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#or saying out of pocket shit unless deeply provoked
pinetreevillain · 1 year
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Broke: they would hate eachothers
Woke:
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not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg
pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi
summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS
that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.
--
Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.
Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.
Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but… still.
You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.
Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…
Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.
Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?
They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once. 
You’re convinced.
You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.
It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.
Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.
Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.
“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”
Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.
It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.
Little by little.
Jungkook grew up.
And became harder and harder to ignore.
Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.
You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.
That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.
You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.
Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.
It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.
In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.
Might as well take a picture, right?
And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.
You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though. 
Dammit. 
Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday. 
Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.
He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...
what the fuck
You had asked him if he liked your post today. 
I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.
Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again. 
Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see. 
Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.
Noona?! WHAT???
And then a slew of head exploding emojis.
Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.
Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.
Dammit. 
You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance. 
This just wasn’t allowed. 
-
This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you. 
With both arms. 
Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.
"You smell different."
"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly. 
"Mhm."
You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.
"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.
"Someone might notice."
"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."
He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head. 
"Excuse me?"
You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.
You smirked. 
"Surprise."
Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.
The front door opened. 
Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.
"Hyung?"
Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger. 
"Ah, Jungkookie."
Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose. 
Danger.
"Hey, noona!"
Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.
"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow. 
Jungkook's eyes went wide. 
"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing. 
The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up. 
Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram. 
Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos. 
Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good. 
No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left. 
"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face. 
Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!
You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. 
"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.
"Hmm..." 
Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips. 
"This is your fault too, by the way."
Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"
You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."
Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl. 
"What does it do to you?"
Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice. 
"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."
...
!!!
How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair. 
"You smell different," he murmured.
You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine. 
"Warm, sweet, and spicy."
Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."
Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."
You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.
"Sounds dangerous," you mused. 
"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."
Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.
"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."
He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.
"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"
Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting. 
Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!
"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.
A sculpted brow lifted. 
"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts. 
"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.
How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.
Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.
“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”
You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.
“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”
Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.
“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”
His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.
“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”
“T-That’s not…”
Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.
“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”
Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.
“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.
No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.
So...
Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.
Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you. 
He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie. 
"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"
You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes. 
"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"
Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination. 
"Never."
Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close. 
So close. 
Ruin me. 
He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.
Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely. 
"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"
You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."
Jungkook made a disgruntled noise. 
"Hey, public health and safety is important."
He pouted at you. "But..."
"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.
"Hyung…!"
Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused. 
"He's been jacking off to your pictures."
"N-no, I haven't!"
"Really? I have."
Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not. 
Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."
"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.
"Noona..."
"And you?"
You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you. 
I want to ruin you. 
Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.
However. 
He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow. 
Jungkook was here now.
Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk. 
"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."
You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin. 
"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.
You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.
"Stay still."
Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.
"Yoon–ah!"
You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.
Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.
Let go.
Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.
“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.
You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.
You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.
“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”
Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.
“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”
Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.
“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”
“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”
You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.
“Fuck!”
You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.
It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.
It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.
“Do you think you’re done?”
You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”
“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”
You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”
Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?
Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.
Riiiiiiip!
“Yoongi!”
The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.
“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”
Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.
But, also, this was why you wore it today.
You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.
“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.
“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.
Were you… going to remember?
Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.
“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”
He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.
“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.
“That’s a pretty picture.”
He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.
“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.
“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.
“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.
“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”
“What?!”
You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.
“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.
You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.
“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.
“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”
“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.
“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”
“Wha–”
The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.
“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.
If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.
Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.
“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”
You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.
Hot, wet, positively sinful.
The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.
You did ask to be ruined.
Just… a little more.
Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.
“I love you…”
You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.
“Still want more?”
You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.
“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”
He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”
You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.
“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”
“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.
“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”
“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.
“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.
“Wha– ack!”
You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.
“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.
You grinned.
“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”
Jungkook grinned back at you.
You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.
“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.
“I will, hyung.”
“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”
You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.
“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”
“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”
Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”
“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”
You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.
Perfect.
You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.
“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”
You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.
“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”
And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.
It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.
“A-ah, n-noona…”
Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.
“Fuck, I love you two…”
Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.
“Romantic.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Mmm.”
He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.
“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.
“Noona?”
“Hm?”
Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.
“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.
“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.
You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”
“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.
“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.
Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.
“Jungkookie?”
“Hm, noona?”
You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.
“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”
“… Hah?”
“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”
Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.
-
part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."
--
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Fic: So Close Yet So Far Away
Fandom: Triple Frontier
Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay 'Lady' Ray
Warnings: Language, talk of sex, throwback to sex, Pope is a crude asshole. Yearnnniinnngggg.
Summary: Lady and Pope get into an argument and Frankie sorts her out. Cue some elite level yearning.
A/N: HAHAHA I wasn't even meant to write this today but I woke up with this on my mind and I just had to because they're my BABIES. This is an instalment in the Frankie x Lady series and takes place back when Lady was in Frankie's squad, before they were an item.
Jay should have known better than to ask about everyone’s weekend. She just wanted to make small talk while they got prepped for a field exercise. She wasn’t ready to hear about their night out on Saturday, how Santi, Frankie, and Benny all scored some willing chicks, Will only missing out because he had a girlfriend, not because he didn’t pull.
All the while Jay was stuck with her family, listening to her mother go on about how she was too good for the army, she should leave while she was still alive, get a normal job, marry, have kids… She could have been out with the guys, maybe get lucky herself and if not, at least have a fun night. Get drunk instead of sad.
And now she finds herself listening to Santi talk about his one night stand, not giving Benny a chance to talk about his, while Frankie, quite characteristically, clammed up about personal stuff.
“Nutted her so fucking hard and all she did was beg for more,” Santi brags, “best fuck I had in ages…”
Jay’s been in the military since she was 18. She knows how soldiers talk, she’s heard it all, she’s participated in the crude joking, she’s not put off by it. But on this Monday morning, while the squad is assembling their equipment, she doesn’t want to hear it.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope, do you fucking have to talk like that?” she barks, unable to hear one more word about his sexual conquests. The rest of them cease their activities in wait for Pope’s reply. Working so closely together, sometimes spending weeks cramped up on assignments builds close bonds but also breeds discord. It’s normal to be at each other’s throats from time to time but it’s rarely Jay who flies off the handle.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, My Lady,” Santi replies with a smirk, his voice at its most velvety. “I meant I made passionate love to her all night – “
“You are so fucking disgusting, you know that?” Jay hisses. “Just shut the fuck up about the whole thing, nobody wants to hear about it.”
“Clearly not you,” Pope drawls, quick to anger. In the corner of her eye, Jay notices Will shake his head at him. Don’t engage, bro, just drop it. But Santiago Garcia is someone who doesn’t let things slide when he’s in gear.
“When was the last time you got laid, Ray? You need to get those pipes cleared out. Get some d.”
When was the last time? Too long ago. She does have an itch but last time she scratched it, it just didn’t feel right. She had the same feeling of detachment as she experienced just now when she heard about last Saturday night, particularly the fact that Frankie got laid.
It’s not that she’s jealous. She’s just more comfortable with the idea that Frankie doesn’t sleep around with anyone.
“A dick isn’t going to solve my problems, Santi, unless it’s a big one up your sorry ass,” she snaps, a rude laugh from Benny telling her she scored a point. Staring hard at Pope, whose ridiculously handsome features show an obnoxious amount of amusement, she knows that he won’t budge until he’s drawn metaphorical blood.
“Just name the time and the place, Ray, I’ll be there. Will you?”
“Okay, knock it off.” It’s Frankie, of course. The voice of reason. “Redfly’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t want to do extra laps just because you two can’t play nice.”
Frankie always has that calming effect on her, even now when she’s inexplicably mad at him for having fooled around with some random girl he picked up at their usual dive. Is there a possibility of her being there again in the future? Jay doesn’t want to think about it. Right now, she focuses on the sense that Frankie’s words make. It’s not worth it. Santi’s not worth it.
“Just stay away from me, asshole,” she warns Santi before going back to her kit. The tension in the room eases and Benny, who’s closest to Jay, gives her a brief pat on the back and a nod that says Good call. She hears Frankie murmur something to Santi behind her back, then Santi’s mutter: “She on the rag or something?”
That does it. Jay throws down her backpack and spins around.
“You say that to my face, you piece of shit,” she growls, taking a step forward. Her body is quivering with pent up rage in need of an outlet and knocking Pope on his ass would serve as an adequate one.
“Jay, he’s not worth it,” Benny tries to placate her but she barely hears him. Her whole focus is directed at Pope and his shit-eating grin. He says one more thing…
“Got your panties in a twist?”
She lunges forward but doesn’t make it to Pope as several hands grab her and hold her back.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
“Calm the fuck down, Ray!”
“Crazy bitch – “
“You’re on really thin ice, too, Pope! Shut that motherfucking mouth of yours!”
Benny is physically restraining her as she practically vibrates with desire to beat the crap out of Santi, who’s held back by Frankie.
“Ray, he’s not worth it,” Benny tells her. “Take a walk. Smoke. Calm down. He’s an asshole.”
He’s right and Jay knows it. Mustering up all of her willpower, Jay rolls back onto her heels, straightens her back, and squares her shoulders. Without looking at anyone, she turns around and stomps out.
Frankie finds her by the vehicles, in the backseat of a Humvee. Her fore and middle fingers are rubbing against her thumb: she’s quit smoking but is clearly wishing she had a cigarette right now. Frankie climbs into the backseat from the other side and pulls up a pack from his pocket, offering it to her without words. Jay hesitates but eventually takes one and leans closer to him when he flicks open his lighter. Frankie can smell the anger on her, a sweaty tightness that radiates from her muscles. She sits back, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a frustrated puff of smoke.
“Fuck,” she mutters, “I don’t wanna die because of these.”
“I thought you quit?”
“I did.” She throws him a glance and a grimace before flicking the cigarette out through the open door. “I thought you quit as well?”
“I keep them around for emergencies like this,” he shrugs. Jay looks pointedly at him.
“Then you haven’t truly quit, have you?”
He loves it how she puts him on the spot like this, provokes him, forces him to reconsider, change his way of thinking. She always does it with such ease, sometimes with a teasing glint in her eye. She just makes him want to be a better person.
“I guess not.” He throws her a small smile that goes unreciprocated. She stares into the back of the seat in front of her, lips tight. Frankie would love to just sit here in silence and let her lead, let her open up in due time, but he knows that if they don’t join the others soon, Tom is going to make a scene.
“Pope’s an asshole,” he states. Jay scoffs but says nothing. “But what’s up with you? You usually don’t let shit like that get to you.”
Her nostrils flare and he sees the muscles of her throat flex. Eventually, she parts her lips to speak, her voice strained.
“I spent the weekend with my dear mother, my brother, and his family. And you know what mom’s like.”
Frankie nods. Yes, he’s heard about Jay’s mother and the dislike the woman has for her daughter’s career choice. The older brother is married with one kid and another on the way and he, of course, is a saint, a pinnacle of human achievement, his children the very essence of what makes a successful life, his wife the perfect picture of Woman.
Jay suddenly twitches, then kicks at the seat in front of her.
“Fuck!I hate this fucking shit!”
Frankie refrains from putting a hand on her shoulder, no matter how much he would like to. He might end up with a broken nose.
“I cut her off,” Jay says tonelessly. “Completely.”
“About fucking time, Jay.” He’s been waiting for this to happen and he wants to tell her that he’s proud of her but it’s not his prerogative, no matter how much he would like it to be.
“Yeah,” she agrees, still not looking at him. “I kept hoping that she’d get her shit together but…” Her voice trails off and she swallows hard. “Fuck. I miss my dad.”
“He’d be proud of you,” Frankie assures her, biting off the endearment that threatened to escape him. Mi amor. Querida. He wants to be able to call her that, wants to be the one she’d come to with her sadness. Wants to be the one to call her mother and tell her to go suck an egg.
“You should’ve called,” he tells her but she only shakes her head. Stubborn as a mule.
“You were out. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”
It had been ruined the moment Santi laid eyes on the company of three young women by the bar. He had zoned in on the curvy brunette and Benny had picked the fiery redhead, leaving Frankie with the blonde. He didn’t want her, didn’t want any of the others, but he had fallen for the peer pressure and for every drink, he figured it could be a good idea to get laid. The girl was pretty, funny, nice. She had a hot body and was clearly willing. They had gone to her place and he had treated her like he would treat every woman he slept with: he ate her out, giving her several orgasms with his tongue before even thinking about putting his dick in her.
She had insisted on riding him. Frankie didn’t mind but as she bounced on his cock, her round, heavy tits jiggling in front of him, he didn’t see her face anymore. No, it was Jay all along, Jay’s long, lean body on top of him, Jay sinking down on him, her slick, hot pussy swallowing his cock while he swallowed her moan. The fantasy had become so real that he had to wrangle the woman off of him and take her from behind instead.
He left in silence once she was asleep, crept out like an asshole, a coward. He usually asked a woman if she wanted him to stay, he had once upon a time enjoyed having breakfast the next morning, sharing kisses when he finally left. But now, it all felt like cheating.
“You wouldn’t have ruined the night,” he tells her quietly. “It wasn’t that good.”
“The night or the sex?”
“The latter.” His ears are burning and he refuses to look at her.
“Too much to drink?” There it is: that sweet, amiable little taunt she saves for him only – or at least he hopes she does. He’s never heard her speak like that to any of the other guys.
“Wrong girl.”
Jay turns her head and looks at him. The distance between them in the backseat seems to shrink and grow at the same time when he returns her gaze. The hairs at the nape of his neck rise when he loses himself in the fathomless ocean-blue of her eyes.
He has to kiss her. He mustn’t kiss her.
“Are you two done with your fucking therapy session?”
Both of them startle when Tom shows up by the open door on Frankie’s side.
“I have an exercise op to run and I don’t have time to wait for you to feel quite ready, Ray,” he adds before slapping his hand to the roof of the Humvee. “Get your asses in gear.”
He leaves without having noticed anything. Frankie wonders how it’s even possible. Didn’t Tom feel the air crackle with electricity? Didn’t he hear how hard his heart was beating?
Jay gets out of the vehicle and slams the door shut, and Frankie follows suit. As they walk back, keeping a distance of two feet between them, Jay murmurs a Thank you, Morales to him.
“Sure,” he replies easily, forcing himself to sound neutral. “I got you, Ray.”
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damnit ok retyped bcos i dont save shit, f to me 😔 i know ur nge trash so u know the song, butttttt did you know it has a SUPER DOPE preamble in some versions? google 'poets often use many words' and ull find it ANYWAY imagine if like. reader chan *thinks* theyre alone idk stuck w cleaning duty by themselves cos jotaro never does shit, so they sing to make the chore faster but. gasp surprise he was listening and thinks theyre singing to him! (or yan of ur choice) dun dunduuunnn
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You are a singer.  This is not to say that you are known for your voice, or that you take special pride in songs, or even that you’re particularly good--that you have a place on the stage outside your own private fantasies.  You are a singer because it is a function of the soul.  It is what human beings do, in the same way birds make nests and bees dance.
You are also a student.  Coincidentally: today is your day to clean the classroom.  It’s a solitary and cumbersome hassle, made moreso by the fact that it shouldn’t be solitary or cumbersome, but that’s the natural consequence of being partnered with the perpetual absence of Jotaro Kujo.  It’s something you have to learn to ignore, papering over misplaced anger and indignation with empty assurances, with ‘I’m-fine’s and spiteful diligence.  Their absence exposes an unsettling silence, however.  A plaintive loneliness.  You have to create a new companion to take its place. 
The shape it takes is song.  It wobbles, crackly and out of tune, malnourished of confidence, uneven in meter and lack of practice--alright.  It's ugly.  There, I said it.  A weed in the cracks of a sidewalk except it’s a voice.  But it's yours.  And as the weeks pass, it blooms into something, and with its help your work is lighter and time goes quicker.  There’s a certain joy in the transformation, where you are no longer alone with an absence but together with yourself.  A grandness in humble passion, in articulating something from the depths of your heart: “But just to be sure that you know what I’m saying, I’ll translate as I go along--”
Today, you had even brought a cassette player, a backing track for your little solo.  That might be why you have to fight down something sour, as your friend insists on helping you finish up early, and no amount of ‘Oh it’s fine’ or ‘Really, don’t wait for me’ will dissuade them.  The idea puzzles you, as the two of you empty wastebaskets and sweep floors and wipe down the blackboard; fifteen minutes in a high school classroom can’t possibly mean that much to you, that you’re resenting its absence this deeply.  You’re going to the arcade after this!  Please be normal for a change.  Enough of this weird aloofness.  Let your tapes of Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald languish in your pocket for a day--their grand landscapes of love and feeling will be where you left them.
...your friend’s been saying something.  Your broom pauses in its mindless shuffle so the words can reach your ears.
“Your English isn’t bad, y’know?  Is that how you practice, with American songs?”
Oh.  Your voice shrivels on itself, withering in the heat of another’s attention, and your reply comes out as a pathetic raspy croak.  “Um.  No, I just--.” 
Your friend laughs and playfully hits your shoulder.  “We should try karaoke or something sometime!  Let you really belt it out, it’ll be great.”
Drinking poison would hurt you less.  You say: “Perhaps”, and leave it at that.  When you finish making the classroom spotless, it’s in dead silence--not even your footsteps make noise.  It’s a silly thing, to be mortified to this extreme, but you can’t make yourself make any noise.  When you walk out the door only to bump into a wall of muscle, you can barely find it in you to make a squeak of surprise.
Jotaro.  Your obdurately truant helper.  Somehow his presence is even worse than his absence, especially with the way he silently stares you down.  What’s that glimmer in his eyes?  Are you sure you’re not just imagining it?
“Finally felt like coming to help out, Kujo?” You ask.  There’s an accusation in your voice, peeking out from the artificial indifference.  You try not to wince when you realize he definitely noticed it.
Your friend snickers.  “Figures he’d pick the one day someone else decided to you me do his work.  Well, we’re done here, but thanks for showing up, I guess.”  
What is he even doing here?  You figured he’d quit campus the second the last bell rang, vanishing to parts unknown and deaf to everyone’s protests and whispers.
Jotaro doesn’t immediately reply.  He’s still standing there, filling the doorway with his overlarge frame.  Blocking you in here, and the worst part is that he’s probably not even conscious of doing it.  Jotaro’s just...horribly inconsiderate like that.  You're apprehensive--like approaching a strange dog--but nonetheless make to move past him, knowing that he won’t move an inch unless he decides he wants to.  To your (quickly swallowed; it’s not like he scares you) relief, he does, and you don’t even brush against him as you step into the hallway.  Your friend is quick to follow behind you, flipping their hair in obvious contempt, and ushers you down the hallway.  No, that’s not right--away from him.
“You know, I heard he’s been hanging around campus more than usual.” They whisper, leaning in.  It’s harsh, loud enough that he could easily pick it up even from where he’s standing, and he’s obviously meant to.  “Weird, right?  Everyone knows he doesn’t care about school.”  They throw an exaggerated, suspicious glance over their shoulder at him.  A warning rises in your throat--surely they’re smarter than to actively provoke Jotaro--but you don’t have the courage to voice it.  Just what is it that you’re afraid of?
“I bet he’s blackmailing someone.  Or stealing,” they continue offhandedly, counting on their fingers.  “Or stalking.  Really, I bet he’ll do anything.  I don’t get why he hasn’t just dropped out already.  Might be for the best that you don’t stay in a room alone with him, you could be next.  I wonder--”
“Don’t joke about it, please,” you interrupt, and your voice is back--as wobbly and shaky and ugly as it was when you first started singing.  “I don’t want to think about that stuff.”
“I feel you,” they nod sagely, apparently oblivious to the fact that they’re the source of your distress, “maybe we can talk to the teacher and get you a new cleaning partner?”
The cozy solitude of your classroom is stripped away.  You’re back in an ugly, chaotic world full of people who aren’t safe, and your voice can’t protect you from them.  It’s a horrible thought, one that sours your overpriced soda and throws you off your game.  When you say good-bye and part ways as you head home, your tapes are still forgotten in your pocket; all you can think about is the look on Jotaro’s face when you turned back to look at him.
Your friend doesn’t come to school the next day.  Apparently they got into an accident on their way home.  They broke both legs.
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