you’ve known this man forever, which is scary, not because you, well, haven’t known him forever, or because this is the first time you go out with him, but because you have something going for you with August and Marshall. Something great, and unique. Something you wouldn’t trade for the world. And what if he just… doesn’t fit? What if Sy doesn’t belong in your little slice of paradise? The simple truth is that you’re already terrified of losing him – and you barely have him to begin with. So yeah, you’re a little nervous, maybe even truly scared – but when your eyes fall on the hands on the steering wheel when the car stops in Sy’s driveway, you miraculously get calmer. Because your hands aren’t the only ones trembling; his are, too.

Sy’s bedroom is on the side of the house that faces yours, and large windows give you a pretty revealing view of your own room. It’s embarrassing how little time it takes you to become wrapped up in kissing Sy, melting under his touch as his rough hands roam your body with very little respect for the barriers that your clothes provide. He’s all over you; kissing your mouth, jaw and neck, trailing his tongue along your ear, hands impatiently squeezing your breasts through your clothing. Every last touch sends a jolt of electricity right down your spine into your core. You know you’re wet. You have to be, there is no other option, especially with Sy’s impressive hard on poking you in the most distracting way. His fingers nearly tear your dress in half as he takes it off you, and your underwear almost suffers a similar fate. He won’t let you step out of your heels, though, which tells you he has at least one other thing in common with your other guys.

“Unless your ankle is still bothering you,” he manages in between kissing your neck. It’s not bothering you – much. Not enough to take off half of your confidence – because quite honestly that’s what those heels are…

When you happen to glance out the window, you see the lights on in your own bedroom.

“Should we close the curtains?” Please say no, please say no…

“I thought your man likes to watch?” There’s a devilish glint in Sy's eyes as he says it that fires you up more than you would be willing to admit, but you’d dare anyone to date August Walker for more than four months and not turn into a bit of an exhibitionist. That’s how long it took you to allow him to rail you in the alley behind some bar you were in at the time, anyway. Sy interrupts your thoughts by slipping two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. He let’s out a low whistle between his teeth.

“Goddamn, sugar, is that for me?”

“A little,” you say coyly. “And a little because I know you’re gonna get me in trouble with…” Shit. You weren’t prepared for this. It feels too wrong to use his name, but using that title in front of Sy…

“What do you call him?” Sy grins widely. It’s so attractive it’s almost sickening, and it turns your knees to jelly. Good thing Sy’s holding you up, because you’re sure you would have gone down for real.

The question sounds so simple. The answer is simple, too, but you can’t say the word. That’s all cards on the table. Your entire dynamic with August out in the open. Are you ready to trust Sy with that?

“You don’t have to tell me, sugar,” he mumbles into your ear. You lean your head against his chest, and suddenly realize how much more naked you are than he is. As soon as you slide your hands underneath the fabric of his shirt, you sigh. It’s impossible to keep your hands off the scars, though, which seems to bother Sy. He wraps his arms around you and looks at you.

“Please don’t,” he whispers softly, and you move your hands to his waist. After some time, you break away from the hug and walk over to the windows. With one sharp tug, you pull the curtains shut. As soon as you get to the second window, you see August standing in front of his. You smile. So he was watching. Not that you’d expected anything else. He holds out a hand, thumb raised, and slowly turns his hand until his thumb is pointing down. It’s a question: ‘Are you okay?’ You give him a thumbs up before pulling the curtains on the second window.

“He checking up on you?” Sy says, catching your hand before you can draw the curtain. You had no idea he was standing right behind you, but it’s nice to feel his arms around you again.

“Always,” you reply as you turn around.

“What are you doing, though. Thought you were on board with…”

“I’m treating this like the first time it is, Sy.”

“Don’t,” he growls, “I want him to see this.” There’s something to his voice… a sense of mischief, but also something darker that’s reflected in his eyes as well, and in the way he pushes you back to get a better look at you.

Then, he turns you around, gathering as much of your hair in his fist as possible. With the other hand, he pushes the curtain back again. August is still there – not in front of the window, but you know he’s in that room, watching. The fact that an innocent passer-by might get a good look at your tits doesn’t bother you at all. If anything, it excites you more.

“Fuck,” Sy growls in your ear, “I hate to have to let you go right now.” A loud smack echoes through the room and all the way through your body when his palm lands on your ass. “Don’t move, sugar.” He lets go of your hair and steps away, leaving you whining by the window – but you don’t move a muscle. Sy doesn’t take long – the familiar crinkling of foil packaging gives you a decent hint as to what the fuck he’s even doing, and you very much appreciate the absence of a “not as good with a condom”-attitude. This time, his hand doesn’t go for your hair. Instead, Sy’s arm wraps around you, and his hand creeps up your stomach, over your chest, until it firmly grabs your throat. With an amount of gracefulness you don’t necessarily expect from someone his size, he lines up and thrusts into you, leaving you with no other option than to gasp – loudly. Your body struggles to accommodate his girth – it shouldn’t be a problem; he can’t be bigger than Marshall. Still, it could be all manner of things: the position, the relative absence of foreplay, although your date and the drive home were brimming with sexual tension that had your underwear soaked from the moment you got together.

Your chest rises and falls with your increasingly quick and erratic breaths.

“Shh,” Sy whispers in your ear, his hand moving from your throat to your cheek, cupping it gently, “it’s okay. I know you enjoy this, so enjoy it.” He’s right. Absolutely fucking right. Maybe understating things a little, even… or a lot. Because you do love this. Getting railed from behind? Yes please! Being choked a little? Hell yeah! The manhandling? You’re sopping! Knowing August is watching you get fucked by another man, and he’s going to be more than a little jealous that someone else gets to play with his princess on the night he gets home from an assignment? The thought alone is enough to set your skin on fire! The idea that you’re going to get in trouble with him? Only adds fuel to that fire! Then why are you holding back right now?

“Stop thinking about how you’re not his good little girl right now, sugar,” Sy growls, and the sound shoots straight to your already aching clit. “Be bad for me tonight, baby.”

His words cut through you in a way you don’t understand – until you do. You get to do that here, with him. You get to be bad without repercussions – as delicious as you find those repercussions under normal circumstances. He’s not going to punish you for mouthing off, or disobeying orders – he’s going to laugh and smirk at you in that unbearable way, and it’s going to rile you up beyond belief, and you can both just give in to all of that without any concern for the consequences. Because there won’t be any. Not from Sy, at least. And when tomorrow comes, and August decides that you need to be dealt with for going away the night he comes home from an assignment, then that’s okay. That will be a whole different game. That will have nothing to do with this. Right now, for the first time in a very long time, you are not under orders – and right now, for the first time ever, you realize just how much you’ve been craving that.

It's not like you haven’t tried with either of them. Of course you have! But after so much time in your comfortable, familiar dynamic, anything other seemed strange and off and… unenticingly vanilla. It was as if you were playing a part – as twisted as it sounds to insinuate that ‘Daddy’ and ‘Sir’ are the defaults, it’s truer than true in every conceivable way. You’ve been so busy trying to figure out how Sy would slot into your dynamic that you completely neglected to consider that he doesn’t. That he can be that break you sometimes crave from your wicked little games with Marshall and August. And that he might just land you in enough trouble to earn you some delectable punishment in the process – but only time will tell. Instead, every time you so much as dared to think he wouldn’t seamlessly slot into your existing relationship and the terms that come with that, you panicked, thinking that would be a bad thing, that you would lose him before you even got to know him. But now you see… It’s the whole damn point.

“Fuck me.” You speak the words carefully, as if you’re afraid to be wrong – and the stinging of your left cheek as Sy lands another firm smack on your ass does nothing to ease that feeling at first.

“That’s what I’m talkin’bout,” he chuckles, driving his cock into you again with one smooth, harsh thrust.

Soon, you couldn’t give a quarter fuck about handprints on the glass – or some slightly more indecent prints, for that matter – or that one window that’s open which means maybe someone outside might hear you. Let them! Sy’s hips slam against your ass at a brutal pace, rough fingertips dig into your hips with the same ferocity you’re used to from your other guys, but lacking the possessive hint theirs always do, until they disappear altogether.

“Come on, sugar,” he growls from behind you, “your turn.” You throw your hips back, savoring the low moans and deep grunts that escape Sy. Just when things start to get fun, he pulls out.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you!” you protest teasingly. From the looks of it – and by that you mean; the arrogant fucking smirk on his face – he was more than counting on that, and before you know it, you’re no longer standing where you were standing.

Your personal philosophy is that any guy who pulls you up into his arms and tosses you on the bed like it’s absolutely fucking nothing is a keeper. That being said, Sy also scores well in the categories ‘great beard’, ‘hairy chest’ and ‘filthy mouth’, so there’s no chance you’re going to let him go anytime soon. You thought Marshall being the way he is was just a coincidence, but now that you find yourself falling head over heels for Sy, too, you have to admit to yourself that you have a bit of a type.

Now, normally, of course, that type would include ‘man willing to boss your little slut ass around like he owns you’, but as per your previous epiphany: not this one. Oh, he owns you, alright? But not like that.

Sy is on his back, and he’s managed to move you so you’re straddling his chest – which is apparently not where he wants you just yet, because he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you up until your pussy hovers over his face. Oh. Oh.

“C’mon, sugar,” Sy says, still with that unbearable grin, “sit.” Was that a question phrased as a command? It… it sure was! Being in this position gives you a weird amount – and kind – of confidence, and you smile down at him.

“Save a horse, right?” you quip, making him laugh as he gently guides you down until his mouth finally connects with your pussy. To your surprise, he doesn’t do anything, though, which leaves you looking down at him confused and far less confident than a few moments ago.

“This is a very loose interpretation of the word ‘sit’,” Sy mutters, sounding… disgruntled, “stop hovering.”

“Don’t you need to… like… breathe?” you ask, immediately regretting your decision on account of ‘what the fuck kind of stupid ass question is that even?’ The way Sy laughs makes you want to disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Sugar, as far as I’m concerned, it would be a goddamn fine way to go,” he assures you as he pulls you further down.

From then on, you can just forget about it; it’s hopeless. The view is divine – those devious, bright blue eyes smiling up at you… He’s cocky. A seriously arrogant jackass. But oh, God, does he deserve it, because he is very, very, good. Of course, you already knew that from this afternoon, but there’s something about this… towering over him and still being completely at his mercy, that has you losing control. You reach for the wall to support yourself and finally let yourself go as pleasure takes over, grinding your hips, riding Sy’s capable and eager tongue until you come all over his face. And by that you mean… all over it.

Crawling under the bed and curling up into an embarrassed little ball of shame isn’t an option, but if it was, oh boy, that’s where you’d be right now. Instead, you scramble to get away from him as quickly as possible, almost throwing yourself off the bed in the process. Of course, Sy catches you.

“I swear I didn’t even know… I’m so sorry…” The words come out quickly and they’re jumbled and half-finished and barely audible and… And Sy is having none of your apology. With one hand, he grabs your wrists and pulls you over his lap – it’s eerily reminiscent of what Marshall would do…

“Stop apologizing for wonderful things,” he says, punctuating the syllables with fierce, stinging slaps on your ass before he sits you up again. “You might wanna tell your boys you can do that, sugar.” The cocky grin is back on his face. “I’m willin’ to bet they’re not gonna stop tryin’ till they make it happen.”

“You’re not…”

“Shut up,” he says before kissing you. “It was amazing. Means I was doin’ my job right.” He winks at you – it’s silly, because he’s not very good at it. “C’mere.” Somehow, you end up straddling his thighs and nervously eyeing his night stand. “Take what you want, baby. Whatever you need from me.”

Fuck it! “Grab a condom,” you say. The fact that he does so immediately, surprises you a little. It’s not necessarily something you’re used to; giving commands and having them be obeyed on no one’s terms but yours.

He laughs when he sees the look on your face. “Now, don’t you go thinkin’ I’m yours to boss around, sugar,” he chuckles, “you just want what I want right now.”

“It’s fun to pretend, for a change,” you reply, making Sy laugh even harder.

“I’ll let you have at it sometime,” he says, much to your surprise. Marshall tries sometimes – August did once or twice, in the beginning – but neither of them could give up their desire to be in control. Sy pulls you away from the thought when he finishes putting on the condom and proceeds to grab your thighs to pull you forward – and then he hesitates. You look at him, your confusion burning in your eyes.

“Nothin’,” he says dismissively, “plenty of time.” A firm tug is all it takes to lower you onto his cock, and you shiver. It was not just the position before; he’s somehow just a lot to take. “C’mon sugar,” he says, signature grin spreading across his face, “ride me. Save a horse, right?” His mimicking your comment from before is accompanied by another botched wink. It’s plenty to make you laugh a little before you start bouncing on his cock.

Sy manages to divide his attention between your breasts quite nicely while you’re going absolutely insane with lust as you keep riding him for what feels like a very long time. At some point – and without asking for anyone’s permission – you lean back and reach between your bodies, drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re swearing and trembling… but you don’t stop. Sy is a little sad when you move away so far that he can’t keep his mouth on you, grumbling something about making up for lost time with them later. Your come around his cock a second time relatively quickly following the first, as you figured you’d have to race him to get there, but he seems…

“Are you getting close?” you mutter after you break the kiss you had him wrapped up in. Your thighs are starting to get a little sore, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

An apologetic grin appears on Sy’s face. “I hate to disappoint, sugar,” he says softly, “but I don’t think it’s gonna happen tonight. I was pretty damn nervous about this.” His words make you stop moving, allowing him to slip out of you, and you lie down next to him while he hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I, eh… Gotta take care of this,” he says before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. For some time, you wonder if he’s even planning on coming back, until he appears in the doorway again, seemingly back in full possession of that cocky attitude you love.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t lie down next to you again – instead, he sits near the foot of the bed, grabbing you behind your knees and pushing your legs apart so he can get in between them. He doesn’t waste a single second this time around, diving right between your legs, his tongue practically glued to your clit for the duration of the whole thing – which you’re almost ashamed to admit is a matter of maybe two minutes, if that. He’s just better when he can use his hands, too.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he lies down next to you and wraps an arm around you, “Marshall gives good head, but you… incredible!” Litmus test. If he can’t stand hearing about the others… Then again, he already passed with flying colors when he insisted on leaving the curtains open so August could watch.

“It doesn’t hurt that you taste fantastic,” he laughs, not showing the slightest displeasure at being compared to your boyfriend – maybe because he was the one who ‘won’ the comparison… “I’m glad to be of service.”

You snuggle into his side, putting your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. Sy pulls you closer, and the two of you lie there for a while, in silence, until he finally speaks again: “Never thought I could actually have you, yet here we are.” The comment is followed by a deep sigh, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest when you hear him say that. He likes you? He really likes you? But…

“If you didn’t think you could fall for me… What changed? When?” You don’t even know why you want to know. The answer to those questions is never something you really want to hear, right?

“Didn’t say that, sugar,” he says, “I said I never thought I could have you. For starters, you were in a relationship – you are in a relationship. Forgive me if I didn’t immediately consider that there could be room for me in that relationship.” He chuckles softly, and you fight back a moan. “Then August made his offer and I thought he meant… casually. I would have passed on that. You caught me off guard this afternoon. Did a fine job of distractin’ me, sugar, puttin’ that pussy in my face like that. Got me wonderin’ about the ‘what ifs’ for long enough to convince me it wouldn’t be casual.” You smile when you feel his lips on your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pulls you even closer. Then, he sighs and turns his eyes to the ceiling. “I need some patience from you though. All of you.”

“Oh, no, we were planning on giving you absolutely no time to adjust to any of this,” you laugh, “orgy at my place next week, bring friends.” You squeal when Sy tickles your side.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sugar,” he laughs.

“Just out of curiosity… Is that even something you’d be up for at all?” Hopefully it’s clear that you’re referring to a more… immediate sharing-situation of… well… you.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits almost reluctantly, taking you by surprise. Surprise that is – apparently – evident on your face, because he scoffs and clarifies: “They were some long tours, sugar. Not exactly enough women to go around… Well, actually, ‘going around’ was exactly what… Doesn’t matter.” Ah. The tension in his voice tells you he won’t appreciate any follow-up questions, so you keep your mouth shut until he starts talking again. “Never like this, though. There were never any feelings involved.”

His words clearly imply that there are feelings involved now, which also tells you to proceed with caution. Of course it’s exactly what you want with him, but that just means you’re going to have to be that much more mindful of… everything. For the first time, you realize that all this time there has been a part of you that had wished this was something casual. A one-off. Just a date, and a great night, and nothing more than that. Feelings are what make this real, and if it’s real, that means things are going to change. You struggle to remember what it felt like when August first suggested Marshall as a second Dom for you – he never suggested a second boyfriend per se, but things just… turned out that way, eventually. Now, you’re having this conversation up front, which is strange, and remarkably difficult to navigate, because it doesn’t feel like a conversation the two of you can have and then just be done with it; there’s more people involved. So, you tell Sy that you’ll have to talk some things through with August and Marshall, too, and you almost cry when he sincerely tells you he understands. That he’d actually be worried if you didn’t.

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” you ask, running your fingers through his chest hair. There’s definitely one thing you still need to hash out, but you’re afraid to ask, since the outcome of that conversation may call for you to give up your cozy spot next to Sy.

“Are you stayin’ tonight, sugar?” Ah, so you’re going to have to dive right in, after all.

“If you’re alright with a potential nosy neighbor thinking whatever they’re going to be thinking, I’d love to stay,” you shrug.

“Do people know?” It’s obvious that he means: ‘Do people know about you and August and Marshall.” It’s also obvious that he’s still not quite comfortable putting your relationship in such concrete terms.

“We don’t advertise it, per se, we just… go about our lives. But we don’t hide. And if people ask – and we’ve had people butt in in the rudest ways – we tell them we’re in a committed and very happy non-monogamous relationship.” Your answer seems to clarify a bunch, but it leaves a question in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. “Does that give you enough to work with in case someone decides to meddle?”

Sy moves his head in a way that’s halfway between shaking it and nodding. “I’ll figure it out,” he sighs. “How ‘bout a shower?”

After a remarkably PG shower with disappointingly little shenanigans, you climb into bed, and immediately settle down against Sy’s warm body. A memory creeps into your brain, of the cold nights before Marshall, when August was away to do God knows what, and you were left alone. It had been almost impossible to sleep. Now, those nights are a thing of the past, and you can’t even remember when you’d last been forced to fall asleep without a pair of strong arms around you… As you slowly doze off in Sy’s arms, you half-consciously joke about that shower somehow being the least necessary one of the day.

“What’re you talkin’ about, sugar?” Sy chuckles behind you.

“I couldn’t very well meet you for dinner with Marshall’s cum on my face, now could I?” you say coyly – a little too coyly… He might think you had planned this! Which you honestly hadn’t… You’re simply very tired.

“God damn, sugar,” Sy laughs, “I understand why they share you. You’re a handful.”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #august walker x female reader #august walker x reader #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #captain syverson #syverson #syverson fanfiction

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cock-holliday · 7 months

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I’ve said it before and I will continue to say it that every single administration from top to bottom who conflates pro-Palestinian stances with being akin to nazis has done fuck all about nazis for the past ten years. (And much longer.)

I got into antifascist research in the early 2010s, and in 2015 had watched everyone insist that concerns about white supremacist and nazi escalation was “fear-mongering,” “unfounded” and used “too-strong” of language. Anyone who existed in early 2000s spaces familiar with words like feminazi can point out how ludicrous it is to suggest that the rapid appearance of nazi iconography moving from early 2000s “ironic” usage to being used with intent—recruiting, propaganda, manifestos—is a misuse of the word “nazi.”

It was “the far right” “the alt right” “ultra-conservative.” Everything to avoid calling it what it was.

*I* was late to the party and still Unite The Right was everything we had been raising the alarm about. Charlottesville was the first big thing that for me said, oh shit, we really really were right—I wish we weren’t right.

And STILL after Unite The Right, it was suppression! “Free Speech Rallies” hosting genocide deniers, ethnic cleansing advocates, sonnenrad-carrying, wolfsangel-tattoed, swastika-armband-wearing NAZIS! And it was “well, technically—“

Nazis fired guns at people in Charlottesville too. Nazis jumped people in car parks. The rise of the Proud Boys—now calling themselves in telegram circles The Proud Goys (hello??? Hello???? Is this thing on???) are still just “fringe extremists” at best and still “alt-right” at worst.

*I* have been screaming about this for a decade, *I* was one of the newest members of my groups for years—I AM LATE TO THE PARTY!

And then to watch the rapid mobilization of everyone who wouldn’t lift a fucking finger to google nazi student applicants, who refused to cancel nazi speakers, who went after students protecting themselves from nazis, who framed any info campaigns about student nazis as “harassment”, who allowed nazi marches, who protected nazis and wined and dined with nazis…and then insist going after Palestinian student groups is to protect Jews?

Fuck yourselves.

“We Protect Us” is a battle cry because administrators have never been on our side when it came to protecting communities from nazis. The audacity of these people to now pretend to care is appalling, but I am imploring people who don’t know any better to wake the fuck up, we have been saying and saying and saying that they do not care. Do not suck your college’s dick, or the president’s dick, or your favorite mayor who sent cops after us’s dick—they are not on our side about this.

#90% of antifash research is history and compiling things other people already said #then 10% is where are they now #all MY work is built off countless people who said it before I did #and YEARS afer I put out my stuff people are still like ‘this is news to me’#this is what I’m telling you!#so much effort goes into preserving a legacy of fighting that is continuously being suppressed and erased!#the level of safety we enjoy from nazis NOW is not because they haven’t been here #it’s because people have been keeping them at bay #no thanks to colleges and politicians and orgs

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progmanx · 1 year

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I'm gonna lay all of this out right now so it is on the record, and I probably should have done this last week when I actually saw that Ch115 of Black Lagoon was out (and that apparently all of the previously untranslated ones had been translated officially on Viz in like March??? Is the series ending or are they just doing this for everything?) but hear me out:

Majeur is Yukio's older sister.

Okay. I'll explain. I know, "just because they are both from Japan doesn't mean they're related!" and I agree. This would not have crossed my mind if not for the GIANT KABUKI TATTOO on her upper body.

We're gonna circle back to this. Keep it in your brain. Also, I can't believe it but Rei Hiroe actually crafted a scenario where swimsuits were entirely necessary to the story.

That is not a joke. We're gonna get there. Need to set some things up for you.

Majeur apparently had a younger sister according to her former comrades, and the previous Auriculaire (the blonde that kept screaming Majeur was a lesbian) was someone she was so protective of she is still not okay about her death in "L'homme Sombre".

I do not have Vol 12 digitally, so trust me on this one.

I must've read 114 and 115 about fifteen times at this point because I kept finding little things that are so damned interesting (that's a different discussion but no surprise I love it) and at first I'm thinking "well this is the calm before the storm" because that's a no brainer. The comparisons between Revy and Majeur, and the little jokes about "it'll be confusing if one of us dies because we both have tattoos, are Asian women, and you want to ALSO have two guns?" and just a ton of other small and large things would, in any other story, be giant death flags for Revy.

I don't think that's where we're going. I think it's somewhere WAY more interesting considering we already know Majeur's #1 priority is survival and has no real loyalty to Balalaika.

Because all of these little pieces (the diving, teaching her to tie the rope, how the city works; basically everything she ever taught Rock and a few things she learned from Rock...) start to add up about Revy's growth as a person, and how many callbacks and connections are being made to the entirety of the story, combined with Revy breaking up a barfight before it starts between Majeur and Eda (holy shit???) and it paints a picture that is screaming right in our face.

Classic Hitchcock suspense. The bomb under the dinner table that the guests don't know about, but we do. We don't know when it will go off. Only that it will.

Gonna hit you with some stuff.

I don't think it is an accident that Revy's "dream" is wanting people to shoot her in the face and not the back, because she sure as hell lives by it.

I don't think it is an accident that Revy explicitly mentions she has been to Japan in front of Majeur and recognizes the word kabuki (remember!!!) I don't think it is an accident that Majeur is about to say her name at the end of 113 and Rock stops her, trying to be a "cool guy" because on the one hand he is correct, you can be someone else.

Start over. He did. Revy did. Dutch totally did. Balalaika did. Feng did. On the other hand, narratively, what is the one name that exists for a Japanese person to have that would carry any significance?

The one name that the only two people in existence would hear and have a visceral reaction to, as they are the only ones who know what actually happened?

Washimine.

Yukio Washimine.

It gets better, though. Remember that kabuki tattoo? I could go into what each one represents, and they're pretty neat, but more importantly...

He's quoting the play "Sukeroku". Listen, you don't do this TWICE. You don't show us this super specific thing TWICE and not have it be a giant neon sign. This is no damned accident, and it makes sense.

Jane came back. Roberta came back. Why not Tokyo? Throw in Takenaka (this would be INSANE and I am so here for it) and you've got the full set.

Majeur asking about honor when she's taken hostage by Rock, Revy, and Shenua and Rock's response being "That's a mafia thing" suddenly has quite a bit more weight to it.

We know the Washimine group were without a proper leader for a long time, which is what lead to their desperation in calling in Hotel Moscow to deal with the Kosa Kai. A teensy bit of conjecture, but "things happened" is probably about "my dad, the Yakuza boss, was murdered and I fled the country"

Why did Yukio stay behind? Could be that they're half-sisters. Same dad, different moms. Could be a lot of things.

Yukio took up the mantle, Chaka got his hands chopped off, Balalaika holds Rock at gunpoint in a parking garage, etc. We know that story; it's absolutely amazing and needs no reiteration even this many years later.

What does this mean? Why does this matter? Well, Majeur and Ginji both went up against Balalaika and Revy. The latter is dead because he had a reason to live; he wasn't focused on survival.

Majeur? She lost her Yukio. The first time was literal. The second time was in Nigeria. She stopped trying to go after Balalaika and Revy because there wasn't any point to it. She had no one to protect. No one to fight for.

And there's one more thing...

Yeah, man. I think this is essentially Yukio back from hell itself to take revenge on Balalaika. Revy's just the one who shot Ginji. She isn't responsible for the complete eradication of the Washimine group, and she has been trying to help Majeur because she obviously sees way too much of who she used to be in her.

Rock helped Garcia with Roberta, and they told him to fuck off...and rightfully so. It got dark. What dragged him out of the funk? Helping himself, Feng, in a way that was far less destructive and much more productive. What I imagine some have forgotten is that Revy also had an expy (this whole series is just parallel and intersecting character arcs and foils with the strangers who come to down I love it so so much) that told her to fuck off just as much, if not much more effectively and painfully: Fabiola.

Fabiola never needed her help. She just thought she did. Majeur actually does benefit from Revy's advice because, shockingly enough, she isn't filled with nearly as much hate or bitterness as she used to be.

Feng and Majeur were basically the 'second chances' for Rock and Revy respectively, after "The Dance of Death". Take it back further, and this whole thing really could have been trying to make up for how things went down in Tokyo, as Yukio and Ginji were far more explicit and direct foils than Roberta, Garcia, and Fabiola ever were.

And this isn't even getting into the Balalaika side of things. That's a whole other conversation. God, I love this series so damned much!

Revy making a bet with Balalaika with Majeur as the---oh, shit, right, I don't have Vol 12 digitally, but you just have to trust me that Hiroe did bring the "people are like dice" concept again, but it was REVY who did it. It was when they're driving Majeur after she starts talking, and Revy responds with something like "Why do you care? You already threw your dice."

Majeur has direct access to Balalaika at some point in the future. She has the perfect ticking time bomb of a motive to want her dead, and Revy's gamble might make Majeur too well connected and too skilled to be stopped before it is way too late.

No idea how this will pan out, but I fucking love this series.

#black lagoon #meta

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ahungeringknife · 9 months

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Cursebreaker

March 14

I remember almost writing this with Altair and Malik before going 'fuck that I want Lucy to be a badass she deserves it'. Because she fucking does

Prompt from @deepwaterwritingprompts specifically this one

----

There were always rumors when it came to arcane tattooists. That they were cursed, that the ink was made with blood or the ichor of some beast, that you had to sell your soul to get one done. They weren't common either. Technically they didn't exist. If you wanted one you needed to go deep underground.

Desmond needed one. He'd spent about a year getting to know the right people and making the right friends that finally landed him a consultation with an arcane tattooist. He was surprised the shop was just... out in the open. On a normal street in the city. The sign said 'Rose Point Tattoos' in classic spiked calligraphy. Inside it was clean and well lit but there was a wall blocking the studio from the outside where a receptionist was. The wall behind the desk was covered in art. It was beautiful. Every piece was meticulous and intricate and while the receptionist was on the phone Desmond marveled at them. Finally she hung up.

"Can I help you?" she asked him cheerfully.

"Yeah. I have a consultation appointment with Stillman?" he asked.

She eyed him carefully but smiled still. "Of course. Let me tell her you're here," and she got up from the desk. Her? Now that he thought about it no one mentioned if Stillman was a man or not he just-- well he'd just sort of assumed. He waited looking at the art for a minute or so before the receptionist came back and said he could follow her. He did so and followed her through an open doorway into the studio.

The studio was nicely decorated without being overbearing and looked nothing like a traditional tattoo parlor. The tile had a subtle magic circle inlayed on the floor in mosaic tile and there were no mirrors or windows in the place. It smelled pleasant and the lights were bright. A man was bent over someone on a chair tattooing an intricate all runic text back piece with a tattoo gun who's head was a snake.

Stillman was not what Desmond expected at all. She was a small blonde woman with blue eyes, a serious but kind face and no visible tattoos. She smiled when the receptionist brought Desmond over and stood up to shake Desmond's hand at her work station. "Mr. Miles, on time. I appreciate it," she said.

"Desmond's fine," he said.

"What can I help you with?" she asked. He glanced over at the man giving the runic tattoo, "Don't worry about Shaun, he's a quiet sort," she assured him.

Desmond still hesitated a moment before he took off his hoodie and rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. "I was told you can break curses," he said and showed her the curse marked on his lower forearm. It was, effectively a tattoo, or more like a birth mark. Everyone in his family for the past four generations had been cursed with this mark on their arms.

"Oh my," she reached out and touched his arm lightly. As she did he felt her magic touch against the curse on his arm. After a moment she looked up at him with keen blue eyes, "How'd you get cursed like this?" she asked him.

"Born with it. Generational curse," he said stoically.

"This is some serious work. Your ancestor must have really pissed someone off." He made a soft noise and she looked gave him a look. "What exactly did your ancestor piss off?" she asked. He made a non committed groan. "If it's serious I'll need to know or regular curse breaking won't work," she said.

He sighed. "From what I understand it was a demi god," he said. "Some kid of an Aztec god and a mortal from my mom's side who came from Mexico."

Stillman's eyes were wide. "Oh. Oh dear," she said sympathetically. "Central American gods are especially fickle," and she sat down and pulled out a book that was more a spell book as much as it was a design example book. She flipped through it and then showed Desmond a tattoo. "It'll look like this when we're through," she said and showed him a gnarly looking half sleeve tattoo.

"Okay. It'll break the curse?"

"Yes. But it's a serious curse. This is going to be expensive."

"I figured. I know the ink needed for curse breaking is... not easy to come by." From what he'd read only the blood of a death apparition could break this curse. The curse itself dealt with death so to break it you needed to counteract it with another bit of death.

"Don't worry. Nothing I haven't dealt with," she said cheerfully.

"... You're going to go get it?" Desmond asked.

"Sure. So long as you can pay."

"I can," he nodded but was having trouble believing her. Stillman was saying she was going to go kill an avatar of death, a grim reaper, to make the ink for his tattoo, and she didn't even seem bothered!

"Okay. Rebbecca will schedule your appointment so talk to her on your way out," Stillman said taking out her phone to text the receptionist. "She'll tell you when you should come back."

"Okay," Desmond said slowly.

"Shaun," Stillman called to the other man in the parlor.

"What? I'm busy," he growled.

"We're going reaping," she said simply.

He lifted his gun but didn't look at them. He just sighed, "Of course we are. Great. Just great," and he dipped the tip of the gun into ink at his side and went back to the intricate rune work on the man's back.

Stillman got up and shook Desmond's hand again. "I'll see you in a week or so, Desmond. Don't worry, we'll take care of that curse," she said.

"Thanks," he said but wasn't sure he should be. Was this small woman and her tattoo partner actually going to go out and kill a reaper for his tattoo? Holy shit. That was so insanely dangerous. But he said goodbye and went to talk to the receptionist. She set his appointment up for two weeks from today and bid him goodbye. When he stepped out of the parlor he looked back at it. "Huh," he said. Where the parlor had been was an abandoned store front, paper covering the windows on the inside. Guess he'd find it again when it was his appointment.

#365 #writeblr #writblr #fanfiction #assassin's creed #desmond miles #lucy stillman #shaun hastings

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keldau · 2 months

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Throwback to the beginnings of my costuming journey. Though this armor has since been retired, mainly due to my unfortunate physical growth, I think back on these times fondly. I like to think the time and care I put into my first build shows, but I may be a touch biased.

The completion of this armor lead to a great many things in my life. Some of the most fun I've ever had, some of the best friends I've ever made, and some of the coolest opportunities I never thought I'd have.

In 2016 I was invited to attend a convention in Salt Lake where I met the man himself, big boss Boba Fett, Jeremy Bulloch. While it was a brief (but incredibly cool) opportunity, he wasn't the only hero I got to meet that weekend. While attending a panel for Mark Hamill, I also got a high five from Jason David Frank (RIP). Another man I've loved and respected for as long as I can possibly remember.

While manning the Star Wars Costuming Clubs booth that same year, along with a new friend, we were blown away by a random surprise visit by Michael Rooker. Though I regret missing this opportunity to get a picture, the conversation we had without a massive group of people interrupting him, is all the memory of the event I need. What a genuinely cool guy.

Over the years my armor evolved and grew with me, but continued to open doors I never thought possible. Growing up in the middle of nowhere, no real money to my name, and no opportunities to truly geek out with the people left in my hometown, I never thought that Comic Cons and costume groups would be part of my life. I had followed what the 501st Legion was doing since I was a kid, and was truly blown away when I saw them on tv marching in the Rose Bowl Parade in 2007. Still, I never thought anything like that would exist in Montana. At that point, the Mandalorian Mercs were just starting, so I hadn't even heard of them yet.

By the time I started college, I was made aware of the existence of the MMCC. Sitting in my dorm dreaming that I'd have the money, time, space, skills, etc, to start a build of my own some day. Then one day in 2015, I saw this helmet for sale from Headshot Props, and I knew it was time. I had to make this purchase. I checked my accounts, moved some stuff around, skipped getting groceries for a few weeks, and 2 months later, there it was in all of its glory. Sitting at my doorstep when I got off work, I don't think I had ever been that excited. I took it inside, ripped open the box, knocked off just enough of the sharp edges to put it on without cutting myself, and low and behold... it didn't fit.

Motivation: demolished. Faith: gone.

I was, frustrated, to say the least. I'm the type of person to take setbacks like this extremely personally because of how often it seems like it happens to me. I set it on the shelf and looked at it for a few days. I knew there was nothing I could do about a return because the dimensions were posted, and I measured my head. It should have fit. I didn't take into account the cheeks of the helmet being a tighter spot, and my bigass fivehead just wasn't gonna do it without breaking the helmet. I had to do something though. I sanded the hell out of the inside of the cheeks to the point that you could see light through them, and I could get the helmet on, though it wasn't a pleasant experience. I then took my heat gun, thinking there's no way this will work, heated the resin just enough to push the cheeks out that little bit extra, and I'll be damned. It was just enough. The helmet was still tight, but it fit, and it was back to game on.

The course of the next few months brought on a ton of changes. I was lucky enough to be working at a sign shop at the time I began this journey, and that shop had a seemingly endless supply of foamed PVC board and a flatbed CNC machine. I was able to trace out my armor design and just have it cut right there! Barely even had to trim and sand anything! It was amazing! I started learning skills I never even knew I wanted. Using a heat gun to form shapes, learning to paint, kit bashing parts to make in-universe looking props, it just never seemed to end! Halfway through my build, I moved, but I didn't let that move ruin my motivation. In that tote was a pile of loose parts and a helmet. Within a month of moving into my new place, it was wearable. Rough, but wearable. Around Halloween that year, I had met up with some local guys that were also building armor, and we handed out candy at the Zoo! It was amazing, and I had so much fun. Met some of my future best friends that day.

Over the years of doing local events, I've been humbled on a few occasions. Mostly from people who joined the group later on that have told me their journey started when they saw me at one event or the other. That's such an incredible feeling and honestly makes all the time, effort, money, stress, blood, and love I've put into this build worth it.

If you've stuck with this post this far, I applaud you. You can probably tell I'm not much of a writer and I'm all over the place with no real conclusion to any of it. I'm really just reminiscing. This weekend I will be parting out this original kit, or at least most of it, in order to help new costumers, new friends, get a foothold in their build, and hopefully motivate them to continue.

If you've ever wanted to build a costume, regardless of what fandom it's for, don't let anyone tell you not to do it. Buy it, build it; piece by piece or all it once, it doesn't matter. Just do it. Solid chance you'll never regret it.

#cosplay #mandalorian #mandalorian costuming #star wars #mando #this is the way

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vwritesawholelothm · 1 year

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Ten Lines, Ten People

Rules: Share the first 10 lines of your 10 most recently posted fics, and then tag 10 people. I didn't go with exactly 10 lines since how much I should share felt different for each fic, but it's my post so whatever. And I went with 10 recent fics, not the 10 most recent fics due to the fact I'm in Multiamory March rn and that would mess stuff up.

I was tagged by the lovely @mad-elia, so go look at lilies entry first ^-^

“Almost everything you do is unsafe, Darling. At least you have an expert helping you, and a properly trained dragon.”

Bliss

“Oh my god, I forgot you guys are all way too Mormon. Did you not know gay people existed? I think the rest of them know gay people exist.” “No, I didn’t! What’s a gay?” “You, apparently, by how you’re all nervous about this.”

Viva la Gays, Right?

Sparrow, on the other hand, isn't as sweet. He'll only accept a flower if it's shot at him with an arrow, and he calls Daring a dork every time he tries to recite poetry. Instead, the way to his heart is through flattery.

Daring's Affections

“I hate America. Everyone has a gun and three Wasingtonians have threatened to shoot me because I’m on their property so far. That’s how I died the second time, I don’t need that!” “Jack,” Ianto said, voice level over the phone, “you sound American and you have dozens of guns. You do not get to make moral judgments here.” “I’m not making a moral judgment, I’m pointing out how annoying they are.” “Honey, you are also annoying.”

Vampire Hunter

Apple peers through the window, catching sight of a band. Almost all of them are girls, with one guy on the keyboard. He doesn’t catch her interest, though, as she’s too struck by how gorgeous the women in the band are. One has snow-like hair, interrupted by shocks of icy blue. Another one has matching white hair, but in a different style with streaks of pastel pink, matching her rebelliously torn skirt. There’s a girl with hot pink and red mixed into her brown hair, and a fiery, hungry-for-the-world expression plastered across her face. There’s one with a gentle smile, dawning baby blue and playing her instrument with her eyes closed, like she knows the song too intimately to look at it.

You Are Gonna Rock It, Apple! - Chapter 4: Rock Me To The Core

“I miss her, Apple.” “I’m sure.” “Is this what happens to everyone? Bones in the ground that no one thinks about? That get dug up a dozen times? Do we have no life after death?” “Philosophy is for when we’re at school, Raven.”

Ever After Hamlet - Act Five

As is often the case in stories like this, the hero only meets three challenges along her quest. The next figure she meets is her dear Sparrow. But he has obscured himself, his clothes replaced with those of a prisoner and the few items he has stolen. In addition, his time in the woods has changed him. His eyes have a darker look to them, and he’s far from the kept look of most noblemen. As for Cedar, she comes across as a miserable young man, her once perpetually happy face worn tired with grief and longing. Her eyes- those of a widow, while far too young for it to fit. With neither bringing a spark of familiarity to the other, they see each other as they would see any other figure in these woods. As a foe, to be disposed of.

Ballad 150

Good, Martha thinks. She’s no stranger to people getting melted to some degree– she’s seen some weird stuff during her interplanetary travels– but this time it’s deserved. They end up back at Martha’s flat. Kitty’s has been taken back by the landlord, so Martha says that Kitty can crash on her couch as long as she needs. Secretly, Martha hopes it’ll be a while. She hopes it might morph into forever, even, but that part is so secret that she herself doesn’t realize it. Plus, she and Kitty haven’t really solidified into a “something” yet. They’re more of an “almost” for now.

First Kiss

“Listen, you Sparrows and Bluejay have gotten on my nerves for the last time. Tonight you will be given a taste of your own medicine. Again, in trial by combat.” “This is stupid!” “Yeah, this is beep!” “Call it what you want. You all need to chill out.” “Wait,” a cat slinks forward, “are all of the ladies in the stands Cedar?” “Hey!” Bluejay chirps, “my girl is Woodpecker!” The cat defensively puts up his paws and hops backwards. Brooke sighs, “Yes, all of you somehow managed to pull your respective Cedars. How you managed it, I’ll never know.”

Into the Sparrowverse

Serena sits next to him, "You're still upset about that." "I am. But I talked through it with Greninja, and I'll be fine. I just have to ground myself next time I battle." Serena smiles, brushing some snow off of his hair. "You're a lot different from the guy who jumped off Clemont's gym." He shakes his head, "I jumped off a cliff while I was out there to save a Spewpa." "Hm. Maybe jumping off of things to save people is just a core part of who you are, then?"

A Slight Smile

Tagging! @thelivingmemegod @gender-snatched @calebs-hangout-corner @feline17ff @broadwaytheanimatedseries and uhhh @/anyone I don't remember any other URLs at the moment

#writing snips

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1queasycrow · 5 months

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AGAINST THE WALL (Transcript)

FLASHBACK

TALIA: What are you doing?

CLARA: It’s my papá’s. I borrowed it

TALIA in spanish: (Yeah sure)

CLARA: I’m done, Talia. No more secret meetings. No more protests. No more friends that just disappear. He’s too strong.

TALIA: So..you’re gonna just march into the Capitolio and put daddy's gun to Castillo’s head?

CLARA: No. I’m going to build an army. And then I’m going to put castillo in the ground. Come with me. You don’t think I can do it I’ve seen this Talia I’ve dreamed it--

TALIA: My mama used to tell me, “save the dreams for rich, fair skinned Yarans.” Us? We don’t get to dream. We survive. You're not going to free Yara by killing Castillo, rich girl. You have to convince Yara it wants to be free. For all of us.

PRESENT DAY

DANI: Clara. Clara. You wanna tell me why you dragged me back to my old orphanage?

CLARA: He’s losing, Dani. And soon we march on the Capitolio. And now…Castillo wants to meet.

DANI: You’re joking right?

CLARA: I want to know what you think. You’ve been face to face.

DANI: I think Castillo’s always two steps ahead and he's not gonna stop unless we put a pullet in his skull.

CLARA: And then what? We kill his kid too? You had your chance, why didn't you do it? Juan had solid intel there was a Castillo up in that hotel. He just had the wrong one. You let his kid live and then Castillo lets you walk away from a death sentence. But the thing is Dani, you were right. If Yara is going to have a future, his people, our people, we need to co-exist. [And] The point was never to kill Castillo. It was to free Yara. For all of us.

DANI: You had already made up your mind, hadn’t you. Yara needs a leader, Clara. Not a martyr.

CLARA: Viva libertad, Dani

#far cry 6 spoilers #Far cry 6 #Clara garcia fc6 #dani rojas fc6 #Talía Benavídez FC6 #i couldnt catch the spanish talia says #this is a transcript of the subtitles #the only difference it really makes is an 'and' at the end #im puttng this here for reference #because it feels like studying it will bring more clarity to claras bonkers decision #i just need to rewrite some history #excuse me

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mcbangle · 1 year

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I posted 2,756 times in 2022

That's 657 more posts than 2021!

46 posts created (2%)

2,710 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bethanyactually

@believesinponds

@unpretty

@ivecarvedawoodenheart

@naryrising

I tagged 2,147 of my posts in 2022

Only 22% of my posts had no tags

#dracula daily - 259 posts

#snerk - 98 posts

#oooooh - 90 posts

#the owl house - 85 posts

#us politics - 56 posts

#check please - 37 posts

#psa - 34 posts

#star wars - 33 posts

#know your history - 31 posts

#toh spoilers - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#every now and then i remember huh. i could go to a movie if i wanted. i could call out of work if i wanted

My Top Posts in 2022:

[Jonathan Harker] has won all hearts by his sweetness and gentleness.

-Letter, Sister Agatha, Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, Buda-Pesth, to Miss Wilhelmina Murray, 12 August, Dracula

He really has, hasn't he?

82 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

It continues to amaze me how many apparently fully-grown adults continue to struggle with the concept of “I am not the target audience of this piece of media, and that’s OK.”

I really do think it’s part of the same phenomenon of “The Kids Today are bad and wrong and foolish because they use technology that didn’t yet exist when I was a child and had different formative experiences from mine that shaped them in different ways.” They hate it when you point this out to them, though.

142 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

I’ve been numbly reading about the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision striking down NY’s concealed carry law and I’m just devastated. With all the news about the expected upcoming Roe v Wade decision this was not on my radar at all. It never once occurred to me that the Supreme Court with expand gun rights in this way and in the wake of so many horrific mass shootings.

There is something very wrong with my country, and I worry that we will be living with the repercussions for decades.

162 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

I'm so glad to hear that Lucy is feeling better! I, as a genre-savvy person, am sure that she will be perfectly fine tonight, will call Dr. Seward if she needs anything, and that absolutely nothing will go horribly wrong from here on out...

178 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Everything I’ve learned about “Our Flag Means Death” from Tumblr

Without having seen an episode.

It looks good! I’d watch it if I had HBO Max, but I don’t, so.

Stede is a gentleman pirate who kind of looks like Aziraphale. I think he might not be very good at being a pirate, but his crew likes him anyway.

There is a sewing contest to make Stede’s flags. One of the flags has a cat on it?

Stede gets sick or injured or something and is laid up in bed.

Blackbeard, who is also called Ed and is played by Taika Waititi, visits Stede in his bedchamber.

Blackbeard wears all leather except for one arm which is sleeveless and covered in tattoos. Everyone, including the showrunners, agree that an all-leather outfit would be uncomfortable for a pirate of the Caribbean, but that the outfit nonetheless looks hot.

Blackbeard’s flag has a cool skeleton wearing a pirate hat and holding a spear. Early on, some fans were concerned that the flag was historically inaccurate because the real Blackbeard flag had a bleeding heart. This will be important later.

Blackbeard pokes around and looks at Stede’s stuff and is very intrigued.

At some point they try on each others’ clothes and at one point (possibly the same point??) they go to a fancy ball.

Their two crews are initially suspicious of this situation and each other but eventually they all become friends and/or fall in love except for one guy on Blackbeard’s crew who persistently Does Not Like Stede.

Speaking of the crew, one of them is nonbinary and initially wears a beard and fake nose but then they don’t, and eventually they fall in love with someone too.

At one point Blackbeard, Stede and another, foppish-looking crewmember go on some kind of expedition in the jungle. Blackbeard spends a lot of time making heart eyes at Stede and foppish-looking crewmember spends a lot of time observing Blackbeard’s heart eyes and at some point in that episode the foppish looking guy says “This is happening”.

I think foppish looking guy has a boyfriend too, or at least a love interest.

Blackbeard and Stede get captured by enemies and are made to lie facedown on the deck. Stede says something like “You came back!” and Blackbeard says something like “I never left” and then the camera pulls back and Blackbeard gently nudges Stede’s foot with his own.

Blackbeard shaves his beard off??

Ed and Stede are sitting on the beach. Ed tells Stede that Stede makes Ed happy. They kiss and then Stede tells Ed that Ed makes Stede happy. They make plans to run away together to China.

Then - tragedy strikes, I assume??? Something happens and evidently they do not run away to China together.

Ed gets drunk and wraps himself in a blanket (is it Stede’s blanket?) and sings, I think? And everyone feels sorry for him.

Stede goes back to his wife and kids, but they don’t actually want him around. Stede’s wife tries to kill him, and he leaves and gets on a boat to presumably become a pirate again and maybe find Ed?

But wait, what’s this? Blackbeard blackened his eyes and painted a beard on his face (?) and now he is Angry! And he abandons Stede’s crew on the tiniest island ever!

Close-up on Blackbeard’s flag, which now has a new panel sewn on of a bleeding heart, the same one that history buffs said was missing in the early episodes, symbolizing his broken heart, dun-dun-dunnnn!!!

How did I do?

182 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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academy13 · 2 years

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This hit me like a brick when I was driving home from getting my haircut today... Steve Rogers absolutely is an activist. I refuse to believe that he, or Peggy, would sit on the sidelines when something like what the Supreme Court did yesterday happened. Neither would any of the other Avengers. And if you say I shouldn’t be political with characters from the comics or media based on comics, you haven’t been paying attention. They have always been political.

Steve took a breath, he was old. Far too old for this shit... yes he’d been Captain America once, but that was Sam’s title now. But some things never left you, and for him that had been public speaking. Applying what he’d been taught with the USO show to marching in the streets, to activism had been a natural step, he was one of many organizers in many a march over the decades, but Peggy had backed him at every step just as he stood behind her at every step.

But he admitted that part of him was glad she had not lived to see this Supreme Court, to see them overturn the rights of so many millions in a swift move. And in that move very clearly send the message that guns were more important than human lives. Peggy would’ve stormed the Supreme Court building on her own, seething anger and rage, and punched the very justices who had ruled that people had less bodily anonymity than a dead body, less rights than a gun. And Peggy loved dearly to shoot things, but when she couldn’t shoot things beating them into submission with the nearest available object had always been her go to. And, he admitted to Sam and Bucky when they’d come over to check on him after hearing the news themselves, he wouldn’t have stopped her.

So it was with Sam on his left and Bucky on his right that they took to the streets with so many others in so many cities across the nation, carrying signs and seething with rage and indignation at the court and the decades of political policy that allowed this court to exist at all. Bucky hadn’t even been subtle with his signs, pointing out that this line of thinking was what had led to Natasha’s sterilization at the hands of the Red Room and to his own decades long violation of his rights at the hands of HYDRA, stripped of his awareness that he even had rights. And Pepper he knew, was not being subtle either, pulling a page from the Stark handbook and making the loudest boldest statement she possibly could because her daughter’s rights were on the line, and the rights of every employee Stark Industries had. Howard he knew, would be thrilled that his daughter in law was a strong woman who had looked up to women like Peggy Carter. And Tony would be standing next to her if he could, unabashedly challenging the United States government to do something YESTERDAY.

And now, he was here, holding a megaphone, about to speak to a crowd who had never known that he had once been Captain America. They didn’t know him as Steve Rogers, they largely knew him as Peggy Carter’s husband and an activist of the last 70 years or so. He was fine with that, but he knew he was once Captain America, and so did Sam and Bucky. He felt like he had to do this right, not only for himself, but for these people. For Peggy. For Pepper. Natasha, his transgender neighbor who couldn’t make it out because they had Covid. For the non-binary teen who had talked with Bucky on the way down here...

“So... you all know me as Peggy Carter’s husband, and that’s okay. She was pretty incredible, and she certainly never needed my help getting shit done.” That earned a little laughter from the crowd, though it helped that Peggy was very well known to have never taken crap from any man, let alone any man in Washington. “But for those of you unaware, I’m Grant Carter, Peggy’s husband of some six decades or so... don’t ask me how long we were married, both of us were awful at keeping count. And if you asked our friends you’d get conflicting answers... but the point is we were married for a very long time. Married before interracial marriage was declared legal, before separate but equal schooling was declared unconstitutional… hell before you had to be read your Miranda rights. The day that ruling was handed down was not one of her better moments… but I can honestly say one of the happiest days for her was when she went to the bank on her own, and was able to open her own account in her own name. She was the director of SHIELD, and was finally able to have a bank account that I didn’t have to be involved in the process of her having.” He pauses a moment, looking over at Bucky for a second, getting a little nod of support, which he admits he needed, before continuing. “And we both celebrated the day Roe V Wade became the law of the land. Peggy had always been a staunch supporter of women’s rights, putting policies into place at SHEILD that were far ahead of their time compared to other agencies. She ardently argued that women should be paid equally if they were doing the same job as a man, and as she worked with the Howling Commandos during the Second World War, she was also very big on the fact that anyone of any race was just as good as a white person. She had very little patience for people who decided they were better than another on the basis of race, religion, gender, or even sexual orientation. We turned out to be an excellent match in this respect, neither of us has ever tolerated bullies well. Roe guaranteed protections that she, and many thousands of citizens whose gender identity did not line up with the one assigned at birth, did not have. It gave protections that my mother, a nurse, did not have. It gave those alive fifty years ago protections and it gave their children and grandchildren those same protections. And to see it overturned is devastating. People will DIE because men have to discuss in committee whether or not to give a person an abortion because their life is on the line. Or because someone wanted an abortion and did not have safe legal access, and thus used a less safe and proven method… we cannot go back to the coat hanger and the kitchen table. Because this was never about the children, it has never been about the children. It’s about a bunch of pearl clutching old men and women clinging to their outdated ideals that bypassed them decades ago and forcing their beliefs on the rest of us because all they care about is remaining in power.

The first thing I thought of after the news broke this morning, was something my wife once said. Something you all probably heard quoted at her funeral by her great niece… Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No, you move'.

To that I add, it doesn’t matter what the press says, doesn’t matter what the mobs say, doesn’t matter what the politicians say, this nation was founded on one principal above all else: the requirement that we stand up for what we believe. No matter the odds or consequences.

There are always men like them, but there are more of us than there are of them.”

#Steve Rogers #Roe V Wade #Captain America

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fushipurro · 4 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 1 - Ante Up

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Synopsis: Life on the frontier is nothing short of being difficult, especially for a you, a lone woman living day to day atop the saddle of your trusty mare. Your path takes you to a growing city by the name of Valentine, where you end finding more than just liquor in a saloon.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, fluff smut & a bit of angst in between, gambling, alcohol, guns, gun violence, gangs, mentions of blood, degradation, pet names, violence, cunnilingus, creampie, aftercare

☆ Word Count: 4.3k

Valentine.

Not only the name of your beloved horse, a beautiful bay quarter horse, but also that of the town you rode into after a long day of hunting out in the prairie. Typically you’d rather camp out under the stars in a nice open field but tonight, you’re more in need of stocking up and a good butcher.

“Wooaah, there,” You pull back on the reins, stopping just in front of a hitching post. You take a moment to pat the shoulder of your trusty steed before swinging your leg over the read and down onto the ground, tying your horse to the post.

“What do we got here? Some fresh meat all for me?”

You follow the voice to the beefcake of a man standing behind you, butcher knife in hand and an apron stained in red. His hair’s pale pink in color with eyes closely matching the blotches adorning his body. The grin on his face makes him appear more like a killer than a butcher, but who’s to say what he might be doing in his free time.

“Yes sir, all right here,” you tell the man, patting the hindquarters of Valentine right over where a beautiful five-point buck lays limp over the rear. “Got some other odds ‘n ends in my satchel too.”

“I’m referring to you, girl.” His eyes darken with a cheshire grin. “Haven’t seen you before in these parts, and I would know.”

Valentine stomped her hoof into the dirt, her tail swishing from side to side in a swatting motion and ears pitched back. A warning that you all too easily picked up early on in your conversation.

“Why don’t you just keep your eyes to yourself and carve me up some dinner? That’s your job, ain’t it mister?”

“Feisty. I like that,” he chuckles. He stabs his knife into the butcher block before walking back over to collect the buck, all too close for your comfort.

You roll your eyes at his remark. You’re all too used to the men out here in the wild west that think every woman is only good for keeping their dick wet and their beds warm. Thanks to your ex-outlaw of a father, you’ve been raised to be stronger than that; always putting yourself first and putting a bullet between the eyes of anyone that tries anything funny without your consent.

Your father taught you a lot about how to live the life that you do and the skills you’ve honed. It’s too bad his old gang he ditched didn’t take kindly to him up and leaving to settle down with a nice lady out in Manzanita Post. You miss him, but life must go on if you’re to survive in this harsh growing society.

“I’ll have this all done by tomorrow, doll. Come back then and we can discuss payment.” He spares you one final glance before resuming his work, knife in hand, skillfully chopping away.

You turn back to your mare, taking the lead in hand as you marched onto the town’s main street in search of your next goal. Looking around you find the stables, a hotel, a bank, even a gun store in the distance that you make a mental note to hit up later. Soon, your eyes landed on the big wooden sign. Saloon.

There’s an open spot out front next to an all-black stallion by the looks of it, but you really don’t need to lose out on your only companion for upwards of six months to a year. Instead, you opt for another open spot across the street in front of the bank near a palomino mare.

As you approach the swinging doors of the saloon, you’re met with another man who towers over you on his way out. Not a drop of color exists on him, save for the dark green eyes you catch a glimpse of from underneath the rim of his torn black cowboy hat.

“Excuse me, sweetheart.” He tips said hat, looking at you for a moment while the scar on the corner of his lip stretches up. He gives a quick whistle before continuing over to the stallion right up front. Go figure. His muscles bulged as he hoisted himself up and over the also black saddle and taking off out of town.

“Tch,” you click your tongue. Had you come a moment later you’d be hitched in the perfect spot, but whatever. You shake your head and push your way into the saloon, walking up to the counter of the bar for a much-deserved drink.

“What’ll it be, Miss?” they greet.

“Rum, thanks.” You toss a bill to the bartender who then quickly serves you your glass of choice. With your back turned to the counter, you take in the sights of the place. Drunks singing and dancing to parlor songs, women getting hit on by drunks, and surprise, more drunkards sitting around gambling tables. There’s also some weirdo with a raccoon for a hat ranting about some shit you don’t care to try and even understand.

“Least there ain’t no damn Chelonians here,” you think to yourself, rolling your eyes once more.

“Drinking alone, Miss?” A new voice chirps from a nearby stool. This time instead of a rough and bloodied man or a blacked-out cowboy, your eyes are met with a clean-shaven blond dressed in a fancier style than the cattleman known to the town.

“Is every guy in this town in heat or something?” you sigh, taking a swig of your drink.

He gives a husky laugh in response, rotating himself to face you. “I’m more than happy just to have some old-fashioned conversation with you.” He smiles, raising his own glass to sip.

“So… what’s your deal?” You turn your head in his direction, casting a curious glance over his figure and sizing him up. “You don’t like much of a cowboy for this place.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Miss. I’m a farmer turned banker, here on business from Blackwater.”

“Ya know, I’m more used to farmers shooting bankers than becoming one. All those loan disputes and what not getting in the way of the family business,” you deadpan.

“Precisely why I became one,” he begins, “Banking makes for good stable money and is a career that works just as well for someone like me. If I can do more to help others keep their properties with firsthand experience, then that’s what I plan to do.”

You bark out a laugh, ��Never thought I’d see the day where I meet a respectable rich guy instead of some pompous pig.”

He places his glass down on the counter and stands up, adjusting his suit. “Might I interest you in another way I deal with money?” he asks, nudging his head to the poker table by the entrance.

“What the hell.” You chug the last of your drink, stepping off from the counter towards to the table. “Let’s see what you got, money bags.”

“Excellent.” He follows you over, sitting down in the available seat next to you. At the other end of the table are two equally sleezy men ogling you with their eyes.

The blond takes the cards, shuffling them with ease before distributing them to the players. You peer back to the cards in your hand to reveal a queen and a six. Others at the table start raising their bets as you match with your own.

As the community cards begin to unfold, only one of the players at the table has decided to fold, still leaving you, the blond, and the fleabag drunk. It becomes unbearably hard to hide a maniacal grin when two of the center cards are queens.

“Raise,” you chirp with clear intent, pushing a stack of coins forward to the center. The banker knows a bad business deal when he sees one, so he folds. The drunkard however, calls, pushing his bet forward while smirking to himself.

“Let’s see ‘em, girl.” The man places his cards face up on the table to reveal a pair of 9s. “Beat that, little missy.”

“With pleasure,” you say, placing down your three-of-a-kind queens. The blond leans back in his seat, adjusting his hips upwards while whistling. The other two at the table don’t take too kindly to that, quick to scoff before gathering up the cards to shuffle themselves.

The next hand that comes around, you end up folding early on while your newfound friend lands a tactful victory to win the pot that round. The two of you smile at each other, clearly enjoying the moment together.

On the next round, you’re met with another bad hand of a 2 and 4. This time, you decide on a whim to do something fun this round that your father always did to you in poker games at home. A true bluff test.

You start out slow, matching bets and watching one fold. The man across from you isn’t even bothering to hold in his grin at the pairs forming in his hand. Nonetheless, you decide to throw down the real ace up your sleeve.

“All-in,” you say, pushing your whole stack forward.

“Fold,” the remaining two say after, money bags included. The third begins to bite his lip while looking at your sadistic smile eyeing him up. Begrudgingly, he too folds his hand and watches as you throw down your cards that don’t even make a pair with any of the community cards.

“You bitch! Making me fold for that?” he spits, suddenly standing with enough force to knock his chair back. The parlor music stops as all eyes land on your table. “You didn’t even have shit!”

“Yet you still didn’t have the balls to call my bluff,” you bite back, leaning back in your chair as the blond quietly laughs with amusement written all over his face.

“You better get your ass outside if you know what’s good for ya.” His hand moves over the iron at his belt, taunting you into a duel.

“Is that really necessary?” the man at your side calmly asks. “You can always sit down and earn your winnings back fairly instead of throwing a tantrum.”

“You shut the hell up before I put a bullet in you after this whore!” he threatens with a cold glare. “You both are fuckin’ cheats working together!”

“Now, now, let’s just do this right,” you say, standing up, hand at your hip. “You want to duel me, fine. Let’s see if your draw is any faster than your brain, tough guy.”

You and several others from the saloon walk out onto the street, a crowd soon forming on the porch and others looking out from nearby buildings. You can’t help but feel there’s a lot more horses present than before you came in, but no matter, you have a duel to win. People watching can wait.

Both you and the fool take your stance as the other continues to hiss at you, eagerly ready to pull the trigger. You lock eyes and the atmosphere stills, the only sound present being the blood in your ears as you draw your Schofield up from your hip.

The bullet fires, crackling through the air like lightning striking from the heavens.

“FUCK!”

In a heartbeat, the man opposite you is down in the mud, rolling about in agonizing pain. He’s clutching his hand and the sizeable hole through it actively bleeding out, cursing at you beneath tears.

But hey, he’s still alive. That’s gotta count for something, right? At the very least, it does good for your honor and is less work for the sheriff in town to deal with. His buddy took that as his warning and no sooner ran off.

At the same time, an alarm sounds from across the street. The front doors to the bank fly open as several men run out clutching bags of what you can only assume to be money as they frantically mount up.

The crowd starts to scream and run from the apparent robbery as you stand there eyeing one man in particular with long black hair throwing a hefty bag over your beloved mare, pulling her lead off and tying it to his tobiano paint.

“Hey!” you scream, “that’s my horse, asshole!” You raise your gun up to fire off at him before suddenly you’re pulled away behind a wagon to hide. “What the hell, man?” you bitterly hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you between loud pops of gunfire spread through the town like wildfire. “I’m sure you can take them just fine, but this isn’t the place to try.”

“Tch.” You peek up from the wagon to see the outlaws long gone, galloping off in the distance as lawmen attempt to chase after. “That’s my fucking horse.”

The man at your side sighs deeply, “and what was going to be my business opportunity too.”

When the commotion died down, you stood up and dusted off your clothes, looking around with a heavy heart. No matter what, you were going to get your Valentine back one way or another. She’s one of the few things you have to remember your father by and some punk wasn’t going to take that away.

“What are your plans now, Miss?”

“Get my mare back,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m going to track those sons of bitches myself if I have to and save my horse.”

“I imagine they’ll want to hide out tonight away from the eyes of the law,” he states, adjusting his suit from the debris. “You might be better off hanging out here and start your search tomorrow when they’re tired and itching to get home with their spoils.”

You look at him with a hint of surprise on your face. “Smart man, I’m really starting to like you, money bags.”

He chuckles, “Please, call me Kento. Money’s nice but I prefer to believe there are other defining features to my character.”

“Kento,” you say aloud, nodding to yourself. You tell him your own name after which he parrots back in a suave tone pleasing to your ears. “Now that your business deal is off, what will you do?”

His eyes lead him back to the bank where several lawmen are hanging around, interrogating workers and the crime scene. “Well, it looks like I’ll be staying the night here as I already intended to,” he pauses to think, “Tomorrow I suppose I’ll get back to business.”

Shit.

All your camping supplies are buried in your saddle. The very same one now miles away from you. Seems the hotel will be your plan as well.

“Looks like I’ll be renting a room for the night then too.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to quell your anger.

“Come on, I’ll walk you over.” Kento holds out his arm in a gentlemen fashion. It’s hard to stay frustrated when you’re with someone being levelheaded and calm through it all. You oblige, hooking your arm around his as you let him guide you across the street and into the hotel. The innkeeper nods his head to the man before looking at you.

You approach the counter, breaking away from Kento’s grip. “I’d like one room, please.”

“Sorry Miss, we’re all out of rooms for the night.” You click your tongue in response.

“If you’re okay with it, why don’t you share mine?” Kento speaks up. “I certainly don’t mind, given your circumstances.”

“It’s either that or finding some empty stall out by the stables,” you joke, earning a laugh from the man.

“I definitely would not want to see you need to go that far for a bed. It wouldn’t be right for a lady like yourself.”

The two of you head upstairs and down the hall to his prepaid room, entering inside to be met with only one large bed in the center. You stare at it for a moment as Kento closes the door behind and locks it.

“I can sleep on the floor if sharing the bed makes you uncomfortable, but I promise not to do anything you don’t like either way.”

“Oh please,” you scoff. “I don’t take you for that kind of person, sharing is fine by me.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he laughs sweetly, folding his blazer neatly inside a dresser drawer. “I don’t believe the floor would’ve been that comfortable anyways. It might’ve made me go out to some stall.”

You laugh in response, taking off your hat and jacket in a rather unceremonious manner to drape over a chair. The two of you lay down on opposite sides of the bed. Kento has his eyes closed while you’re left staring up at the ceiling playing back the image of the ass that stole your horse and every detail you could make out to better the chance of finding both him and your steed later.

Oh how you were going to make him suffer for even thinking about stealing from you.

“Trouble sleeping?” Kento asks, opening his eyes to look over at you. “I’ve heard you sigh at least a dozen times.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. again. “Not used to being away from my Valentine like this. It’s been just us against the world for the past few years, always having each other’s back. Hell, I remember a time a damn viper tried to sneak up on me, but she knew.” You think fondly back to your memories with her. “I’m sure she’d drag my ass to a doctor somehow if I got injured.”

“I hope you find her soon, she sounds like a trustworthy steed.” He smiles. “Just…be careful, outlaws can be a tricky bunch to deal with.”

“Don’t gotta worry about a cowgirl like me, I’ll manage just fine and get my revenge.” You raise your hand up, forming a mock gun with your fingers and firing a blank at the ceiling with the pop of your lips.

“I’d be a fool to doubt you after what I’ve seen from you so far.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head against his fist to look at you. “You’re quite smart, brave, and especially pretty,” his voice almost purrs at you.

You huff with amusement, turning to meet his gaze with half-lidded eyes. “Is this another one of your gambles at spending time with me?”

“Perhaps.” He starts to lean in closer to you, his eyes on your lips for a few seconds before fluttering back to your own orbs in search of approval. “One I’m willing to go all-in on too.” His lips now ghost your own, his breath hot against your skin. “Question is… do you fold?”

“Never,” is all you can say before your lips crash against one another. Kento’s hand moves to cup your cheek as you lean forward, pushing his back against the mattress.

You swing your leg up over his waist to straddle him, not breaking the kiss for even a second. His hands move to pull you in close and leaving no room to spare between you both. Instinctively, you slowly begin rocking your hips back and forth to create friction, feeling the outline of his cock slot perfectly between your inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispers, throwing his head back to reveal a trail of saliva connecting you to one another. You move to kiss from his cheeks down to his throat, right over his adam’s apple.

Kento’s hands soon found their way to the mounds of your chest. It takes him no time to easily unbutton your shirt, freeing your chest for his eyes to take in. “You’re such a pretty girl,” he purrs, circling his thumbs over each swelling bud.

You respond in kind with a moan against his skin, leaning back from his touch to undo the buckle of your jeans and that of his own. His cock springs free as a result, perking upright as it drips with small white beads from the hot tip.

Kento’s fingers found purchase at your hips, guiding you back onto his lap. You kissed his shaft with your lower lips, hissing with pleasure each time your clit rubbed over the veins strung along his flesh.

“darling, I need you around me,” he groans impatiently, dripping with lust that brings a depraved smile to your face. Oh how nice it feels to lose yourself with another.

“Let me help you with that then,” you tell him, lifting your hips up and aligning the tip just right with your entrance as you slowly come down on him. “Oh fuck─“ you whimper, feeling his pelvis kissing yours.

You both begin to moan in turn, biting down on your lip as you acclimated to his girth until a metallic taste filled your mouth. Kento reached for your wrist, pulling you down so he could kiss you through the growing high.

His thumb found its way down to your pearl, moving in calculated patterns that could best be described as cursive writing to share words of affirmation straight to the source. Your letter of reply being returned via morse code pulses.

“Kento~ f-fuck…‘m gonna-“

“I know, darling,” he murmurs into your ear. The vibration of his deep voice serving only to unravel you completely alongside his next words. “Cum for me, let me feel all you have, sweetheart.”

And cum you do, enough so that your vision fades to white and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clenching down on him with a vice grip and muffled hums.

“Good~ girl,” you hear him as your senses come back to you. Suddenly he leans upwards, and your body threatens to fall back until his arms wrap around your body to stabilize you.

You’re still sitting on his lap as he’s now resting on the heels of his feet staring so lovingly into your eyes. Kento begins to take control, holding you tightly while his hips rut into you at a faster pace than what your legs could handle before.

For someone who’s a banker, he certainly hasn’t lost his touch from the days of tending to fields of crop. The muscles he carries still strong as ever with thick bulging veins under that smooth unblemished skin of his.

His hair is no longer slicked back, now falling in front of his face adorned with beads of sweat dripping down. A cool touch against the fire burning through your body.

You resume kissing him, tongues lashing at each other with open eyes taking in the sight of each other so passionately as one. It isn’t long before you feel yourself at the brim of another orgasm, and you can tell he’s close from the sloppier thrusts and that subtle twitch against your velvet walls.

“If we were still playing poker,” Kento hums between thrusts, “I’d call this my Ace high flush.” he gives one last deep push up into you before spilling his seed out with a guttural groan in your ear.

“Guess minngh─would be the ‘Nut Flush’ then,” you breathe out deeply into a moan, holding back the urge to scream as ecstasy coursed through your body.

His thrusts slowed to a stop as he came down, still holding onto you in one arm as the other tucked the hair out of your pretty face so he could admire your blissful expression.

“I’d say we have ourselves a draw then.” He smiles, kissing from your cheeks up to your lips before finally pulling out and resting you back down to the mattress.

Kento moves off the bed before returning with a rag. His intentions are to clean you, but not before he sits himself down between your open legs, peppering kisses up your inner thigh and onto your slit. He rubbed his hands soothingly over the plush of your sore thighs, slotting his tongue up inside you and gathering your shared essence into his mouth.

You looked down into his hazel eyes, grabbing golden locks between your fingers and throwing your own head back into the pillow. Words can hardly describe how endearing is to have found a man respectable enough to clean up after the mess he made in you, and quickly you found yourself at the brim of another orgasm. This time, you yell out his name between saccharine moans, feeling him hum your own into your body.

He leaned up from your core, his chin glazed and reflecting moonlight off your slick. You use the last bit of your strength to pull him up to you and into a deep kiss before falling back into the pillow for a final time, panting softly for air.

Kento went back to cleaning you up (with the rag this time), telling you with his sweet husky voice how good you were and how good you taste. Better than all the money and gambling prizes the world had to offer.

You soon found yourself drifting off to sleep, occasionally stirring but unable to move from his hold around your body and the face buried in your neck breathing softly.

When morning arrived, it was quiet, and sadly cold as well. Kento’s warmth from the bed had faded, but his scent remained on the sheets. You stood up out of bed after huffing it for more than you’d like to admit, soon finding a handwritten note placed neatly over your now folded clothes.

“Dear Y/N,

It’s my deepest apologies to have to leave you alone-and far too early for my preference. Business awaits, and as much as I would’ve enjoyed bringing you back with me, if you so desired, I know you need your Valentine first above anything else.

As such, I’ve taken the train back to Blackwater. Outside the hotel, you’ll find my own mare, a palomino named Clementine, hitched up and ready to go. She may be of a more docile nature but use her until you have your own again at your side.

If your path ever leads you to Blackwater, do stop in and find me. I would love the chance to see you again and play another round of poker. We can even raise the stakes next time.

Until then, I wish you the best Lady Luck has to offer.

─ Kento Nanami”

☆ Notes: Ngl I struggle with poker cause I’m a blackjack girlie when it comes to card games. This whole fic is just me using all my actual equine and red dead redemption knowledge to my advantage lmao

I had SO much fun writing this though and I hope you guys enjoy the start of what's to come <3 i tried to put in several references to the game too but if you guys have more ideas, i'd love to hear them

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #geto suguru #cowboy!au

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cyruspavels · 2 years

Text

Vai avanti

I’m battling your demons and mines. But i was built to look at devils in their eyes and scare the shit out of them, so i have no problem being strong for the two of us.

Outlashes stopped scaring me the minute I was punched in the face by a man for my bike at 7 or 8. It was abrupt, but the commotion prior to it had caused me to not be on point, so i got caught off-guard. (*things no child that age should have to realize).

From that day on, A form of PTSD took over and I would look over my shoulders very frequently — for a very long time.

In NYC, this was normal. You had to keep your head on swivel at all times, looking out for things like cars coming at you in the wrong direction, muggers on the A & C trains, serial killers, kidnappers in white minivans with no plates and tints, and bored pigs (cops).

The reality, however, is that this shouldn’t have been normal. These were traumas that only people during war-ridden times developed. Traumas like PTSD from gun shots and dead friends.

These aren’t things that the children from the Land of the Free should be going thru — at any age.

Through it all, There was no male guidance who loved me to teach me how to deal with these traumatic events, as they occurred.

However, I was fortunate to have a strong mom who would show me that marching forward brings on sunnier days. Always!

Sure, maybe the lack of fatherly advice and the understanding of what it is to be a boy was missing, so a little coldness developed there because of it. Maybe you want me to believe that nonsense you analyzed yourself because you cannot comprehend the idea of: good...

And I know pure evil when I see it, But you are not that. I don’t sense any evil in you, Which makes it more of a mental obstacle course, for me.

But you see, While your parents were working to keep themselves busy, Mine was working to build a resilient revolutionary who could survive in the jungles she came from and fend for himself, on his own.

Impossible to break.

The mental preparation for that alone isn’t for children either, but it’s all I had and everything I was shown. It’s all my mom had because she came here alone. No man brought her ass here to America and put her up. She managed on her own, found love, felt pain here, and had to be strong for me.

I know why you feel that there are only bad people on this planet doing bad things, but you can’t be right because I also know that good people exist here too, and that many of them don’t do bad shit at all.

Focusing on the positive aspects of life Absolutely leads to a more positive life.

Please don’t discuss nonsense with me, ever. Oh, and by the way, I don’t see the threat in your words. For me, saying less is sometimes saying more, So you saying that you’re going to say less is an attention-getting spurt of nothing.

But please:

“Vai avanti” C Y R U S P A V E L.

#Vai avanti #poem #cp'22

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

journey, m | ot7

full title: journey to the dick

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

summary: A Cinderella story but it's a dick pic. Yup, that's right. You find a dick pic on your phone and make it your mission to find the owner of said dick. Time to fuck the seven hottest guys you know! Onwards!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption / partying; horny crack, everyone radiates chaotic energy and wants to fuck; reader is comparing their dicks to above-mentioned dick pic so there's a lot of talk about dick, did I mention there's a lot of dick? dick; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, handjob, thigh fucking, dance studio sex, overstimulation, fingering, dry humping, 69, face-sitting, photography during sex, m-masturbation, being cummed on (neck / chest [a cum necklace LMAO] + hand), film studio sex, wall-fucking, being overheard / walked in on during sex (and not giving a shit, oops), implied car sex, implied threesome); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene

appearances based on the 'Butter' jacket photoshoots yes, the opening line is #50 of my prompt list LMAO title comes from Journey to the West, except it's dick because that's way more important. also, yeah, this is basically a harem hentai, but it's you and BTS, woohoo! :D

"Whose dick pic is this and why it is so inspirational?"

Park Jimin craned his head over to look at your phone, black hair brushing against your forehead. "Damn! That is an incredible dick."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kim Taehyung muttered, yanking your phone out of your hand and peering at the screen. His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up into his dark brown hair. "Oh, ho! What a high-quality specimen of a dick."

"Why is it on my phone though?" you frowned, taking your phone back from Taehyung. You were sitting next to Jimin on their sofa, contemplating the great mysteries of the world. The black phone case had a cute mouse holding a large sewing needle and sitting next to a spool of sky-blue thread. "I didn't take this one, sadly."

"Maybe you were real drunk," Jimin offered.

"I haven't been real drunk since I projectile vomited in your guys' parking lot."

"That was last week," Taehyung reminded you, smiling amusedly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Look, it was a bad breakup."

"You went on, like, two dates," Jimin laughed, smacking you in the arm.

"It had potential!"

"Yeah, a potential dumpster fire," Taehyung added, rolling his eyes as he sat down on the other side of you. "I know you go for the quiet, nerdy ones, but you're just–"

"Brash? Forward? Ready to sit on dick at any second?"

Jimin was being very helpful.

Taehyung shoved Jimin's grinning face away. "It's a conflict of personality and yours is quite intense, so maybe you should try and be more open-minded about other options."

You frowned, not enjoying this pep talk that you probably needed. In fact, you avoided said pep talk at all costs. You reached back and yanked on Taehyung's ponytail. He prodded you in the left breast in response, glaring. You smacked his hand. He smacked your hand back.

Hey, when you don't have a good reply, resort to violence, right?

You looked back down at your phone. Swollen, red-purple, a good thickness. Nice length too, so hard it was sticking up without the assistance of a hand. You could spy the white pre-cum beading at the engorged tip. It was a strangely clear and well-composed photo. Black boxer briefs. Blue jeans, white shirt.

Fuck.

Could literally be any guy in the history of existence.

You turned the photo to Jimin. "Someone must have taken it last night when I couldn't find my phone for those two hours."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah, seems like it."

"You remember anyone in this outfit?"

Jimin snorted, wrinkling his cute nose. "Everyone was in jeans and a white t-shirt. 'Cause there was that wet t-shirt contest later that night, remember?"

You scratched your head. Ah, yes. Taehyung won. Man looked fucking amazing thanks to working out his arms and chest the past month. Was it solely for the purpose of a silly party gimmick? Maybe. You weren’t complaining though. You did what any good friend would do.

"Oh, right. Who won?"

Taehyung grabbed your shoulders and violently shook you. "I did! Obviously – ah, fuck you!" His tone quickly changed when he realized you were laughing like a maniac, doubling over in a pile of giggles with Jimin. "You're the worst," Taehyung pouted, holding his arms protectively.

"I'm just kidding, don't be mad," you chuckled, reaching over to hug him. He accepted it, but not without continuing to pout. You nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin. "I bought you your favorite breakfast when you were hung over this morning, come on now."

His dark brown eyes shifted back and forth before letting out a long, deep sigh and hugging you back. Damn. He had a nice hug now thanks to these arms and his broad chest. He smelled like warm chamomile.

"I worked hard for these," he mumbled.

You patted him on the back before releasing him and holding up your phone. Back to the first order of business.

"Is this your dick?"

Taehyung scrunched up his face. "No? But I don't look at my dick at that angle either."

You puffed your cheeks and turned to Jimin.

"Is this your dick?"

Jimin plucked your phone from your hand. He tilted his head to one side. Then the other.

"Lemme check."

Then he stood up and started walking to the direction of the bathroom. Still holding your device.

"Uh..."

You trailed off.

Taehyung blinked.

The bathroom door closed.

Pants unzipped.

"PARK JIMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"You have to be kidding me, Jimin."

"Be reasonable. I can't get hard from this dick pic. Don't you want to know the owner of said dick?"

You pursed your lips and squinted at your phone, standing in Park Jimin's and Kim Taehyung's shared bathroom, because they were roommates and your friends. The mysterious discovery of said dick pic from last night's party sparked this Journey to the Dick, because it was a very impressive, intriguing, and, most importantly, inspirational specimen of the male genitalia. Clearly you had to investigate.

For science.

Which was why you were standing in the bathroom with Jimin's sweatpants off and begrudgingly getting to your knees. Begrudgingly, because...

"I thought we were supposed to be ordering pizza and watching Running Man."

"We are," Jimin answered cheerfully. "After you suck my dick."

You glanced at the photo once more.

It remained, indeed, very rousing of certain interests.

You gripped the waistband of Jimin's black boxer briefs.

Hmm...

Hold on.

You stood up suddenly and took your phone from him, sudden determination overtaking you.

"I have to do this correctly."

Jimin blinked rapidly, jumping with a yelp as you flung open the bathroom door to reveal Taehyung throwing himself into the wall, coughing awkwardly and hiding his face with his hands as you marched out purposefully. Jimin was still pants-less.

"In the proper order!"

Jimin and Taehyung shared a confused look.

"The hell does she mean, proper order?'

kim namjoon.

“Namjoon, may I look at your dick?”

Kim Namjoon looked up from his book and blinked at you over his round glasses.

“Pardon?” he replied in English.

“Your dick,” you responded in kind, in English and with succinct pronunciation. “Your penis. Your willy. Your ding-dong. Your–”

Namjoon removed a hand from his book and held it up. “My what?” he interrupted you, laughing.

Oh good, back to Korean so you didn’t have to flex all the different ways you knew how to say cock in English. “Take off your pants.”

He blinked rapidly, innocently sitting there in his flowy white button-up and brown pants. He even had suspenders. Fancy man. He had dyed his hair recently, a steel midnight blue. That’s how Namjoon was, attractive and book-smart. Absolutely won the lottery when it came to genes and brains. You couldn’t see the title of the book he was reading, but it was probably a self-help or philosophy book. He was into those nowadays, exploring the human mind, while you were more into exploring the physical aspects of humanity.

Fucking.

Luckily, fucking didn’t usually require reading.

(Usually, heh.)

“I have no objections to your proposition. I’m just confused on why so suddenly.”

You dropped your canvas tote bag on the ground. Your red, short summer dress covered in yellow lemons flared out as you shifted your weight to one hip. Your phone was in one of your hands and you waved it around like a baton as you talked.

“Aren’t I usually sudden when I want to fuck?”

Namjoon chuckled, rich and deep, shutting his book and putting it aside. Probably memorized his page number. Big sexy brain and all that jazz. A fantastic characteristic of his.

He also had a big sexy dick you were asking to see right now.

“You are, but sometimes you offer to buy me a meal or a snack first.”

“I mean, sure, if you want–”

He lifted a hand and cocked a finger towards himself, smiling. When he smiled, his dimples appeared. That was your favorite feature on Namjoon. You bounced over excitedly and sat on the couch, skirt flipping up and exposing your thighs, still holding your phone.

“I’m on a mission.”

He quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses detective-style. “What kind of mission?”

You pointed to your phone. “Do you remember that party we went to, the one with the wet t-shirt contest?” You lifted your arm and flexed your rather defined bicep that made Namjoon raise his eyebrows and mouth a wow under his breath. Consistent handys really did the trick when it came to bicep muscle definition. “You remember, right? You showed off your guns.”

He burst out laughing, waving a hand. “They are not guns.”

“Sure, they are. I could do a lot of social justice with your biceps, Namjoon.”

He shook his head, grinning, dimples on full display. “And what’s with the dress? You don’t usually wear such a cute style.”

You ticked your phone to the apartment front door. “I’m meeting Seokjin later, but he said he’s going to play another round of bowling because Jungkook kicked his ass again. But anyway, back to what I was saying…”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember Jimin mentioning something to me now.”

You brightened, unlocking your phone and holding up the screen. “Right! I’m looking for the owner of this dick.”

His eyes widened and Namjoon leaned forward, readjusting his glasses again. “Wow. That’s quite a clear picture.” Then he coughed and averted his eyes.

You nodded quickly. “Well? Did you take this picture?”

He frowned and sat back against the sofa, sucking in a breath and ticking his head. “Mmm, maybe? I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what I did…”

“Hah… Does this look like your dick, then?”

“How would I know?” he chuckled. “I don’t see my dick from that angle and I don’t have sober photoshoots with my dick.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck then. Drop the pants.”

The thing about Namjoon was that he was a very reasonable man. You had a problem and proposed a solution and he, an avid learner who liked searching for answers to the great mysteries of this world, had the means to help you out on your quest, so he did. In addition, he thought you were hot, you thought he was hot, and you’d already fucked a couple times before Journey to the Dick, so the mutual agreement was already there.

Splendid!

The other thing about Namjoon was that he really liked to make you work for it.

Slightly less splendid.

“Are you choking?”

You squinted at him and flipped him the bird. He was well-versed with popular Western hand gestures.

Namjoon nodded sagely. “That’s good.”

And he put his hand back onto the back of your head and shoved your mouth down onto his cock once more.

You had half a second to breathe again before air was forcefully taken from you, Namjoon now holding you there, nose-first into his crotch, sighing contentedly as he expanded in your mouth. You planted your hands onto his strong thighs and pushed, but his hand didn’t budge. The safe signal was three taps and you weren’t tapping out yet. You glared and Namjoon closed his eyes, smirking slowly.

He left his round glasses on.

‘Course he did.

Damn you, Namjoon!

You reached up and pawed at the buttons of his white shirt, making Namjoon open his eyes to see what you were doing as you unbuttoned them rather deftly for someone who had his dick filling up their throat. He looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow. You cheekily cocked one back, poking his pecs with your pinky.

He grinned. “Hm? What’s that?”

You clenched your throat around the head of his cock and he gasped, losing grip for a split second.

In that split second, you threw his shirt open, glorious his tan skin and large muscular pecs now in view, and slapped your hands down onto his thighs, instantly starting a fast, rough pace, curving your neck with every swallow, sandwiching his cock between tongue and top of your mouth, pulsing your wet muscles all over his length, staring at that well-built chest, watching the muscles ripple with his sudden, abrupt inhale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Sometimes you let Namjoon have the reigns, but this time you were on a mission, although it was a little distracting now because presently you had an unobstructed view of Kim Namjoon with his shirt open, head thrown back, midnight blue hair fanning over the sofa, his full lips open and panting, tendons in his neck tensing, broad shoulders flexed, leading down his defined chest and abs, core tight from your intense pace, thighs hard under your hands, cock swollen and thick, pulsating in your mouth. His large hands planted on top of yours, squeezing them with his.

The three taps applied to him too.

Instead, Namjoon moaned your name and gripped your hands.

“T-The picture… f-fuuuuuuuck…”

Shit, that’s right.

You reluctantly slowed, tongue swiping all over the underside of his dick, tracing the veins, moaning hotly around his cock. He lowered his chin, panting hard, dark brown eyes half-open and framed by his lovely silver glasses. It was him who reached for your phone and unlocked it. He remembered your pattern lock and you had only told him once. All your consistent fucks knew how to unlock your phone.

That’s how you had so many pictures of, ahem, good times.

He placed the phone on his hip and his head fell back against the sofa, inhaling deeply as you continued lapping at the base of the head, slowly sucking on it at the same time to keep him hard.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s nice…”

You mashed the tip of your tongue against the slit and coated it with pre-cum.

“Ah, come on, look already and compare,” Namjoon chuckled in his deep voice, raising a hand to pet your head. “Then you can finish me.”

You popped your mouth off reluctantly. “Hmm.” You placed a few fingers on his cock and looked at it, positioning it to the correct angle that matched the photo. “Huh, it’s pretty close. But you have this noticeable vein here, and I think the head of your cock is slightly different…” You squinted and brought your face rather close to his stiff length. “The skin tone seems right, but it’s not exact, and I think you’re bigger…”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his dick and smacked your cheek with the head.

“Oi!”

You puffed your cheeks, strings of saliva and pre-cum covering your face.

He grinned, dimples on full display. “Oops.”

You jabbed your finger at your phone. “I’m doing an investigation here!”

He shrugged cheekily. “You said it wasn’t exact. Get up.”

You put your phone on top of his book on the side table and glared at him. “Well, yeah, but no need to bop me,” you grumbled, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, standing up, and removing your panties as Namjoon reached over to his pants and pulled out a condom from the pocket.

You did say you were coming. Namjoon liked to be prepared for you.

“You said you liked it,” he mused as you straddled his lap.

“I do when I’m notin the middle of an important mission,” you huffed, picking up the hem of your dress and revealing your wet pussy, chin cocked in defiance.

“You don’t have to sit on my dick then,” he said, pausing with the condom right over his cock.

You frowned. “Hurry up.”

He cocked an eyebrow, dark brown eyes trapping you in his allure. “Doesn’t seem like you want it.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Growled.

Then you smacked his hands away and rolled down the condom yourself before sliding onto him with one swift motion, clenching your jaw at the sensation of being quickly and solidly filled up, not giving him or you time to adjust. Namjoon tensed his neck, grinning, large hands coming up to firmly grip your hips. Your own came up to grab his biceps and squeeze them, mustering up your most indignant scowl. He chuckled, smirking as you pulsed your walls around him.

“Hold your dress so I can fuck you.”

“Maybe I want to do the moving.”

He clicked his tongue and rammed his hips up into you, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being driven into your tightness. Your nails dug into his arms, breaths shallowing into rapid gasps as he continued, firmly and roughly fucking you from below, hard thighs flexing and smacking into your inner thighs and ass.

“Hold your dress,” he repeated, voice low and commanding.

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered, reaching down with one hand to yank up your dress, pulling it up high so both you and Namjoon could watch as he very deliberately and very forcefully thrust upwards into your tight hole, smirking wider as he witnessed your expression and the strain of keeping the pleasure off your face.

“Don’t have to give orders if…” He jerked up particularly hard, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to gasp breathlessly. “You…” Smack! You bit you lip, moan trapped in your chest. “Just…” Smack!

“F-Fuck…”

“Listen.”

And then Namjoon seized your hips and fucked you hard and fast with you barely holding on his shoulder with one hand and the other clutching your dress, moaning his name shamelessly to his own face. Namjoon wasn’t a gloater. His face was serious and concentrated, brows furrowed and intent on giving maximum pleasure, maintaining clear control as you rapidly lost it, allowing and trusting him to lead you into carnal desires.

You leaned forward, hot exhale on his neck, changing the angle and letting him hit you deeper, tightening around him. You heard his breath hitch, hissing out your name. Your whispered against his jaw, close to his ear.

“You like it better when I don’t listen, Namjoon.”

So close, so close, so close.

He snickered, dark, devious, sensual.

“I dolove punishing you with my cock.”

You slid your hand into his midnight blue hair and shuddered, pleasure blooming from your core in heated throbs, savoring the intensity of the orgasm he gave you as Namjoon groaned in your ear, slamming you down onto his hard, twitching cock and moaning, spilling his own into the condom, thoroughly enjoying the vicious massage of your spasming pussy. You pressed your lips to his temple, flinching with the shivers that came after, riding out the peak by rocking your hips lightly, enjoying the fullness he gave you.

“Doesn’t seem like a punishment. I’m having a lot of fun,” you taunted, panting and mirthful.

He gave your ass a playful smack and you squeezed his length from top to bottom.

“We have time for round two,” he murmured, nibbling on your ear.

Kim Namjoon was a very reasonable man.

kim seokjin.

"Gah, fuck!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, let's."

Kim Seokjin nearly tripped and fell against the doorframe, gawking at you. His expressive brown eyes went wide, mouth open enough for a nice ice lolly to be placed between those plump lips.

"Why are you in my bed? Where are your clothes? Why are you holding Pink Bean like that?!"

You sighed exaggeratedly. Here we go. "I had a nice dress but Namjoon took it and said I can't have it back until after." You squeezed Seokjin's large Pink Bean plush that he usually kept on his bed, a fluffy representation of a boss from his favorite PC game, MapleStory. It had a bubblegum pink head, light purple horns, and a cute :3 face. You squashed it with your breasts and looked up at him, on your knees with your feet tucked under your ass, missing all your articles of clothing thanks to Kim Namjoon.

Such cute clothes only for him? I don’t think so.

Seokjin turned bright red, sputtering.

"D-D-Don't do that to Pink Bean!"

"Why not? You've fucked me from behind and I used Pink Bean as my chest support."

He strode across the room with two steps, his long legs making it easy, looking handsome and summery in his pastel yellow shirt and shorts two-piece set, flapping his hands helplessly.

"That was a special case!"

You started bouncing on Pink Bean, you and your tits. Seokjin's brown eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he actually tripped at the end of his bed, falling face-first with a high-pitched yelp.

"Seokjin, I need to see your dick."

He yanked his head up, chestnut brown hair flying everywhere, shooting you a confused glare.

"Yah! You can't just show up naked and start demanding dick while abusing Pink Bean!"

You reached up and scooped your breasts forward, squashing them between the purple horns, nipples poking out above Pink Bean's head. Seokjin looked like he was about to pass out. Probably from loss of blood to his head.

You balanced your phone in your cleavage, inspirational dick pic between your tits.

"Is this your dick, Seokjinnie?" you asked sweetly.

He started, squinting at the screen between your tits. "The heck? What is that?"

"A dick. Is it yours?"

Seokjin made a disgusted face.

"Are they really that ugly? Mine sure as hell isn't."

"Oh, so it's not? You know for sure?"

Seokjin scoffed. "Come on, there's no way that could be mine, look–"

And he sat up and yanked his shorts and underwear off, slapping them down on the floor and spreading his legs, presenting his very hard and quite pretty dick and balls. He huffed triumphantly, planting his hands in his hips.

"How could that thing compare to–gah!"

You crawled over Pink Bean, shoving the plush against your stomach and placing yourself between Seokjin's long legs, oblivious to his shriek of surprise, holding up his shirt as you compared his cock to the one on your phone.

"What the–where did you g-get that picture?!"

Your hot breath wafted over his twitching length as you held it delicately with your fingertips, ass up in the air, tilting his dick to adjust the angle so he mirrored the photo. "Remember that party with the wet t-shirt contest?” you explained nonchalantly. “The one where I said you'd totally win because of your broad shoulders, but Taehyung got more votes because he had been working out and looking all buff recently?"

Seokjin was gasping as you held up your phone. Hmm, not the same thickness. Plus, he seemed harder, sticking out straighter than this photo dick. But there was a small mole in his dick that seemed to match the picture. The length is pretty spot-on too. You scooted closer, cradling his cock with your palm and coaxing it with your fingertips, ass bouncing on Pink Bean's head.

"Oh, fuck..."

"Anyway, someone snapped this photo and I've been trying to figure out who, but everyone was drunk and, if I recall correctly, you were on a table dancing with a pool noodle and belting Kim Yonja's 'Amor Fati', so I don't think you remember much from that night."

Seokjin's voice was pitched, strained from holding back.

"I remember those... oh, fuck... those shorts you were wearing... ah, with your ass hanging out on the bottom... fuck, wanted to bend you over... but yeah, after that..."

Then you yelped when you felt his hands on your head dragging you forward and pressing your open lips to his cock.

"Ah, yeees..."

"Seokjin, wait–mphf!"

He shoved the head of his cock into your lips and looked down. You narrowed your eyes as he began to gently hump your face, filling your mouth with the hardness. You sucked in your cheeks a little, molding your mouth to him, still giving him your best annoyed face.

"Is it my dick?" he gasped, pushing deeper.

You made a confused noise and Seokjin frowned at you.

"Yes or no?"

Seriously? You held up your hand and hovered it in the air, wiggling your fingers up and down, the universal sign of–

"What do you mean, maybe?! Oh, it's because a phone camera isn't good enough to catch the majesty of my cock, is that it?"

You could had been annoyed, but then you thought about it. He brought up a good point. You hadn't considered that. Still, the shape wasn't exact though. A phone camera couldn't alter dick angle, right?

No time to think about it because Seokjin rammed his entire length into your mouth and down your throat in your moment of contemplation.

"Mmmphf!"

"Just, ah, don't move, let me fuck your face real quick–"

You didn't really expect anything less, so you pushed him down, sliding his shirt up his torso, changing the angle so you weren't straining your neck. Seokjin fell onto his elbows, hands letting go but hips still moving, groaning as you enclosed your mouth around him and rubbed your tongue all over.

"Ah, your ass is so sexy, damn, bounce it for me..."

He seemed to forget that in order to do that, you had to hump Pink Bean like a dog in heat but, hey, when the man who called himself World Wide Handsome (drunk and sober, that was the kind of man Kim Seokjin was) asks you to twerk for him, you do as you are told and give Pink Bean the best hump that plush is ever going to have.

"Fuuuuuuuck, yes, your ass is so perky and juicy, fuck, like a sweet peach..."

You tried not to choke with laughter in his dick, but the action made your throat muscles squeeze and spasm around the head, immediately making it jerk and swell at the added simulation, causing Seokjin to gasp your name and fiercely clutch his sheets.

"Fuck, yes...!"

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow, seeing his brown hair messy and fallen over his forehead, eyelids fluttering, panting as you took over the pace, firmly enveloping him all the way to the base, sandwiching him between your tongue and roof of your mouth, dragging the head over the slick wetness, pulsing expertly around his hardness. His dainty pink tongue flitted over his lips and made them glisten, full, plump, sexy as hell.

"I'm so glad Namjoon took your clothes," he wheezed.

This guy really said whatever thought that popped into his handsome head.

You smirked around his cock and wiggled your eyebrows.

Then you grabbed his hips and really gave it to him, fast and tight, angling your head so he slid into your throat deeply and easily, sending Seokjin into a sputter of curses, prayers, and blessings to who-knew-what, gripping fistfuls of his sheets and throwing his head back, beautiful neck on display and broad shoulders flexed, moaning loudly.

You almost stopped, awed by his perfectly sensual posture.

Then Seokjin thrust his crotch into your lips and gasped your name, shooting down your throat in swift, tense jolts, forcing you to stop staring at him and hurriedly gulp it all down, squeezing your eyes shut so you could concentrate, sucking in a short breath, and making him yelp, flinching to cram more of the head into your constricting throat.

You prodded his stomach sharply and drew an ‘X’, telling him to stop so you could swallow.

“B-But…”

You gave him a bunch of other hand gestures and none of them were nice. It contrasted the way you were lapping at his cock, coaxing him back to full hardness with soft tongue and delicate pushes against the roof of your mouth. He lifted one of his hands and started messing with yours, the one on his stomach making obscene hand signals. You felt him try and grab your fingers, poke at your palm, and, finally, grab your hand and tug it up, shoving your fingers into his mouth.

You popped your mouth off his cock in surprise. “Hey!”

Seokjin looked at you with giant brown eyes like a dog caught with a treat in his mouth. “Mmphf?”

You made a confused face at him.

His tongue started sliding between them, licking your joints and pads of your fingers, wiggling all around, covering you with his saliva and sending shivers over your skin at the strange sensation. You could feel the power in that squirming muscle, his brown eyes watching your reaction, your own eyes fixated on the way it looked, three of your fingers surrounded and crammed into those lush, soft, pillow-like lips, squirming, sensual tongue slipping between them, dripping saliva down your palm and back of your hand.

“H-Hey…”

It was bizarre, feeling an odd juxtaposition of the submissive nature of the act, and yet he was deliberate and forceful about it, staring pointedly as the tip of his tongue snaked out from the side of his lips, licking the side of your pinky.

“S… Seokjin…?”

He reached up and pulled your hand out of his mouth, the pads of your fingers dragging on his lower lip, wet streaks of saliva painted down his chin.

The ghost of a smirk on his open mouth, eyebrow ticking arrogantly.

You blinked at him, unaware that you were clutching Pink Bean with your other hand so hard that your knuckles were white.

Then Seokjin grinned and wrapped your wet hand around his dick and started jacking himself off with it.

“Hey! I want that in me!”

“What? Gah!”

Somehow, you convinced him to fuck you – read: threw Seokjin down on his own bed, put a condom on him, rolled him back on top of you and guided his cock to your pussy before grabbing his ass and yanking down, making you both gasp as he entered you with one smooth stroke, your back on top of Pink Bean.

Pink Bean was really seeing a lot of your naked body today, just like Kim Seokjin.

“F-Fuck– yah!”

That was his noise of protest as you yanked his yellow shirt over his head, throwing it as far as you could, out his still open bedroom door.

“Sorry, needed to get rid of useless things.”

“I like that shirt!”

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders and rolled your hips up into his crotch, wrapping your thighs around his waist and squeezing. He sputtered at the intense feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, arms shaking to hold himself up, brown hair messy and wild over his forehead, brown eyes wide in indignation.

“Sorry, my bad, I’ll pick it up after I get another out of this magnificent dick,” you quipped.

Seokjin turned red, unaccustomed to someone other than himself complimenting him.

“Why are you hanging onto me like a monkey – oh my God…!”

You used his mattress and Pink Bean to bounce up and down on his dick from below, fingers tangled in his hair, wetly smacking your hips into his crotch, panting his name into his ear, your cock feels so fucking good, love the way you fill me, fuck me up, Seokjin, giving him the praise that he wanted and that breathless moan he liked, the one where you added a bit of underlying mischievous depth, pulling back one of your hands and tracing his plush lips, his mouth opening and pink tongue lolling out, puling you into that wetness, locking his gaze with yours.

Soft and tight around two of your fingers as you slapped your hips into his, losing a bit of your power now that a hand was occupied, intense sparks shooting from your fingertips to your core, his tongue sliding sensually between them, your juices leaking out, getting wetter and wetter, head emptying and replaced with sinful pleasure as you stared into those dark brown orbs with blown-out pupils, sparkling eyes smiling at you.

Seokjin took over and started fucking you into his mattress (and Pink Bean).

Both of you completely forgot about the dick pic.

min yoongi.

"Ah, fuck, I forgot, I need to see your dick, f-fuck!"

"It's," Smack! "A," Smack! "Little," Smack! "Busy at the moment."

"Yoongi!"

The bed shifted and hit the wall.

"Oh no," came the most unbothered oh no behind you.

"Your damn neighbors are going to complain again," you hissed, planting your hands on the mattress and lifting your upper body up a little to scowl at him. "They're so annoying."

"Yeah, that's why I like fucking you," Min Yoongi snickered, looking back with his curly black mullet in complete disarray, smirking lips dark and swollen from making out. He raised an eyebrow at your displeased expression, dark brown eyes flashing. "Something wrong? Not rough enough for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I need to see your dick when it's fully hard."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure. After this one."

"Yoongi–"

He cut you off. "Hand," he ordered.

You extended your left hand out back to him and he grabbed your forearm, long fingers gripping tightly, before proceeding his railing of your pussy from behind, your ass smacking into his crotch repeatedly.

"Yoongi – ah, oof!"

You slipped and fell face first into his pillows, gasping at the altered depth of each thrust, hard and deliberate, filling you up as you clenched around him, following his rhythm by pushing back with your hips and moaning as Yoongi slowly built up the pace, bottoming out each time.

"Why do you need to see my dick?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't pounding you with it right this very second.

"Because, oh fuck, someone left a, fuck, Yoongi, yes, dick pic on my phone, aaah, right there, fuck, you're so fucking good, that night of the party, the one with the wet t-shirt c-contest, fuck, Yoongi, I love your dick so much, fuck!"

"Why would I do that?" he grunted, spanking your ass with his free hand and making you claw at his sheets, pain seeping into the pleasure and amplifying it, skin prickling hot, causing the excessive dripping between your joined legs. The headboard was now repeatedly smacking the wall.

"I dunno, you were drunk too, do you remember, mmm, yes, harder, yeah, like that, telling Taehyung you loved him and that he was your favorite little alien child?"

Behind you, you heard Yoongi choke slightly in embarrassment.

"No, I do not..."

"See, maybe you jacked off and snapped a memoir on my phone."

Yoongi let go of your arm and firmly gripped your ass with two hands.

"Memoirs are written."

"Maybe if they wrote their name, I wouldn't be on this journey – ah, Yoongi!"

You grabbed fistful of sheets and snapped yourself back up, your hair messy and cascading down your shoulders, meeting every vicious slap of Yoongi's hips to yours, his balls hitting your soaked clit and sending stings of satisfaction from your core to your limbs, so good, moaning his name, his growl of yours punctuated by his nails digging into your ass, give it to me, come on, and you fucked him back, pressing your palms into his sheets and feeling the shuddering ecstasy again and again, deep pulses tightening around his hardness, making him groan with want.

"One more, one more, I'm so fucking close, fuck..."

"You've been close, you're holding back, you're a dick, ow!"

Yoongi smacked your ass particularly hard and you clenched your core so tight that he gasped and probably delayed his orgasm even further.

"You're the one asking to see it," he panted, adjusting the angle to shove you further into his bed even though it wasn't possible, and continued his relentless assault in your pussy.

"If anyone has a nice dick, it's you, you bas... fuuuuuuuck, Yoongi, yes, I'm gonna c-cum, fuck!"

The pleasure shot through you like lightning, waves of tortuous triumph as you clutched his pillow and screamed his name into it, your juices leaking out from around his pumping cock and splattering onto his crotch and inner thighs, drenching his balls, saturating his skin with your sweet scent, Yoongi moaning your name and squeezing your ass as he fully sheathed himself in your shaking walls and exploded into the condom, his whole length twitching and shivering inside your spasming pussy, your ass prickling on pain, both of you gasping for air.

Someone on the other side of the wall was banging it and told you two to shut the fuck up, or at least you assumed that's what that muffled yelling was.

You and Yoongi ignored it.

"Are you... hah... okay?" Yoongi panted, rubbing your ass and kneading it.

"Of course, I am, what do you take me for, an amateur?" you chuckled, lifting your head, your breathing erratic and uneven. "Now let me see your dick, Yoongi."

The other side of the wall kept swearing. Very colorful, very loud, very upsetti in the spaghetti.

Poor thing must not be getting laid regularly.

"Fuck, fine, you know I like staying in there at least for a little while..." he grumbled, holding the condom down as you untangled yourself from his body, sighing exaggeratedly as you turned around and yanked it off. You tossed it into the trashcan that was already beside the bed.

Yoongi had the foresight to be prepared for a night with you.

"I don't have to leave soon. We have plenty of time."

The shouting through the wall seemed to have given up, kicking it once and swearing very heatedly before stomping off.

"You better not. I'm not finished with you."

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, opening your photo gallery, pushing Yoongi down so you could wrap your fingers around his slick, semi-hard cock. It throbbed contentedly in your hand as you began to move it up and down in smooth, tight strokes, flexing your fingers to add variation in the stimulation.

"Mmm, fuck, yeah, faster..."

You pulled the photo up and put your phone on the bed beside his hip and calmly continued your movements, looking down at him, him and fair-skinned cheeks with a slight fluffiness to them, him and his lightly upturned upper lip that gave him a cat-like appearance, him and his lowered lashes over black-brown orbs that held quiet, sensual intelligence. His hair was messy from fucking you so hard, but he was effortlessly sexy regardless, leaning back on his elbows, torso lifted to watch your hand. Yoongi noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow, wispy black strands grazing his dark brow.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Just thinking you’re really hot, Yoongi.”

He cringed slightly, ears turning pink and shifted his eyes away, closing them. Your own roamed down, down his defined shoulders and toned arms and chest, sucking in a breath at the sight, that slim waist and pretty hips, his cock filling up your hand, getting harder and harder, the head getting darker from sensitivity, the slickness of the lube and his own cum making it easier for you and better for him. Your other hand traced his side, running your nails over it and you heard his low moan, raising your head and your eyes found his. He was observing you again, glancing from the photo to you, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, ticking his head to the screen.

“That it?”

You ran your nails over his skin, just the way he liked it, light, pressing in a little when it came to the upper side of his hip, seeing his pupils expand and his breathing shallow, pink tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly.

You increased the pace, pumping him from base to head, entranced by Yoongi’s expression, desire and cockiness despite becoming unraveled in your hands, his lower body trembling under you, your thighs pressed to his tense ones, tempting you to sit on and rub yourself all over them.

“Pretty dick.”

Slap, slap, slap. Hand on wet cock, sending shivers through you and through him.

“That’s why it could be yours.”

You saw his cheeks flush light pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he made piercing eye contact.

“Stop.”

You gasped sharply and ceased all movement, feeling his rigid stiffness pulse against your palm.

“Look,” Yoongi commanded in that low, raspy voice of his.

You bit your lip and removed your hand, strings of fluids snapping between your fingers and his hot, taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was sticking straight up, dark and imposing, twitching slightly. Long pale fingers picked up your phone and held it next to his erection.

“Well?” he chuckled.

You chewed on your lip, squinting at the screen. Reached over and ran your wet fingers over his twitching length, hearing Yoongi hiss and gasp at your touch as you angled his dick to match up with the photo. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult – the position seemed to match up perfectly. He was a little taller and thicker though. The shape of the head was similar, but also a bit off. The skin tone wasn’t quite correct either, the red-purple with subtly differing undertones. Still, lighting might affect that kind of detail. It wasn’t like you knew where this picture was taken.

“Hm… It’s really close, but not an exact match.”

“Well, damn.”

Yoongi tossed your phone aside carelessly, hand reaching out and you bent down, already knowing what he wanted, lips to lips, sliding against his body. You loved the way he kissed. Intense but soft, hand on your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek, nail grazing your earlobe, whispering into your lips, put me between your thighs, and you shifting up, closing your thighs around his wet cock, his lustful sigh and smirk on your lips, slowly thrusting in between your legs.

“Tighter.”

You hooked your ankles, one over the another and squeezed.

“Mmm, fuck yes, you’re so good…”

His words reminded you of the first time, crammed into the backseat of a small car, snuck out of a party to have Min Yoongi pull you into his grasp, tongue and lips all over you, your arms over his shoulders, wondering what you were doing because this kind of guy wasn’t your type, quiet, yes, a music nerd, yes, however he knew what he was doing, light bites on you skin making you gasp and slide down his jean-covered thigh, delicious friction to your soaked panties, tipping your head back to give that decadent mouth more access to your throat.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. A certain someone was probably wondering where you were.

“Yoongi, how… fuck, yes, how are you so good… you’re so good…”

His deep voice over your vocal cords, vibrating them with his seductive tone.

“DND your phone,” he purred, drawing a line down your throat with his tongue, coating you with his saliva, his musky, woody cologne transferring to your shivering skin.

“What…?” you panted, unable to think straight.

He plucked it out of your back pocket, tapping it against your arm.

“Put it on do not disturb and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be coming back to me all the time.”

You fumbled with your phone, strong hands scooping out your breasts from your top, those lips sinking into your cleavage and tongue ghosting over your nipples, moaning as you dropped it, ignoring Park Jimin’s text, lost in those skillful hands and that expert mouth that eventually kissed down to your pussy and drove you crazy, but not before setting your skin on fire and making you beg for it.

“Yoongi…”

His lips on yours, his eyes and your eyes both half-open, marveling at the way his lashes adorned those black brown orbs and the way he looked at you, drunk on lust and your body.

“You want me?”

Hands on your hips, grinding you down on his thigh, teasing you. He wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type… so why, why did that sly, knowing gaze do things to you? Why did it make your heartbeat stutter and your juices seep into the denim of his jeans, so turned on that you didn’t want anything else right now but Min Yoongi?

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Y… Yeah…”

That smirk.

“I know you do.”

You did end up coming back all the time.

He was very good and it wasn’t just his mouth.

Yoongi backed up and smirked, open-mouthed, mischievous, so fucking hot that you felt your pussy throb at the mere sight, his warm, pulsing length still jammed between your soft, closed thighs.

“You wanna ride my dick?”

You grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You completely forgot about the photo and spent the rest of the night on Yoongi’s cock and ignoring the yelling from his neighbors.

jung hoseok.

“Hoseokie…”

Teeth on your ear, a dexterous, teasing tongue flicking your earrings, your name coming out of that heart-shaped smile in a low, sultry whisper that contrasted it.

“You can’t come here looking like this and not expect me to want to ruin you,” Jung Hoseok purred into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips curved into a smile.

You were on your knees, spread out a little, short black minidress hiked up your thighs, facing the mirrors of the dance studio. Hoseok knelt behind you, hands travelling all over your body. Deft fingers, neatly manicured nails, his sharp jaw grazing your shoulder, pulling down the thin straps. Your large hoodie was tossed to the side, scattered onto the hardwood floor in haste. The frosted door of Smile Hoya’s rented dance studio space was locked, hip-hop music blaring loudly, and in the center was you and Hoseok.

You knew he could hear your shuddering exhale well, already attuned to the sounds of your pleasure.

He smirked and kissed the top of your ear, yanking down the top of your dress.

It wasn’t like this the first time.

“Ah, well, I was hoping… wondering, ah… I don’t know how to say…?”

You were in his bedroom at the time, confused. “Yoongi said you wanted to talk to me about something? What is it, Hoseok?”

He had been very nervous, somewhat shaky, staring into your eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand, tilting your head. He took a moment to speak, hiding his brown eyes under his blond hair.

“Uh, well, I was talking to hyung and I mentioned I… I feel like I have to put up a front sometimes. Because I’m so happy and stuff. Women expect me to be like that… in bed… And he suggested that maybe you could help me… chill out, but, uh, that’s really rude to say, ah, I shouldn’t have–”

He tried to yank his hand out of yours in panic but you held on, tugged forward by his movement. Hoseok squeaked, ears turning red, freezing in place.

“Hey.”

You held his hand and patted it with your free one, smiling gently.

“I absolutely can help you chill out when it comes to sex. What do you want to know? What do you want to do? I’ll teach you.”

You noticed his expression change from panic to worry, chewing on his lip.

“N… No, you misunderstand… It’s not having sex, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly silent. You frowned slightly, nudging him. Hoseok cleared his throat and looked you dead in the eye.

“I’m not nice.”

Now he squeezed your hand tightly, breathing in your scent.

“Or rather, I don’t want to be nice when I fuck. Sometimes I want to let go and just…” He frowned, not seeming to know the word.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want to think about an image I have to uphold.”

You grinned. “Yoongi did direct you to the right woman.”

His blond hair was even lighter now, the tips dyed with navy, a soft, sexy contrast to his rich tan skin. This was now many, many fucks later, hooking up at parties, at random times at his apartment, and now at the space he rented to practice dance on his own. Hoseok liked to freestyle and feel the music. When he fucked, he liked to feel the moment.

His hands gripped your breasts and squeezed, sandwiching your nipples between his index and middle finger, tugging hard.

You gasped in his hands, just what he wanted, open-mouthed smirk and all.

“Hoseok… I have to… ah, ask you something…”

He shoved his hips into your back and you gasped at the thinness of his shorts, rubbing his hardening cock against the top of your ass. A brown orb watched you through the mirror and he was smiling that brilliant, heart-shaped smile, contrasting his forceful touch.

“What do you want to ask?” he chirped cheerfully, pinching your nipples and twisting them.

You moaned, savoring the swift, firm pain followed by the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of your nipples, grinding your ass onto his stiff length. Your phone was in your right hand. You bit your lip, seeing him watch you carefully in the mirror. You raised the phone and unlocked it.

“Is this your dick?”

You noticed Hoseok pause and squint. You turned your phone and held at up so he could get a good look. His hands were still on your tits, although he had paused the moment to view the image, blinking rapidly at it.

“When was this taken?” He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The party with the wet t-shirt contest? The–”

“One where Yoongi grabbed Taehyung and told him he was his favorite alien child?”

“Oh? You do remember?”

Hoseok winced, as if the events of the night haunted him. “I remember… not much after that…”

“Oh…” You faltered. “So you wouldn’t remember if you took this picture on my phone, huh?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then… can I see it?”

He grinned. “You have to earn it.”

Earning it could mean anything.

Today, earning it meant cumming at least three times with Hoseok’s fingers before he even let you take off his shorts.

“H-Hoseok…!”

He always smelled so good, so fucking good, orange and musk complemented with the barely-there vanilla sweetness, a scent that always seemed to linger on your skin afterward. His lips were on your neck, leaving small bites, chuckling darkly. One hand on your nipple, the other between your legs, your dress bunched at the waist and your panties at your knees, not letting you take any of it off, forcing you to watch yourself as he wrecked you, teasing your oversensitive clit with his fingertips, slick and slippery, thighs shaking from the second orgasm and coaxing you to the third, sharp throbs of lust causing your eyes to roll back, head falling against his shoulder.

“Hoseok, p-please…”

He had no trouble holding onto you, flexible and strong, and you were grinding your hips down, lost in the feeling, leaking everywhere because he hadn’t actually put his fingers inside you yet, teasing you and teasing you and teasing you, driving you crazy, please put your fingers inside me, please Hoseok, your name murmured gently in your ear, no, not until the third time, and then I’m going to put my cock in you once you’ve shown me how good of a girl you are, and you were going to lose your mind, shivering in continued ecstasy, squirming in his hands, your own reaching back and fisting his hair and white shirt, moans masked by the loud music, so close, so close, your perfume mixing with his, sex and cologne, shivers and heat, teeth on your ear and circles rubbed onto your aching nerves.

Shallow gasps.

Peaking pleasure.

Seeing nothing but black, eyelids fluttering, wanton moans torn from your throat.

The song ended.

Hoseok removed his hand from your nipple and covered your mouth, muffling your scream as you came, taking your air and your sanity, pleasure rocketing up your core, crying out with need for something, anything, inside you, pushing your hips back into his crotch, feeling his cock swell at your bouncing ass, desperate for him.

The music began again.

Now you were on your hands and knees, suddenly released, gasping for breath, legs shaking from the aftershocks.

“Look.”

Turning around, your shaking hands pulling down his shorts hurriedly, still wearing your black dress and panties around your knees, hardly registering the inconvenience, not caring, completely focused on the semi-hard length in front of your face. No time. Hoseok gave you no time, grabbing your face and dragging your open mouth to him, sliding into your lips, his oversized shirt touching your nose, you whimpering at the hotness and tautness of his velvet skin. The fullness invaded your throat, taking your breath away. He buried himself all the way in before yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with his vest that was shed earlier, far too hot now, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t choke.”

Hand in your hair, pushing you down, not letting you move as he rolled his hips into your face, the head rubbing against the rood of your mouth and your tongue pushing it up to make it tighter for him, taking him deeper, hazy and intoxicated on orange, musk and vanilla. His other hand held your phone up, unlocking it with ease.

Smirk on those lips, heart-shaped and teasing. “So? Is it mine?”

You whined, not wanting him out of your mouth.

“Your choice,” Hoseok chuckled, tone light and unassuming, the edge of danger only visible in those sparkling brown eyes. “Find out or I’ll cum in your mouth and not in that pretty pussy of yours I’m looking at right now.”

Right, because you were bent over, ass facing the mirror, wetness dripping down your inner thighs.

Fuck.

You backed up, growling, glaring at the picture you knew all too well now.

“Well?”

Fine, fine, fine, you were on this fucking Journey to the Dick, and it was starting to feel more like an annoying side mission than the actual main storyline, but, whatever, you reached up and angled Hoseok’s cock slightly, sucking in a breath with him as you looked from phone screen to the delicious real-life specimen. Hm, okay. Similar in length and color. Not in angle though. Shit. And not in width either, barely a hair slimmer and the vein placement was more prominent on Hoseok’s length than this dick.

“Fuck, it’s really fucking close but I don’t think it’s yours.”

“Shit,” Hoseok sighed, turning your phone off and tossing it onto his discarded shirt. “Oh well.”

You narrowed your eyes, pouting. “What kind of react–gah!”

Hoseok pushed you down onto the ground, pushing his shorts down to his knees and pulling out a condom from the pocket, cocking a brow. You sputtered, trying to untangle yourself from the labyrinth of your own clothes, but only managed to kick off your panties before he got the condom rolled down and pushed your legs up, lifting your ass completely off the floor.

“Can’t have this pretty ass on this dirty floor,” he snickered, lifting himself higher, bending you in half, almost on your upper back, nearly uncomfortable, but Hoseok was stronger than he looked, and when he gave you what you needed, you instantly forgot about the discomfort.

“Oooh, fuck, Hoseok!”

He plunged into you, into hot wet tightness, stretching you out easily from the previous wetness, clit throbbing as he smacked his hips down, his balls slapping against your ass, drawing out another moan as his fingers brushed your clit, making you spasm and clench around his cock as he teased the overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, yes, so tight, so wet, so desperate for a cock to fill this hole, aren’t you?” he purred, still so sweet but with such dirty words, so handsome with his blond hair and navy tips, heart-shaped smirk and glittering eyes, and the way he said your name, dainty and serene, slowly thrusting into you, but so hard, he was so hard from being inside you, completely consumed by the physicality of the act and no longer the same man who had been worrying about how you would perceive him.

That seemed ages ago now.

Your hands reached up between your legs, running your fingers through his hair, completely forgetting about the photo of the mysterious dick and focused on the one thrusting between your legs, smiling up at him, those brown eyes and lovely jaw.

“You’re so good, Hoseok, so fucking good to me, fuck, harder, yes, ah…”

Both of you forgot about the music, fucking through the pause between them, hoping that everyone else was too busy with their own choreography to think about the hot gasps and moans exchanged between you and him in the middle of the room, the act reflected in the wall of mirrors, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls, your name and his name in breathless whispers, tight and full and hot and wet and soaring on sky-high pleasure, climbing altitude and running out of oxygen.

“Fuck, gonna cum, fuck–”

“Ah, Hoseok, yes…”

Tip, free-fall, you clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and his hand over yours, screaming into each other’s palms at the intensity and the force of orgasm, smacking your hips together and holding them there, feeling his cock twitch inside you and your shivering walls clamp around him in rough, intense pulses.

It took a moment to disembark from the euphoric high.

“Hah… we should… probably not fuck here…” he gasped, falling a little, cradling your ass so it didn’t directly touch the floor.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, so that’s your fault. You need to be the voice of reason.”

He laughed, rich and infectious, and you grinned, holding his head against your breasts and hugging him tightly.

park jimin.

“I hate you.”

“Come on, Jimin.”

"I was supposed to be first!"

"Oh my God, are we going on about this again?!"

"You were supposed to suck MY dick first!"

"Stop being a fucking brat, Park Jimin!"

"No!"

You tackled him and you both fell to the floor, rolling into a mess of giant t-shirts, fierce kisses and your hands in his now red hair, fiery and hot-headed like he was being right now.

"You little–"

"Don't you dare call me little!"

"I was gonna call you a little shithead but if you wanna be a big shithead, that's fine with me!"

He pinned you down and you grabbed his waist with your legs and rammed your crotch into his black shorts, making him gasp in horny pain and crumple into his laundry that you were supposed to help him fold, but instead you were wrestling and he was complaining about not getting his dick sucked.

It was your turn to pin him down with your arms and your thighs, Jimin seeing stars as he struggled to breathe from your lower belly smacking his erection the wrong way.

"Why, ack, why did you run off saying there's a proper order?" he choked out, choking harder as your panty-covered mound sat down on his length and started rubbing up and down, smirking down at him, his red hair flaring out on his cream rug.

"'Cause there is," you replied, calm and cool.

"Order of what? Order of how you fucked us?"

"Nah, I fucked Yoongi first, remember? At that party, ages ago..." you hummed, extending the expanse of your movement, sliding up and down his thighs, his plush lips open and moaning softly, his grip on your large t-shirt tightening. It was actually his, because neither you nor Jimin knew the meaning of keeping your clothes on.

"Yeah, in my car!"

"Eh, you were drunk and playing pool with Taehyung, which, by the way, he mad cheated and you didn't even notice."

"Fuck!"

You weren't sure if that exclamation was related to your teasing or Taehyung cheating, but Jimin removed one of his hands from your shirt and flipped off the wall, in the direction of Taehyung's room.

Ah, so not you.

"Is it age order? But Namjoon isn't the oldest..." Jimin refuted himself, frowning.

"He’s first because he's kind of like the leader of you guys, isn't he? You all end up listening to his reasoning anyway."

Jimin squinted, pouting. "That's just because his tall and smart and has a fatty IQ."

You grinned. "148."

Jimin looked very annoyed that you remembered the exact number.

“I never thought about it, but other than that, it is age order, huh?” you mused, bouncing on his dick.

He shuddered with satisfaction, rolling his hips into you. “Then why would you…?”

You shrugged. “Your names sound good together like that. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook…”

Jimin added your name last with an amused smirk. You bit your lower lip, cocking an eyebrow and sporting a devious smile, leaning down. Lips to lips, a soft sigh, remembering that night, stumbling out of Jimin’s car and tangled in Yoongi’s touch, still kissing Yoongi with your ass on the hood of the car. Jimin had been annoyed at you then too, how could you fuck him first and not me, Yoongi laughing in that raspy, sexy way of his, because I asked, dumbass, Jimin grabbing your face and kissing you right in front of Yoongi, the older man clicking his tongue and squeezing your ass tighter, unimpressed.

In some ways, that night started off the chain reaction of hey, why not me?

Okay, maybe you did have some frustrations about your dating life and ended up tumbling into their beds for, ahem, emotional support, but in your defense, they were all great when it came to emotional support.

“Sit on my face.”

“That’s not the angle of the dick pic though.”

“Then just take the pic from that position. That’s how it was taken, right?”

Sometimes, Park Jimin was a damn genius.

He was great at eating pussy too.

“Ah, fuuuck, Jimin…”

A little messy at first, humming approvingly at your taste, thrusting his tongue into you and moaning as your muscles closed in on it, your slick nectar painting those beautiful, soft lips, him pressing them to your heat, lewd kisses, tongue swiping up and down.

“Gotta clean you up so you can dirty me up,” he breathed, tracing sensual patterns in between your thighs with his tongue, small nips to make you whine, his hands on your ass, moaning into your pussy as your kiss came into contact with his rigid cock, dripping saliva and licking it back up, gyrating your tongue at the tip and licking off the pre-cum, savoring the taste, strong and almost sweet.

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was frustrated with you.

“Fuck, give it to me.”

His hands on your ass, pushing you down, setting your pussy flush onto his lips, blocking off his airway and moaning hotly, desperate, needy, wanting your noises as you swallowed him, his length swelling in your mouth at the wet encasement, swirling your tongue all around.

You’re so mean. I can’t believe you wouldn’t ask me first, get on your knees, come on, aren’t you sorry?

You weren’t, not even in the slightest bit sorry for fucking Yoongi in his car, but you had enjoyed his little pout and twinge of jealousy, kisses up his muscular thighs, the same thighs you were clutching right now, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear, remembering his hand on the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, the same cock you buried all the way into the back of your throat, blocking your own ability to breathe, suffocating on it as Jimin groaned, coming back up for air, rushing exhale washing over your skin before returning to his work on your clit, rapid, intense licks that shimmered pleasure through your veins.

Jimin made you choke on his dick after the Yoongi incident, but you were the one in control of it now, rutting the head against your throat muscles, feeling it get harder and harder. He always felt so good in your mouth, recalling him saying once, I just really like getting my dick sucked, shut up and stop shaming me, tongue and lips and saliva, remembering how much he liked it when you held the base and focused on the tip, his muffled whines getting more intense and vibrating your core, making sure to pop your lips over the bottom of the head every time you came up and then pressing them tightly as you went back down, doing it all at that fast, suffocating pace that made him stop licking you to throw his head back and moan, loud lust radiating off the walls, not caring about disturbing anyone, too absorbed into your pace to be considerate.

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck, you’re so good…”

Jimin was part of the reason you were good.

He really liked getting his dick sucked. Your mouth was one of his favorites and usually readily available.

Win-win.

“Faster, fuck, oh, shit, I’m gonna cum, mmmphf!”

He grabbed your ass and smothering himself with your pussy, body trembling under you as his cock jerked and shot into your throat, your lips closing in, sucking hard to drink his cum, his moans filling your wet hole and tongue all over your clit, furiously licking as you rubbed the twitching head into the roof of your mouth, his hips squirming at the overstimulation, but his violent grip and nails digging into your ass was telling you to do it, telling you he loved it, telling you he needed it, begging you to do what you did best, gulping around the head and then jamming it into your throat, cutting off your air.

He sucked on your clit, hard, whining so loud that you could feel it in his chest and racing heartbeat pressed against your lower belly, almost lifting your lower half with his upper body alone, showing off his strength from dancing. You angled your head, taking as much as you could, nose in his balls, whimpering around his cock and the snap of orgasm making your entire body flinch, leaking all over his face and into his mouth, his nose buried into your pussy, tongue soothing your throbbing clit, wave after intense wave, barely breathing, lightheaded with pleasure, clutching his thighs tightly, naked bodies suddenly dirty, surrounded by clean laundry.

Jimin yanked his head out from between your legs, panting in satisfaction, diving back in to shove his tongue on your quivering hole and scoop out your orgasm, sucking it out to drink it, murmuring your name into your slick juices.

“You taste so fucking good, fuck…”

You came up for air, gasping, tongue lolling out, holding his cock and rubbing the slit against your wet muscle. His stiff length twitched, still hard because of your mouth.

“Take the picture, mmm, yes, did you forget?” Jimin gasped into your pussy.

You fumbled with your phone beside his leg, still reeling from orgasm and Jimin’s continued ministrations, putting it in selfie mode and seeing the lower half of your face, chin shiny with saliva, his cum dripping off your lower lip, his cock in front of your face and naked chest, your breasts pressed into his abs.

You thought about licking off the visible cum, but then you decided against it, snapping the photo with your tongue hovering close to his rock-hard erection.

You knew the composition of the inspirational dick pic now, so you brought it up in a photo editing app, putting the two side by side while wrapping your lips around the head of Jimin’s cock, sucking it leisurely like a lollipop. He didn’t ask you to get off.

Instead, he planted your pussy into his face and suffocated himself with it again.

You studied the two photos. Hm. Firstly, yours was much sexier. No offense to white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boxer briefs guy, but your glistening cum-covered lips and squashed tits in the background of the cock made the photo eons better than his. Jimin would definitely be asking for yours later. Anyway, back to the picture. Hmm. Jimin’s dick was slightly shorter and straighter, with a warmer skin tone to his purple-red tip, although the head shape was spot on. Was that possible to have a different length but almost identical head shapes? Did dicks work that way? Did Jimin have an equally sexy twin brother or doppelganger somewhere?

Hm, a threesome with basically two Jimins would be hot as hell.

He patted your leg and you climbed off him, sighing as you rolled over and pursed your lips, concluding that his wasn’t the mystery dick. Once again, close, but no dick. Wait. That wasn’t the saying. Eh, whatever.

“Fuck, send me that photo later, I’m gonna jack off to it.”

You laughed, feeling him crawl beside you and roll you onto your stomach, pinning you down with his naked body. “You wanna jack it to your own dick?”

He was rubbing said dick into the crevice of your ass cheeks now, using your saliva was lube. “Fuck yeah I wanna jack it to my own dick with your lips covered with my cum and your titties on my stomach, sounds fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re such a pervert, Jimin.”

“And you aren’t?”

The front door slammed shut. There was a loud yell of your name in deep baritone.

“Aw, hell no, I’m getting it in this pussy first, I got time before he comes to collect,” Jimin growled, reaching into his discarded shorts and ripping open a condom, scrambling off you and rolling it down his still-hard length, grabbing one of your legs.

You shifted to your side, glaring at him. “What am I, taxes?”

The deep voice called your name again, asking where you were.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer though, because Jimin thrust into you and you ended up moaning Kim Taeyang’s name to inform him of your whereabouts, causing Jimin to bend over and fuck you hard and rough.

“I can’t believe you would moan his name like that with my dick inside you,” Jimin growled, looking far too cute to actually be pissed at you. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for him.”

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was firmly fucking you into his floor and making you yelp as Taehyung burst the door open, sighing at the scene.

“Who would have fucking guessed what you two are doing…”

kim taehyung.

"You're so fucking stubborn."

"Wow, that's really rude, I don't make comments about your–"

"Shut up, I'm deleting his number."

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, sitting with one leg bent on Kim Taehyung's bed. He was currently in possession of your phone, clicking his tongue and pressing buttons on the screen.

"When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone," he scolded.

You cowered slightly, eyes shifting. "I was only asking if he was doing anything this weekend... I didn't have any ulterior motives..."

Taehyung squinted. You deliberately avoided his gaze. He sighed, crossing his arms. You were still wearing Jimin's shirt with nothing underneath so, uh, maybe he had good reason to be suspicious.

"You have a virgin kink."

You choked on nothing. "What, no, I don't–"

Taehyung reached over to his desk and put on the thin, gold-framed glasses he kept there. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. You abruptly stopped talking and gawked at him, breathless at the way his dark brown orbs were bordered by gold and his long, black-brown hair, the rest tied back in a small ponytail.

"And a glasses kink."

He took them off and you sucked in a tight breath, grimacing.

"That's why you keep going after these kinds of guys," Taehyung tutted, neatly folding the specs and placing them back on his desk. "And why you bonked Namjoon-hyung so fast, only to realize that he is not, in fact, a virgin."

"W-Well, he's still good..."

"Same reason why you got so excited when–"

"Look," you cut in, chopping the air with your hand, not letting Taehyung finish. His eyebrow seemed permanently raised. "I'm off my bullshit for now, no? I've got a mission–" You pointed to your phone and he held it out of your reach. You scowled and bounced back down into the bed. His eyes weren't following your face, but you ignored it. "–and I'll stop okay?"

Taehyung cocked his other eyebrow.

"Serious. You just deleted all the numbers except you and your friends, right?"

He turned the screen, thumb hovering over a certain number. Him and his friends were listed from one to seven, in order.

His thumb was over number seven.

"Don't," you whined. "Please, Tae."

His brows lowered, serious expression on his handsome face.

Then he smirked, dumping your phone on the bed.

"Silly girl," he drawled, crawling onto the bed, advancing towards you, sultry gaze and enchanting eyes making you forget about your device. "Why would I do that? He likes you so much."

You growled slightly, letting him push you down but not relenting. "That's really fucked up."

"That I wanna hear you say please?"

His hand lifted and cupped your chin, mischievous smile, unable to contain his pride for his little trick, sliding his leg between your thighs, tilting his head.

"Not just any please," he murmured, deep voice silky smooth, dark curled stands brushing against your cheeks he leaned in, hot exhale on your lips. "Your needy please when I threaten to take your precious Jungkookie from you."

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his knee, tilting his head, highly amused at your narrowed eyes.

"You don't like it?" He was leaning down, feathery kisses on your lips and cheeks. "I know you like it when I tease you." His honey voice was dripping into the fire, turning into fuel that fed the sparks of arousal, your hands coming up to clutch his black shirt, pulling down the center zipper, his deep chuckle in your skin, hand from your chin sliding up to your hair, the other tapping down your front, grazing the thin t-shirt material.

"Don't..." you gasped, his deft touch toying with the hem. “Don't use the others against me. That's not fair...”

“Mmm, yeah?”

Drawing circles on your inner thigh with his nail, nicking the skin.

"You only want to think about me?"

Your phone hummed with a notification. Taehyung chuckled, fingers creeping closer and closer.

"Aw, I wonder who that is? But that's too bad, because you're all mine right now."

You gasped, clutching his open shirt as his fingers slid in, two because you were already wet, shallow breathing and lidded eyes telling him enough, taking your lips with his, pace slow and steady and maddening, spreading your legs with his knees, forcing you to tip your hips up to him in an embarrassing position.

Then again, embarrassment during sex wasn't part of your vocabulary.

You pushed his black shirt down one shoulder and reached in, your fingers snaking to the hem of the white undershirt and stroking his skin, his satisfied exhale hot against your neck, you remembering the way the water drenched the fabric and stuck it to his golden tan skin, playfully flexing his defined chest and biceps, adorable and arousing because Kim Taehyung was both. He separated his digits inside your pussy to create a loud, sharp, wet squelch. You heard him grin, smug at the dirty sound, then begin plunging his fingers in and out, in and out of the tightness, trying to be as noisy as possible. You clenched your core to make him work for it, force him to be rougher with you, his fingers curling in your hair, yanking firmly, lips on your ear.

"See, how can those boys you pick keep up with you, hm? They won't know what to do with your pretty, sexy self," he purred, faster, harder, pushing you to the edge with your heated moan and your hands all over his chest, lifting your hips to meet his touch. "You need us to take care of you, don't you?"

Fuck, the way Taehyung said your name.

Like it was a decadent sweet he was craving, a taste compared to no other.

Your head fell back into the pillows, breathing in his warm scent in shallow puffs, his name pouring out of your lips, yearning and desire.

"Mmmm, Taehyung...."

Melting you into it, sweet bliss and sharp jerks of your hips into his hand, gasping at the flood of euphoria, trying to squeeze your thighs around his hand and stopped by his open legs. Your throbbing pussy gripped his fingers and made him hiss, his devious smirk growing as you lowered your chin again to look into those dark eyes, shivering under his intense gaze.

“Let’s play a little game.”

His tongue slid out, lickings your lips lightly.

“It’s called, how many fingers can I stuff in you before you’re begging for my dick?”

“What kind of – oh, f-fuck!”

One more.

Aching tightness, clenching your jaw, trembling at the ease of it, Taehyung cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah, three’s too easy, huh? You already warmed up.”

One more.

“Fuck, Tae, fuck!”

His dark eyes glittering, pleased at your reaction.

“That’s better. That’s what I wanna hear.”

Whines in your throat as he picked up the pace, fast and hard, clutching his shirt and his side, your nails digging in, stretched out and stuffed with four, your eyes rolling back and one leg sliding up to hook around his waist, meeting each thrust, so deep, so full, so wet, loud and obvious and uncaring of who was listening – probably Jimin with a huge smirk on his face – panting Taehyung’s name over and over, feeling the strength in his hold and his grip in your hair, pulling lightly, shooting pricks of pain down your head to meet the oppressive pleasure brimming in your core, closer, closer.

“What do you want?” Taehyung growled, that deep voice dangerously low.

“Y-Your c-cock, p-please…” you managed to gasp out, chasing it, chasing the fullness and the depth.

“Can you take it? Can you take it like the good girl you are?”

“A-Ah, yes, please Tae, want it,” you moaned, your fingernails digging into his back, scratching down as your orgasm shattered through you, making your whole body shake and shiver from the intensity, him pulling out. Your moan turned into a hoarse whimper, squirming as he rubbed your clit with his slick fingers, spanking it and teasing it, rocketing you into peaks and valleys of cut-off ecstasy that drove you insane, clawing at his clothes, desperate for his body on yours.

“What’s your magic word?”

“Please.”

He grinned at you despaired tone.

“That’s it.”

It took no time at all, your shirt flung aside, Taehyung losing his clothes that were already half-off, hot body to hot body, heated kisses and rummaging in his nightstand drawer, groaning into his mouth as his cock slapped your thigh, hard and thick and ready, dripping pre-cum on you before he yanked you up on top of him, ripping open the condom.

“Work for it.”

Lacing your fingers in his, sliding down onto that impressive girth and gasping as it twitched inside you, rolling your hips down onto it, better than his fingers, bouncing on it with your tits following your rhythm, squeezing his hands. Taehyung liked this kind of intimacy, the kind where he was grinning like the devil under you but still holding your hands as you railed yourself with his dick, rough and hard with your own smug smile, a little erratic but somehow good that way.

He made you work for it and you were good at working for it.

You found a good rhythm and – ba dum tss – rode it, leaning forward to deepen the angle and make it last longer, pulsing around his length with your tight walls, control and power and endorphins, each smack adding to the lewd melody that mixed with heavy moans and shuddering gasps, bringing Taehyung on your rollercoaster, his hips rising, your name rumbling in his chest, blood thudding in your ears at the baritone depth.

“Yes, such a good girl, gonna make me cum, don’t you want me to cum for you?” he panted, fishing for the magic word, bouncing one of his dark brows, his long hair flared out on his pillows, high cheekbones and strong features no longer hidden by wayward strands.

Your tongue between your teeth, grinning wide.

“Yes, please.”

The right inflection of winded want, maybe a little mischievous, but Taehyung liked that, for there was no fun in someone who was too easy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He squeezed your hands and thrust his hips up fiercely, shock bolting from your core to your spine to your head, your head snapping back, gasp torn from your throat, flooding his crotch with your juices, overstimulated clit rubbing on the base of his cock and Taehyung was gone too, husky groan falling from his lips, slamming his hips up and locking his legs, shooting jerks of cum into the condom, aftershocks causing you to lose hold on your knees, moan pitching higher as you slipped down on his throbbing length, trapped on it because Taehyung wasn’t going to lower you until he was done, the head pulsing inside you, squeezed out by your shivering walls.

“T… Tae… the picture…”

“Ah… yeah… hold on… lay down for me…”

He wasn’t going to let you leave without his mark anyway.

“Serious?”

“Deadly.”

You laid back against the pillows, spent, holding your phone, Taehyung straddling your chest and stroking his slick cock, plops of cum and lube falling onto your chest, messy dark hair curling around his handsome face. You could see the purple-red head peek out from between his fingers, hear the steady slapping as he pumped it back to full hardness.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Your chest was rattling but you raised your phone, bringing up the picture as Taehyung gripped the base of his cock, lifting it up slightly to put it in position. You squinted at the screen, looking from the photo dick to the real one. Of course. He was definitely bigger, a little thicker, but strangely, the color was almost the same. Was that lightning or similar skin tone? Or perhaps men with really nice dicks just happened to have Taehyung’s tan complexion?

You wouldn’t question it if it was true.

“You’re bigger,” you sighed, tossing your phone aside.

Taehyung smirked proudly. “What a surprise.”

“We all knew that, even before I saw it.”

He chuckled, going back to fisting his cock. “That’s because Jimin has a big mouth and likes to spread rumors.”

“You like that he spends rumors.”

Taehyung shrugged, but his sly expression wouldn’t be hidden even as he shook his head to cover part of his face with his long brown hair, curtaining half of it with darkness, teasing and effortlessly sexy.

“Ready?”

“Mhm, do it.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, smiling wide, watching his breathing shallow and his eyes close, losing himself in it, faster and tighter, the wetness audible, strong thighs shuddering at your sides. Then he sucked in a breath, hissing your name and tipping forward, painting viscous white strings onto your collarbones and tits, pushing his shuddering cock up and down to spread it out, your clavicle now sticky and covered in his strong scent.

Taehyung ticked his head, lips in a devil’s smile, chest heaving with exertion.

“Your cum necklace is extra pretty today. Take a selfie for me so I can jack off to your cute face later.”

jeon jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook shrieked your name like you were Michael Myers and he was Jamie Lee Curtis, flinging himself onto his computer monitor and mashing the power button to turn it off, his long purple hair flying everywhere, brown orbs like saucers, entire body shaking so bad that even his eyebrow piercing was vibrating.

He froze like that.

You blinked at him from the doorframe of his rented studio room, one hand on the knob and the other holding up your phone like a kitchen knife.

His leather bomber jacket was hung over the back of his rolling chair. The chair was currently slowly sliding across the floor, away from him and his panic. Jungkook was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and loose black jeans.

For a guy scared shitless, his pants were pitching a very impressive tent.

Had he been watching porn?

“Er… I knocked…?” you said slowly, pointing to the door. “Do you not hear me?”

“Um, uh, n-no,” Jungkook sputtered, looking you up and down. “No, I d-didn’t.”

“I said I was coming by today. Via text?”

“Was that today?” he echoed hollowly like a ghost in a shell, the end of his question pitching to a higher octave. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Sorry. I think I f… forgot…” He was not looking at your face, instead staring at your thighs and your shorts, tight and tiny, shredded black denim paired with a loose, long-sleeved black top that read in bold, white, graphic, letters...

REALITY SUCKS.

You pointed to the turned-off monitor.

"Were you watching porn?" you asked cheerfully.

Jungkook's ears turned red.

"Yes," he blurted.

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

You nodded, closing the door. You tilted your head and locked it, just in case, before waltzing into Jungkook's film studio space, bouncing on the heels of your large black sneakers. "If you're gonna watch porn, you should lock the door. What were you watching? Is it lesbian porn again? Can I–?"

You reached over to turn the screen back on and Jungkook's tattooed hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you away from it and to him. You blinked rapidly, confused at his tight grip.

"N-No, you can't see. You can't," he sputtered, pinning you against his hard body.

You frowned, annoyed. "Why not? I like porn." You squirmed against him, but he sandwiched you between his forearms, forcing you to look up and face him, thinning your mouth into a line. He gulped, eyes shifting, holding your body against his. His lower lip trembled, mole underneath bouncing with his uncertainty.

"I... It wasn't porn..."

You stopped struggling, confused. "Huh?"

Those dark chocolate eyes found yours, looking guilty.

"I was looking at your pictures."

You blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You know... the ones I take of you sometimes... You said it was okay..."

Ah, yes. Jungkook liked to take pictures of you. He had mumbled that it was because he needed practice and, later in bed, he admitted it was because he considered you his muse, an inspiration of sorts, so would it be okay if, maybe, you just turned a little and laid in his covers just like... like that, yeah, could he take maybe one photo?

"Sure, knock yourself out, dude."

A bit later, far too late, you had realized that had been maybe too chill of a response, but Jungkook seemed to prefer that and he acted less awkward about it every other time he asked to take a picture. They weren't usually dirty pictures. Although you were naked in some of them, they weren't quite inappropriate, every single one framed with delicate, well-thought-out composition. You always sighed and told him he made you look better than you actually were.

Jungkook always insisted you were consistently beautiful.

You pointed between your bodies.

"Were you gonna get off to them or something?" you cheerily inquired, bumping against his pitched denim tent.

"N-No!"

His ears turned scarlet and he jerked sideways, but you held onto him, hands firmly on his hips, not letting him twist away. He quickly covered his ears and pouted at you.

"I was... I just missed you."

You smiled, squeezing his ass. "I missed you too, Jungkook."

Your tone was soft, gentle. He stilled and lowered his hands, lips parting at your words, slightly surprised, incredibly adorable.

His dick twitched in his pants and jabbed your crotch.

A pause.

Jungkook's eyes shifted to the side, mumbling under his breath. "And, yeah, okay, I got horny, but that's only because it's you..."

"That's great, since I definitely wanted to look at your dick as soon as possible!"

His eyes went wide.

You smiled widely.

Then he said something unexpected.

"Ow."

You looked down and backed up as Jungkook frowned and reached down to shift his rock-hard length in his pants, sighing in relief.

"Zipper was killing me..." he grumbled, running a hand through his purple hair.

"We should just take it off then."

"Pardon, we should wha–ah!"

You grabbed fistfuls of his black top and yanked it up and over his head, causing Jungkook to sputter in confusion, throwing his hands up as you unsheathed his muscular torso, leaning in, breathing on his skin, leaving him to untangle himself as your lips closed onto his dark nipple, tongue teasing the small nub.

"Ah, fuck!"

You lifted your lips, tongue still extended, looking up to see him flinging the shirt aside, his long purple hair messy and wild, tattooed arm and un-inked arm lifting, pushing his hair away from his face, his chest rising to your wet muscle, gasping. You had a clear view of that cute little mole under his lower lip, trembling with pleasure before Jungkook looked down at you, hazy chocolate orbs fanned by black lashes, breathing hard.

You ticked an eyebrow, licking slow circles, lips closing in again, sucking daintily.

He bit his lip and let it slowly tease out while you simultaneously teased him, your name leaving his lips in a low moan. You danced your fingertips up his thigh, nail tracing the seams of his jeans, kissing across his chest, his eyes following you, hips rocking into your touch, following your pace, letting you command it. His head tipped back as you kissed down his abs, whimpering with want, curling his fingers into fists.

Jungkook always made you feel like you were touching him for the first time.

"You're not a virgin?"

"No?" Jungkook had repeated after the first time you had fucked him, sounding confused. "I'm just like this? Is that bad?"

"W... well... no, and now that I think about it, you were suspiciously good..."

"You didn't like it?"

You had turned to look at him and, fuck, the way he looked at you, so cute and innocent, uh oh, and then the slightest hint of an open-mouthed smirk dancing on those shapely pink lips, reminding you of someone else.

"Namjoon-hyung said that's what you were into. Is he wrong?"

Voice so deep and so smooth, gliding over you like butter.

You almost hastily defended yourself but one look into those roguish, yet genuine, chocolate eyes and you couldn't lie.

"But... you should enjoy yourself too..."

Jungkook had grinned, endearing and heart-thuddingly handsome. "I do. I told you, this is how I am. You're just my type."

"And what's that?'"

He had pinned you back onto the bed, leaning in.

"Hot and horny."

Turns out.

Seemed to be a running theme with all eight of you.

Right now, his pants were falling and you were sliding up as your hand was sliding down, shushing him quietly, your other hand dancing up his neck and pulling his head down.

"Someone's gonna hear you," you whispered to his open lips, tone and touch implying you didn't give a shit who was listening, wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock the second he pushed his black boxer briefs down, his shivering moan tickling your cheek. His right hand came up to cradle your head and lean it against his, begging whines for you to move, pairing it with an irresistible, husky hiss of your name.

"Please..."

He liked it tight and he liked it rough, liked the way you could lock your fingers and keep that nearly suffocating pace, closing his eyes with a flutter and moaning into your skin, curtaining you with purple, his grip in your hair tightening as you built that speed, filling the rented studio with his silvery, erotic cries.

"Someone out there is going to think you're watching porn," you teased, nudging him with your nose, looping a finger back to smear the pre-cum over the swollen head. He bucked his hips into your hold, lips pressed to your cheek, intoxicated groan warming your skin.

"Kiss me and breathe into my mouth..."

You couldn't say no, not with his voice so soft and pleading like that, not with that edge of nervousness. Fuck, the way Jungkook succumbed to your kiss, uncontrollable tremors taking over his shoulders, hot taut skin twitching in your palm indicating he was close, and you almost broke away to say that he shouldn't cum like this, it'll be messy and get on the floor, but he grabbed your face and didn't let you go, whimpering in his throat, wordlessly telling you to do it, exhale into his throat and he groaned in his chest, long, drawn-out, consumed by lust, and maybe it was bad, but you loved it, loved the way he wanted it so bad, wanted you to push the air out of his lungs and suffocate his pulsating cock with your grip, pre-cum leaking between your fingers, finally pulling back and gasping, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

"G-Gonna cum, f-fuck!"

You had to think fast, looking down for a moment and feeling his cock jerk in your hand, swiftly switching to cupping the dark red head, thick white cum suddenly spurting your palm, Jungkook burying his face into your hair to muffle his wail, your scalp hot with his released exhale and your hand covered in his heated release.

You breathed in, smirking at the scent of dirty gratification.

"Jungkook..."

He whined softly, hips quivering as you covered his jerking length with your cum-covered hand, spreading it all over and getting him hard again.

"There's this picture..."

"Mmm, yeah, the h-hyungs told me... don't stop..."

You swung your hips from side to side, free hand running down his chest, your eyes roaming his toned body, his tattooed arm still hovering over your head, long fingers tangled in your hair still, squatting down and opening your mouth, tongue dancing out and licking your hand and the side of his purple-red length, wet sloppy kisses, slurping up his cum and moaning on the throbbing head, making sure that he could feel the sinful heat.

"Give me... oooh, fuck, give me your phone..."

Your hand left his abs reluctantly, tugging your phone out of your ass pocket and holding it up for him as your mouth closed around his cock, swallowing it all, eyes closing, cramming all of him until the head hit your inner throat and your lips pressed against his crotch, knees on the tile floor, thighs spread, hands poised in the air, unable to breathe.

Click.

You cracked open one eye to see Jungkook holding your phone above your head, teasing smirk on his shapely lips, mole winking at you.

“For me?” he asked, not quite innocent.

It was the first time Jungkook had taken an actual dirty picture.

You shrugged as if to say, sure, pulling back as he turned the phone around, the dick in question on the screen. You eased off his length, licking it clean, bringing up your wet hand covered in his cum, popping your lips off the engorged tip and sliding your fingers in your wet lips, tongue wriggling between your fingers, inspecting the two dicks. Jungkook was still hard – so hard that his cock was sticking straight out, almost mimicking the photo. You had to crouch a little more, tilting your head and placing your fingertips on his balls, raising his dick a little on the back of your hand, smearing saliva and pre-cum on your skin.

Yon continued to lick, grazing the underside of his length with your tongue and then pulling back, eyes going from the photo to the real thing.

Jungkook moaned above you, clutching your phone tightly, knuckles white under black tattoos.

Hm.

You tilted your head.

One way.

Then the other.

Hmmm?

Hmmmmmmm.

“W… What?” Jungkook stuttered above you.

You pursed your lips at the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over it and sucking off the pre-cum. He gasped, hips shaking, threatening to shove it into your lips.

“It doesn’t look like your dick at all.”

“What?” He sounded startled.

You pointed with your dry hand. “The shape is a little off, you’re longer and slightly bigger, and the color is different.” You sighed, whooshing hot air over his soaked, taut skin, Jungkook whimpering. You squinted slightly.

“Still…”

You tapped your lips with his cock, thinking.

“I think he wears the same underwear brand as you.”

“He does?” Jungkook squeaked, spinning the phone around and blinking at it.

You shrugged. “And for some reason, the position of his hips reminds me of you. I don’t know why…”

He chewed his lower lip, staring at the phone.

“Oh well.”

You stood up abruptly at your words and plucked the phone out of his hand, putting it on his desk.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you. Let’s fuck.”

Jungkook yelped as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began stripping off your clothes.

That was his reaction that one time you lost strip poker to Kim Seokjin and him at that one party, not that your cared because you didn’t bother learning the rules. You had other priorities and they involved getting mostly naked and then pinning Seokjin down to make out with him as Jungkook gawked at the other side of the table, half-clothed, clutching his cards.

“I can… go…?” he had sputtered.

You surfaced from Seokjin’s plush lips, his hands around your bare waist, the taller man gasping for air, reeling from your kiss.

“I still have one more piece of clothing to go, Jungkook.”

Side of your lower lip between your teeth, cocking an eyebrow, swaying your panty-covered ass at those huge brown eyes.

“You can help, you know.”

Fun night.

His eyes were huge now too, your back against the wall and him rolling the condom down, lifting your leg and sliding into you, gasping at your tightness, leaning down to kiss you again, greedy and ravenous, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you on tiptoe. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into that soft skin and strong muscle.

“F-Fuck me, Jungkook, mmm, fuck, yes…”

You didn’t really get to talk during that strip poker night because your mouth was full of Seokjin’s dick as Jungkook’s pounded you from behind, but it would be a crime to complain about such things.

You met your hips to his to deepen his thrust, enjoying his strength, powerful and steady, fucking you against the wall, wet slaps and soft moans filling the room between harsh kisses, lips swelling from the fervor, your ass even rhythmically smacking into the wall, but neither of you cared, your leg around his slim waist and his right arm wrapped around it, his fingers digging into your thigh, black tattoos and tan skin gleaming from sweat, his other hand clutching a fistful of your ass and ramming your drenched pussy down on his stiff cock, grinning at your soft cry of his name, staring into his eyes and not looking away, spellbound by chocolate orbs framed by wispy strands of purple.

“You always feel so fucking good…”

You pulsed around him, feeding the fire, wanton exhales mixing, dick pic forgotten.

“Hah…”

You rolled over, sighing loudly.

“Haaaaaaah…”

“You still fixated on that dick?” a deep, unimpressed voice said next to you.

You frowned and planted your phone with the inspirational dick on your face, praying for it to come to life and choke you.

“I never found out who it was…” you mumbled.

“Well, it is Saturday night. We can go crash a party and maybe you can find that dick!” exclaimed a joyful voice, poking your side. Your phone slid off your face and clattered to the floor. A cheerful hand covered in colorful clay rings waved at you and your gaze shifted to Jung Hoseok and his blond and pink hair. He was too cute and you were unable to help yourself as you looked at him, matching his heart-shaped smile.

“Nah,” you tutted. “If it’s not one of you guys… the dick isn’t worth it.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, long and with longing.

“If it makes you feel better, we don’t know who it is either.”

You laughed hearing Kim Namjoon’s deep, serious voice. “How would you guys find out?”

“I know a lot of things,” Park Jimin’s angelic, light voice chirped.

“Too many things,” Kim Taehyung’s baritone voice remarked coolly.

“Are you gonna eat that slice of pizza, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hyung, I am, no, stop–”

“Give Seokjinnie-hyung a bite!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Then you’re dead to me, boy! Respect your elders!”

You heard some slapping and flailing about, but didn’t open your eyes.

“He’s probably not a virgin anyway. Virgins don’t snap pics like that on strangers’ phones.”

You cracked an eye open and narrowed it at the form laying on the ground beside you. Min Yoongi was messing with his phone. His head was on a huge pillow that he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to notice your glare and turned his head to raise a lazy eyebrow at you, cat-like eyes shrouded by black hair.

“Isn’t that what you’re into?” he taunted.

Your eye twitched.

You growled, sitting up. “I’m not into virgins, damnnit! I just like listening to people who are knowledgeable about their interests, like how Namjoon goes on about human philosophy, and how Seokjin never shuts up about MapleStory, and like how you talk about music theory. Just because I don’t understand right away doesn’t mean I don’t try,” you snapped, prodding Yoongi’s firm pecs through his t-shirt. He didn’t move, completely unbothered as you continued your tirade. “I don’t know anything about TikTok, but I like listening to Hoseok talk about the latest dance and fashion trends. Jimin’s the only reason I don’t make an ass of myself at parties because he knows everything about everyone so I don’t accidentally sit in a taken person’s lap and cause trouble. Taehyung’s always following that animal rescue Instagram and giving me cool facts about all these different creatures. Jungkook can go on for hours about cameras. I still don’t think I even know how to work the aperture function on DSLRs, but as long as he will continue to explain, I’ll listen.”

You sucked in a deep breath and seethed.

“So what’s the difference?”

“What?” you scowled.

Yoongi shrugged casually.

“Why do you keep chasing dorks with glasses struggling to get stupid graduate degrees when the people you spend the most time with are here with you right now, ready to fuck you at any time?”

“That’s–”

Your words died in your throat, Yoongi’s words finally sinking in.

Silence.

“Hyung, I’m struggling to get a grad degree…” Namjoon cut in, but the black-haired man on the floor lifted a finger and sliced the air, quieting him instantly. Yoongi was watching you carefully, head tilting at your frozen state. Your brain seemed to have ceased function. His lips curved into a slow, open-mouthed smirk.

Yoongi dropped the bomb on you.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit suspicious that the dick had elements from all of ours, but never quite matched up?”

W… What?

Your head whipped to your fallen phone and you scrambled with it, bringing up the dick pic again. The photo showed up at the party with the wet t-shirt contest. Your phone has disappeared for two hours during said party. Everyone was drunk. No. Everyone had gotten drunk after your phone had mysteriously been found and returned to you. You spent the night in various laps doing various naughty things, not bothering to check your phone after retrieving it, leaving it as a later you problem. You filed through your memories, recalling their faces as you showed each and every one of them the photo.

Hold on.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, almost as if…”

They weren’t as weirded out as one might be, seeing some random dick on your phone.

As if…

“As if one of us is good at photo manipulation, perhaps,” Yoongi purred.

As if they had expected to see such a photo.

Click.

You whipped your head to the left and a whirlwind of dark purple hair went flying under the coffee table, hiding behind broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and full lips forming an ‘o’. At the same time, the realization hit you like a falling piano from the sky.

“Did you all…” you choked, mechanically jerking from face to face, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and lastly, back at Seokjin because Jungkook was cowering behind him, large brown doe eyes behind a massive shoulder. “D-Did you all…?”

No way.

“Did you all take a dick pic and Photoshop them together into one superdick photo and PLANT IT ON MY PHONE?!”

One look at those seven faces and…

YUP.

Taehyung laughed, loud and rich, nudging Namjoon with his elbow. “Told you she wouldn’t check the details of the photo and realize it was from an outside source.”

You started and swiped around. The file name was close enough to your camera photos’ file names, but upon closer inspection…

“Oh my God…”

“She’s very easily distracted by dick,” Hoseok chuckled, infectious grin on his face.

“I am not!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jimin, do not whip out your dick.”

You heard your name being called softly and looked up, clutching your phone, still stunned and flabbergasted that you had been lusting after a fake dick that was a fuckin’ Megazord of the seven dicks currently surrounding you and those seven were the very dicks that tricked you!

On purpose!

For what?

FOR FUN!

(GG, no re)

They got you good.

Your irritation immediately dissipated when your eyes found those anxious chocolate ones, long purple strands curling around his cheek, curious open mouth with the small mole underneath barely visible.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked quietly, pink lips curving into an irresistible pout.

Oh.

Shit.

Before you could quickly say, no, of course not, Jungkook, it was funny, I’m not mad at all, you felt a dark presence by your shoulder, raspy chuckle by your ear, sending shivers down your spine, whispering your name, devious and smokey.

“Whose idea do you think it was?” Yoongi murmured.

You stared into chocolate eyes.

Innocent.

Or…?

Jungkook’s pout disappeared.

His dark eyebrow cocked, mischievous smirk gracing those irresistible lips. No, not just him. Lowered lids and midnight blue hair, smug expression with a dimple. Kim Namjoon. Lifted chin, looking down at you with a sheepish yet wicked smile on full lips. Kim Seokjin. The black head of hair leaning his chin on your shoulder, laugh like a seductive purr. Min Yoongi. Tilted head balanced on long fingers decorated with colorful rings and bracelets, sly heart-shaped smile. Jung Hoseok. Shit-eating grin fanned by red hair, bouncing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Park Jimin. Long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, spare strands framing a moody, handsome face with a glint of playful cunning. Kim Taehyung.

And then, Jeon Jungkook.

“The hyungs thought it was a great idea,” he drawled, silvery and sweet, looking extremely pleased with himself, running his tattooed hand through his purple hair, unquestionably guilty, but despairingly angelic in appearance.

These fucking…. Seven Kings of Duality!

You were positively fuming.

Silence.

An owl hooted outside the window.

“YOU PUNKS!”

You threw yourself over the coffee table and horny chaos ensued.

2021.09.01 - JK birthday drabble 2021.10.02 - Namjoon birthday drabble

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#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x you #jungkook smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #jimin x reader #park jimin smut #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut

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