#also comparing it to the try guys is an incredible reach. how the fuck is it anything like that

[naaicha]

the way ppl have been talking abt the whole watcher situation is so unhinged like there are big channels making videos abt how watcher betrayed their audience or ruined their careers or whatever like… making videos is their job. everyone is pissed off about streaming services but independent youtubers are not comparable to like, netflix, and youtube is well documented to be a less than great platform for ppl who do it full time (they HAVE to take outside sponsorships or have a patreon for it to be viable). i don’t particularly keep up with the channel but the response has been weirdly hysterical and self centered on the part of the audience despite this not even being the first or second time youtube channels have launched their own paid platforms because if it works, it IS better for them.

also the complaints about how the new content isn’t what they like, or watcher should just make different shows instead of asking for more money…? i would suspect they are making shows THEY like, which is hardly a crime. i think it’s worth questioning if the initial announcement was a smart business decision, but why make it out to be a case of moral outrage bc you don’t like when something personally inconveniences you. when ppl post any kind of art or entertainment etc on the internet for free, that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to their work and i do stand by that on principle

[cream-stew]

cw: size kink, hand kink, horny rambling, body type headcanon for thoma, gn! reader alluded to as being shorter.

i can't stop thinking about big boyfie thoma + size differences. like he's so… tall ❤️ i've always kinda headcanon him as having a bit of a chubby/beefy body type. no defined muscles exactly, like the type of muscles you develop naturally when doing hard labor.

practically towering almost everyone, he's got those big, strong arms and hands, his fingers thick with callouses (i want them around my neck)

with how often he has to carry heavy luggages during work, no doubt he can easily manhandle you with those big paws 😍 pushing and pulling you into all kinds of different positions. what other things you got that's big, bb boy—

he'd be so reluctant to have sex with you at first, because what if he hurts you!! :(( cue sad golden retriever eyes.

but in actuality, the dork has been fantasizing about your first time with him ever since he first laid eyes on you. secretly having a size kink and goes wild whenever he gets reminded of how tiny you are compared to him.

sitting on his lap, all with a coy smile on your face? how dare you 🤨 internally, he'd be fighting for his life. even with something as innocent as holding hands, he'll end up a blushing mess.

i also just love the thought of sweet, innocent-looking guys going absolutely feral on their partners. it's just so 👋👋👋 you know??? (a,, are you seeing the vision, reader. im holding you by the collar of your shirt, im shaking you. can you see it—)

ahsjsks i'd let him decimate my 150cm ass. i have a few more ideas for big boye! thoma and they got me salivating, foaming at the mouth, shaking like a chihuahua. forgive me, cream-stew. expect me to go feral in your inbox a few more times.

also!! how's your health going? hope you're faring well 🥺 —🐾

🔞minors dni

warnings: afab reader, size kink, rough sex, vaginal fingering

// note: bestie I love these asks you are more than encouraged to keep going feral in here (no matter how long it takes me to reply... that's on me bc I'm lazy lol) this is so valid tho I'm kinda short too and size kink is so...🥰🥰

he starts out so soft and slow, stretching your wet pussy with one (1) single fingers, his hands shaking with the effort of restraining himself, not helped at all by the way you desperately beg him to fuck you already... but noooo you're so much smaller than him, the top of your head barely reaches his collarbones, his hands are so big he can completely encircle your ankles, and he thinks there's just no way his huge cock is gonna fit inside you :((

no matter how much you insist he still holds you down on your stomach, one big hand against the small of your back while the other one slowly pumps more fingers past your entrance, leaving so much of your juices gushing out and staining the bedsheets.

he scissors his two fingers before adding a third one, and you whine in frustration: you could already be bouncing on his fat cock but nope, he wants to be gentle :((

you're crying in equal parts pleasure and crumbling self restraint by the time he's done stretching you with four thick fingers and he's trying to replace them with his cock, gripping your hips with both hands and slowly pushing it inside your loose pussy. it's true that it's an incredible stretch but it feels so good!! you start begging again, this time for him to move and fuck you like he means it, and you're lucky this time: he seems unable to keep holding himself back, so yep, he starts pumping in and out of you at a ruthless pace, your poor pussy struggling to let him back in every time he pulls out completely before slamming right back inside. you just know your tummy is bulging out whenever the tip of his cock hits your cervix🥰

at some point, when he pulls out he doesn't push back inside so quickly: he rolls you on your back, manhandling you so easily it makes butterflies flutter in your belly, and hooks your legs on his shoulders, folding you in half. the position feels a lot better already, his cock hitting even deeper, but it's so embarrassing to be reminded of how short you are compared to him, you can't even see his flushed face as he fucks your brains out :((

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyyy! How are you doing? Can you do a story where the female reader accidentally turns Minho on? Thank you

I'm doing good thank you for asking, and of course I can :))

Back on my Minho grind, lmao. Idk why I struggled with this one so much, but I must've rewritten it like seven times, bro.

INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Reader is a Runner. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas. You and Minho have always had a tense relationship, but when you guys work in the Map room together, you start to wonder if there's something else. Especially when you get a new kind of reaction out of the Keeper. Kinda enemies to lovers if you squint a bit.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice and suggestive content, dumb teenagers and dumber teenage hormones

"Bro, I'm telling you, there's nothing new."

You hate nights like this. It consists of you and the other Runners meeting up and spending hours looking and comparing maps. Once a week.

Every week.

For as long as you've been there. Well, since you became a Runner at least.

And you've been there long enough for it to not be that big of a deal if another girl were to show up.

But tonight is different. It also happens to be Bonfire night. It happens occasionally that Greenie day and the meetings fall on the same day. Most of the Runners left early to go celebrate.

And you did, too, a couple of times. Joining in on the celebrations and congratulating whatever poor Greenie on losing to Gally in the ring.

But you felt bad, so you started staying.

Minho always stayed. It didn't matter what was going on outside; the boy had a job to do, and God dammit, he's going to get it done.

You don't know why you felt bad- or even why you feel bad now. It's not like Minho has ever actually been nice to you. He doesn't take you as seriously as the other Runners and it's not uncommon for him to blatantly ignore you.

Which is shit because the Keeper makes for some great eye-candy.

"I don't care," Minho huffs as you sit with your legs on the table, leaning your chair back, shuffling through numerous sheets of paper. "If you wanna leave, then leave."

"Dude, we've been doing this for literally hours." You try to reason with him but it's not going well.

Minho has been worse as of late. With the exploration of the outer sections coming to a close and the sinking realisation that there isn't actually an exit to the Maze- his bitterness is becoming exponential.

"You can leave." He simply repeats.

You don't understand Minho's problem with you.

In reality, Minho doesn't have a problem with you. All of his extra criticisms and harsh nature comes from a place he doesn't quite understand. You're the only girl in the Glade, and even if everyone else got used to you, he never did. He's had a thing for you ever since he saw you. How could he not?

Which is bad.

Because it's distracting.

So, you can imagine his dismay when Alby suggested you be a Runner.

You pout, letting your feet hit the floor and walking over to Minho. You lean in front of him and across the table, having to stretch further to try and grab more papers that are scattered across the table.

Obviously, this was an incredibly innocent action. You were literally just trying to do more work, but Minho's entire body freezes.

His eyes flicker to your ass as you bend over against the poor wooden structure. It doesn't help that you're still wearing your tight running clothes that leave very little to the imagination. The fabric clings to your ass, and Minho suddenly feels like a complete creep. You mumble something to yourself when you can't reach, but your tone and the lack of coherency just makes Minho's breath catch in his throat.

Ah fuck.

You stand back up, tilting your head slightly as you try to understand whatever pattern Minho swears there is.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. The problem here is that Minho is just as sexually repressed as every other boy in the Glade, but his one-track-mind and work ethic makes it seem like he isn't.

But he is. Boy, he is.

You say something. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he just blankly stares into space, questioning his existence for a second and silently praying that he can keep himself from being... physically affected.

"Minho?"

"Hm?" He looks at you, concern written on your face. Suddenly, he crosses his wrists, dropping them to his crotch. You obviously were not going to look, but as his pencil scatters to the floor and you watch him visibly cringe, your eyes flicker down and then back up. "You good?"

"Mhm."

"You sure? You ignored me, and now you're acting kinda weird."

"No, I didn't. I mean, I didn't ignore you, I was just thinking, okay?" Okay, so he's panicking. He doesn't really want to get caught because that's just going to make things incredibly awkward. He's literally your boss, and with the way he treats you, there's no way you like him back.

"What did I say then?" You cross your arms, looking down at him. He's acting super weird all of a sudden. He seems almost flustered and embarrassed, and with his hands covering up his dignity; you have your suspicions. It's not like it's the first time here you've accidentally given someone a boner. And it's not like it's hard to tell.

If you catch some of the boys on a bad day then they'll get hard if you so much as look in their general direction. But Minho?

Minho?

Always calm, always collected, always in control, Minho?

It's actually kind of entertaining watching Minho's confidence slip away. He's so cocky and self-assured all the time, and you've, what? Leant over a table? And he's lost all capability? Incredible.

You do admire Minho. For many reasons, mostly including his job- but also his self-control. The boy is athletic and confident and bold, all traits that you're attracted to and have been ignoring. But this is now a form of amusement, especially after being stuck in here for hours.

"You don't know, do you?" You ask after an embarrassingly long pause.

"Uh, yeah, no. I don't know what you said. Sorry." He adds the 'sorry' after you raise your eyebrows at him, and it is very clearly reluctant.

"Sorry you didn't hear me or sorry you were staring at my ass?" You cross your arms as you turn to sit on the edge of the table. Your expression is testing as Minho drops his head forward, hiding his face in his hands.

"I, uh, I mean- shit," he grumbles.

"Wow, okay," you scoff, "I was joking, but I guess you really were just staring at my ass."

"I didn't mean- I couldn't help it, alright?"

"That's bullshit, we both know you are beyond fully capable of controlling yourself," Minho suddenly feels like he's getting lectured. But he's your boss, and he really doesn't know how to feel about the sudden shift in relationship dynamics.

"Yeah," he sighs, "you're right, but you- you're just-" You stand up straight, stepping towards him with fake understanding. He shuffles uncomfortably as you stand in next to him, enjoying the newfound power. "You're hot, dude, what am supposed to do?" He sighs, giving into defeat since there's no good way for him to get out of this.

Minho's forward nature shines through, and the compliment actually takes you by surprise. "You think I'm hot?"

"Everyone here thinks you're hot."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yeah," he basically spits out, "I think you're hot. But I also think you're one of the best Runners I've got, and I'm your Keeper, so..."

"Wait, have you been being a dick to me because you're attracted to me?" Minho's guilty expression says it all. "Holy shuck. You have!"

"Alright, alright- slim it," he warns.

"How many times have you criticised me because you actually wanted me?" You lean further forward, one arm on the table, kind of trapping him.

"Listen, don't start-"

"Or the amount of times you've ignored me because I looked too good?"

"Hey!" Minho snaps, even his ears are burning now, "Quit it, alright? I get it. If you're just gonna be a slinthead about it, then go. I don't have time for this klunk. And you might not like me, but I was always respectful and gave you the same workload as everyone else. I can't help being attracted to you, (Y/N)."

His words sound suddenly sincere, like he's been dealing with this on his own for a while now.

"I.." You start, but your words get trapped in your throat, "I never said I didn't like you." You avoid his gaze as you kind of stand to the side of him. There's a scratching scound as he turns the wobbly chair towards you, his attention now peaked at your sudden bashful tone.

"So you like me?"

"I didn't say that, either, just... you're a good-looking guy, Minho. I'm not mad at you 'cause that'd make me a hypocrite." Minho's hands graze your hips, sparking a flame in you but making you flinch. So, he immediately moves away again.

"You think I'm good-looking?" Minho definitely does not need the ego boost, but then again, neither did you.

"Shut up, okay, you're being honest, I'm being honest. It's not a big deal."

"Okay," he holds his hands up, feigning innocence, "guess we're just two attractive people sitting in a room together then, huh?"

You scoff, shaking your head, "No, we're two people who are attracted to each other sitting in a room together. There's a difference." You meet his eyes, and the tension suddenly feels very thick.

This time, Minho puts his hands on your waist with more certainty, and you move closer, swinging your leg over his, straddling him. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that Minho is your boss, or that this could make things awkward working. You just want to feel good, and Minho's flustered confession is making you feel pretty decent all on its own.

"Bold, hm?" Minho mutters, your noses brush, and your foreheads press together. You can feel his breath on your lips, and you never expected this to happen when you came to work during the Bonfire.

"Learnt from the best," you almost speak into him, earning a chuckle. "Is that okay?"

"Mhm," he leans in, finally forcing months of frustration into you as your lips connect. His grip on you tightens and it barely takes anything for Minho to be hardening under you again. Your mouths move in unison, his tongue brushing against your lower lip.

You slip your tongue under his, making him hum as you buck your hips against his. Your hands come to the back of his neck and into his hair, taking the opportunity to ruin his permanently perfect hair style.

He pulls away, panting slightly, "Wait, what does this mean?" He seems anxious, but he's still trying to move under you. You've never seen him like this before, and deep down, you know all you want is to see it again.

"It means I want to fuck you." His body physically reacts to your boldness, almost whimpering under your touch.

"Yeah, alright, I'll take it," you're back on each other in seconds. Having a friends-with-benefits situation with your boss is probably not the best idea, but damn, is it hot.

Friction starts to pick up fast. His hands are under your shirt, papers are flying everywhere as you use the table to try and stabilise yourself and a string of unholy gasping and faint moans is escaping the private place.

That's until there's a cracking sound. Both you and Minho fall in a heap on the floor as the shitty chair breaks, one of the legs snapping off and sending you plummeting. You land next to each other.

"Gally's klunky shuckin' furniture," Minho complains.

And you just laugh.

Not going to lie, lads, this was, for some reason, a complete struggle. Idk why this one was so hard and took me so long, but here it is, and I don't even think it's good lmao. Definitely not my best work, but I'm trying my best.

I hope yall kinda almost enjoyed it :)

[greenteaanon]

I'll love you no matter

Scaramouche X reader

2/18 promised fanfics

Slight angst WITH FLUFF!!! Also a fuck ton of red flags

(s/c/n) - Scaramouche's chosen name

This is made out of spite for @scarazone yea i know it took a year

This rotted in my drafts (Rushed ending so i can post this dumpster fire)

You and the Balladeer we're inseparable, so inseparable in fact that you and him still felt like the star crossed lovers you were even after multiple misunderstandings and betrayals. Something you never did but he did, everytime you forgave him because deep down you knew he didn't mean to hurt you.

But as the time passed you start to think. Does he actually care about me or am I just another one of his followers?

He no longer stopped by with Sumeru Roses or Sweets, Even so far as tolerating Dango which he openly expressed is not a fan of. It made you—

..what was I talking about.... You thought, you don't remember the last thing you remember was a mental note to go on errands.

Taking your woven basket, you thought about where it came from.

'I think I saw this at the flower shop a while back....ehh I probably forgot about buying a boquet' you continue to ponder on the idea not realizing the blonde traveller calling you.

That was until they grabbed your arm. "Oh Sorry Traveller I didn't see you there, do you need something?" You turn to face them properly.

"No no it's ok!" Little paimon squeaked, slightly panting from chasing you They ask "Do you know the Balladeer?" Your eyes widen in shock and confusion. It felt so familiar.

"I feel like I do....But I don't remember what or who....it was" you mumbled the traveller seemed to be glad you remember something even if it's just a little. Rushing they grabbed your hand "No time to explain We need to get you to Nahida!" Rushing past crowds up the stairs past scholars to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

"Wait we're meeting with Lesser Lord Kusanali!!??" You shrieked going to fix your hair and clothes to be a little more presentable, They pushed you inside in a rush.

"You guys slow down, atleast explain what's going on!" you resisted trying not to trip while they pulled you harder. "Don't worry, The traveller will explain everything for me" nahida spoke up.

"Lesser lord Kusanali! It's a pleasure to meet you!" placing a hand over your heart and bowing. "Don't worry! Its nice to meet you too, I guess that the traveler brought you here because of some recent events.."

"I still don't get what's happening.." you repeated. "It's ok we can explain everything now" Paimon said.

They sat you down and explained everything "But how did you find out about me? Compared to you I just a random person" You asked

Nahida stepped forward "I hid some stories about a wandering prince and a lady that lives in a flower, I made it to look like a kid's fairytales to avoid being erased, sort of like a back up file" she placed a finger on her cheek with a wondering expression.

"A lady that lives in a flower..." You giggled sweetly. "It's how he described you" Nahida shrugged. "No..no..its all right! It really does sound like something he'd say" you smiled holding back more giggles.

"WHAT! THE BALADEER BEING HAPPY AND SWEET???" Paimon screeched. "I've never met him any other way-" you spoke incredibly highly of him, of course you loved the man, no matter what.

"Would you like to meet him again?" The traveler asked reaching a hand out for you. Your eyes widen and then you smiled "If its not a problem with you then sure, I'd love to! But id rather stay here with lesser lord kusanali...im not very fit to be honest" you muttered. The traveler allowed you to. As both of you patiently waited for them to arrived you heard a high pitch voice scream. "WE'RE HERE!!!"

Your head whipped to see The Balladeer sporting a teal version of his outfit, lacking the fatui insignas, of course. Lacking the words to talk to him, your mouth was left agape.

He slowly walked towards you. "I- I feel like I should....know you," reaching out his hand hesitantly. By instinct, you pull him close for a hug. "Pretty boy! You're back!!" Giggling and squealing as you're hugging him tighter. He stutters,flustered as he hugs you back. But that's when they can see a soft, gentle smile on his face.

"Wow....If i didn't see this... I wouldn't believe it to be true!" Paimon piqued. Nahida looked over, smiling. "I dont get it. What's...happening...I need to go back and help at the shop, " he said, not noticing he was holding onto your arm. Nahida stepped up and started to explain.

"What...I...I did what?" His eyes wide and hands shaking, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "If you accept that this is a part of you...i can give back the memories."

He accepted and as the giant robotic body that seemed to have his old motifs on it start to move on its own, the traveler tried to keep you and the others out of harm's way as you stood behind Wanderer having a breakdown.

The ray of light came coming towards you. It was then he stood up with new found power of Anemo he'd finally accepted his past. Now he was trying his best to protect you. His one and only.

After the situation died down both of you now stayed in Sumeru to live both of your lives together.

Happy one year anniversary to this draft

[homelanderbutbig]

You Trust Me, I Trust You Too (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2292 words. Hurt/comfort and some fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

The first time you got Homelander to trust you.

Homelander never calls anyone for a meeting in his penthouse, and it's pretty well known amongst the staff that anyone invited up there is generally never seen again. For that reason, you are unsure of how to react when you are told he has requested your attendance alone in the penthouse.

You just started your job at Vought a few weeks ago. To you, it is simply another desk job with a far better paycheck than what you've ever had before. Despite your best efforts to be friendly, none of your co-workers appear to be particularly interested in becoming acquainted with you. Everyone at Vought seems to value their work above your attempts to make small talk.

All you really know about 'The Seven' is pretty basic, mainly just their names and faces. You've probably passed them by on the street in their secret identities and you didn't even recognize them. Homelander is another story. As the leader of 'The Seven', he is a commanding presence that is as charismatic as he is incredibly tall. Besides his height, you also can't help but notice how just his mere existence changes the atmosphere of any room he enters at Vought. Everyone becomes so tense around him, like they are terrified of what he will do. This is something you never understood. To you, he is just a really tall guy. He doesn't seem that frightening.

You've happened to be in the same room as Homelander at the Tower a few times, and the first time you saw him in person was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Being in the vicinity of someone so large that you only reach their abs is something you never expected to do in a million years. You swear you've seen him staring at you a few times, but you're pretty sure he must have been looking at someone else near you. Why would he even know who you are? Sure, you've said hello to him passing by in the halls, purely just to be polite, but he's never said anything back to you. You're so low down the Vought hierarchy that you may as well not even exist in his world.

Making your way up to the top floor, you step off the elevator and enter Homelander's penthouse. You can't help but gasp at the 'Alice in Wonderland' feeling you get upon walking inside. Everything is so enormous compared to you, like you are in another world completely. After a quick glance around, you spot Homelander staring out the window in his living room. He has not acknowledged you, but you're pretty sure he heard you come in, so you decide to make the first move.

"Hello sir," you say, keeping a respectable distance and trying to be as formal as possible. "You requested I come up here to speak with you, what did-"

"Who do you think you are?" Homelander interrupts bluntly, despite him not turning to face you yet. You can hear the contempt dripping from his voice, though you're not sure why.

"I'm sorry, sir?" you ask, now more confused than ever. You aren't nervous, but at the same time you aren't exactly sure where this conversation is going.

"Who. Do. You. Think. You. Are?" he repeats, making distinct breaking points in between his words, laced with a hatred you still do not understand. Finally, he slowly turns to face you, and you see the way he has been scowling at your words. He starts advancing towards you, hands behind his back, until he is close enough that you are forced to crane your head straight up to even see his face.

"You think you can just waltz into Vought and grab my attention like that?" Homelander huffs, furrowing his brow. "Like you are so fucking important?" Seeing his face twitch slightly, you start to comprehend you must have done something to upset him. However, for the life of you, you still can't figure it out. When you don't answer him fast enough for his liking, he exhales in frustration. He hates having to explain himself to the stupid mudpeople.

"I hear your heartbeat," Homelander clarifies, rolling his eyes. "Everyone here knows their place. They know they are all ants to me. They know to be afraid of me," he illustrates further, locking his eyes onto you like they will burn a hole through you any second. "What makes you think you are you so fucking special?" he snarls, bending down at the waist to loom his massive frame over you, letting his face hover directly above yours.

You become a bit unnerved at Homelander's display of bravado, but his remarks lead you to believe there is something deeper going on. If this bothered him so much, why would he want to meet you in private about this? Why wouldn't he have just thrown you off the Tower if he couldn't stand one person out of the hundreds that work here not being intimidated by him? This is a delicate subject matter to try and dissect, especially with the world's most powerful supe, so you try and tread carefully.

"I don't think I'm special," you reassure him, doing your best to maintain your composure as you keep your eyes on him. "I just treat everyone the way I want to be treated. I don't want anybody to be afraid of me, do you want me to be scared of you?"

You can see Homelander's angry expression weaken at those words, his face twitching like he is unable to process what he's just heard. Not only is your heartbeat remaining steady, you reveal your genuine feelings so matter-of factly. You talk to him like he's heard you do with your other worthless co-workers, like you just want to make him comfortable with you. It feels like you nonchalently put a crack in his armour, and now he has to recalculate how to get himself out of any further vulnerability.

"Why… why should I believe you?" he questions. You observe how despite his best efforts to appear tough, his voice falters slightly. He doesn't sound as sure of himself like when this conversation started. Something about his reaction leads you to believe maybe he's a lot more like you than he leads on, maybe he's just looking for a friend too.

"I don't have any reason to lie to you," you console him calmly, giving a timid smile. "I know how it feels to get lied to by people you think you can confide in. It hurts, and I don't want to do that to you."

Your innocent eyes, so full of care and understanding, become too much for Homelander to handle. He stands back up to his full height, averting his eyes from your gaze. This was not what he wanted. He was hoping to just chew you out and make you panic, so you'd fall in line with everyone else at Vought. Instead, you pour your heart out to him, like he is your friend… like he can trust you.

When he begins to feel tears forming in his eyes, he quickly turns away from you. The lonely child inside him has peaked through his cracked armour, and has seen your kindness. You aren't like the others Homelander has relied on before; you don't know him, and you aren't out to manipulate him. The only motivation you have is to understand him.

"Are you okay?" Homelander hears a sympathetic voice ask from behind… your voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Sorry… you said you are sorry. He's heard that word so many times, but it only comes from people being horrified that they angered him. Just to save their own lives from his raging temper. But this… you said you are sorry, because you are worried about his well-being. Whether or not you realize it, you just exposed his vulnerability. The part of himself he keeps hidden from the outside world, his humanity.

Homelander swallows, his jaw clenched tight, as he turns back to you. As if you really care about him, you show compassion when you see him blinking back tears. He feels his whole body tense as you slowly walk up to him, still with that concern on your face. Concern, and a consistently steady heartbeat. One that he can't help but focus on, one that makes him feel so small… one that isn't afraid of him.

"Could you…" you begin, hesitating. You want to try and help him feel better, but you are skeptical of how to ask him. When you see him completely fixate on what you are about to say, you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. "Could you… sit down for me?"

Enamoured by your request, Homelander sits down on the floor, with his knees bent up. You move yourself in between his legs to get closer to his face, noting how his hands are down by his sides, apprehensively clenched into fists. He is a bundle of nerves right now, but he can't stop himself from obeying you. He wants this, he wants someone to care for him.

As you calmly reach one hand out to Homelander's cheek, you can see the wide-eyed hesitation painted across his face. What you are doing is clearly uncharted waters for him. Sure, he's had his share of relationships in the past, but he's never felt this anxiety about them before. It's as if for once in his life the weight of the world is not on his shoulders. It's all on you.

When you make contact with his cheek, you slowly start stroking it delicately with the palm of your hand. Homelander is immediately absorbed by your touch, letting out a heavy sigh as he closes his eyes. He seems to forget his own strength as he leans into your chest, far too forcefully for you to keep your balance. Like a strong push, you are knocked back onto the ground from Homelander's sizable head. You are a bit surprised, your heartrate elevating slightly from the sudden fall, but you aren't hurt.

However, Homelander doesn't view it that way. He sees you on the ground, your shocked expression, your fast heartbeat... he's harmed you. Right when he starts to be vulnerable with someone, he's not only hurt them but he's scared them. Tears streaming down his face, he is unable to stop the torrent of thoughts spinning around his brain. Ever since he was a child, he's heard time and time again how he is a monster, an uncontrollable beast that can only destroy. As much as he's longed to break free from those labels, he knows he's wounded you and now you see him as a monster too.

Getting back up on your feet, you start to see him cry harder as he hyperventilates. Whatever boldness he was displaying on your arrival is completely gone. All you see now is a petrified little boy, in a body of a giant superhuman titan.

"Hey, hey…" you say softly, taking a few steps forward. "I'm okay, you didn't hurt me". He seems to steady slightly from hearing that, but he is still crying.

"Maybe… maybe you could hold me up with your hands?" you suggest, although you can see how uncertain Homelander is at this idea. "You don't have to grip me tight, just… keep me up. You trust me, right?". He nods silently, engrossed by you as you again come closer to his face. "Well… I trust you too."

You bring both of your hands back to his cheeks, caressing him gently. As if on command Homelander closes his teary eyes, though his breathing is still stuttered. You can feel his massive hands very hesitantly placed against your back as he leans cautiously into your touch. Even though this is nowhere near his first time handling a human, he is so afraid of injuring you again. He wants to do this right, he wants to be good for you.

"Shhh, shhh.." you soothe him. "Focus on my breathing. Follow along with me. Nice and slow, okay?". Homelander listens to everything you ask of him, matching his choppy breaths to your own peaceful ones. Slowly but surely, you feel the tension drain from his body as he relaxes into your fingers, nuzzling more and more into your tiny stature. Even though you are so petite compared to him, he feels like right now you are his entire world. A strange feeling he has never been permitted to experience, being able to put such a high level of faith in someone. Allowing a mere human to comfort the isolated child he's ignored for so many years, to give him affection.

Suddenly, you feel Homelander's hands envelop your body as he pulls you up to his chest. At first you don't understand what's happening, but then you realize… he's hugging you. You can't help but smile at this behemoth of a man being so gentle with you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to return the embrace.

"Th-thank… thank you," he mumbles ever so quietly, a far cry from the loud, booming voice you’ve generally heard him use. Regardless, you still feel the weight of his words and how much he truly means them.

"It's okay, Homelander," you reassure him, resting your head in the nape of his neck. "I'm just happy to be here for you."

You aren't sure how long you two ended up staying like this, but you don't mind. In the few weeks you've worked at Vought you hadn't made any friends yet, but know deep down this tender moment with Homelander is something so special you aren't going to forget it very easily.

[utilitycaster]

To elaborate that post about shipping as if it's based on a points system, the specific incident was that the moment in the latest WBN that made me go "oh, yeah, this seems romantic" was Suvi giving her name to Ame before the ceremony, and holding Ame's hand to write it out, and the two touching foreheads as they talked about what was going on. Everything else has really felt within the realm of "best friend" and specifically "best childhood friend I haven't really seen in a long time, but left an indelible mark on me," which is still a profound bond, but this is the first moment that really felt it went beyond that. And it was a beautiful moment! I think that while Eursulon and Suvi clearly love each other dearly, his response was one of "what is this strange world," whereas Ame seemed to have a better sense of the gravity of the occasion, and Suvi was able to open up to her more (and then run away for having done so, natch).

So it is a little frustrating that so much focus is on the conversation later in the episode, when Indra's message reaches Ame in the bathroom while Suvi is also there; and on Suvi reflecting on this as she goes to see Silver; and comparatively little on that smaller, far more intimate and profound scene.

It's not that the part at the after party isn't fun, but it's pretty standard Drunk Female Friends In The Bathroom except, you know, witchcraft messages. I don't say this insultingly at all - I loved it and think the juxtoposition of that vibe with the incredibly solemn naming ceremony, realization of Ame's position, and - but it feels very much like a wacky sitcom plot, particularly with the Fox's interjections. And then the focus on Suvi very reasonably thinking about her friend, who has just come into her role as Witch of the World's Heart, as she walks to Silver's place is just. You can have more than one relationship - and I mean this purely in the term of Closeness With Other People - at once, and indeed, I hope you do! I hope that if you have a romantic partner you also think a lot about your friends! I hope that you think about one friend who's going through a lot while also spending time with other friends! And what's truly wild is that I like Silver a lot, and I also don't really get the sense that will be an endgame romance and we are very early into what will be a very long campaign. There's no need to try to get him out of the picture at this point, and focusing on that still ends up focusing more on him than on the scene!

I guess the best way to put it is that like, this mentality of shipping - the points system - feels like it's behind truly everything I can't stand with shipping in fandom. It's behind such meaningless shipping bullshit microexpressions (not true here obviously but in video format) and (in actual play) coincidental matching dice rolls and vague mechanical parallels for sure, and interpretations like the bathroom scene where I'm like "do you guys have any meaningful platonic relationships in your life," and definitely the thing I said yesterday about mean-spiritedness. It's about "who does this person agree with on this particular issue that's the subject of this episode" and not "who do they have a longstanding history of being able to work through conflict in a loving way." It's about this idea of only being able to think about one person or thing at once. It's about a focus on a monogamous endgame in a cottage above all to the point that you can't enjoy the journey, which really makes me wonder what you're getting out of shipping. It feels very, if you'll excuse the math reference, like a Markov chain sort of mentality where the present state supersedes all of the past, which really misses the entire point of a long-form narrative. It's like more points and also last person to do something wins which is just the grimmest way to think of love and romance I could possibly imagine, and it's so fucking prevalent, and that's before I even get to how it doesn't even tally the points right, both in that smaller but deeper scenes get ignored and if everything had gone super well with Silver I know for a fact people would just go "I do not see it". Like, people pick the winner (arbitrary personal preference) and then backfill the evidence while pretending it's a points based game and none of this makes sense in the context of "experiencing a longform fictional narrative." And then if it doesn't happen they call for a referee and act cheated and lied to and don't realize it's because they ignored 75% of the game. Like. Is it fun being this deliberately obtuse? Is it really?

anyway point being I ship it but already cannot stand like 90% of the shippers, who are spending most of their efforts coming up with a completely unnecessary ship name anyway, which I think is indicative of truly everything going on here.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[godlizzza]

Suggestion: Dan learns that he is not Herbert's first love

Dan had never thought of himself as one of those guys who got excited when his girlfriend told him she was a virgin. Honestly, he thought guys like that were just pumped at the prospect that their girl wouldn't be comparing them to anyone else, something he'd never had a problem with. He'd left those insecurities behind in high school.

However, when it came to Herbert, Dan relished the fact that he was his first everything.

Herbert was knowledgeable in so many things, carrying a haughty twinkle in his eye that told everyone he was acutely aware he was the smartest in the room. So, when things between them took an unexpected detour into the romance department, Dan was thrilled that he would have the upper hand for once. Now it was his turn to watch Herbert squirm and ask questions. His turn to teach and guide Herbert into uncharted territory.

He also didn't mind the idea of Herbert falling in love with him. Of Dan being the first person to hold Herbert's heart in his hand.

This fantasy was quickly dashed the first time they had sex.

Dan had initiated it- sliding up behind Herbert in the kitchen to pull him back against him and press kisses down his neck- but he had been expecting Herbert to falter. He'd played out the scenario of Herbert turning in his arms, his expression apprehensive but burning with desire at the same time. Instead, Herbert had responded deftly. He'd spun around in Dan's arms, fisted his hands in Dan's shirt, and pulled him down in a searing kiss.

Things progressed quickly from there, the two of them stumbling to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they kissed feverishly. It was only once they were both naked and laid down on the bed that Dan paused. He hadn't given much thought to the fact that he'd never slept with a man before, assuming that since he and Herbert were in the same boat in that department, any ignorance on his part would be easily over-looked.

This wasn't to be the case, as Herbert took one look at his blank eyes and clicked his tongue impatiently. He reached over and swiped the bottle of lube sitting on Dan's nightstand then shoved at his chest until Dan leaned back on his haunches. Herbert pushed him onto his back and crawled over him to straddle his hips. Dan then got to witness the incredible sight of Herbert reaching around to finger himself. Dan's mouth went dry at Herbert's pinched face and his hand pumping back and forth behind him.

When he reached over to try and replace Herbert's hand with his own, Herbert gently pushed him away and said in a clipped voice, "I've got it."

A minute later they had rolled over again and Dan was pushing his cock inside with minimal resistance. He quickly lost himself to the tight squeeze of Herbert's ass, of Herbert wrapping his arms and legs around him to squeeze him close, and the breathless little cries he was panting into Dan's ear. Dan couldn't think or focus on anything other than how good it all felt. So, he happily fucked Herbert into the mattress, completely unbidden.

It wasn't until afterwards, when he was lying in a sated sweaty heap on his back, Herbert cradled to his chest, that his brain finally began to catch up with him. He blinked down at the dark shock of hair tickling his chin as he considered how fluid and relaxed Herbert had been.

"Herbert?" he asked, his voice coming out scratchy.

Herbert merely hummed, his fingers splayed out against Dan's stomach, rubbing slow circles into his skin.

Dan licked at his dry lips. "That wasn't your first time, was it?"

Herbert snorted and Dan felt his body jolt against his. "Why? Are you worried I'm disappointed you didn't sprinkle some rose petals on the bed or play sultry music?" When Dan didn't answer he huffed out a laugh and said, "No, it wasn't."

"Oh," was all Dan could say.

Herbert shifted, propping himself up on an elbow so he could squint up at Dan. He was quite a sight with his glasses discarded on the pillow, his hair mussed up, and his skin blotchy and flushed. Everything screamed freshly fucked, and if Dan weren't busy rearranging his entire perception of Herbert, he would've been tempted to pull him in and have his way with him again.

"Oh?" Herbert echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Dan insisted, glancing away. It would be easier to concentrate without Herbert's disheveled body looking back at him. "I just...thought maybe you'd never been with anyone before."

Herbert's pause had cool sweat breaking out on Dan's brow.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he finally said.

Dan swung back around to face him again. "I'm not disappointed."

"Really?" Herbert questioned, then bopped him on the nose. "Then why're you pouting?"

Dan swatted his hand away in annoyance. "I'm not."

"You're sulking."

"I am not!"

Herbert hummed, sounding unconvinced. He threaded his fingers together, laying his hands flat on Dan's chest, then laid down, resting his chin on top of his knuckles so he could peer up at Dan.

"It was a while ago," Herbert said, and Dan could feel his voice rumbling where their bodies were pressed together. "Back when I was studying pre-med in Chicago. His name was Walt. He was studying accounting. We both lived in the same dorm, kept similar hours. I'd see him studying in the library. Sometimes he'd come over and offer me a soda from the vending machine and we'd study together. I didn't hate him."

"High praise," Dan scoffed, and Herbert glared at him.

"I liked him, actually. It just took me a while to realise it."

"So, what? This guy was your...boyfriend or something?"

"Yes," Herbert replied simply, startling Dan even though he'd asked the question. "I suppose you could say we were together." His nose wrinkled as he said the last word, as though it didn't quite fit.

"Did you love this guy?" Dan asked between numb lips.

"At the time, yes," Herbert said conversationally, as though he weren't currently melting Dan's brain. "Looking back on it, it was so saccharine. Clandestine meetings in the library, notes left between the pages of books- ugh. I'm almost ashamed of myself. But I was young and in love, as you pointed out."

Dan laid there with his hands folded behind his head, glaring at the ceiling. He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of past relationships, but he couldn't help but smart at the thought of this Walt guy getting to woo a younger, softer Herbert. Though Herbert was scoffing at his past actions now, there must have been a time where he'd found his late-night romps with this accountant to be something romantic. Just the thought of Herbert looking at someone else with ardor, permitting them to hold him close and kiss him was enough to get Dan's teeth grinding together.

"You're being strangely quiet," Herbert observed after a minute, staring at Dan from atop his laced fingers.

"It's not strange to be quiet," Dan shot back, and Herbert smirked.

"Oh, Danny," he purred, but Dan refused to meet his eyes. "There's no need to be jealous. You know you're the only man for me."

Dan glared down at him, and Herbert batted his eyelashes.

"You're enjoying this," Dan muttered.

"I've been enjoying lots of things today," Herbert answered, pushing himself up to throw a knee over Dan's hip and sit on his lap.

Desire swirled in Dan's gut and his cock stirred with interest. He smoothed his hands up Herbert's bare thighs to grip his hips, and Herbert smiled down at him. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes smouldering beneath his lashes.

"Now that you've had a crash course," Herbert said, rocking back to grind his ass against Dan's hardening cock, "do you think you can manage?"

Dan felt a familiar stab of annoyance that usually accompanied Herbert's snide remarks. He rose up to catch Herbert in his arms, rolling them so Herbert landed flat on his back, caged beneath Dan's body. Dan was glowering but Herbert looked back at him with sparkling excitement, his hands coming up to loop around Dan's shoulders and play with his hair.

"I think I can manage," Dan bit out, and Herbert grinned.

"I certainly hope so," he replied merrily.

Dan surged down to seal their lips together. As Herbert gave a pleased moan Dan was determined to show him there was no comparison between him and Walt. He made a promise to himself that he would own Herbert's heart completely. That Herbert would fall for him so comprehensively, that he would never be tempted to even think of Walt again.

If Herbert was going to be the center of Dan's world, then Dan was going to make sure he was the center of Herbert's, locking them together in a mutual orbit.

[fenrhi]

Review of TDPS4 (long and salty, like fries)

I started watching TDPS4 with really, REALLY low expectations, but in an incredible feat of genius, this season disappointed me more than I could have imagined. Sure, some will say ‘S4 is a set-up season, so it will have less action in it!’ and I will answer ‘I know 12 year old children who could write fanfictions with smarter dialogues and more emotional depth than that’. It’s kinda pathetic that this is the best the writers could come up with after two years.

Did I hate absolutely everything about S4? No, but the things I did like make up a short list

THE GOOD:

- Claudia. CLAUDIA. Claudia, my babygirl, who is carrying the entire season on her back. I mean that literally: it’s HER decision to save Viren that kickstart the plot of S4. Without her, Aaravos would have zero hope of escaping his prison quickly. Claudia also has the most heartfelt moments of S4 (her conversations with Viren and Soren) and the most badass action scene (her fight with Ibis). We stan a girl that can multitask

- Speaking of Viren, I never thought S4 would take the ‘woobify’ route with him, but I was pleasantly surprised by this. His monologue in ep2 made me tear up. It was also funny seeing him struggling to adjust to the presence of two new travelling companions. My one wish for S4 was to see Viren embarking on a wacky magical adventure and it finally came true! I love winning. But I still have no idea where the writers are taking his character. I thought they were setting him up as an obstacle on Claudia’s path, trying to stop her journey to free Aaravos out of love for her. But the last episode of S4 also shows Viren back to his ‘corrupted’ form and grinning like a villain? I don’t know. See you in five years I guess

- Aaravos only had two minutes of screentime, which he used to possess Callum, taunt his friends and family, and break The Mirror. Legends only

- The Earth elves’ country was pretty

- Rex Igneous has won the title of Least Annoying Archdragon

- The animation got better? I think?

THE BAD:

- god where to start with this one

- I have always found this show’s jokes cringe but damn, they reached a new low in S4. Not only that, but S4 too often undercut the ‘seriousness’ of the message it’s trying to convey by including stupid jokes at the wrong moment. It just makes me shrivel up and die inside

- The tonal dissonance of S3 is still present in S4, and all it accomplishes is making me root for the villains instead of the Good Guys. Ez is happily eating jelly tarts at the castle with his friends, while Claudia tearfully explains the suffering she had to go through in order to finish the resurrection spell for Viren. Gee, I wonder which character I will feel emotionally invested in 🤔

- Why isn’t Dark Fam the main characters? They should have been the main characters

- Everyone got hit by the Idiot Ball in S4, but with varying degrees of intensity. You got unfunny miscommunication plots. You got Soren turning into Comic Relief. You got Janai not knowing sign language despite dating a mute human for years. You got Amaya comparing a sacred elf ritual to candles on a birthday cake……

- You know how a video game will throw dull sidequests at you to keep you busy because you’re not supposed to defeat the Final Boss and finish the video game in less than ten hours? This is how S4 feels like. It feels like a lot of things happened but also nothing happened

- S4 straight up says Rayla disappeared for two years and accomplished nothing. Such good writing! Much talent! Wow!

- Ez’s speech in ep3 could have been inspiring if it was in any other show. Because he talks about ‘carrying anger, pain and love in your heart while striving for a peaceful future’ while apparently not knowing Zubeia killed his fucking dad. I want to bang my head on a wall

- The Lucia plotline was…..awkward to say it nicely. It was another case of ‘humans are so stupid and violent, elves are kind and patient’

- I honestly feel like all these inclusions of diversity (J*naya, Terry etc) are a way to distract the viewers from the terrible writing

- ‘Who cares about the story?! This show has gay characters in it uwu’ but unironically

- S4 still gleefully ignores that Elves are historically the ‘oppressor group’ and make sure to portray everyone taking shit about elves as stupid or evil (Claudia, Rex Igneous etc)

- S4 totally forgot about the human kingdoms and Kasef. RIP king you were too good for this show

[siriuslysnuffles]

Reputation Chapter 2: Dress (Part 1)

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve updated this story, and, to be honest, I’m not exactly sure where I was headed with this story when I started it over 3 years ago. However, hopefully it’s still enjoyable! 

This can also be read on AO3 and FFN. 

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try. And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

–Taylor Swift, the icon

It’s twelve past seven in the morning when she wakes up in an unknown bed accompanied with the worst headache she’s had since the Giant Squid Incident of ’76. She takes note of the sheets adorned in badgers and the stuffed badger she was holding close to her chest, and she recalls the horrors of the night before. Teasing his posh accent, the mischievous look in his hazel eyes as they flirted, her embarrassment after their kiss, and—most importantly—the vast amount of badgers. And yet, despite the badger fascination, James Potter still didn’t even make the top 5 on the list of weirdest guys she had ever gone home with. Although, he did hold the top slot for the most frustrating . . . for more reasons than she cared to admit.

She should be more embarrassed about the previous night, but well . . . it’s hard not to find it endearing when a cute guy takes you home and tries to sober you up, especially someone as incredibly wholesome as James Hufflepuff Potter. She turns over and sees his tousled head that—even in her hungover state—she would kill to run her hands through. Her fingers touch the edges of his hair, which is quickly disrupted by the sound of a chuckle coming from the corner of the room. Her heart rate accelerated . . . maybe she would have to kill.

She quickly sits up—dropping Bludger in the process—not focusing on who the intruder was but rather on protecting them. (This was war.) Despite her wandless state, she begins uttering the first curse that comes to mind, ‘Furnun—’

‘Really, boils?’ The unfamiliar voice interrupts. The sound sending a sharp pain to her head. Bloody. Fucking. Whisky. After taking a moment for the throbbing to slow down, she notices the curly hair and the leather jacket from the night before. Her heart rate slows down, and she feels the body next to her move. So, she was finally meeting the notorious Sirius Black.

She heard stories about him during her time at Hogwarts. Stories about the grey-eyed boy who looked like he wanted to destroy the world, stories about the boy who seemed to hold a hatred for most people. She would hear girls whisper in the loos, comparing his beauty to that of the Greek gods: beautiful with pain and anger. Most people wondered how such an angsty person managed to claw their way into Hufflepuff in the first place (as ludicrous as it sounded, it was even rumored that he bribed the sorting hat itself). However, she hadn’t given him much thought during their overlapping years at Hogwarts, well . . . besides the fact that he hung out with the cute Hufflepuff chaser.

Yet, she could hardly regard him as someone capable of such angst as he made his way over to the bed she shared with said chaser, a grin on his face as his eyes shifted to the stuffed badger.

The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Really, Prongs? You do that with Bludger present?’

She heard a groan, followed by the sound of the stuffed animal in question being thrown as James shifted onto his side. For a Quidditch player, you’d think he’d have better aim. But, she supposed this wasn’t the first time Sirius Black had uninvitingly disrupted his friend’s peace when the latter had company over—albeit this was likely the least eventful session he’s disrupted. Nonetheless, Lily laughed as she turned onto her side, now facing James. And without a shred of hesitation, she breathlessly—perhaps with a bit of dramatisation—said: ‘How dare you treat Sir Badger that way?’ With a pout, she reached for the wand that lied forgotten between them and summoned Bludger from the space he landed next to Sirius’s leg. ‘He deserves better,’ she said, clutching Bludger to her chest once more.

James eyed her, an eyebrow raised with his lips twitching now, ‘What are you going to do about that, Evans?’

Her eyes turned to him, gazing briefly at his lips. ’I—‘  The sound of a cough disrupted her. She threw an annoyed glanced at the boy who simply shrugged and smirked.

’Seriously,’ James uttered, sitting up and glaring at the unabashed party. ‘Don’t,’ James warned as a twinkle in Sirius’s eyes grew.

‘You’re no fun.’ Sirius pouted.

‘As much as I enjoy your company first thing in the morning, Padfoot, is there a particular reason you decided to grace us with your presence?’

Lily noticed the quick glance he shot her way before saying, ‘We’ve been called in to work.’ She took his raised eyebrow as an indication that it was time for her to get going.

She saw the pair of them exchange glances and quickly got to her feet.

‘Fine,’ Sirius said before turning around.

She shot James a puzzled look. ‘He doesn’t happen to be a legilimens, does he?’

James laughed as he got up as well, stretching his arm in a way that would have had anyone drooling. Really, men with attractive arms had an unfair advantage. She could image lic—. His reply interrupted her train of thought. ‘No, he’s just been around me for over a decade, so he basically knows my reactions to most things.’

‘Your fellow Hufflepuff.’ She picked up her shoes and dress from the floor before meeting his eyes again. ‘Does he have extensive Hufflepuff decor in his room, too?’

‘Oh, it’s much worse.’ He enunciated as he came closer to her. ‘Puts the entirety of Hufflepuff house to shame . . . I’ll ask him if I can give you a tour sometime, if you’d like.’ He ruffled his already distraught hair.

Bloody fucking hell, even his sheepishness was cute. That was not fair, no one should look so cute that her ovaries were at risk of exploding. Fuck.

‘Anytime.’

***

‘So, Lily—‘

‘Said the funniest thing,’ Sirius interrupted three weeks later.

James pouted from his place on Edgar Bones’s sofa, ‘That’s not what I was going to say.’

The former arched his eyebrow, ‘Oh, really?’

‘Well . . . she did owl me a funny story the other day. You know how—‘

Sirius sighed heavily, ’Just ask the bird out already, Prongs.’

’It’s not that easy. It’s not like I can just say “I think you’re brilliant and would love to take you out, but I’m actually a member of a super secret Anti-Voldemort organization and might be called in for secret missions at any moment. Also, the hours are terrible.”’ Sirius laughed. ’Plus,’ James continued. ‘Have you seen her eyes, Sirius? They’re so green. Like I have no bloody idea how I held it together that night.’

‘Post-mission adrenaline?’

‘Unless you slipped me some liquid luck.’

Sirius scoffed. ‘You think I would waste liquid luck on your love life?’ He shook his head. ‘No amount of luck could help you there.’

‘Oi, don’t make me jinx you,’ James teased.

‘What’d Padfoot do now?’ Remus asked, taking a seat next to James. Peter followed suit, taking a seat next to Sirius on the floor.

’The usual,’ James said at the same time that Sirius uttered, ‘Why do you always think I’m up to something?’

‘Because we literally made a map that says we’re up to something,’ Peter reminded him.

‘And, we’ve met you,’ Remus said with a knowing look.

Sirius pouted. ‘Prongs is in love with the bird he met at the pub a few weeks ago, and—like a good friend—I’m encouraging him to ask the bird out.’

‘I’m not in love,’ James objected as more Order member began infiltrating the livingroom.

All three of them shot him skeptical look; all three of them had experience with how fast and headfirst James fell in love.

‘I’m not,’ he repeated as Dumbledore began the meeting.

James’s mother had always had a saying about being careful what you say because things so easily become a reality. Had he known that, he would have said her named a long time ago, would have prayed it even.

The room quieted as she made her entrance. Her green robes appearing to swoosh around her, her red curls seeming to bounce energetically, and James couldn’t imagine anyone not instantly falling in love with her.

‘Lily Evans,’ he whispered.

‘Oh, this should be good,’ Sirius chuckled.

‘Ah, I’m glad you could join us tonight,’ Dumbledore said as Lily took a seat next to a tall, slender lady with striking, platinum blond hair. ‘I’d like all of you to give your warmest welcome our newest member, Miss Lily Evans.’ She gave a small wave and looked around to observe the other members. She thought she’d recognized a few members from Hogwarts—Professor McGonagall, of course . . .  a boy with mousy brown hair . . . and a boy with sandy brown hair who she thinks had been the prefect a few years her senior. She was a moment away from looking away before she noted the boy next to the former prefect.

‘Oh god,’ she whispered as she heard Dumbledore introducing her as a former Head Girl and current potioneer at the Ministry. Her hands began shaking as their eyes locked, their secret moment in the crowded room going unnoticed as Dumbledore continued with whatever logistics he had been discussing before her arrival.

‘All right, Evans?’ he mouthed. Everything stop around her for a moment.

Finally, she responded. ‘All right, Potter,’ she mouthed back.

She turned back to focus on Dumbledore, but a ball of anticipation bounced around in her stomach as she waited for the meeting to be over.

‘. . . and, lastly, James and Sirius, Lily will be joining you two on your next undercover mission.’

A torturous, earth gravitating, lovely, fucking bloody hell.

‘Yes, sir,’ she heard Sirius say, a hint of amusement in his voice.

[casspurrjoybell-21]

Pirate Chains - Volume 1 - Strong Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 35 - Clash of Allegiances - Part 2

Ace

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?"

Those who weren't laughing uncontrollably stared in utter disbelief at the audacity of the young lamb who had just delivered a swift kick to a 'captain candidate' right before their eyes. It was as if the wind had changed direction and the once enraged Agenor now wore an expression of shock, tinged with a hint of amusement and... pride?

"You... you bitch," Amos yelled and I could almost hear Nyx's anger reaching its breaking point.

"THAT'S IT," Nyx yelled, pulling himself up, surveying the crowd around him, then stepped aside while limping slightly.

He pushed his hand through the throng, retrieving a short sword.

"Hey. That's mine," one of the fools protested but Nyx paid him no mind.

Stepping back, he straightened his posture and pointed the sword towards all of us.

'Aye, he did that.'

Everyone, starting with Agenor and including myself, fell into a state of mesmerized astonishment as we witnessed the highborn landlubber boldly challenging a pack of ferocious sea-wolves.

"I've had enough of your sickening insults. I won't tolerate any offense from anyone."

His gaze shifted towards Agenor and in a less confrontational tone, he added...

"Agenor, I'm sorry but I refuse to tolerate the disrespect of your wretched crew any longer."

Well, if he had any claim to not being suicidal before, he had definitely lost it with this declaration. He maneuvered the tip of the blade slowly, yet steadily, gesturing towards each and every one of us.

"Whoever still harbors an ounce of offense, step forward and face me now. I don't care if you're men or damned devils. I don't care if you see me as a pirate or not. That is an insignificant detail compared to your insolence. And I shall not tolerate any of it anymore. Come, this is your chance."

When no one dared to make a move, he yelled...

"COME ON."

His voice reverberated through the air, awakening the latent bloodlust in some of the crew members. Their eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of crossing swords with this young warrior. Can't blame them, if it weren't for Agenor, I'm not sure I would've spared him my blade either. On second thought, I most definitely have to cross swords with him.

Well, not now when he's injured and so incensed but I'll find a way to engage in a playful bout with him eventually. Excitement rippled through the ranks as they weighed the exhilarating duel with this newly emerged wolf against the wrath of the devil lurking behind him. Some discreetly reached for their swords and daggers, concealed in their belts or behind their backs.

Nyx must have sensed their growing eagerness. He adjusted his stance, his back turned to Agenor and gracefully swung the sword in elegant circular motions, effectively covering the space before him. I reckon fencing must be his preferred method of combat... or perhaps his only one. The crew members in the front row cautiously retreated, ensuring a safe distance for Nyx to wield his weapon freely. Despite his injured foot, his movements remained graceful, and his grip on the sword tightened.

"So, who's brave enough to be the first to try?"

He started with Amos, who was glaring intensely at him.

"Let's begin with you, Amos."

Despite his anger, Amos was smart enough not to accept the offer with the devil fully awake and present. Getting no positive response, Nyx ignored him and continued walking the point of his sword further, searching for another target. He spotted Nash and confidently challenged him,

"Or you, Nash."

The tall pirate grinned with enthusiasm, leaving me puzzled.

'Why Nash?'

"How about you, Lou."

'Nash, then Lou? Why those two? It seemed like odd choices.'

"Or maybe the other one... yes, Britt. Who the fuck is Britt?"

Britt, also known as whale, raised his hand from behind the crowd. This guy was massive and incredibly simple-minded. He functioned based on basic commands like 'eat, sleep, fight, eat, smile, eat, frown, eat, eat...' I had seen him interact with Nyx many times and the boy actually treated the big man well.

He would go behind Baril's back to serve Britt two or three times the amount of food. Hell, once I even saw him give Britt the entire cauldron to finish. And 'if Britt eats, Britt is happy'. So, the enormous guy liked to sit around Nyx whenever he had lunch in the hull with us and leach off him. I remember because I found it amusing to see them both sitting near each other.

"Uh? Wait... You're Britt?"

Whale nodded and Nyx apologized, looking confused.

"Sorry, that must be a mistake."

He regained his determination, swinging the sword in circles to his right. Focused and determined, he returned to his challenging demeanor.

"Those who still intend to disrespect me, I'll fight you until I die or take you all down one by one."

Unable to contain his excitement and newfound pride, Agenor smirked and laughed loudly. He stepped next to Nyx, ruffling his wet hair.

"It's alright, warrior. I think they get it. You've already kicked three unlucky assholes. No need to get more people injured," he said playfully.

At the same time, he cast a warning glance around and we all mentally took a step back. Feeling Agenor's large hand on his head, Nyx's expression softened and he shifted uncomfortably. The hand slid down to pat his shoulder and the young man tried to suppress a pout but couldn't.

"I did nothing but show them respect, yet they keep insulting me," he complained. "I didn't ask for any of this, you know... Your crew hates me."

He almost whined as he said that and it reached Agenor in a comforting way. Some faces looked sympathetic, while most of us were too excited to feel anything. Maren jumped onto the deck, saying...

"Oh come on, Nyx. We're not all assholes, just a couple and you've already met the worst," he says, glancing at Amos, who was emitting fumes of fury.

Agenor was focused on Nyx, so I nudged a couple of mates to help me drag the two defeated idiots to a cell in the lower hull. Maren continued...

"You are one of us, isn't that right, you bastards?"

"Sure."

"Aye"

Those who agreed or wanted to please Agenor stood beside Maren, while the others simply kept their sneers silent and their mouths shut. Nyx slightly winced. Amusingly enough, he didn't look sure how he felt about that.

"To me, he's better and more hard working than most of you fuckers combined," Baril spat.

And who would dare go against the cook other than the mentally deranged Trent.

"Probably because you keep stabbing and boiling whoever steps into the galley. The galley is common ground. Common ground," he yelled, trying to rile the troops.

Interest was fading in their quarrel and hunger easily took over their minds, one even pushed Trent aside and pleaded with Baril...

"Whatever, let's just eat damn it."

"Fucking wretched bastards. I forgot the damn food. I fucking swear if it's burned you will be swallowing it as it is," Baril yelled and stomped back to the galley.

[mosesdumpin]

It's kinda disheartening at times, although it definitely feels like... a stupid gripe to have. As much as I try, its not always easy to take situations (scenarios? cultural pivot points? whatever) without directly comparing it to situations that are not as personally relevant but obviously facing a more severe version or more pressing negatives.

Without sitting down to think about it too much (again, not the point of this musing) an easy comparison would be how dark your skin is allowed to be while also being a western sex symbol (this even... horrifyingly... translates to the global south and east asia) along with the elevation of "white" features vs the more representative features in a cultural/ethnic group.

The above is obviously a more damaging and wide reaching problem than the one I am presenting here, but since I am quite white and skirting on mostly scots-irish features in a german/ashkenazim body type, the above issue only indirectly chafes my experiences.

I know that overall personal hygiene is almost universally (source: I am so horny for a counter example tbh) considered a desirable physical trait, with exceptions tending to be for CONTEXT around why someone isn't appearing hygienic. That isn't really what the gripe is about (I am not going to say "white men should be allowed to be sloppy and also expect immediate physical validation" lol)

Its just... tbh most white men I have consistently hung around were not someone who could be posted on twitter to hunt for a mob of sweaty gifs. I nearly called them "ugly," quotations and all, there but fucking hell, they arent. And I don't mean their personality made them more attractive, or even the nebulous "how they carry" themselves. I mean like... physically they were interesting, distinct, and attractive.

For example, the first guy that comes to mind was the incredibly skinny and average heighted kid I was close with in the later years of high school. When I say skinny, I don't mean slim. I mean skeletal, even though he wasn't unhealthy or anything. His skin was worn tight around his features, his muscles more function over flash, his movements highlighted by features that seemed longer by the visible joints and bone.

He had large eyes, but they weren't bulging. A crooked hairline, and even in those young years his crown was thinning. The classic thin white boy lips, and angular features. We were all awkward, but his stumbling coming-of-age screamed eternal. He didn't have the height that other boys with similar body types could lean on, and wasn't inclined to strenuous physical activity like sports or weight lifting (not lazy, mind you)

I remember him, along with a surprisingly diverse group of friends he and I belonged to, because he felt the anger and despair that comes with thinking you just simply weren't born the right way to get the kind of love you deserve. It manifested exactly how a funny jokester on twitter might lay out - a bitterness towards women and more physically acceptable men that stretched far outside what was reasonable without tracing the problem any further than that.

Now me. I am strikingly average. Not in the "all white men look the same" kind of way, but in a bell curve kind of way. I was average weight, average height, average face shape, etc. Looking at my individual features might paint a more novel picture but somehow putting them all together gives me god damn chameleon powers. I will note that these judgements come from YEARS of self-assessment both internally and with external validation, and is not meant to be self-deprecation NOR am I implying that this is the conclusion people will always make when they look at me.

My point is actually that people have yet to be compelled to look at me without some non-physical stimulus. With adjustments and realizations, this suits me quite well tbh. I will never be eye-grabbing, but I can play any social role a white man can play with just a little prep time, and I've had to work on who I am internally in order to be remembered.

I bring up my friend and myself because I considered us both in the same boat, when I know he did not. I was just close enough to the general acceptance of physical attractiveness to not be a problem, but far enough away to make him feel isolated. That he was the only "ugly" one in the room.

I will skip some of the obvious problematic lessons this boy had to learn. You can probably guess some of them. These days, however, he wears his hair wavy-messy in a way that doesn't cover up his bald spot since it seems to just affect his crown, but changes it from a problem to a quirk. He is still skinny, and pale (did I mention that?) and frankly doesn't really look much different to me after all these years besides the hair. HOWEVER, the awkwardness that prophesized to be eternal did leave him at some point, and now when he moves all the tight skin and telltale bones and joints seem intentional. He moves his arms, hands and fingers deliberately and slowly but most of all, he moves them at the same time. It generates a grace that doesn't come from your typical sources of agility like sports, yoga, dancing, etc. He simply accepted his body in a very subtle and (to me) impressive way.

this isn't going to be a "he loved himself for who he was" story.

He aged a bit, got some laugh lines and forehead creases. His pronounced skull is now defined as sharp and handsome. Of course, he didn't physically change. He adapted and adjusted. How he got there from the MRA-incel adjacent angsty 19 year old I left him to be is a mystery, but he isn't far off from my own personal ideological vagary of egalitarian compassion. Its not something it happens often and knowing him and feeling the same bitterness its hard... sometimes... to remember that what awful man he COULD have been is the unexpected abberant... and not a reasonable response from a kid that was stoked through progressive lefts calling every bad person ugly or creepy on twitter as a clapback or being told he has to earn love, somehow, through means that are a mystery to him from some chode who clearly landed upper management at their father's lawfirm with the Chris Hemsworth face.

Obviously the less-than-ideal white men aren't destined for the worst outcome, and its not what I'd call an excuse since clearly there is a path out. I will eat my PC if that path was exclusively internal and without some kind of validation though, and with how we treat people... why be surprised? You helped make this hell casserole. Stop putting shit in the casserole.

[unravellinginyourarms]

Does This Envy Make Me Look Green?

07.07.2022

This is probably one of the hardest admissions I have ever had to make, but, I believe that it must be said. I moved to a new town just before I started second grade. I wasn’t very keen on leaving my previous school but I had no choice. While there, I made some friends and was rather comfortable for some of it, but as time went on I noticed a girl and her friends. They were the popular / pretty ones in the grade. Everly Pope. She was well known, adored by most of the guys in our grade, effortlessly academic, and sporty. The girls older than her wanted to be her friend, and the guys older than her also wanted to be with her. She was something so unknowable, because of how closed off she was to those that weren’t “cool enough” to be in her circle. It’s interesting because she wasn’t much of a notorious mean girl at all. She maintained such a sterile “good girl” persona but I could tell that it wasn't the entire story. Also, she simultaneously felt personable but out of reach, brilliant but also super vapid. She would do bizarre things like pick her scabs and show the boys her wounds and they would EAT. IT. UP. like absolute freaks. But if someone with my non conventional looks and unlikable personality were to do the same thing at that time, people would shun me and avoid me like the fucking plague. Pretty girls got away with such bizarre things. Everly and I never got along. I can’t really recall a time where we actually exchanged a few words. I’m sure that at some point we had to because we were assigned a group project and had mutual friends, but in the end, there was nothing that could bridge us together. We just didn’t mesh. But I was still very curious how she could be so beloved. And how someone like myself could be so neglected, unwanted, despised. It hurt deeply. And as an adult I recognize that it really wasn’t her fault. I resented her a lot for being popular and pretty but she didn’t have much of a say in all of that. She was just living her life and I was obscenely bothered by her success, part of me still is to this day. Part of me hated seeing her happy, because I felt that I deserved to have that level of respect but felt like no one would give it to me. AND THAT WAS INCREDIBLY PAINFUL. I had close friends ditch me to talk to her. She had an end-of-the -year pool party and I didn’t receive an invite. I was no one to her. Nothing. She just saw right through me and I found that insulting given that I had no choice but to acknowledge her and I hated it. Looking back on photos from grade 8 graduation I remember comparing my body to her. We were both thin, but because she was an athlete, I always felt pressure to ensure that we were exactly the same size, or that I should at least be smaller than her, because then I would at least have some kind of leverage (it was my beliefs at the time). I remember when we were coming back from gym class and she explained that she gets her legs waxed and I nearly lost my mind thinking that she did the same kind of hair removal that I did. I felt like it would only make her prettier and that just made me angrier than ever. It’s safe to say that I envied her viciously and couldn't stand her, even though there were plenty of moments where I spent studying her and simply trying to understand her appeal. In the end, I wanted to be her friend and I wanted her approval because I believed that it would make me worthy. Now, as an adult, I realize that having her in my life as a friend could have been nice or even could have just been lack lustre. I can’t say she’s an exceptionally interesting person. She’s just a human like myself. I have only seen a limited amount of her personality so it wouldn’t be fair to make such overarching judgements about who she is. She may have iced me out as a kid and perhaps said some rude things about me, but she was a child, like myself at the time. It doesn’t make it okay, but I understand. I wasn’t well behaved as a kid either. I said / did rude things to. In many cases, it’s easier to complain about how other people treat you but it’s a lot harder to confront your flaws and own up to where you might’ve gone wrong.

A random memory about Everly that I want to include here:

We were doing monologues for our drama class. Everly was playing Anabelle and an unpopular kid named Terrance was playing Percy Jackson. I had made a comment that their characters were dating in their play universe and she got upset with me for saying that. Furthermore, I once did a book report on a character who had that same name as Everly. Since this character was a real weirdo in the story, Everly took offence to the comparison that I drew between them.

So there’s a bit of that strange conflict / envy / drama between Everly Pope and I. Perhaps there will come a day where I will actually have a proper convo with her and realize that she’s not as horrible as I assumed she would be. Who knows. Maybe she is awful lol.

- Isla

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

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

--

masterpost

[rafescoke]

hiiiii!!

Can I please request a rafe x reader based on that song need to know by doja cat.

Basically the reader heard rumors about the rafe’s and he’s past with his ex. Basically all saying how he was a 10/10 on bed. The reader is furious but sad and quickly confronts the rafe. You can choose the ending. Smut or fluff ending!!

Also pls post the rafe x reader, jj fic with the 19 chapters plsssss!!!! I beg you!

Need To Know ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: The reader confronts Rafe about his past

Warnings: Straight smut, hella angst, substance, swearing, Rafe being a total dick

A/N: this one shot’s too long but i hope you will love it. i poured all my love into this however this isn’t my best work and im sorry!! 

p.s, i’m always open for requests <3

“Hey! thanks for coming,” Topper smiled, hugging Rafe’s side before kissing (Y/N)’s cheeks. He ushered them both to the middle of the ongoing party, to the centre where all of Rafe’s friends were hanging out. 

(Y/N) is never a fan of parties, especially the ones that she will have to tug on Rafe’s collars for them to finally enjoy the night alone. However, she passed up the chance of watching netflix with her partner tonight to go to Topper’s birthday party, since, it was, well, Topper’s celebration. 

If it had not been for Topper, she wouldn’t even bat an eye to this party, especially when she knows the amount of girls silently crushing on her boyfriend of 6 months now. Rafe’s incredibly handsome, with his hair messily parted and his blue eyes shining everytime they’re exposed to the glowing sunlight of Obx. . .  (Y/N) couldn’t justify why he would even choose her. 

“What are you thinking?” Rafe playfully groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s waist near him. His fingers played with the hem of her dress, giggling when she hissed, swatting his hands away. “Seriously. You’ve been quiet since we got out of the car.”

“I just don’t like the attention’s you’re getting tonight,” she sighed, rolling her eyes when Rafe poked her, an amused expression plastered on his face. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’re this proud prick.”

Rafe laughed, throwing his head back, his hands still around her waist. She waited for him to regain his posture before kissing his cheeks. 

“Go and find Topper. I know you want to kiss him.”

“Not as much as I want to kiss you,” Rafe replied, laughing again when (Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him before walking away to go and get some drinks for herself. In truth, Rafe doesn’t understand why she would feel so inferior towards other girls; she’s simply the most beautiful girl he’ve ever laid his eyes on. No one can ever compare to (Y/N), and that’s for sure.

(Y/N) muttered a thanks when someone handed her a beer, standing on her toes to search for her friends. When she couldn’t see any of them, she began making her way towards Rafe and Topper. She decided that instead of waiting alone in the resting area of the club while everybody else is socialising, she would rather listen to whatever Rafe and his friends were conversing, knowing that somehow she’ll find something interesting in the discussion.

That was when she bumped into a figure, causing the person to drop the drink they were holding onto her front dress. (Y/N) groaned, not liking how she was already ruining the branded new dress she bought with Rafe. The smell of strong alcohol wafted into her nostrils, causing her to scrunch her nose.

“Watch where you’re going,” the person said, and  (Y/N) rolled her eyes before finally leaving the scene, not wanting to stir any unnecessary drama. She knows it will always end up dirty and Rafe will have to calm her down in the car. 

(Y/N) pushed her way through the swarm of sweaty bodies as the dress reeked with alcohol clung onto her body, and she momentarily regretted her choice of wearing a skin tight short sequin dress to a club where dropping drinks on someone is just something that is bound to happen.

She sighed when she finally reached the bathroom, quickly washing her stains with the cheap toilet paper. It left some white bits on her dress when she finally removed them, and she groaned again before washing the fabric under the running water. Her day was going totally bad, and she dreamed of the night she could’ve spent with Rafe if only Topper wasn’t born on yesterday’s date 19 years ago. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” a loud voice shrieked, followed by group of shrill laughs. “God, I really wish I’m still with him.”

(Y/N) raised her brows at the familiar voice, but thought none of it. Topper wouldn’t invite Rafe’s ex, he knows what she did to him. There was no way she was allowed to be in the private part of the club, unless someone had brought her as their plus one. 

(Y/N) shook her head at the thought, trying to focus on the stains that seemed to be making everything hard for her.

“He has this habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s receiving head,” the voice continued, and  (Y/N) stopped in her tracks.

That’s exactly Rafe. Whoever the voice was, she was talking about Rafe. Rafe has this habit of running his long fingers through his hair while he’s whimpering, and it always drives (Y/N) crazy. 

She thought nothing of it, thinking about the possibility of another guy doing the same thing. It’s a common thing anyways; she wasn’t going to pull the crazy jealous girlfriend card that night.

She turned to pull another tissue paper, her ears still intently listening to the group of friends who seemed to not mind receiving any attention from their bold topic. 

“Now he’s with that (Y/L/N) girl. I honestly don’t get why he would be with her. Oh and-” the voice squealed, “Do you know that Rafe called me when they were talking?” 

What?

“What?” her friends asked in disbelief, and  (Y/N) didn’t move a muscle. She pressed her back against the tiled walls, listening close. Her heartbeat beat faster, and she could feel her head getting lighter.

“Yes! It was like, the first month they started getting close? He told me he couldn’t get over me and that he tried everything including finding me in her.”

(Y/N) felt the walls closing in, and quickly got to her feet to splash some water onto her face. She felt like dying right then and right there, but she knew she had to at least hear more to, now identified, Rafe’s ex girlfriend.

“He drove to my house and we just talked, you know. . . and then he told me something, and I refused. He got mad, I guess, and we fought like always, and he left me to be with that girl until today. Kinda sucks to be her, you know? Like the second choice kind of thing?” she continued, an amused tone lacing in her voice.

At that point,  (Y/N) had heard enough. She walked towards the exit as fast as her heels could take her, not stopping to stay goodbye to her now approaching friends. She could feel her hot tears crashing down, but she didn’t feel like crying in the club and having random strangers coming up to her to soothe her down.

When the night breeze hit her square on the face as she finaly exited the suffocating club, she let out the hardest cry ever as she tried to find any available taxis through her tears. There were none, seeing that it was only 9 p.m. and people had just starting to arrive, so she decided to walk to nowhere until she finds any yellow vehicle.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” a voice called out from behind her, and she turned when a hand pulled her shoulder. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Where’s Rafe?”

“Kelce, I’m not feeling good. I just want to go home, okay? Please, oh my god. I can’t do this right now,” she cried, covering her eyes with her palm. Kelce pulled her into a side hug, allowing her tears on his new t-shirt. When she finally soothed down, he tried to find an answer in her face again.

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you now, I just-” she took a deep breath, “I just can’t. Can you um, call a Uber for me, please? My phone’s with Rafe.”

“What? Why would your phone-” he sighed, taking out his own phone. “Borrow my phone. It’s safer this way. Call a Uber, get home, and don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

(Y/N) nodded, kissing Kelce’s cheeks before ordering a Uber, waiting by the sidewalk impatiently. She was scared Rafe would come out to look for her, and she didn’t feel like talking to him. 

She felt like shooting him in his ribs until he’s begging for her to stop. 

When she got home, her fingers trembling and her dress now ruined, she stripped out of her clothes and got under her covers. Her mother tried asking her about why she had come home earlier than expected with a running mascara and a smudged lipstick, but decided to let it pass when she didn’t answer, knowing that something has indeed happened. 

She felt like screaming. She had trusted him so much, and he was even the first guy to take her virginity. Now she felt disgusted, thinking about how she had allowed herself to the sweet words he had given her before.

She couldn’t ignore the memory of the night she first experienced sex with him, and the whole sweet care he had provided after.

It was Friday the 13th, and Rafe decided it will be a good night to watch some type of a horror movie.  (Y/N) agreed, being a fan of horror, but until one point, she was bored with the super-slow plot and boring characters. 

She played with Rafe’s fingers, intertwining them with hers, before she got an idea midway of the female character’s scream that echoed throughout her bedroom. 

“Rafe,” she said, and Rafe hummed in response. His eyes were fixated to the screen, not paying any attention to her. She whined, “Rafe. . .”

“Yeah?” He finally looked down to her, and laughed when he saw the face she gave him. “What the hell is wrong with you? The best part’s coming up. Watch it, the guy’s going to- fuck.”

(Y/N) had slipped her hand into his basketball shorts, teasing the outline of his v-line. Rafe’s breath shuddered, and he grabbed her hands before things escalate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grunted.

“I just wanna try something,” she replied innocently, and Rafe swore he felt like his heart stopping right then and right there. She was that sweet girl, and he has never saw this side of her.

“Can I?” she asked, and with a tiny nod, she continued her movements as Rafe’s eyes stayed glued on the television screen, though his mind was already on cloud nine. 

She was so good, and Rafe couldn’t explain the feeling inside of him when he watched her palmed him, her mouth slightly open and her hair falling down to her shoulders. Rafe felt like attacking every inch of her, wanting to give anything that she desired. 

“Stop,” he said, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum from just your hands.”

“I want you to,” she said, and Rafe cursed. He liked, scratch that, he loved and is obsessed with the way she did anything to him, with her innocent eyes and her teasing smile. He felt like fucking her numb every single time she purposely brushed her hands against his buldge in the restaurant or bumping her bottoms against him when playing golf.

And when she would deny her actions, god, he felt like giving his all to her until she couldn’t walk.

“Rafe,” she said again, with that gint in her eyes. She leaned onto him, and he shievered when he felt her lips brushing with his earlobes. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned, not wanting to look her in the eyes, afraid that he would do things he will regret the next morning. He felt her fingers around his chin, forcing him to look at her. 

“Please.”

“You told me you wanted to wait,” he said softly.

“I’m done waiting,” she had said, and that was enough for Rafe to crash his lips against her soft ones, pushing her lightly to her queen sized bed. He felt her hands playing with the hem of his shorts, and being an impatience fuck like his dad, he guided her hands to his already hard penis, craving for her touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes to the euphoric feeling starting to form in the pit of his stomach. His fingers fumbled with her shorts, trying to untie the waistband, and grunted when he couldn’t gues the knot.

(Y/N) giggled, untying the ribbon, sliding her shorts to the edge of her bed as Rafe waited with his eyes staring at her hands eagerly, like a prey waiting to attack. 

Once her shorts were off, Rafe didn’t waste anymore time to place kisses from her stomach down to the sides of her aching core.  (Y/N) couldn’t take it anymore, after so many nights of trying to picture this exact moment in her head whilst fingering herself, pretending like it has been Rafe’s fingers instead of herself, she wanted to feel him around her so bad. 

“Please, Rafe,” she begged, looking at him with the innocent eyes again. She moaned when he inserted his fingers in her, pleasuring her the way pornstars would from the many porn videos his cousin had taught him to watch since he was 10 before.

“Oh my god,” she screamed, not able to comprehend the strange feeling in her stomach. She tried to close her legs, only for Rafe to gripped them apart tightly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do that again and I’ll leave you hanging.”

It was the way he had said that that left  (Y/N) all red, pushing herself against him to reach her end. She felt a sudden feeling approaching, and gripped Rafe’s wrist to tell him. 

Rafe laughed when she had came around his dingers, feeling her juice soaking up his fingers and her bedsheet.  (Y/N) sighed, still heaving from her high, making a mental note in her head to love this other side of Rafe Cameron.

“Suck,” he said, placing his two soaked fingers in front of her face and watched her as she sucked on them like a little girl who’s licking off a lollipop that her mother had bought for her. He felt like cumming just from the sight of her face.

“I want you inside me,” she had said again, and Rafe groaned to look away, not wanting to be a regret she had made the next morning. He looked at her again when she sat on his lap, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Please?” she whispered, and before he knew it, she licked his ear to the the side of his lip before placing a soft peck on his lips.

Rafe has never removed his basketball shorts as fast as he did that night, not even when he had felt an animal crawling in his pants in the pet shop when he was 8 that resulted Sarah into having a laughing fit when they found out that a hamster had gotten into his pants.

He positioned himself in front of her slit, waiting for any new demands for him to stop now that she had changed her mind. But there was nothing, only  (Y/N) demanding for him, and without wasting any more time, he slowly slided into her, strecthing her hole.

He grunted when she felt her closing in, knowing that if she kept doing that, he’ll finish straight away.  (Y/N) screamed as he fucked her with a quick pace, causing him to quickly pull her head close to him to whisper into her ear.

“Shut up, princess. Don’t want mummy and daddy to wake up, do we?”

(Y/N) shook her head, wanting to reach her end soon. She moaned against her mattress, smelling Rafe’s scent from it, and liking the way he would whimper when he hit her g-spot.

“I’m so close, baby, fuck-” he cursed, his pace getting sloppier. His fingers with his cold rings intertwined with hers as he slammed into her for good measure, and pulling out to aim on her face as she tried to regain her breath.

(Y/N)  felt a shot of hot load landing on her face as she finally looked up to him, his sweaty chest heaving from the ungodly practice they just did. Rafe groaned, feeling himself getting hard again from the sight of her with his load all over her, and quickly turned away to grab a clean towel to clean her up.

That night, with a soft lullaby playing from  (Y/N)’s record player that Rafe had bought for her in Italy, he ran his fingers through her hair as she snuggled close, watching the moonlight brightened the ocean.

Rafe sighed, now wrapping his arms around her, forcing himself to not touch her breast in any way. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you had pictured in your mind.”

“Are you kidding?” she turned to face him, “God, Rafe. That’s exactly how I wanted it with you.”

Rafe chuckled and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, “God. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Riing! Riing!

(Y/N) wiped her tears with her fingers before pressing on the green button, bringing the phone to her ears when she saw Topper’s name. She decided that he deserved an explanation after she had ran off from his birthday party.

“Tops?”

“Hey, baby, you didn’t pick up my call. I have to use Topper’s phone but, um-”  (Y/N) heard the crowd sang happy birthday, “But um, are you okay? Kelce told me you were crying and I-”

“I’m fine. You should sing happy birthday to Topper.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said to a voice in the background, and tried to talk to her again. “What is it, baby? The line’s kinda shitty here. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. I know you’re not. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing, Rafe. Go and enjoy yourself.”

“God,  (Y/N), don’t pull this shit on me,” he sighed, and she waited until the background noise lessen. “Okay, I’m at the smoking area. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“You used me.”

“I’m - what?” he asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I heard her talking about how you drove to see her and you told her that you tried finding her in me,” she finaly confessed, her voice breaking. A tear slowly rolled down her red cheeks and she quickly wiped them away.

“Baby, it’s not how it sounds like.”

“Then what is it?” she yelled, clutching onto Kelce’s phone like it was her life support. “Fuck, Rafe, I gave you my everything.”

“Baby, I swear, it’s just-”  

(Y/N) waited for him to finish his sentence, and sucked in a breath when she heard the voice that had caused her this misery.

“Rafe! What are you doing here?”

“Fuck,  (Y/N), I’ll come by to your house, okay? Please, don’t do anything stupid, I’m coming back home-”

(Y/N) pressed the end call, letting go of the breath she was holding before finally throwing her head back against the pillow. 

#Part 2

add yourself to the taglist!

[seijorhi]

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕 

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present. 

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response. 

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises. 

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not. 

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming. 

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little. 

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye. 

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either. 

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist. 

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it. 

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line. 

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body. 

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out. 

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder. 

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!” 

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even -  which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you. 

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch. 

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench. 

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde. 

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream. 

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him. 

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises. 

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver. 

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off. 

It’s too much for your brain to take. 

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him. 

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

[teddyarabellapicker]

The View From… The Top Bunk

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You're on tour with the band and (Humbug!) Alex gets you alone on the bus while the rest of the band are out.

warnings: smut, cringey jokes from Matt, Nick, and Jamie

word count: 3.2k

-written for @indiee19 and her imagines book on wattpad, the fic is also up on her page ❤️

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The sound of the boys shuffling around the bus and chattering woke you up. You tried to nuzzle your head back into Alex's neck, but he wasn't there. You opened your eyes, seeing that Alex wasn't squeezed into the bunk with you. You groaned and forced yourself out of the bunk, eyes adjusting to the sudden ray of light that came through the windows.

You dug into yours and Alex's bag, grabbing one of his shirts and you walked to the bathroom, rubbing your eyes to try and help wake you up. Once you got there, you went in and brushed your hair and teeth, making yourself somewhat presentable, putting the shirt on over your bra that you slept in.

You used a hair tie on your wrist to tie it up so it didn't go past your shorts. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time and then walked out, turning off the light and walking to the small lounge at the back of the bus, seeing Alex and the rest of the band sitting on the sofa.

"Ahh, so the beast has awoken and come out of its cave," Matt said, eliciting a laugh from everyone.

"Fuck off, Matt," you said, still tired and half asleep. You walked over to Alex, sitting beside him and nuzzling your head into his neck, cuddling up to him and Alex wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and lifted you chin so that he could kiss you. You could taste the last cigarette he had before you woke and you smelled his spicy cologne that you bought him for his birthday.

"Oh, no, we better leave before they start shagging," Jamie said, making a disgust face. You and Alex both held up your middle fingers at him, Nick and Matt laughing. Alex pulled away and you nuzzled back into Alex's neck, closing your eyes.

"You alright, princess?" Alex asked, kissing the top of your head.

"Yeah, just ... just a little tired," you said and yawned immediately after making Alex 'aww' in his head. You drifted off into your own world, not paying attention to anyone or what they were saying.

All you knew was that they were talking about what songs they would play on their set list for the gig later. You heard them say something about playing 'When the sun goes down,' 'Brianstorm,' and 'Teddy Picker' but that was about all you heard.

Thirty minutes went by and then the boys got up, including Alex, making you finally open your eyes when your head fell without his shoulder holding your head up.

"Where are you guys going?" you asked, sitting up completely.

"Oh, we're going to the sound check," Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you want to come?"

"Sure, just let me get properly dressed," you said and got up and went to yours and Alex's bag.

"Okay, we'll be outside, love," Alex said, walking outside with the rest of the band.

You reached the part of the bus where your bag was, reaching in it, grabbing some denim shorts and a t-shirt, putting on some shoes and the you walked outside, walking up behind Alex and scaring him. Matt, Nick, and Jamie laughed, Alex on the other hand, did not.

"Not funny," he said.

"Oh, come on, pull the stick out of your ass, it was funny and you know it," you replied, kissing him, making him smile, no longer being slightly mad.

"Okay, you're right. It was funny, princess," he said quietly, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. "We ready to go?" Alex asked the band.

"Yeah, Al. Let me go get Mark," Matt said, quickly telling Mark to come on and Mark grabbed his camera. You all got in the car, just barley enough room for all six of you. You were in between Alex and Jamie, Alex's fingers intertwined with your own. Jamie glanced over to you two and jokingly rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"You two better not snog in front of me," he joked. You and Alex laughed and Alex gave you a quick peck on the lips. Jamie made an over exaggerated disgusted face when Alex peppered your face with kisses, your lips, cheeks and forehead and everyone else laughed.

Alex stopped kissing you and laid his head down on your shoulder. "I love you, princess," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to your jaw. You rested your head on top of his and you both sat in silence as everyone else talked the entire way there.

Once the car came to a halt at the venue they were playing at, everyone got out, Alex's hands grabbing yours and intertwining his fingers with yours, always desperate to touch you, whether it was by holding hand or laying beside you, he always liked to have some sort of physical contact with you.

You all walked into the venue they were playing at and you sat backstage while they did their sound check. Every now and then during the sound check Alex would look at you and when he stopped singing, he would blow you a kiss.

Even though it was their sound check, they still sounded amazing. Mark was filming them, no doubt for another installment of 'The View From...' videos that Matt was quite fond of doing and were also very fun to film. You laughed when Alex walked over to Jamie and did what you would describe as 'guitar fucking' where Alex was standing over Jamie and played their guitars and made weird faces at each other.

You were kind of sad whenever the sound check ended but you were also happy that you could kiss Alex finally. As soon as he sat down his guitar, he kissed you, his slightly chapped lips moving against your own.

Matt tapped on Alex's shoulder. "Okay, lovebirds, that's enough," he said. You and Alex pulled apart.

"Just because you're sad and single doesn't mean that you have to project onto us, Matt," Alex laughed. You couldn't help but laugh as well, Nick and Jamie joining in.

The show didn't start for another four hours so you all decided to play some games - throw the lime down the corridor, cards, but mostly throw the lime down the corridor, that made the hours go by fast.

You hadn't realized how close the time was to when the show was supposed to begin, after a while of playing the game, Alex grabbed you and pulled you into his dressing room.

"Alex,"  you squealed. He pushed you against the wall and instantly started kissing you, his hands traveling up your body to fondle your breasts through the material of your shirt and bra.

"Alex, stop, you have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said, pushing him away. You immediately missed the feeling of his lips against yours, but you didn't want to be the reason that he wasn't on stage in time.

He sighed and stepped back, grabbing the clothes he was going to perform in, quickly changing all the while you were watching him. Once he finished changing he ran his fingers through his hair, styling it in the mirror. You were jealous of how incredibly good his hair always looked, jealous of how soft and shiny and smooth it was, and how it rarely ever got tangled. His hair was better than yours could ever be, but you didn't mind because he was perfect.

"Do I look good, love?" Alex asked when he noticed you starring at him, chuckling lightly.

"You always look good, Al," you replied, Alex blushed at your compliment, always being an adorable, shy boy.

"Al, come on. We have to go on stage!" Matt yelled from outside his dressing room. You and Alex walked out, hand in hand. Alex grabbed his guitar and kissed you before going up on stage with everyone else.

Just like always, their show was amazing. The way Matt played the drums that made the songs, Alex's absolutely amazing vocals as well as Matt and Nick's backing vocals and Jamie occasionally messing up the cords, but still doing amazing. You couldn't help but sing along sometimes, though your voice didn't compare to Alex's whatsoever.

Your favourite song they played that night though was Do Me A Favour, though you were confused whenever Alex laughed during the saddest part of the song, but the confusion quickly went away when the drums and guitar kicked in.

Though you enjoyed the sound check, you enjoyed the show even more, and you loved the confidence that they all radiated, acting like the coolest people in the world, because they were. You loved hearing the crowd cheer for them - and you also loved the girls yelling at Alex.

"I love you, Alex!"

"You're amazing!"

"You're a fucking amazing singer!"

"Alright, everybody, it's time for us to go. We're gonna leave you with this one," Alex said, seeming sad himself. They started playing D Is For Dangerous, and you were glad they did, it was one of your favourite songs after all.

You got so into the song that you forgot that it was their last song of the night and you were sad whenever they stopped and said goodbye to the crowd. They all walked off stage, leaving their instruments on stage for the next night when they would be performing again.

You stood up and walked over to Alex, his face immediately lighting up when he saw you, grabbing your waist, kissing your temple.

"Did you enjoy the show, princess?" he asked. You nodded and told him that you absolutely loved it and couldn't wait for tomorrow nights show, certain that it would be even better than this one.

You saw the guys talking and wondered what they were talking about. They then walked over to you and Alex.

"So, we're going to out and eat, you guys wanna come?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, or do you guys want to go back to the bus all by yourselves?" Jamie added, him and Matt laughing. You rolled your eyes and Alex looked at you, then back at the guys.

"Nah, I think we'll go," he said, grabbing your hand, walking you to his dressing room to change, the rest of the guys doing the same. Alex wore the blue button up that you'd bought him for his birthday, he wore it every chance he got, it only being special because you had bought it and not anyone else. He quickly stepped into his black jeans and tugged them up, buttoning and zipping them.

You were on your phone most of the time, responding to messages from friends and family who were asking about the show. Alex saying your name snapped you out of your daze and you looked up at him, seeing his adorable, lazy grin that he only did when he was alone with you, not wanting to show it in public in fear of breaking his 'bad boy' persona that he had.

"You're so cute," you smiled, laughing when he made a weird face at you. You wished that he showed his playful and goofy side in public, you thought that his persona wasn't truthful to who he actually was - a shy, quiet, socially awkward, playful romantic boy.

"You ready?" Alex asked, holding his hand out for you to grab. You took his hand and he helped you stand up, grabbing his bag that had the clothes he performed in and you both walked out, leaving the building entirely, seeing the guys waiting for you two.

"You guys ready?" Matt asked, leaning on the car, Nick and Jamie getting in it along with Mark in the very back, Jamie sitting where he sat on the way to the venue.

"Yeah," you said. You and Alex then got into the car, sitting in the same spots as before, you in between Alex and Jamie, Alex beside the window.

The drive was full of singing, shitty jokes, and occasionally sneaky kisses between you and Alex. Nick and Jamie ended up arguing about witch soccer team was better and it was fairly funny, Matt even joined in. You couldn't help but laugh when they tried to bring Alex into the argument, though he quickly stopped that, saying that he didn't have a say in it.

You layed your head down on Alex's shoulder for the rest of the drive, holding hands, tuning out the stupid argument going on between the rest of the boys.

The car came to a halt at a restaurant, everyone getting out and walking inside, stopping in the entryway for the band to take a picture with a fan of theirs. You all then walked over to a podium where a waitress was standing.

"How many?" they asked, getting ready to pick up some menus.

"Uh ... six," Matt said, stopping for a moment to count up all of you.

"Okay, right this way," they said, picking up six menus, leading you all to a round table where you all took your seats. The seat beside you was empty, Alex sitting on the other side. The waitress left and soon after another waiter came to take your drink orders, bringing them out not long after.

It was a few more minutes until you all had decided what you were going to order and the waiter was quick to come back and take your orders, rushing it to the kitchen.

The boys somehow got back onto their argument on soccer, their bickering amusing, it was like they were children arguing about what superhero was the best which made it all the more better.

They seemed to be too into the argument to notice that Alex was now much closer to you, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh, brushing dangerously close to your clothed clit. You quickly grabbed his hand, reminding him that you were in public. He didn't seem to care though, continuing to rub your thigh, lightly brushing against your clit through the material of your shorts. You held back a gasp and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from you.

He glared at you, grabbing your hand, kissing it. You all talked until your food arrived at the table, though that didn't stop Alex from teasing you again. Whenever the guys were looking away from you two he would whisper dirty things in your ear.

"I can't wait till we get back to the bus."

"You look so hot right now, princess."

You knew that this was either him being horny as always, or it was his gig high that he hadn't shaken off yet. Your second thought was confirmed when he went back to rubbing you thigh, never wanting to do something like this in public, whispering in your ear. "When we get back to the bus, I'm going to fuck you up." That was it, you were gone, couldn't handle his teasing any longer.

"Please, Alex," you said quietly, begging him with your eyes. "As you wish, princess," he said, taking his hand off your thigh. "Hey, guys, I think we're gonna head back to the bus, she's not feeling really well," Alex lied, you playing along.

"Oh, okay, hope you feel better, love," Matt said, drinking his beer. "Thanks, Matt," you said softly, acting as if you were actually not well. You and Alex said your goodbyes to Jamie, Nick, and Mark and then left the restaurant, rushing to get to the bus.

You were both very eagar, more than  you could've ever remembered, the ten minute walk taking a little less than five when you began to hurriedly get there, pushing past people so you could get there faster.

As soon as you both reached the bus and got in, Alex pushed you against the wall, attaching his slightly chapped lips to yours, moving in sync with one another. He bit down on your bottom lip, demanding entrance and you complied, his tongue easily fighting yours into submission. He was quick to rid you of your shirt, working on getting your pants off.

Once he rid you of your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties, he grabbed the underside of your thighs, signaling for you to jump, to which you did. He carried you to your shared bunk with him. You shuffled out of the rest of your garments before crawling into the top bunk, watching as Alex took off his own clothes, crawling in and laying over you, closing the curtain.

He wasn't in the mood to tease you anymore, too far gone just like yourself. He was quick to give his thick cock a few tugs before he nestled himself between your legs, slowly pushing in, head falling down on your shoulder when he bottomed out, the feeling of your walls stretching to fit his size too much for him.

He let you adjust to his size before starting to move, going slowly, setting a pace of his own liking, though it didn't last long, he couldn't take it anymore, his need to hear you moan for him growing immensely. And it didn't take long before you were a moaning mess for him, fingers knotting in his precious hair that you loved so much.

He began to place wet kisses on your neck, one of his hands coming in between your bodies to rub vigorously on your clit, his other hand the only thing holding all of his weight off of you. You knew that it wouldn't be long until you came undone, his thrusts getting faster and faster, but at the same time sloppier and it was obvious that he wasn't very far off either.

"A-Alex, I'm so close," you whimpered, voice trailing off into a moan as Alex had delivered a particularly hard thrust, hitting the spongey spot that made you see stars.

"Come for me, princess," he said, delivering one more hard thrust, flicking your clit, sending you over the edge, your own orgasm triggering Alex's, his hips stilling, his hot release spurting inside you.

His support arm gave out and he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily.

"God, I love you," he panted, the both of you coming down from your highs. "I love you too, Al," you responded.

All of a sudden, you heard the bus door open and heard Matt yell yours and Alex's name. You heard him walk over to the bunk and opened the curtain, quickly closing it when  he saw you both.

"God, Al, you could've given me a warning," Matt said, walking away. "Jamie, Nick, don't look in their bunk. Trust me, you'll regret it," you heard Matt say in the small lounge room and Nick and Jamie's laughter echoed through the bus.

"Sorry," Alex yelled, pulling out of you with a sigh, the two of you shuffling so that you both could sleep comfortably in the very small bunk. "Goodnight, princess, I love you.

"I love you too, Al."