#block heel bootie

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Custom Jumpsuit from Usama Ishtay (n/a) & Jeanne Block Heel Bootie from L’ Agence ($445)

[moondirti]

sorry, this was born out of a need to indulge myself featuring: gaz, ballerina!reader, stalking, intrusive thoughts, delusion, mentioned SA and kidnapping

Kyle first spots you on the Piccadilly line in London's underground.

He's usually wary of public transport – would really rather walk the hour from Knightsbridge to Hammersmith than risk the inevitable unsavoury interaction bound to happen in an overcrowded tube – but it was late at night, he'd just spent his day sitting in a hotel lobby gathering intel for Price, and the idea of ducking down narrow streets in the blistering cold was the last thing he wanted coming to fruition. That's how he ended up in a (thankfully empty) train car anyway; hoodie up and hands stuffed deep into his pockets, thumb brushing over the handle of a switchblade.

He's focused on the shady character stretched across three seats adjacent to him when you happen to prance in. Perhaps prance isn't that accurate an account either, but it's hard to attribute much else to you when you're dressed like a character from one of his sister's childhood storybooks. Angelina ballerina, or something of the sorts – mismatched leg warmers, knitted bolero sleeving a black camisole, basketball shorts over nude-coloured tights, and dance booties that look like little puffer coats for your feet.

The duffel bag slung over your shoulder concerns him briefly – it's hard to look at carryalls the same after serving the military, he finds – but the tired look on your face pacifies any suspicions he might have of your intentions. Wouldn't be wise to execute an offensive when one of your operatives is weary, especially given they're the only agent in sight. Regardless, he's hit with a distinct trepidation that takes a while to name.

You slide past the figure he'd been observing early, hop over Kyle's boots as well, fingers clasped over your behind as if to protect yourself from any wandering hands. The feeling rippling in his chest worsens, yet it's only as you slot yourself onto a far-away seat is he able to recognise it.

You shouldn't be here this late. This isn't the place for you.

With your hair neatly pulled away from your face, he's given full reign to ogle at your darling features. Round cheeks. Hydrated lips. Pretty thing. His molars grind against each other. There are no doubt men on this train that'd want to take advantage of that. Press your mouth open with a thumb on your tongue, rub themselves raw just to see cum decorate your lashes and drip over your brow. Barrack talk, the type of shit he hears floating between his comrades-in-arms when missions drag a little too long. Perversion brought on by desperation.

The intercom dings, and the lady with the soothing voice announces their arrival to Hammersmith. His stop, yet the thought of getting off and abandoning you is enough to keep him stuck to his seat. His stomach upturns as possibilities occur to him like frames in a technicolor film; none pleasant, all ending with you tied up in the trunk of some random van. Some part of him recognises his paranoia, the ridiculousness in his attachment to a perfect stranger (which chides him in a voice eerily similar to Price's, all gruff vowels and whispered consonants), but it does not change the fact that when the doors open to his station, he does not move.

Yeah. He stays on so long as you do – which fortunately is not an extensive length of time. You collect your stuff one stop later, standing to wait at the door once the lady announces Acton Town. He doesn't get up until you're a few seconds out though, slipping through the closing panels of the entryway to follow a few paces behind your heel. Up the escalator and down the block.

The night air nips at his nose, chilling his knuckles so they creak if he curls them. Are your nipples knotted under your layers? Or would they need the help of his fingers to perk up? His throat stiffens. He shakes the thought from his head.

You make a turn. Kyle stops for a second, breathes in, before veering left behind you. Heading towards the west part of town, now. It's a good place to live, all things considered. Still, he wonders if you deadbolt your doors, if you keep yourself safe online. You seem smart, but there are people who won't rest until they get their way. People like the one's he deals with at work – amoral men with biceps that could crush your head. Rotten, horrible men who are only rotten and horrible to cope with the tasks assigned to them. Depraved enemies, depraved friends. Only difference between the two being which flag they fight for.

You throw a look over your shoulder, shoulders shrinking as you wrap your arms tighter across your chest. He looks around, seeking the threat you seem to be so put off by. Nothing but brick-and-mortar storefronts and flattened cigarette butts.

He's compelled by the urge to shush you, to scratch your back as he tells you that there's no need to worry. He'll walk you all the way home. Make sure you get nice and situated, listen for the tell-tale lock of your deadbolt, watch for the dimming of your light. He'll stay until you fall asleep, then walk back to where he came from, take the returning line to Hammersmith – so when he flops back down into his own bed, he'll be reassured by the knowledge that you're safe a mere 4 miles away.

Might take a shower before then, though. Your arse looks great when you're speed-walking like this, pronounced even behind the loose material of your basketball shorts. He hopes the image remains as vivid when he's attending to the heavy mass between his legs later.

Kyle halts right in his tracks.

What is he doing?

You're nearly running now, shrinking away from him at an exponential rate, and duck another corner when you look back to see that he's no longer in pursuit. Completely out of sight.

His Captain’s voice comes to life once more, echoing in the part of his brain he has yet to compartmentalise.

You draw the line wherever you need it, Sergeant.

[annabelle--cane]

I think it's fine if guys want to do covers and special performances or whatever of female led musicals (chicago, six, waitress, mean girls, heathers, etc), but they do have to Commit. this is theater, you are playing characters who are not yourself, get into it. put on the sparkly outfit. get in the booty shorts. wear that dress unironically and with zeal. learn to dance in heels. and most importantly do not fucking change the lyrics in "cell block tango" to make it straight oh my god.

[steviebbboi]

thanks for tagging me, essie <3 @bigtreefest

NPT: @hotdamnhunnam @stellar-solar-flare @yenzys-lucky-charm @autumnrose40 @misscherry-26

@eloquentlytired @brunchable

@sparkledfirecracker @targaryenvampireslayer @katherineswritingsblog @stargazingfangirl18

:) feel free to tag any anyone else who would like to join

[obanaispy]

More ex hubby eren🌚🫶🏽

cast ! eren jaeger + reader

wc ! 1.6k+

tldr ! house party with your ex = house party with some sex

content ! dirty talk + alcohol + spanking + rough sex + light cunt slapping

a/n ! i took so long.. hope it was worth the wait!

“Its going to be the party of the century”

With an outfit like this? It better be. Y/n had pulled out all the works. A mauve colored spaghetti strap dress with the back cut out– the hem stopping right below her ass. Her neck was coated with a sweet Vanilla scented perfume, an arrangement of silver necklaces complimenting the fragrance. Connie had finally convinced them to leave their safe space by planning “The party to start the summer”. His words. Jean and Connie were the homies so it was hard to turn down their every invitation without feeling a bit of guilt.

Buckling her heel around her ankle, Y/n pulled out her phone to make sure her date for the night was still game. He would be an idiot if he wasnt. “Hello?” his voice rasped from the other end, sending a chill down her spine. “Hey Reiner, are we meeting at the boys?”. “No no.. i’ll pick you up”. Y/n smiled, “right answer.” Hanging up, she did one last round of perfume before going into the living room to wait. Maybe this night would be just what she needed.

At first it was, Jean was in charge of music and the vibe was absolutely right. Reiner had a hand on her waist, swaying along as she rolled her hips– ass pressing against him subtly. Y/n was 3 shots in and feeling right. Not drunk but definitely not sober. “I’m going to run to the bathroom” Reiner spoke into her ear before kissing it lightly, walking away and leaving Y/n to the wolves. “Cuff It” by Beyonce began to boom over the speakers, causing Y/n to holler, “this is my SHIT!”

“I thought that was you..”

She froze. Turning around, Y/n was met with no one other than her worst nightmare– Eren.Her hands immediately became clammy, the dance floor suddenly becoming too crowded. “Hey–” Y/n had vanished before he could even finish his sentence. Rushing into the kitchen, she found a plastered Connie with his face smushed into Sasha’s chest. “You mother fucker” Y/n seethed, yanking him back and pulling him into the pantry before slamming the door. “Woah woah… I didn’t know you liked me that way” he slurred, a drunken smirk on his lips. Y/n rolled her eyes, pinching him– “don’t flatter yourself, Gnomeo. Why the fuck is my ex husband here?”. Connie looked at her confused, frog blinking before clocking in, “oh shit….” Oh shit indeed. Eren and Y/n had a VERY messy divorce, the legal papers somehow not being enough to really call it quits. She had just now stopped responding to his booty calls… as well as stopping all of her own. She was free of him! So.. why did seeing him make her stomach fill with fluttering? She wasn’t 20 anymore, she saw him for who he was. A handsome basket case– unable to correct his own flaws.

“Y/n.. I swear hiccup I had no clue he would be here. He told me he was too busy to come” Connie stared at her , his expression letting her know he was being honest. Connie hated drama and suddenly, Y/n felt like a fool dragging him into his own pantry. “Okay… okay my bad. You know how I get when I see him” she sighed, hugging Connie tightly before opening the door. Walking out, she dragged him back to Sasha, apologizing and giving her a proper hello. After a few words of kindness, she turned to walk out before being blocked by him. “Do. Not. Run. Please.. Can we just talk” Eren asked, voice barely above a whisper, a light hold finding its way around her wrist. She could do nothing but stare at him for a minute, his eyes looked softer, his hair long enough to be pulled back into a sizable ponytail. Looking back at Connie and Sasha who were trying to pretend they weren't eavesdropping by throwing a golf ball into the same red cup. Beer pong my ass. “Fine… fine. You get 10 minutes.” She pushed past him, making her way through the crowd towards the back door. Once outside she scanned the space, spotting the greenhouse where they grew their.. happy grass. She quickly walked in that direction, Eren following close after.

“So..” she stated, arms folded as she made direct eye contact. “Soooo.. How have you been?’ Eren asked sheepishly, Y/n’s response being silence. For a moment neither of them said a word, the silence being filled with the faint of Sza’s, ‘I hate you’ blasting over the speakers. “Listen… I really do mean it when I say I regret how we fell out. You put up with a lot of my shit and.. sighs I'm way too grown to be acting the way I did.” Y/n just scoffed. Eren stared at her for a moment before continuing, “You look.. Gorgeous. See you came here with Reiner’. Y/n could tell he was trying to act unbothered. “Who I'm here with is none of your business” she smirked, biting her bottom lip. Why was she nervous? She should know better but… fuck he smelt good. Looked it too.

“Y/n…” he gruffed, an arm going around her waist to pull her closer before she could protest. “Come on, you don’t even miss me a bit? Don’t miss the way I could.. Handle you? Treat your body like a God? You know.. I still do worship you. I fucked up, I know but–” he was cut off by her lips meeting his, her hands immediately going up to bury themselves into his locks. Eren followed her movements, both of his hand wrapping around her waist, pressing his body against hers almost as if he wanted to fuse into her. Their bodies stumbled into a wall, Y/n’s dress being hiked up, her hands fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Eren’s lips traveled from her lips to her jawline– latching around the skin on the side of her neck. One of his hands found its way between her legs, palming her cunt through her damp panties. Y/n melted in his touch, legs struggling to keep her up as he slid the fabric to the side and pinched her clit in between two fingers– rolling the bud between them. His head came up from her neck to study her face– lips slightly parted to match her own. Y/n sighed out, hips jutting upwards into his touch, “please…”. Eren let out a breath, fingers pooling into her at the singular word.

He quickly found a rhythm, a curl joining each thrust in, his lips smashing against hers. Their tongues swirled around one another, Y/n sucking the tip of his tongue, teeth closing around his bottom lip with a harsh tug. Eren laughed into her mouth, his free hand going to unbuckle his pants while the other one kept busy. His fingers spread deep within her, making way for a third one while he wriggled out of his jeans. “You ready for me?” he said hurriedly, eyes dark with lust and possession. As soon as Y/n nodded, he replaced his hand with his cock– pushing past her folds as a grunt fell from his lips. “Oh fuck..” he growled, pace picking up quickly before she had time to adjust. Eren’s hand quickly went to her thigh, a firm grip bringing her leg up to wrap around him. He thrusted upwards as Y/n loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes struggling to focus with the new angle.

“S-so Reiner huh?” he mumbled, head resting inside of the crook of Y/n’s neck. His thrusts were becoming deeper, balls smacking against her skin with each thrust. “Really thought pulling that shit was funny? Hm? Sorry.. I refuse to give this up” he said between clenched teeth. Before she could respond, Y/n was now flipped around and bent over– Eren’s dick slapping against her bare ass. “Want it?”. She couldnt help but roll her eyes, “yes, cmoon” she whined out. Eren chuckled before giving her a firm slap on her ass. “Youve done better than that in your sleep” he chuckled before cocking his hand back once more, allowing this one to land on her cunt. Y/n let out a yelp, thankful for the sound of the party.

“Please babe.. I miss your dick so much. You know that I feel good around you.. Please fuck what’s yours” she looked back at him as she spoke, cunt drenched at this point. Eren’s dark eyes looked down on her, strands of his hair sticking to his face— lips slightly parted. A smile slowly spread across them before he pressed his tip against her hole. Y/n sighed out in relief, hips going to push back against him— her eyes closing before opening at the feeling of him pulling away. “What did I do now?”

Eren chuckled, shaking his head, “just want you to look at me..”. Placing a firm grip on her shoulder, Eren slid himself all the way in— eyes focusing on the way Y/ns face contorted. Each thrust made it harder for her to focus, a couple of spanks from Eren reminding her of her instructions. “Yeah.. take that fucking dick..” he gritted, body twitching as he slowly started to lose rhythm. Suddenly, both of his hands went to her waist, thrusts becoming rabid as he pulled her back into each one. His rhythm was now completely gone, sloppy thrusts coming to an end as he came deep inside of her.

They both sat in silence for a minute, panting as they struggled to get dressed. Finally, Y/n cleared her throat— “I should…probably tell Reiner he can go home..”. Eren stared at her for a moment before chuckling, “he’s a grown man, he’ll live. Besides..” , he pulled her closer, “I don’t think this was enough to call it makeup sex.. Let me show you how sorry I truly am..”

[tenderlyrenjun]

Stay

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. AGE MUST BE VISIBLE TO INTERACT.

summary: jisung and the reader get a third (jeno) before talking about their feelings

includes ... threesome (obviously), oral sex (m + f receiving), excessive use of pet names, double vaginal penetration, spanking, hair pulling, slight possessiveness, squirting (f), referenced over-sensitivity, fwb jisung, fwb jeno, etc.

word count: > 12k (lol)

minors + empty/inactive blogs do not interact. age must be visible.

minors get blocked AND REPORTED.

Jisung rarely shows up to your apartment unannounced. It happened maybe once or twice in the past, but usually, he schedules his booty calls, as to not throw you off and to keep his calendar organized. He even spent the last hour, in his car at the gym, debating over his messages - whether to actually text you or to just go through your most recent video; working out always makes him a hundred times hornier than normal.

When he finally gets to your apartment, on the third floor, you serendipitously open the door, before he has a chance to knock, wearing an unfamiliar oversized Demon Slayer t-shirt and sweatpants.

Jisung frowns.

He didn’t know you watched anime without him. It’s supposed to be your thing, the thing he shares with you. Just last week, you watched Suzume together, him leaning on your shoulder while you stole popcorn out of his lap.

“Oh.” You put a small trash bag behind the doorframe and draw your hands behind your back, pushing forward the design on your shirt. “Ji, what - what are you doing here?”

Jisung pushes your door open wider and steps one foot inside your apartment. Instantly, he grabs your upper arms, holding you still. You comply, pupils darting across his face, shoulders slumping into his hands. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, huskily, confidently. Then, he does it. He tilts you backward, down the entryway, and kisses you. 

You falter a little bit, tripping on your heels, even though he moves slowly, muscles still controlled by his workout adrenaline. But you don’t stop him. So, he keeps going. Jisung walks you toward the wall, hands trickling down your sides to protect you from the furniture into which he accidentally bumps, and the media chest rocks on its legs. 

“Ji,” you mumble.

He hums back (what?), licking the seam between your lips more broken.

“Jisung,” you repeat a little firmer, although still lax, barely gasping more air.

He doesn’t stop. Jisung moves down your jaw, to let you breathe again, tilting your chin up with his thumb for better access.

“Sung, I have company.”

“Don’t care.”

“Jisung,” you gasp, half-moaning, when he licks at your collarbone and mills a thigh between your legs. You shudder, entire body draping across his torso. And he thinks tonight will be easy or quick to make you cum, if you’re already so sensitive. “Jisung, I -”

“Jisung?”

A deep voice breaks him off you, and he sighs, head dropping to your shoulder. He lingers in the light citrus scent, both familiar and not. When he turns his head to your bedroom, Jisung’s jaw falls free:

“Jeno?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Jisung points at himself, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

“Wait.” You put a hand on Jisung’s chest, patting your fingers between his pecs. Both boys look at you, but it does something to Jisung’s heart, that you only look at him. He waits for you to continue, as does Jeno, probably, and slips his hands more chastely down your sides. You lick your lips tentatively, darting your eyes at Jisung, breath breaking before you say, “You two know each other?”

“He’s my roommate,” Jisung tells you, nodding. He rubs his thumb into your hip bone reassuringly, subconsciously nudging you deeper into his chest. You follow him, moving both your legs between his now. 

“Roommate,” Jeno scoffs.

And Jisung looks up to find him with his arms crossed over his bare chest, pants hanging below the waistband of his Calvin Kleins. Oh, you do have … company.

“We’ve been friends for over nine years,” Jeno reminds him. He tilts his head to the side, frowning. “Are you two …?”

“Are you?” Jisung challenges. He wraps an arm down your waist, partially hiding you behind him, with him, in his jacket. It’s not the first time Jisung has fought with Jeno, a side effect of that nine year - bordering 10 years - friendship, but this feels extremely one-sided, the more Jeno keeps his composure.

You groan, burying your face in Jisung’s arms, hugging him tightly, apologetically. “I told you that I have company over,” you whisper, lips virtually pecking the folds of his jacket. He brushes away a few strands of hair from your face, and his fingers linger on your warming cheeks. “This is so embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” Jisung assuages, rubbing your sides.

Except, it is.

Embarrassing.

He feels embarrassed. You’re sleeping with one of his best friends. And he came over unannounced during said slumber party. And he engages in a one-sided argument with that best friend, over you.

“We’re not exclusive,” he reasons, as if that makes things better.

His fault, too, by the way, his brain reminds him. He told you that he wanted no strings attached, that he didn’t want a serious label. He even slept with other people! Well, not recently, but still, he cannot expect the same level of exclusivity from you when he has said nothing thus far.

Jisung turns to Jeno, who just stares at the both of you, now leaning on the hallway door frame. 

“Neither are we, by the way,” Jeno says casually. He scrunches his nose.

“Cool.” Jisung nods shortly, dissipating the edge in his voice. 

“Yeah, cool …” Jeno nods too, an eyebrow raised, and Jisung slowly turns back to you, stroking the longest parts of your hair. “So, are you here for …?”

“Are you?” Jisung bites, automatically.

Then, he winces.

He needs to let it go.

Like, yeah, obviously, Jeno is here sleeping with you, though neither of them articulate it. Why else would Jeno walk around your apartment shirtless?

Jisung bends his neck down and catches another glimpse of your anime shirt. Oh. It’s not unfamiliar; it’s just unfamiliar on you.

“I’ll go,” he says, starting to pull away, but you slip your arms around his waist, shifting your face into his chest.

“‘M sorry, Ji,” you mumble in his neck, leaning as tall as you can on your toes. Jisung can feel your breath under his jugular.

In the past, when you did this, you always dropped back into your heels and stammered something about trying to whisper a secret before complaining that he is too tall. Now, though, Jisung catches you, keeping you tighter against his chest just a second longer until he has to leave … to give you … and Jeno privacy.

“We can talk about it later?”

Your entire body freezes, breath stopping in your throat, then you nod.

“Yeah, ye - yeah, okay.”

You pull away even quicker, retreating to Jeno, who gives you both curious looks. The way you answer him makes Jisung swallow a thousand times, forcing his mouth slightly open in case he ends up word-vomiting it all back up. And he wants to say goodbye, properly, but you have company, as you told him, tried to warn him. So, Jisung takes an imperceptible step backwards, on his heels, closer to the door.

He watches Jeno open an arm for you to slide underneath, and you comply. 

“I mean,” Jeno starts, and the both of you divert your attentions to his face, though he mostly looks at Jisung. “You don’t have to go.” Jeno clears his throat, massaging his larynx. Jisung shifts his weight to the tips of his toes, and you angle your neck just right at Jeno. “You could … stay.” 

You grab his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Jeno,” you whisper, “I’m here with you.”

Everyone ignores the obvious that this is your apartment. If you wanted to kick either of them out, they would have to comply. 

“No, I mean,” Jeno coughs, “Jisung could stay,” he tells you, eyebrows raising. Jisung cannot discern what that means, and he wants, so desperately, to be let into your bubble. “With us, he could stay.” Jeno turns to Jisung. “If you want.”

“You mean …” like join you?

“If you want.”

Jisung looks at you, and you bury your face in Jeno’s shoulder, covering your eyes with his arm. He knows that he got here too late, that he got here after Jeno, so he would feel even worse, kicking him out, especially if you just slept with him. Jisung bites his lip and shakes his bangs in front of his hair, which makes it look like he said no.

“I … I …” he pants, eyes darting between Jeno and you, lingering a little bit longer on you. “Can I join?” He swallows, taking a small step forward. “Please?”

Jisung kisses you first, but Jeno kisses you harder.

Jeno grabs you by the neck, his fingers sliding behind your nape, tearing you away from Jisung, physically taking all your breath across the half-tousled bed, another reminder that you slept with his best friend. “Mine,” he whispers.

And Jisung sighs, his hands falling to your hips. His thumbs crawl up your waist, pushing back Jeno’s t-shirt. “This is counterintuitive,” he mumbles, bitter taste leaving his lips. “It wasn’t even my suggestion.”

“N-no,” you stutter, agreeing with him. You pull off Jeno and slip back into Jisung’s lap, above his grey sweatpants. He repositions you into straddling his lap, your hands falling high on his shoulders, but you slide them back down, kneading the muscles. You also lean into his collar, pressing a compliant kiss there, and Jisung almost monopolizes you again. “You hate sharing,” you point out, drawing little zig zags under his jacket. And Jisung smiles. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this then,” you sigh, “if you’re both going to be so …”

“So what?” Jeno scoots closer to you two, nearly sandwiching you and kissing Jisung himself. 

“So possessive.”

Jisung looks at Jeno, and Jeno stares back. Possessive is not a word that he would use to describe himself, to be honest. Jeno, yeah, a little … or a lot. It’s just that he has never done this before. There are so many logistics, and he wants you to be the most relaxed person here, since you will have to overcompensate for two people. Jisung feels you wrap your fingers around his wrist, gently circling your nail into the bone. 

“Are you changing your mind?” he asks, eyes fluttering down. 

You shake your head. “No, I - I want this, I promise.” You glance at Jeno briefly, over Jisung’s bicep, then back at Jisung. Your fingers stop tapping his skin, and he frowns. “I-if you still want this, I still want it, too.”

“I want it,” Jeno mumbles, stealing you into the pillows at the opposite end of the bed with him, your legs now tangled together. “I want you,” he mumbles, a hand cupping your face. His palm brings your lips even further away from Jisung, and Jisung looks away, twiddling his long, idle fingers. 

Sometime between your kisses, your hands crawl into Jisung’s. He fumbles forward, chasing you before Jeno can pull you away again, and kisses your heartline, temporarily opening your palms, cupping his face. Jisung starts moving down your wrist, sucking where your blood thumps the hardest. He slowly flies higher and higher, brushing his lip low up your shoulders. You shudder, sliding into his arms. 

“How are we going to do this?” Jisung whispers in your ear, before clearing his throat (or so he tells himself; it sounds like another groan). You just give him a blank look, pulling off Jeno only slightly, barely enough to blink at his face. Jisung pecks you reassuringly, bottom lip catching between your teeth, before he laughs and looks up at Jeno mouthing along the outer silhouette of your boobs. 

To be honest, Jisung has a small idea of what he wants. He’s had it since he drove to your apartment, beelining past his own place: he wants to fuck you - which seems difficult, right now, as he tries to adjust for another person, for one of his best friends. Jeno finally meets his eye, and Jisung’s question reflects across his pupils, almost begging Jeno to say something, too. He doesn’t want to be the person who rushes the moment too fast.

“I don’t know,” Jeno rasps, also clearing his throat. He massages your waist, and Jisung looks down at you. Somewhere in the tangles, you tensed. And he didn’t notice. Neither of them noticed, really. But he didn’t notice, and he notices this, too. 

A beat passes, temporarily fracturing the tension.

Then, another one, as Jisung and Jeno stare at each other, wordlessly coming up with a plan. Jeno dips his gaze at you, Jisung following, and you squirm again, bedsheets knotting your hair. You swallow thickly, once you see that their stares don’t waver. 

“We can take it step-by-step,” Jisung says, more confidently than any of you feel. And eventually, met by little resistance, he resumes kissing your neck, turning you back into him. 

Things pick back up pretty quickly; quicker than Jisung anticipated. 

You react near immediate, straddling Jisung into the mattress, and Jeno helps you topple him, hands on your ass. Jisung, by contrast with his assurance, easily starts feeling overwhelmed. So many fingers keep brushing his body, despite him still wearing all his clothes - a simple hoodie and sweatpants, really, which makes him heat up effortlessly, too. You stare at Jisung for a second, slowly teetering on your knees, then kiss him, breathlessly, in the same way he entered your apartment.

And you, he thinks, look so pretty like this, kneeling above him, cradling his face, like you want to take care of him. Jisung crawls up the bed, on his elbows, until he leans fully against the headrest. Jeno moves, too, finding more purchase on your ass. And they kinda look like they just switched places, like they’re taking turns. But he is unwilling, right now, to relinquish your focus, so Jisung bypasses your hands, folding your neck backwards. Smoothly, he copies your position. His long fingers dip behind your ears, and he exhales sharply over your cheeks, restarting kisses every couple of seconds.

If one lasts too long, you might decide that his turn is over, so he presses his lips against yours in rapid succession, like he found a cheat code.

“Jisung,” you moan, even though he barely does anything. It makes him a bit curious, as to what Jeno is doing, especially since you start kneeling higher (not that it does much to his position, because his torso is so much taller than you). 

“Hi,” he mumbles back, simply, cheekily, smirking, after you say nothing. He likes how you say his name. “Feel good, baby?” he asks, and your lips hum in return, closing off his tongue, making him smile wider. 

Then, you start pulling away, slowing down your kisses into brief pecks. His tongue trails after you, hooking under your top lip to keep you here, with him.

Don’t go, he implies, tangling the tips of his fingers in the roots of your hair. Jisung slips his tongue even further inside your mouth, practically tying you to him. His hand falls down your curves and grabs the first thing he can, which is, incidentally, Jeno’s wrist. He doesn’t let go, though. Jisung actually holds on, squeezes, a minute longer, until you draw back completely. He stares at you, wide-eyed, through his lashes and licks his lips. Jeno, in front of him, behind you, watches, equally frozen as you wrap your fingers into Jisung’s palm. 

You sit on your heels, retreating even more, sinking your ass into Jeno. “You’re not being fair, Ji,” you whisper, peeling him finger-by-finger. He watches you drop into Jeno’s waiting arms and mumble something to him too - something Jisung can’t hear. And he frowns.

Jeno laughs. “Relax, princess.” He smiles at you innocently. “We’ve got you.”

You whisper something else, again, exclusive just to Jeno, and Jisung frowns deeper. Jisung pulls his sleeve into his left palm, scratching the hem so tightly that he hears the microfibers break (not really; the sounds of you whimpering for Jeno envelope his ears). Jeno laughs again, his shoulders rising, and you bring him back down to your lips. 

Jisung crawls up your lap while you continue making out with Jeno, whose hands support your boobs above his Demon Slayer shirt, keeping you locked on him. You whimper something incoherent, and Jisung follows you with his eyes, his ears, his body. Through his lashes, he bitterly watches Jeno swallow your tongue, flicking it inside his mouth. You turn your head to the side, hand falling onto Jeno’s waist, your leg brushing his dick, obviously, by the way Jeno twitches in his pants.

And Jisung frowns. Again. Jisung flips you on your stomach and smirks, lopsidedly, when you yelp, which makes Jeno yelp because you bite his lip. He created a small domino effect. 

“You’re not being fair, baby,” Jisung mumbles, sliding up the black t-shirt, pressing vibrating kisses down your abdomen. His fingers accidentally graze Jeno’s thumb, and both boys tighten their grasps on you, jostling you closer between them. 

“Ugh,” you groan throatily. And Jisung takes the momentary lapse to climb up your torso, indirectly driving your ass into Jeno’s dick. “It’s h-hard,” you stutter, “balancing you both. I don’t know who to pay attention to.”

“Oh, princess,” Jeno calls softly, running the back of his hand down your cheek. Jisung feels compelled to look away, and he focuses on the waistband of your sweatpants. They are your sweatpants, he concludes. You spilled gochujang on the floor and your knees while making tteokbokki, that one time he visited you before work; you both decided, then, to not cook anymore. Jeno gives you another kiss, presumably, by the way silence seeps back into the bedroom. “Just pay attention to how you feel. You’ll feel so good,” he promises.

At that, Jisung drops down your thighs and folds your waistband lower. Instinctively, you lift your hips, giving him permission to take them off - which he does. Just the sweatpants. He stares at your underwear: a light coverage thong. The wide back string disappears between your ass. He slips one finger through both leg holes, briefly tugging the entire thing up. And you whine. You squirm into Jeno, grabbing his shoulder, gripping him tightly. Jisung pulls again, then slides his fingers down your panties, freeing your pussy completely. His knuckles skim your labia, and he feels you drool into his palm.

“Last chance, baby,” Jisung says loudly, one a few inches from your cunt. “One word, and I stop.”

You give him two: “Don’t stop.”

Jisung pushes your thighs more open, hooking them over Jeno’s legs. And Jeno, attached to your back, helps him, holding one of your knees firmly, his other hand closing under your chin, fisting your neck. Jisung pants on your pussy, his tongue flopping outside his mouth, drooling saliva onto your fluttering hole, too dazed in his admiration to taste you just yet. You should be used to this treatment - the way he makes you wait, makes you want him more, because he does it on purpose; he tells you that he does it on purpose because he likes your full attention. Jisung wetly kisses your inner thigh, where some of your pussy drool sticks. You kept squeezing your legs together and, now, you keep rocking up Jeno’s hard-on, spreading the dampness.

“Jisung,” you choke on Jeno’s lips, syllables chopped as you fight another moan to beg. He slurps your labia, kneading apart your ass cheeks. You paw his hair, fingers petting his scalp as you struggle to grasp him. Jeno drops his hands on your hips, massaging your sides. Eventually, he pulls his shirt up, exposing your tits. Jisung feels you tremble when Jeno pinches your nipples, and he licks your pussy harder. “Jeno,” you moan, rolling your hips. Your clit finds Jisung’s pretty nose, and he tilts his head to the side, spitting more saliva in your hole. 

“Pretty girl,” Jisung mumbles. He kisses your pussy, then laps his tongue inside, rolling it into a little cup that can hold your clit, flicking the tip from behind. “Greedy girl.” Jisung sucks one last time before he stands up. And you whine, instantly grabbing him by the hair, weakly guiding him back to your legs. “Baby, I’m so hot -”

“Yeah,” you agree, moaning. Jisung watches Jeno’s fingers slowly replace him, touching just outside your pussy. You mewl, so high-pitched, and turn into him. 

“Are you going to let me leave a mark, princess?” Jeno asks, your mouths breathing on each other. Jisung can hear the way his breath hitches, and he works faster to take off his clothes. “Hmm?” Jeno nurses your neck, behind your ear. “Gonna look so pretty covered in me?” He slowly straddles you, kissing you impatiently. “Princess, answer me,” Jeno mumbles, “Otherwise, I’ll stop.”

“No,” you sob, in protest, not an answer, Jisung assumes, as you claw Jeno’s bare shoulder. “You - you can leave a mark.”

Jisung pauses, at the foot of your bed, where he stands, hoodie in hand, shirtless. He meets your eye, over Jeno’s shoulder, the latter caging you, as disproportionately naked as him, to the bed. You gulp, blinking away from Jisung. He tilts his head to see you better, scanning your face. You always let him mark you. He’s left tiny hickeys and bruises along your collarbone, thighs, hips, any place, really, that you would let him. Granted, they’re superficial, but still, Jisung frowns, you let him mark you all the time. He tucks his own hair behind his ear, puffing his cheeks before he joins you again. 

Jisung’s knee dips into the bed, as you and Jeno brush each other’s hair away from your faces, smiling at each other. Intimate. Jisung looks at his giant hands. Sex is intimate. Obviously. He knows. You may not be his first (or last; he slept with Yooyeon a couple weeks ago), but Jisung knows how intimate sex is. This moment, though, between you and Jeno keeps his attention on the ground. He doesn’t want to be the first person to strip completely naked. It would accelerate the mood, would insert him in your moment. and he’s not sure whether you want that. Even though he wants things to move along. He wants to touch you, too, again. Things go faster when he has you alone; mostly because he has to leave almost just as quickly. Not always, but most of the time. 

He wonders if this is how you and Jeno set your pace, or if he is just the outlier. 

“S-sung,” you hiccup, cutting him off before he gets too far in his head. You took off your shirt, too, while he wasn’t looking. Your free hand slides down the bedsheets, fumbling through the folds for him, while your other hand holds Jeno steady at bay. And automatically, Jisung threads his fingers into yours, pressing a kiss where your thumbs meet. “You’re so far away,” you whisper, tugging him into the mix. “Come here.”

Jisung falls next to your sides and kisses the skin under your boobs. He slips his hand between  you and Jeno, gently repositioning you in the middle. It breaks you two apart (you and Jeno), and you both stare up at him, again, as if he knows what to do, just because he said to take this step-by-step.

And maybe he does.

“Can you start taking us, baby?” Jisung whispers, softly, voice small. He pulls down your lip with his thumb, and before he can take it back, you swallow it, nodding down to his web. 

“Ye-yeah.”

“Princess?” Jeno asks between a kiss, his eyes closed. “Do you think you can take two cocks in your mouth?”

Jisung snaps his neck up, but Jeno just stares at you intently. He … His dick twitches. Jisung didn’t think beyond the logistics, to be honest. He knew that you would work overtime, to accommodate him and Jeno, that your holes would be filled at any given time, but both of them? Simultaneously? Jisung had to train your esophagus, for weeks, just to take half his cock, then another couple sleepovers to take the rest. Nevermind actual penetration, which seemed to take longer, your pussy suffocating the both of you. 

“Jen, I don’t think -”

“I can do it,” you interrupt, shaking your head. Both boys widen their eyes, and you sit up, rubbing their arms. You give Jisung a longer squeeze, convincing him that you’ll be okay, then push them both on their backs. Jeno crashes into the mattress first, fast, but Jisung … He falls slower, walking on his elbows to read your body language. You wobble tall, on your knees, and your hands shake a little, so Jisung holds one - the one on his chest. He rubs tiny circles into the back of your hand, just staring at you, making sure you know that he notices you. “I can do it,” you reassure Jisung.

And Jeno briefly looks at him too, when you go to untie their pants. “This’ll make it easier, la-later,” he explains, “when we both - fuck - fuck her - Mmmh.”

You push your fingers into Jeno’s mouth, restraining his tongue. Then, you nod at Jisung, direct with eye contact, and they realize that he mouthed ‘quiet’. Inversely, Jeno hollows his cheeks around your hand, trapping your fingers when you try to pull away. You scrunch your nose at him and push him harder into the mattress. 

It’s impossible, Jisung thinks, not to catch Jeno’s dick, even out the corner of his eye. He might even believe that his body has a built-in echolocation with the way you slobber down Jeno’s dick first. You barely managed to get their pants off, discarding them over the edge of your bed (Jisung didn’t even realize when you finished undressing them) before you grease Jeno’s dick with your saliva and dry rub Jisung. He feels you work him slowly, slower than you move on Jeno, maybe even gentler. Any thoughts he had about yours and Jeno’s pace goes in one ear, out the other, and he almost recants it completely. You might just be slower with him, because he’s fast to get you naked.

You pull off of Jeno, with a hoarse groan, mouth open. Your lips glisten under the ceiling light, too, swollen. And Jeno is first to compliment you. Jisung thinks he sounds so far away, even though their elbows nearly touch. Your index finger ruffles Jisung’s slit, tracing the outline with the pad of your finger. His hole twitches, and the entire length throbs, then you swallow him, only partially, choking a little less than halfway down. You offset the rest of his cock by playing with his balls, fondling them like large Baoding balls. 

“H-how are you going to take us both, baby?” Jisung stutters, half-still apprehensive. “You can’t even take me all the way.”

“‘M cam doom it,” you mumble, indignantly, almost telling him to stop doubting you. “‘M wamt to doom mit so bad.”

Jisung just thinks you look cute like this: small and defiant, mouth wide and throat destroyed, squeezing your legs together and milling your own clit between your thighs.

And he wants to ruin you. 

You take Jeno’s cock first, sucking tightly on just the tip. And Jeno groans, throwing his head into the blankets with an audible thud. He screws his eyes tight, fists accidentally bumping into Jisung’s hip. It takes Jisung less than a second to realize that Jeno is trying not to face fuck you, which is honestly more control than he would have in the same position - which is also saying something because his entire body currently burns.

You stick to three easy moves: head bobbing up and down; tongue keeping the tip inside your mouth; wrists jerking back and forth. And Jisung knows them all so well. Jisung has cum from them all, on multiple occasions. Jisung could cum again, right now, from all of them.

You pull off Jeno, slowly, sizing up his penis with slightly narrowed eyes. Jisung almost asks again, this time more concerned, if you’re sure, before you bump their dicks, together, on your lips, trailing their precum across the vermillion. You feed them into your mouth, just the tips, stretching out the corners. Jisung feels the veins in Jeno’s cock graze his own tip, as you shake your head down both of them. You unintentionally swallow more of Jeno, nearly pushing Jisung out of your mouth, but you slowly push him back in, and they both groan again. 

“Careful, princess,” Jeno grunts, when your teeth graze their dicks. You purr, obediently, and Jisung feels your tongue soothe the lines in their cocks. “Fuck, shit, yeah, like that.”

Jisung bites his lip, turning it white. His fingers itch to touch you, and he almost reaches forward, but Jeno, by his side, keeps fisting the blankets, so he keeps his hands to himself, letting you jerk them off. Your mouth squeezes their dicks together. You try to keep them separate, even licking a gap between their tips, but Jeno thrusts forward, bulging your cheeks with both of them. Jisung wipes a tear from the corner of your eye and cradles your face as you noisily swallow more, choking once they hit your breaking point. You continue gagging on their tips, barely a quarter of their cocks (more of Jeno’s) filling your mouth, before you take them out, holding them in one hand. Your fingers don’t close properly, like an adjustable bracelet, or cock ring if Jisung were luckier. Jeno’s dick rests higher than Jisung’s, looking half an inch longer, and you realign them more equally, their tips stacked Jisung on top of Jeno. You stroke them, tightly, together, and Jisung could cum like this, with both loads pointing to your face, Jeno’s cock throbbing above his. 

But Jeno stops you.

And Jisung whines, like a kicked puppy, his pouty eyes fluttering to him. 

“I want to cum inside you,” Jeno clarifies, staring at you.

It makes Jisung question Jeno’s refractory period, then he considers that this might just be awkward for all of you, more than anyone is revealing, or this might be Jeno’s way of taking it easy on you - Jisung can’t decide. He does remember liking the prospect of Jeno’s initial proposition though: the both of them fucking you. And he decides to prep you. But the moment Jisung splits your legs open, tired of you squeezing your thighs together emptily, without them, you start rutting your cunt over his fingers, piercing whines ascending. 

“Jisung,” you cry, voice cracking in the middle. “Jisung, please, gimme.” He almost laughs. Cute. You roll your hips in wide circles, trying to slip his fingers past your pussy lips - a tactic you have used on him recently. Just the other day, actually, when he had to answer some texts from his friends on their discord server. He should have been paying attention to you, honestly, hence why he went over, not to completely ignore you in your own bed. So, now, he lets your pussy swallow two of his long fingers (his middle and ring fingers), but he pulls his palm down, not letting you cum so fast. A little bit of payback, even though Jeno stopped the double blow job. 

You turn your face into the pillow and fist the meat of it, suppressing even more of your whines. The bed dips in front of you, and you screw your ass into the mattress. 

“Jeno?” You look up at him. And Jisung flings his eyes with you, mouth a hair away from your cunt. “Jeno?” you ask again, as if he would give you the relief. Your tongue pokes above your bottom lip as you pant, entirely breathless, your forehead sweating. 

But Jisung draws your attention, curling his long fingers. They bend awkwardly, knuckles pointed in opposite directions, and you arch your back off the bed. “Can you cum like this, baby?” Jisung asks, mostly curious, half-teasingly.

You stare at him wide-eyed, biting your lip nervously, then shake your head. No. 

Jeno pulls one of your legs to the side, lifting in the air to cut off the friction that Jisung gives you. He sucks a tiny, little circle behind your knee, and you whine again. And Jisung groans. Your thighs felt so good around his ears, goading him further into your pussy. He dives even deeper, adding his lips on your clit. Jisung pushes the pads of his fingers downward, completely twisting his wrist 180-degrees. Then, he takes away his fingers and suckles your clit, his jaw moving obnoxiously wide to devour your pussy whole.

“Can you try, princess?” Jeno mumbles into your flesh, nipping around the skin. “You’re doing so well, right now. I’m so fucking hard.” He puts your leg back down and slips his cock in the crevice behind your knee, now soaked with his saliva and your pre-cum. Jisung, too, is equally hard, if not harder, as he languidly jerks off, pointing his slick cock in your blankets. “Can you cum like this?”

“No,” you object, though Jisung feels otherwise. “I wan - I want to cum on your cocks.”

Cocks.

Plural.

Jisung sucks harder, accidentally, choking on his own gasp, and you shriek, cumming all over his lips.

“Fu - ah - ck,” you shriek, breaking the single syllable in half.

Jisung keeps going, cleaning your pussy. It clenches around his tongue, and you have to yank his hair, pulling him on your stomach, to stop him. He gives you another kiss, around your belly button, praising your body for cumming so well. 

“She’s a liar, Ji,” Jeno grunts, pushing his cock all the way through your knee.

“Mmhmm,” Jisung agrees, feeding his dick into your loose hand. “Begged for two cocks in her mouth, then came with an empty hole.”

“Is that it? Hm?” Jeno replaces Jisung between your legs, circling the tip of his cock around your entrance. Jisung looks down at your glistening folds, pulsing around nothing. So, this is how your pussy looks, he thinks, when you beg him fuck you. It’s so wet and sticky, and your labia flanks outward, exposing your swollen clit like a diamond setting. “You don’t need to be filled, princess? Is that it?”

You lift your hips up, in the same manner that you took Jisung’s fingers, and slip Jeno’s cock inside your pussy, a little more than halfway. “Ah, Jeno, no, please, please,” you whine. Jisung would cave, almost caves. And he thrusts even faster in your hand. “I want you so bad.” You prop yourself on your elbows, incidentally squeezing the middle of Jisung’s dick, which makes him groan. “I want you both so bad.”

“Fuck.” Jeno puts a hand on your stomach and fills you in one thrust. “You always clench my cock so nicely.”

“God,” Jisung groans, copying Jeno’s hips. “I need to be inside you, soon, baby.” He screws his eyes shut tightly, willing himself not to cum, because he could. He could cum like this. He actually could have cum at any point today, so far, if you and Jeno would let him, but also, “I want you, too, baby. I want you.”

Jisung opens his eyes, instantly, when you squeak, and finds you already staring at him. “You … you can …” You bite your lip, and Jeno stops thrusting, slowing down; he also grabs your boobs to still the moment.

“Go ahead, baby,” Jisung encourages you, breath winded, voice hoarse.

“You can both fuck me,” you whisper, then bat your lashes, innocently toward Jisung. "At the same time, please?"

Jeno squeezes your ass. “Mm, you liked having two cocks in your mouth that much?” He groans, and Jisung looks at where Jeno buries himself inside you. “Fuck, you’re clenching so much.”

 “You need to be filled, huh?” Jisung licks his lips. He watches Jeno lift your ass up, arching your lower back, adjusting his entire cock inside your pussy. You almost look like the videos he takes of you sitting on his cock. “Turn her around, Jen.” He wants to see you, but more importantly, he wants to prep you. 

Jeno obeys (after three more quick thrusts) and slides his dick into your pussy from behind, the shaft skimming the curves of your ass. He lays on his back, taking you with him, and Jisung spreads your legs, again hooking them over Jeno’s before descending on your heavenly pussy again.

“Won’t take too long,” Jisung promises, even though he flicks your clit with his tongue. It tempts him to lie. But then, he catches a small taste of Jeno’s dick and readjusts taller. He would rather not get hit in the chin by Jeno's balls.

“S-sensitive,” you squeal, the moment Jisung’s lips retouch your pussy. He retracts a second, mouth parted, but you dissolve into staccato moans as Jeno steadily fucks you slower. “Mmhmm,” you answer nothing, “Feels so good.”

Jisung goes back to your pussy and sucks your clit on time, hard, cheeks hollowed, as Jeno carries your legs in the air, his entire cock fed to the base inside your hole. You whimper again, thighs shaking, knees twitching toward Jisung’s ears. And Jisung pushes his fingers in your cunt, three at once. His knuckles hit your labia, grazing beside Jeno’s dick, almost slipping out again, but your hole squeezes the both of them, forcing Jisung’s palm up, his three long digits curling into the tight space. And, shit, you’re still throbbing. Jeno is throbbing. Jisung looks at his own cock, flopping between his legs, aching, and he humps the air.

He is so hot, so warm right now, that if anyone touched his dick, he would cum on the spot. 

“Jisung, I -” you choke, letting him know what he found. Incidentally, he pushed his fingers all the way inside your cunt, pressing the pads of his fingers down. He can feel Jeno’s cock skid on his knuckles, and he has to inhale deeper. 

“Hnn, princess,” Jeno heaves, tightening his hands on your legs, lifting you higher. You instinctively grab Jisung with your feet, keeping some attachment to the ground. “It’s my cock. Inside you. Say my name too.”

“Jeno,” you moan.

And Jisung feels your cunt suck him closer, which pulls him toward your clit again. He sucks it, of course. His mouth pushes apart your lips, making your clit stand out, and Jisung closes around it, tongue flicking the hard underside.

“Jeno, Jeno,” you chant as both boys fill you to the brim.

Jisung hunches over your pussy, adding more pressure on your stomach, essentially driving Jeno’s cock even further up your cervix.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you whine, voice breaking higher and higher. You start shaking your head and biting your lip. “Jisung, fu- shit.” You close your eyes, fisting the sheets. “Jisung, I’m ready, you can - shit, shit -“ Your boobs bounce widely. “You can fuck me now, too.”

Jisung kisses your pussy one more time, and Jeno graduates down to a pause. They glance at each other a second, before Jisung grabs his dick, stroking it a few times with your pussy drool. Yeah, they’re really going to do this. No going back. Jisung slides the tip of his dick above Jeno’s, pushing through the initial resistance. All three of you moan, and Jisung has to anchor himself on your waist, panting a few times before continuing. He feeds a full inch inside your pussy, then another, and another. When he gets a third of the way inside, his dick bends under Jeno’s. Neither of them realize it until their cocks curve into each other like pretzels.

“Oh, fuck, there - you - it’s so much,” you babble, biting back high pitched squeaks. “You’re so big,” you say to no one in particular. Jisung knows they’re both above average.

“God,” Jeno is the first to say after your pussy gets filled completely.

Jisung stumbles on the last thrust, accidentally pulling out an inch, dragging Jeno with him, before he shoves them both back inside you. The double helix makes it hard for any of you to move, minus the rapid twitching from your hips.

Every time Jeno pulls out, he has to slam back up, balls slapping, just to bottom out again. He ends up catching your ass, spreading both cheeks for a wider hole. And every time Jisung starts thrusting, he can’t commit to one fluid movement, stuttering between two pairs of legs. He pushes one of your thighs into your chest, biting light kisses around your ankle like little charms.

You clench around them, and Jisung spanks you.

“Don’t clench, baby,” he whimpers. “I want to fuck you for a long time.”

You try to release, wiggling your ass down Jeno’s abs, and Jeno moans. Jeno brushes your hair off your shoulder, biting rough kisses around your carotid. Jisung feels their tips bump each other, your cervix nearly tying them together. He keeps thrusting, tracing the outline of Jeno’s dick into your pussy walls. Jisung grunts and plants his arms around you and Jeno, snapping his hips deeper.

“Fuck, Jisung,” Jeno moans, “When did you get so good at this?” 

Jisung doesn’t really have an answer - that he wants to share. He just knows how to please you. Well, he knows how to please a lot of different people, but he keeps that to himself. Neither you nor Jeno need to hear all the ways he practices his techniques. You, though, are his favorite guinea pig, for the obvious reasons.

“You both just feel so good,” Jisung praises.

And much to his surprise, Jeno whimpers. Jeno bites his lip and digs his fingers into your waist, lifting you easily, like a simple fleshlight. You yelp, with the first thrust, then relax into his neck, moaning hotly.

“‘M gonna cum,” Jeno breathes, open mouthed, driving his head into the pillows for better leverage. He roots his feet in the mattress and lifts his hips, trying to match Jisung. “Just like that,” he moans, “Yeah, eung, hnn, so c-close.” Jeno thrusts faster and faster, getting faster than Jisung, who sticks with long, sharp movements to keep both cocks buried inside your pussy.

“Je-Jen, S-sung,” you gargle, twisting and turning.

Jisung pins you onto Jeno, crunching over you. He smashes his lips onto yours, feeling you and Jeno get closer and closer to your orgasms. Your pussy squeezes and squeezes without relief; Jeno starts shaking, slowing down his thrusts, which has Jisung overcompensating for the lapse (so that he can cum too; there is something so intimate about everyone cumming together, and he doesn’t know if he can handle being left out, especially by you).

Jisung kisses you again. He feels Jeno’s cock swell through the base, but Jisung kisses you again. You reciprocate, as much as you can, given that two boys fill your pussy to the brim, moments after your first orgasm, after edging you for half an hour, and Jisung accepts every bit. He savors it.

Jeno cums first, then you, a millisecond after, as if triggered by it. And the way you pant into his mouth, breathless, choking on your own moan, has Jisung grunting quickly to join you. He kitten licks a small part of your tongue back into your mouth, then slams your lips together, nearly bruising himself on your teeth as his orgasm rushes full force. Jisung didn’t even realize it had been building, too enraptured by the taste of your kiss. But his abdomen tightened and his hips popped, and he feels himself slowly release all the tension in each muscle. His sore cock splatters all over your cunt, the tip bouncing on Jeno’s dick. 

Jisung pecks you once, twice, chastely, incessantly, thrice. You mumble an mmm, smothered by his repetitive embraces, and he lifts your chin, too, for easier access, with his index finger and thumb. 

“You did so good, baby,” Jisung whispers, his lips resonating. “So good.” He blinks at you, brushing away your hair. “So pretty.” Then, he gets up. But you stop him, a hand on his strong bicep, and he laughs. “Someone needs to clean you two,” he nags lightly. And Jisung usually works through his exhaustion anyways. He goes to sleep at 1 or 3 AM, eventually waking up a few hours later for his early schedules. Plus, you and Jeno look like you could collapse. This … activity might not have been his idea, but he still feels inclined to repay you both for letting him into your intimate moment. 

Jisung grabs both his and Jeno’s cocks in one hand, enveloping their dwindling shafts easily. He accidentally jerks them off, and Jeno grunts - to which he apologizes repeatedly. Cum follows them, mixed together in one giant puddle, absolutely drooling down your gaping hole. Cautiously, Jisung bows his head, between yours and Jeno’s legs, pushing all four a little bit wider. He uses Jeno’s dick - just the tip - to catch some cum, wiping it away and licks the excess. Both of you whine. Jisung apologizes, quietly, but still his two fingers push the cum back inside you. He feels your pussy squeeze around him again, and he feels the pool of cum just resting in your throbbing cervix. 

Jisung licks his fingers clean a moment after, not completely ready for another round, then tugs on his pants and goes into the hallway bathroom. He blinks, rapidly, after he flicks on the lights, and examines himself in the mirror. 

You left a few marks, as you usually do, but it reminds him that Jeno asked for permission to mark you. And Jisung frowns. He stopped asking around the fifth consecutive day that you slept together. Maybe he should start asking again, he thinks while running a washcloth under the tap. Jisung catches himself in the mirror again, then, without turning off the water just yet, he touches the bruises and scratches adorning his clavicle. One of them resembles a cloud. He thought of you, the other day, when he saw one, but just like a cloud, the thought passed after Renjun messaged their discord server. 

“Okay, this isn’t too hot, but -” Jisung walks back to your room, but he stops outside the door frame and hides behind it.

“You did so good, baby,” Jeno commends lazily, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. While Jisung was gone, you shifted into Jeno’s arms, burying your face in his chest too. “Baby?” Jisung frowns. He calls you ‘baby’. Jeno calls you ‘princess’. Or, at least, that was the unspoken agreement today, especially since Jisung claimed it first. Jisung strains his ears as Jeno hums; you must have said something, incoherently.

“I asked -” You lift your head, enunciating more clearly, though your voice sounds hoarse. “- if you’re going to leave, too." Your voice get clearer, "Jen?"

Jisung frowns. He also used that nickname with Jeno. It makes him wonder if you interchangeably used nicknames between the two of them, or anyone else with whom you sleep. Not that Jisung can complain.

“What? No, of course not, princess.”

When silence permeates the room again, Jisung walks inside. Jeno catches him first and presses a single finger to his lips. Shh. He pulls back your hair, showing off your closed eyes and steady breathing, and Jisung nods. You fell asleep. Jeno looks two steps away from falling asleep, too. Jisung sucks in a breath, then wipes down your thighs. He innocently kisses the spot around your knee, no intention behind it, and slips a shirt onto you, briefly taking you away from Jeno for a second. You stir, making him cradle you a second. He waits for you to slip back deeper into sleep and traces little circles in your arms, then hands you off to Jeno.

Jisung ignores Jeno’s curious stare and retreats into the kitchen, making sure to grab his hoodie and phone on his way out.

“Hey, so - Relax. It’s just me.”

Jisung jumps, drawing a ceramic cup toward his chest to avoid dropping it in your kitchen … again. He broke one, the first time he slept over at your apartment, after accidentally bumping his hip on the island. You cleaned it up for him that time, but he made a point to never do it again by getting to know your kitchen - hence why he uses the ceramic cups, not the slippery glass ones. Jisung turns around slowly, also careful not to spill water on the tile.

Jeno stands behind him. “Do you like her?”

Jisung’s tongue rolls down his jaw, head pausing on half a nod. But he stops. He stops to scan Jeno’s expression. 

“Why are you asking?” he counters tentatively, loudly enunciating each syllable. He puts the cup on the counter and crosses his arms over his hoodie, forearms exposed ever since he rolled up his sleeves. The vulnerability from the last few hours wore off when he left the bed, and he desperately needed a cover after seeing Jeno tuck you in the duvet.

Jeno shrugs. “It seemed like you did.” Do. “Back there.”

Jisung licks the seam between his lips, drawing a quick breath. “Do you?”

“Eh, not really.” Jeno moves around the cabinets. He goes to the bottom drawer, the one with the Tupperware, then closes it and opens another. Jisung watches him rifle through a few more cabinets before finding the honey butter chips you keep on a shelf under the island. Jeno stares at Jisung a hard second, fingers peeling the bag open, before he retracts, “Not like that.” Jeno opens the bag and eats a fist full of chips. “We just sleep together occasionally.”

Yeah, but … Jisung puffs his cheeks and brushes his hair through the middle. What does ‘occasionally’ even mean? “I’ve never heard you call anyone ‘princess’ before,” he mumbles, suddenly searching for his water. 

It’s right next to him.

“I’ve never heard you call anyone ‘baby’ before,” Jeno mocks, muffled by a chip - which is a lie by the way. Jisung frequently uses the term of endearment with anyone he wants on his arm. And Jeno has seen it, or been the victim of it. Plus, “baby” is arguably the most common nickname between couples. Not that you and he are a couple; you’re not exclusive. He said that earlier. 

Jisung frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure about what? That I’ve never heard you call anyone ‘baby’?” Jeno wipes his hand on his pants and folds the bag closed. “No, I think you called that bartender ‘baby’ a couple weeks ago when we went out for Haechan’s birthday.” Right, and Jisung left your apartment early that day, too.

“N …” Are you sure you don’t like her? Jisung stops himself, again. He’s not sure whether or not he can handle the answer. “Then why do you think I like her? Because of a nickname?”

“No, Jisung,” Jeno sighs, brushing his hair away from his forehead. His defined biceps flex along with his pecs, and Jisung tugs on his own sleeves, covering his palms. “That was you. I was just teasing.” Jeno purses his lips, scanning Jisung.

“Then what?”

Jisung leans on the tops of his toes, a quiet fist resting on the counter. He always wears his heart on his sleeve, wiping away every emotion off his face, because he never actually says it out loud. He doesn’t even think he’s mentioned you to his friends, not even to Renjun, the one who helps him organize his thoughts the most. Jisung keeps his sex life relatively private from everyone, much to their annoyance as they swap sex stories on occasion. He sighs. Evidently, he kept it too private, given the intimate way he just unintentionally introduced you to his group.

“The way you lo -” 

“You know,” you grumble, walking pants-less into the kitchen, only Jeno’s stupid Demon Slayer shirt covering your legs, “aftercare if allegedly important.” You rub your eyes and slowly blink them open, staring first at Jisung, who quickly averts his gaze. 

His water is really interesting.

“Only a couple minutes,” Jeno answers, voice initially pointed at Jisung, curious, before he slowly turns to you. “Sorry, did we wake you?”

“No,” you reply, faster, slipping onto the stool closest to Jisung. He passes you his water, and you take a small sip, holding it in both hands an extra second before giving it back. “I was just wondering where you went. I might have been offended if you just hit it and quit it.”

“If you wanted another round, princess, you could’ve just waited,” Jeno laughs. “We’d be back in a second.” His voice tells you not to worry, incidentally soothing Jisung, too, because it ends the previous conversation and Jisung won’t have to concern himself with whether or not Jeno lied to him about having feelings for you. If he does, Jisung will back off and stop sleeping with you. If he doesn’t, then … Jisung has to cope with the consequences of his actions.

Jisung reaches his hand across the table and rubs the back of your palm with his thumb. “When have we ever done that?” Jeno is right. They would have gone back to bed with you, just out of sheer fatigue. Or, Jisung might have laid in the living room. Your couch is incredibly comfortable, and he’s spent a night or two there before today.

“You haven’t,” you answer him, before inhaling sharply and withdrawing your hands into your lap. “Not recently.” Not anymore! (mostly). “You did when we …” You glance at Jeno, then whisper, “when we first started sleeping together.”

Jisung winces. Yeah. He also catches Jeno’s darting eyes. Yeah. It was mostly before he had to work or when he had to meet up with his friends, not willing to take you with him. Although, that turned out so well. Jisung chews his inner lip. He hasn’t left before you woke up in a long time, but maybe friends with benefits is a bad thing without exclusivity. Jisung doesn’t regret the threeway - it was hot; ten out of ten would do it again. It’s just that some unspoken secret now hangs over all of you. 

“Should we do it again?”

You and Jisung look at Jeno, then at each other, then back at Jeno, who raises his arms like white flags.

“We don’t have to,” he says smoothly. “It was just an offer, since it seems like no one is going anywhere anytime soon, and we don’t have much to talk about right now.”

Right now.

Jisung’s breath catches in his throat, and he glances at your side profile, waiting for you to say something first.

“Yeah, sure, I don’t have plans today.”

Jisung kisses the shell of your ear while rutting just outside your pussy. 

You whined something, just before he pushed you onto the bed, about them needing to take care of you because you still felt sore from earlier. He complies, of course, simply giving you tiny massages: his dick rubs your labia; his hands knead your sides; his lips mouth along your jaw.

“You’re so …” Jisung’s voice dies in his throat. And he glances across the other half of your bed, where Jeno is folding his pants onto a chair. He could praise you, in this isolated moment of privacy. He could call you pretty and baby, like he does when you’re alone, like he praised you the last few hours, but somehow, that, now, feels more intimate than his best friend getting to know him this well. So, he settles elsewhere, falling on his hips. Jisung tucks your hair behind your ear (it slips out easily) then pulls your back against his chest, the hem of Jeno’s shirt riding up your ass. He lifts one of your legs above his waist and slides his dick over your folds again, the tip catching your hole each time up. “Still sensitive?”

You nod, a little too absentmindedly, and lully your head into the crevice of his neck, your jugular now exposed with a soft moan. 

Jisung calls your name. It’s a bit impossible, from this angle, to whisper in your ear, so he doesn’t try. Your shoulders roll forward, and your hips dig deeper into the mattress, all just a second, before you relax in his arms. Jisung catches Jeno during the moment though, and Jeno raises an eyebrow, which Jisung ignores.

He just says your name again, instead, asking, “Do you need a break?”

“No,” you mumble. You shake your head, leaning more on the mattress than him now, burying your face in the blankets. “Just …” You sigh. Jisung feels it through your entire chest. He pulls your hair away from your cheeks and kisses up your shoulder, to your neck, to your ear, nearly folding your legs in half. You stop him, pulling your legs together and dragging his arm across your stomach, under the t-shirt. “Just go slow,” you ask, “For now?”

Jeno kneels onto the bed now too, only wearing his boxers. He lifts your face with his index finger, saying:

“Of course, princess, whatever you want.”

He kisses you, deeply, slotting his mouth around your bottom lips, audibly sucking. Jisung feels you relax, slightly, and he pecks the back of your neck to be part of the ensemble too. 

“You took a lot,” Jeno says softly, “Earlier. Let us take care of you now.” He glances at Jisung, and Jisung nods, singularly.

“We got you,” Jisung agrees. He cranes down to your nipples, sucking and biting. And you gasp into Jeno’s mouth, Jisung’s name, broken, on your lips. He travels up your neck, gently plucking you away from Jeno (which is fine, since you started jerking him off).

“I’m right here, baby,” Jisung mumbles.

He’s not going anywhere. Still though, you thread five fingers in his hair and yank.

“Shit,” Jisung moans.

“I like it when you swear,” you tell him, eyes half-lidded. 

“Mmm, you’re so fucking good for me.” Jisung rarely swears. He prefers to praise you. But sometimes, you catch him off guard, and it’s the only thing he remembers to say. “‘M gonna fuck you now, okay?” 

You nod. Okay.

Jisung inhales and grabs his hard dick. He strokes it once, twice, sliding it over your wet cunt, drenching himself in your natural lubricant. You exhale shakily, anticipatorily. Jisung feels you shake your hips, so he holds you down again then enters your pussy in one fluid motion, and you clench around him instantly, wrapping your legs around his tiny waist.

“Fuck, baby,” Jisung whines, shallowly thrusting half his cock toward your cervix. “Je-Jen, how many times did she cum today? She’s so - shit, shit - sensitive.”

“I don’t know,” Jeno babbles, and Jisung turns his head to him. You swallowed his cock, laying there pliantly while both guys wreck your holes. This is what Jisung had in mind, to be honest, earlier when Jeno first suggested that he stay - one of them pounding your pussy and the other bruising your esophagus.

“Maybe six,” Jeno guesses, raising his brows even though he screwed his eyes shut. 

“Six? Jesus.” Jisung straightens his back and brushes his hair backwards. No wonder you and Jeno were putty in his hands.

“Do I need to catch up, baby?”

Jisung stacks your legs together, and his thighs slam into your ass. You’ve felt prepped all afternoon, a byproduct of having slept with Jeno already, but shit, Jisung still struggles to bottom out completely, as if your pussy resizes to the perfect, most snug fit. Even your hands find his and perfectly clasp your fingers under his.

“You’re so -” Jisung moans your name, then he bites his lip, slowing down again, his hips making sharp punctures. 

“Mmmm,” you blubber, choking on Jeno’s dick.

Your eyes roll back and your tongue pushes Jeno out of your mouth. Everyone moves too fast for Jisung, in contrast with what he wanted earlier, so he angles his dick away from your spongey, little G-spot.

“Jiji,” you whine, slightly muffled. Jeno’s dick hangs on your tongue like a lollipop, the tip as equally glossy from your spit. You hold him by the base, and the shaft involuntarily bobs in and out of your mouth. “Ji, n-no, harder, harder, please.” Your nails claw into his carpal bones, painting his veins more prominently. 

Jisung kisses the junction between your boobs.

“I’m going slow,” he tells you, like you asked. He kisses you again, in the same place, loitering another moment. “Let me take care of you.” Jisung flickers his eyes and tongue up your neck, missing the way you looked at him. 

“Seems like you enjoy slow,” you mumble, taking Jeno’s cock back in your mouth, gargling again. 

Jisung frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”

You shake your head, no. 

Before you can answer him, Jeno moans, loudly - because you still suckle his cock. 

“Ba - Princess,” he coughs. “I’m gonna cum.”

You purl something incomprehensible, so Jisung has to look up one more time: Jeno flimsily pushes half his dick in your mouth, and you squeeze the base. He could thrust more, if he wanted, because you can take it, but given the way you came six times already, nevermind how many he did, Jisung guesses that Jeno might be overly sensitive, too.

And he’s proven right, another moment when Jeno cums again today.

“Fuck,” Jeno groans, flopping down on the bed almost a foot away, “I don’t think I have anymore cum in me, princess.”

You swallow, audibly though not very thickly and crawl your torso toward him to plant a kiss on his shoulder. Jisung looks away. He pokes out his tongue to lick his lips, but you stop him. You climb into his lap, almost toppling him over, had his core strength not been as firm. He steadies you, at your waist, and simply scans your face; he can’t read you. Jisung likes to think that knows you well enough to decipher all your emotions, but all he can do now is stare. And you stare back, slowly sinking into his arms. You slide your arms down his shoulders, clasping your hands behind his neck. Jisung parts his lips again, tongue hanging on his bottom lip. You lap it back into his mouth.

“You’re gonna get dry, sweetheart,” you whisper, lips vibrating, “and I like it when you’re wet.”

“Mmm,” Jisung mumbles, unwilling to fight back.

Your knees dip into the mattress, on both sides of his tiny waist, as you steadily rock into him. Jisung’s hands meet your hips, guiding you down all the way, harder. He claws at your ass, both cheeks, dragging you into a stable pace that doesn’t disturb the other half of your queen-sized bed. You yank his hair back and slot your lips together in tune with the tempo at which your hips move.

“Feels so fucking good,” Jisung groans lowly. His deep voice resonates through his own ears. “Really, really good, baby,” he repeats. You whine, quietly, breathily, hotly. And he feels your hips twitch. Jisung smirks. He knows how much you love his raspy voice. Sometimes, he teases you over the phone, asking if you can cum just from hearing him. It might also feed your dirty praise kink (that you vehemently deny). Jisung cups the side of your face and puckers his lips prematurely, before drawing you closer. “I need you to cum, baby. Can you cum for me, hmm?”

“Y-you can cum first,” you tell him, almost trying to convince him. You even swirl your hips in his tight grip. He keeps you locked in his arms, barely letting your ass leave his lap. And when your pussy clenches, getting tighter and tighter around his tip, Jisung groans in your neck. His biceps flex and squeeze you equally hard, and you run a single hand down his chest, pausing on his pecs, giving his nipple a little brush. And Jisung cums. 

He cums so hard with your permission, slamming up into your cervix, just the once, until he empties his balls. Jisung kisses your shoulder, longly, repeating gentle pecks along your trapezius before slowly rocking his heavy cock between the ridges of your pussy walls. His thighs flutter, spanking your ass. He feels his cock still reach the back of your cunt, shaft thumping, pulsing, on your sensitive, squishy little spot. You pinch his pecs even harder, nails scratching toward his shoulders, and whine in his ears.

“Sung, sweetheart, babe, oh, my God, fuck,” you whimper, syllables chopped into shrill squeaks, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Jisung, right there, yeah, fuck, fuck, Ji -” You cut yourself off on a moan and hug him around the neck, as tight as your orgasm rushes over you. 

“Mmm, baby, shit,” Jisung moans, too. Your cunt throbs around him, wringing out the last of his cum. You teeter a little bit taller over him, slipping some of his cock out, and he feels your pussy drool down his thighs. “You squirt, baby?” You bite your lip and nod through your lashes. And Jisung kisses you again. He scanned your face first, blazing through the euphoria, then kissed you again, palm cupping your face, thumb drawing hearts in your cheek, lips closing around yours in long successions. “You’re so -” Jisung swallows, then pecks you quick. “You did so good, baby.”

“Mmm.” You kiss Jisung this time, holding him tight. “Jisungie, too. You are so perfect.”

You and Jisung stare at each other for a moment, probably a few seconds, before you break it to fix his hair. His after-sex hair usually looks worse, when you’re alone, because of all the times you pull his hair and all the times he twists his head in the sheets while you ride him. But now, he doesn’t know what it looks like, so he just trusts your judgement. You needlessly wipe your fingers in the blankets (he’ll clean it up later, he swears) and pluck his bangs perfectly into place. 

“Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?” you ask. Jisung nods. “I’ll clean you up. Come on.”

True to your word, you run a small washcloth on Jisung’s most sensitive parts in your narrow bathroom. It was made to fit two people max, but he’s so tall, having gone (and still going) through so many growth spurts that you both have to bend into more ridiculous poses just to tend to each other. Jisung thinks you could have cleaned up independently, especially since you work in silence, but he didn’t want to share you again today (tonight?), not even with yourself. 

Unfortunately, you left the room first, breaking the silence to talk about Jeno, who passed out in the other room (Jisung doesn’t blame him; if you came seven times today, half from the both of them, he can’t imagine what Jeno and his fragile refractory period went through). Jisung stayed, mostly to examine himself in the mirror and take one breath of fresh air. His eyes traced all the red lines in his skin. Some of them disappeared pretty quickly, but he found a hickey or two after lifting his arms. 

You ultimately meet him in the kitchen, once he slips back into his hoodie and sweatpants, minus the t-shirt and boxers. Unlike Jeno though, you don’t scare him. 

“Jisung?” you call, despite the direct eye contact. He tilts his cup of water at you, offering, but you raise your hand. “No, thanks.” You slide your hands up your hips, tucking them into the waistband of your athletic shirt, incidentally lifting your shirt - his shirt. Well, it looks like one of his missing Adidas shirts, just based on the length bunching behind your waist; he has to buy larger shirts to accommodate for his height. You inhale sharply. 

“What’s … what’s up?” Jisung drinks more of his water. 

“Can we talk?”

He purses his lips and stops himself from saying the obvious: that you’re already talking. Then, he remembers that Jeno could wake up at any second, and he puts his water back down. 

“Ye - yeah.” Jisung approaches you, cautiously, his hands bringing your elbows down. 

You fold, instantly, nuzzling your nose in his chest. Jisung can’t imagine how he smells, not having showered fully since the early morning. You, though, smell nice, smell sweet, as he accepts your hug, sinking into your hair.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, “this time. Please?”

Jisung glances at your bedroom. “You have Jeno,” he says cryptically. He has no intention of leaving just yet. “I don’t … “ Jisung sighs. You wait for him, while he finds the right words, trying to physically pull them into his mouth, and you’re first to pull away from the hug, staring at him. “I don’t leave.” Anymore hangs in the air - which doesn’t make it any less true. He stays, now; has stayed, after sex, for the last few months. But still, he left, in the beginning. “Hi,” Jisung whispers, like it can erase all the times he did leave. He smoothes the lines around your eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper back, albeit a little louder.

“Is … is that all?”

“No, I -” And it’s your turn to physically drag the right words into conversation. 

Jisung wishes you both could be more direct. But it’s hard. He certainly can’t ask you for exclusivity, not after what just happened, not after predicating this … arrangement on a lack of exclusivity. And even worse, Jisung has an idea of what you want to ask him. He wants the same thing, hopefully. Some (a lot) doubt lingers, scratching the right part of his amygdala. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Jisung tells you, his thumbs rubbing into your sides again. “We can always talk another time. I’m - I’m sorry,” he chokes, “that I came here unannounced. I’ll let you know in advance, in the future, so that we don’t … you don’t have overlapping … people at your apartment again.”

“Jisung …”

“Unless you want to do it again,” he rectifies, cutting you off. You always relinquish the floor to him, he noticed, and he takes advantage of it now. “I don’t mind sharing,” he lies, not so smoothly. “What - whatever you want.”

“Jisung.” You grab him by the face, making him look you in the eye. He does. Jisung freezes, hunching his shoulders to make it easier for you to hold him. “Can … can I say something, and you won’t …?” Jisung nods; he won’t leave, no matter what you say. “I … oh, God. I hate this.” You swallow once,  then lick your lips and swallow again. “I want you.”

“You’re not tired?”

“No, Ji, I -” You sigh, and he feels it in your chest, the way your pulse quivers. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Not with me.”

You take a deep breath and wince at the thought. Then you whisper something, incoherent, that he’s not sure anyone could hear or read off your lips, and he has to encourage you again.

“Jisung, I like you. So much.”

He stares at you, blinking so slow that his lashes might fall off. He barely registers when you start pulling away, and he scrambles to return you into his arms. You let him manhandle you, falling pliantly over his forearms. Jisung scans your face again, too. His hand creeps onto your cheeks, and you rest into his palm. Gradually, he leans down, without breaking eye contact. He connects your lips, tasting the light bitter taste from this afternoon, only briefly.

“Me, too,” Jisung breathes. “I like you so, so very much.” He presses a singular, chaste, long kiss to your mouth. “I wasn’t going to confess like this,” he admits, tongue breaking the spit on the seam of his lips. “I - I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how.” He swallows, nervously, but you alleviate it, smiling at him. “I thought it would be more romantic than this, to be honest.”

“You didn’t think about confessing to me with another guy watching?” you giggle, almost jumping into his arms to kiss him again, evidently not expecting a real answer. You do, by the way. You kiss him, this time, pecking to the tempo of Morse code. “So, you’ll stay?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods, matching your smile. “We can even kick Jeno out, if you want.”

You slap his chest and scrunch your nose cutely. “Don’t be mean, Sung.”

“You’re right,” he concedes. “There’s always the couch.”

[spookypete-94]

Coveted

alright, gonna take a shot at this, branching out from just simon. going to be a soap ghost fic, no smut... in this one at least :) will be fem!reader finishing her day at work and leaving off base for a date and seen by ghost and soap.

In the woman's locker room, you adjusted your dress, tugging it down, feeling like it was too short. Nothing was showing. Your painted toenails peeking out of your black heeled booties. You just never got to do this often, and it felt so weird. It was strange to see yourself out of anything that wasn't tactical, OD green, or some sort of camo. Your makeup you had done, and even that felt foreign in the mirror. To feel and look feminine instead of covered in dirt and blood smelling of gunpowder. Still, unable to believe this was happening and the fact Brad from Infantry had asked you out for the evening. The first actual date you've been on for a while, let alone with a coworker.

Glancing at your watch, you noticed how close it was for you to be going to be there early like you preferred. Gathering your bag and locking your gear away, you headed out towards the main entry/exit door of the locker room. Stopping as you got closer to the door since you could hear voices just outside the metal barrier. It was a Scottish accent talking to a deep baritone. Soap and Ghost, you knew it almost immediately. They were talking post mission outside their locker room door... just off of the one you were in.

This made your stomach flip... the idea of members of Task Force 141 seeing you dolled up making you feel like you could throw up so hard, you'd see yesterday's breakfast. Maybe if you waited just a few minutes, they would go away.

But to no avail... they stood talking about minut details. Braving it, you pushed the door open slowly, hoping no sudden movement would leave you unseen. To wish in one hand and shit in another, though, right?

You could see Ghost's eyes locking on you, you refusing to make eye contact as he did. Soap noticing the shift in Ghost's eyes and stance turns around to see you trying to sneak past.

"Bonnie, look at you." His voice low as he whistled. "Where you going looking like that."

"Out."

"Out?" An arm of his now blocking your way.

"Have a date. Move, you're gonna make me late. " you said, trying to hold firm with confidence, even if it was quickly faltering.

"A date?" Soap's tone quickly shifting. He wasn't pleased.

"With who?" Ghost questioned, speaking up.

"Brad from infantry."

"Brad?" Soap said in a way like he was mocking you.

"Jesus Soap, are you parrot? Gonna repeat everything I say?" You were starting to get irritated.

Dropping his arm and moving out of your way just enough to let you slip by, they said no more. Instead they just watched as you walked away, rendered speechless about this turn of events.

"Not fucking happening," Soap said looking at Ghost heading to the locker room to drop his gear off.

"Absolutely not," Ghost agreed, turning to follow him in to do the same. It was unspoken, but they were going to follow you to this date.

If only you knew of the locker room talk that was said about you. The things Ghost and Soap heard and shut down of what the other men on base wanted to do to you. Serving alongside the Task Force meant that you were their's to protect, make sure you are safe from the Brad's and Chad's of this world. You were coveted, one of the few females in this male populated job and radius. The fact you could defend yourself made you even more wanted, a fillie to be tamed. And it sure wasn't going to be Brad from infantry. Not on this duos watch.

Entering the little pub not far from base, you saw Brad already sitting at a booth, beer in front of him, and cocktail on the other side for you. Joining him, you smiled, starting your night off brightly.

Ghost and Soap weren't too far off, choosing to sit at the bar opposite to better watch waiting for their opportunity.

They steamed and brewed at Brad, who was getting closer to you, his arm around your waist pulling you to him. Moving your hair out of the way of your ear so his lips could touch the shell of it while he said whatever it was to seduce you. Anger growing, seeing you give in to it. Was attention all that you really wanted? Or was this really how you behaved for any male?

Their opportunity finally struck. Brad excused himself from you to go to the bathroom. Both Soap and Ghost followed him. Ghost grabbed ahold of the back of Brad's shirt. Soap had already opened the back door of the pub, allowing Ghost to easily push Brad out into the alley.

" That's our girl," Ghost growled, hitting Brad in the eye, sending him to the ground. "You fuckin' know that."

"Gonna leave er alone, right?" Soap asked, being the barrier in between Brad and Ghost at the moment.

Brad nodded, scampering away, holding his already swollen and soon to be black eye. Soap turned up to look at Ghost, nodding to him telling him good job, and they both entered the pub. You still sat in the same place, hands holding your head stirring your drink. Just waiting for your date to come back. Little did you know, you would be having two join you, but not quite yet.

Ghost and Soap sat down at the bar watching you. They didn't want it to seem obvious that your date had disappeared for the evening at the hands of them. Waiting some more for your face to become somber, the thought of you being left wanting to cross your mind.

Sure enough, they could see your eyes become sad, glancing at your watch and phone, wanting something from Brad, but the reason would never come. Ghost ordered you a drink, going to play the card of 'Saw you looking sad, brought you this to make you feel better' and Soap would try to comfort you.

Seeing them both approach, you tried to look as though nothing was bothering you. Stubborn was just part of who you were as a person.

"Where's your date, Bonnie?" Soap asked, putting on the front.

"Went to the bathroom.." and meekly next while looking at your watch "about an hour ago."

Ghost then slid the drink over to you, Soap scooting in on one side and then Ghost took the other.

Soap clicks his tongue, acting like he felt bad for you. "Sorry Bonnie, such a shame because you look so stunning tonight, too," His voice low in your ear.

"Thought it was going well.." your voice quiet goosebumps raising on your skin from how close both men are.

Ghost had nonchalantly placed an arm around the back of you, manspreading while he did.

"Dumb on his part, love, you're a catch." You could feel his voice rumbling in his chest. The thought of Ghost caring your date left warming your aching heart.

But what really took your breath away was Soap's hand on your thigh, traveling slowly up towards the bottom of your dress. In fact, not only was your heart warming, but so were the pretty panties in between your legs you had worn.

"Want to show you how much of a catch ya are." Soap's breath was hot against the column of your neck, teeth just skimming the muscle, wanting to bite until you moan. Ghost had leaned forward, his arm now wrapped up underneath your arms, so you couldn't wiggle away, large hand placed against your abdomen.

"What do ya say, love? Wanna forget Brad?" Ghost asked lips against your other ear now.

"Brad who?" Your wit allowed you to answer earning chuckles from both men.

There will be a part 2 to this!

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[xiao-come-home]

Genshin men's favorite part of your body;

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✰ Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Ayato, Itto, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Thoma.

✰ Words: 2,6k.

✰ N/SFW blurbs, fem!reader. MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. Warnings below.

Warning: mentions of lingerie, public groping kinda, implied fucking in the bathroom, itto needs a leash, nipple sucking, reader touching themselves for a character, neck kisses, marking, cock kissing, thigh fucking, pussy eating and grinding, msg me to add more.

A/N: i tried to make it chrismas-y but failed and horny took over at the end. (fingerg/uns). mobile formatting has failed me.

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

Kaeya:

i think we all agree that he's an ass man. he'll stare at your ass with no shame whatsoever, even if he's caught. "that's a whole buffet right there, babe," he says, as he slaps your ass and giggles. speaking of, he always has to keep a hand on your ass if he's drinking in a bar - it just gently rests in the back pocket of your jeans. might actually cum a bucket if you reverse cow-girl him, and the said position gives him a bit of contemplation, whether he wants to rip your panties apart or leave them, hmm, it's the third one this week, but you won't mind, right? Kaeya is surely big on lingerie, and if you combine it with his obsession with ass - especially one that defines your cheeks - you might want to take a day off.. oh! also, he'll purposely drop ANYTHING to make you bend down.

the cavalry captain observes you as you hastily serve drinks in Angel's Share - you've promised Diluc to help during the Christmas party that the tavern runs every year. his sapphire eyes follow your figure right and left, as he finishes yet another shot of the holiday special - glaring at the drunkards that blatantly stare at your adorable, Santas-adorned skirt, which seemed way too short for this type of celebration. feeling his patience running out, he stands up from his seat and approaches you, wrapping his hands around your waist and bringing you closer. "oh my, who do we have here?" kaeya giggles, pushing one, lonely strand of hair behind your ear, "why must you tease me so much, snowflake? and during christmas, out of all holidays?" he pouts, the hand sliding from your waist to grab a handful of your plush ass roughly. feeling his breath closer and closer and his fingers slipping past your panties, a certain redhead attempts to de-escalate the situation, nudging his brother with an elbow and nodding his head - red eyes focused on the bathroom, "don't make too much noise."

Ayato:

this man is a LEG MAN and I do not accept anything else. His brain starts acting up as soon as you wear heels, show your legs or thighs in any way, just seeing how that thigh highs hug you so, so perfectly, he feels his cock twitch in his pants. Expect many secret leg touches under kotatsu or tables, to have you, his pretty wife all dolled up next to him during the important meetings, being the obedient little one and trying not to moan, as his hand plays a dangerous game near your core. Nothing works to make him pay attention to other parts of your body, say - you're wearing booty shorts? Oh, but would you look at how your legs seem way longer and more delicious? He's absolutely going to devour and worship your legs, even if you're wearing an innocent Santa costume with long, red dress. He's obsessed about buying you cute tights, thigh highs, especially on occasions like holidays - candy cane themed, raindeers, snowflakes - everything he lays his eyes on is going to your shared closet.

"Go ahead, love - try them on for me. Good, now sit on my lap," Ayato's eyes wander to your legs, eyeing them in their entirety, up from the thighs, all the way down to your ankles before you come closer, slowly riding up your crimson skirt, "We need to try them out, right?" His hand caresses your knee softly, the delicate material of the white tights decorated with gingerbread men feels too good against his palm, almost too good, but you can't miss his wide pupils and how his lower lip disappears between his teeth. not long after, you find yourself sprawled on the bed, your cunt clenching around his dick; ayato pounds into you while your legs are pressed to his chest and shoulders, kneading your breasts delicately.

Itto:

the one and oni could never fully decide - that's why he settled down with breasts and tummy. no matter what, if you wear a revealing t-shirt or dress, there is no way to prevent his eyes from shamelessly staring at your chest for at least solid 5 minutes. Itto never pressures you to wear something for him (that'd be a bit hypocritical lol), but if you decide to tease him - if your chest is on the bigger side and the oni notices the way your breasts are pressed together, it takes him (pinching hand emoji) this close to ripping the clothing off and start marking your tits with love bites. BUT! if you're on the smaller side - he absolutely doesn't mind! he actuallly encourages you to go braless! totally not because whenever he catches a glimpse of your hardened nipples, he's immediately about to start sucking on them, regardless if he's in public or not.. his fixation on your nipples might one day get him in trouble.

as you adjust the tinsel above the crackling fireplace, you feel large hands envelop your stomach - someone familiar approaches you from behind, "that's a nice sweater you have, lil bug," itto's massive palms rub your tummy gently, only to swiftly go under the warm, green knitwear with a snowman and graze your bare skin with his claws, "but there's somethin' about it," he bends down and latches his lips on your neck, sucking bruises and soothing them with his tongue. his hands make his way up to your bra, cutting the material in half with his sharp, inky nail, "it's in the goddamn way."

Xiao:

the yaksha has taken a strong liking to your hands, preferably bare, hungry for skin-to-skin contact after so many years of facing loneliness. though, each time his golden eyes follow your hand movements, even innocent ones - sinful thoughts begin to flood his mind - how your pretty hands stroke his cock each time you get intimate, the way your hands get lost in his hair when your tongues dance together. xiao's breath hitches in his throat as he watches your palm slide down his chest to get under his tight shirt, only to slide back up and tease his hard pe-- he shakes his head and sighs in defeat, clutching the jade spear. either way, there's no doubt xiao will become putty in your grasp as soon as you brush your thumb over his lower lip.

liyue has finally welcomed winter - the snow has fallen, along with the temperature. the frost clings tightly to the window, but xiao - he finds himself getting hotter and hotter with every minute that passes. he swallows harshly, observing you naked before him, lying on the bed with your legs spread - you tease him by gliding your hand over your breasts. xiao grips the sheets tightly as soon as you pinch one of your nipples and moan his name; his eyes immediately fall onto your wet pussy, malachite brows furrowing at the sight of your glistening folds. he watches as your hands roam around your body sensually touching yourself, the fairy lights reflecting various colors in your eyes... he's patient, but seeing you play lazily with your clit, smearing your juices all over your slit and finally, finally inserting them inside you seems like he cannot wait any longer.

Diluc:

he's truly addicted to your neck and will not deny it. i don't just mean only intimate sessions, no - he's so crazy about it, that to him neck kisses are the equivalent of cheek kisses. when you greet him, you don't turn your cheek to him, you tilt your head to the side only to feel his warm lips on your neck and vermilion hair tickling your shoulder. if diluc doesn't make new love bites, he absolutely presses gentle, wet kisses onto the already-existing ones, letting out quiet whimpers from time to time. he waits (im)patiently for them to heal, only to feel his mouth water at the sight of your now clean neck, staring at it for a bit too long and replaying the previous sessions of marking you in his mind. diluc goes overboard sometimes - and the only way to physically stop him from locking his lips on your neck is to wear turtlenecks.

the glass squeaks slightly as you carefully polish it with a cloth - it's currently rush hour at Angel's Share - the Christmas special sold out almost immediately, and the tavern is filled with loud laughs, chatter, and occasional yelling. you see Kaeya leaving his seat with a prominent blush and a slight scowl on his face, walking towards the new staff member. you shrug it off, picking up his empty shot glass to begin cleaning it, but the sudden hug from behind and the weight on your shoulder stop you. "it's cold today, isn't it?" diluc smirks and nuzzles into your neck - or rather the material that covers it - one of his hands travel to tug it down, to give him the access to the forbidden fruit he's been dying to bite since you arrived. his lips pepper small kisses on your hickeys, almost apologetically; you feel him push himself on you more, locking you between him and the counter. diluc's tongue traces the bruises he's made a few days prior, leaving a wet track of saliva and trying badly not to let out the moan he's been holding. "diluc," you say his name silently, earning only a hum from him, "your brother is about to have sex on that table."

Alhaitham:

he was the only one to genuinely and quite nonchalantly admit that your lips are his favorite, and then went back to casually reading his book. it makes sense now - all the subtle glances at your lips whenever you are near him, always kissing away the tiny bits of food stuck on them, noticing your new lip glosses or lipsticks. alhaitham is a private person - therefore, he only gives a few kisses in public, but at home - he loves making out with you as much as possible; he can't wait to feel your lips after spending a whole day at the akademiya. he can't wait to brush his thumb over your lips, to gently work his mouth over yours, to cradle your face and lick your lower lip and silently ask for permission to deepen the kiss. it doesn't matter if you're just doing the laundry or cooking - he WILL lick off that strawberry lip gloss you've bought. the scribe generally doesn't care much about where your lips are on his body - be it his neck, cheeks, or lips - his only weakness is seeing your pretty mouth near his cock.

it's hard to say what alhaitham likes more - your mouth sucking his cock, or straight up having it messily played with by your lips. he adores the way his stiff length disappears in your mouth, but also, he's trying his best not to cum while watching you kiss his cock. in fact, you don't have to suck him off to make him cum - the sheer view of you making out with his dick while whimpering against it might be just enough. he can't wait to return the favor - to smear your essence all over his lips and dive in for a kiss later. hopefully kaveh doesn't mind all that noises while decorating the chrismas tree.

Dainsleif:

oh my god. someone stop him before he passes out between your thighs. if dainsleif was about to die, that's the only acceptable place. but in a more serious tone, he ridiculously loves your thighs to the point that he cannot stop touching them when you're alone with him. though, he does like to keep his hand on your thigh if you're in public, perhaps in a tavern. he doesn't overstep but does like to tease you and rub his hand back and forth, slipping his hand toward your center occasionally, chuckling to himself after you seal his hand between the soft flesh of your legs. he could spend an eternity worshipping your thighs, in a way - he's very similar to diluc; ready to mark your thighs with his love bites, kiss them, lick them, bite the sweet skin lightly. dain religiously gives you oral on almost every occasion, hoping to feel your thighs squeeze his head tightly as you cum on his tongue.

if there's anything else that dain's mind goes blank almost immediately for - it's the thigh fucking. he feels his head spin as he fucks your thighs, using your cum as lube; you clench around nothing seeing his cock head peek and disappear as he thrusts into you. dainsleif tries to keep his composure, but his face betrays him: the furrowed brows, full-blown out pupils, his teeth gritting, hissing at the pleasure, desperately trying to enjoy the supple skin longer. little does he know, he's about to paint your thighs white.

Zhongli:

although it didn't seem as strange before, the geo archon has bought you many rings. his face always lights up and he extends his arm to gently caress the new rings with his thumb, before bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on top of it, and then each finger. after countless innocent suggestions to stop wearing gloves, having his hand on top of yours and having him absentmindedly playing with your fingers - you've guessed right, zhongli does indeed like your fingers the most. he smiles sweetly as he compliments your new nail polish - but behind that smile, deep down, his brain imagines those pretty fingers trying to grip his fat dick and not being able to connect with each other due to his size. he can't wait to suck them and see your pussy flutter as you fuck yourself with his spit on your fingers.

he wouldn't have ever guessed that this is what truly makes gets him going; yet, Zhongli found himself playing with you like a toy. he has you sat on his lap with your back pressed to his chest; your entrance is soaked already, tiny beads of sweat on your naked body begin to appear. his immense geo-infused hand with gold veins envelops yours, and he can't help but adore the purity of your own. he slides both of your hands together past your breasts, stopping at your tummy to turn your head slightly and kiss you with his split tongue; he swallows your moan as he guides the hands again onto your slit, rubbing it affectionately. you intertwine your other hand with Zhongli's unoccupied one and gasp, feeling his hand circle your clit with your own fingers, shortly before letting go and entering your hot cunt with his.

Bonus blurb~!

Thoma:

this poor thing sees your pussy and is instantly gone. everything about it makes him stop in his tracks when dirty thoughts appear - thinking how prettily your panties outline your pussy, being able to see your pussy lips hidden in your underwear when you bend down because ayato just dropped something by complete accident... thoma can't take his eyes off you as he enters you, watching your hole take him entirely, his mind racing and hoping to hear the squelching sounds from your soaking cunt. he has a habit of gently slapping your pussy with his hard cock, grinding between your pussy lips - but he asked nicely, so please let him! thoma also worships your pussy and hopes you don't mind him making out with your clit and your tight hole, desperately trying to swallow your juices so nothing goes to waste. he tries to get some friction and grinds against the mattress, his face flushed as he laps at your pussy, holding your thighs harshly and moaning against your opening like a bitch in heat, silently urging you to pull his hair and bring his face even closer.

[vixensheart]

Angel lays on his bed twirling Husk’s feather in his fingers, watching the way the low bedroom light bounces off the reds and blacks. There’s a touch of iridescence on the black coloring. The slightest sheen of purples and blues. It’s not noticeable unless he holds the feather a certain way, but it sure is pretty. Kinda like Husk himself.

He hasn’t quite figured out what to do with it, yet. He kinda wants to make it into a necklace, maybe. Or some other sort of jewelry. Maybe. He hums to himself, one hand scratching at his exposed midriff. Would it be weird, wearing one of Husk’s feathers? Heat stings at his cheeks. Probably. It’s probably weird as shit. They’re not even—it’s not even—Husk is his boss. Owns his soul. For now. People’d probably think it’s some weird label of ownership if he ran around with one of his feathers around his own neck.

…it’s a little fucked up that the thought’s got him feeling a little hot under the collar, isn’t it? Angel bites the inside of his cheek and drapes an arm across his face with a groan. Well. Now he really should make it into a necklace. 

He shifts his arm, peeking up at the ceiling. Angel’s not sure what time it is—sometime midafternoon, well before his shift. A sigh eases from him. He shifts, sits up. There’s an itch under his skin. Angel twists and crawls up his bed towards the night stand. He sets the feather down with one hand and yanks open the drawer with the other, only to stop short and blink at it. 

Oh. Shit. It’s empty. Or. Empty of anything except his mostly empty bottle of Love Potion, which is not what he needs right now.

Shit. 

The itch spreads, making Angel twitchy. 

He’s out of drugs. How in the fuck is he out of drugs. (Angel knows the answer, of course he knows the answer. He hasn’t left his house other than walking Fat Nuggets to the street corner in weeks. Obviously he hasn’t gone to stock up on drugs.) He…he could text Cherri. But the chances of her being free to swing by with something aren’t great—not with like, no notice like this. Angel chews on a nail. He. He could go pick something up, quick. There’s a store, like, just over a block away. It’d probably be fine. He can be careful, and quick. He’s armed, he’s aware—the chances of some asshole getting a drop on him are slim to none. 

Probably. 

Angel’s leg bounces. He glances at his phone. It’s two. If he goes now, there’d be plenty of time to still get ready. 

He slides off the bed. 

Should he change? Angel frowns, glances down at himself. He’s in a crop top and a skirt, with a pair of thick comfy socks on—aka very much not his uniform. But it’s still early. He should have time to swing back and get ready. Plenty of it. This is purely gonna be an in and out scenario.

He does make sure to grab that knife of his, though, just. In case. The skirt’s too short to wear it on his thigh, so he slips it onto the waistband, just over his hip.

Angel grabs a pair of shoes—little bootie heels—and a purse for his phone and carrying the drugs, and pauses in the living room to give Nuggs some scritches. “Daddy’s gonna be gone for a bit,” he says. “I’ll be back soon though. Be a good little boy, okay?” He kisses his little head, right between the ears. 

And then he grabs his keys and leaves.

♠️

Read the rest on Ao3!

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hey Sarah! I'm looking for some dating advice for someone living at home with parents in their 20s, getting back into dating? I moved back home last year after graduating from university and went through a breakup that summer, then got incredibly busy starting my new job, so I've had a hold on my dating life. Things have gotten less stressful with work these past few weeks, and I had a conversation with some new friends, which made me realize I wanted to try getting back out there! In high school, I had one of those weird best friend who I may have been in love with? situations who my family all knew, but never dated anyone, so I just feel kinda weird about it. I guess I'm just wondering how much to share with my parents, any ways to make it less weird, any tips you might have? Also, style-wise, would you say my TaylorExact Little Lies dress in black with a strappy block sandal would be good for a dressy drinks first date? It's still a little warm for a long sleeve dress, but I'm diving head first into my fall wardrobe. Thank you 💚

Ah the unrequited best friend crush ... oh have I been there.

I think this is a tough thing to provide advice about because everyone's relationships with their family is totally different. I am not very close with my parents and I don't really talk to them about my personal life. So I'd say go with what feels natural / right to you. Maybe once you start dating / talking to people if you want to share you can let them know you've started talking to someone and are meeting them for a date at XYZ.

Depending on the fancy-ness of the date and the weather I think a strappy block heel would be cute. If it starts to get chilly I think you could do that dress with tights and some heeled booties.

[old-poptart]

i love fanfics, and you have *PERFECT* writing and most of the time it's open so duont be mwad at mwe if i ask too much 😭😭

teru, and yugi twins x reader who writes poems???? fluff 🙏🙏🙏

a/n: heyy!!! awh shucks- thank you!!! nah bro you good i love when ppl request 🫶🏽

this idea sounds so cute ah- onto the headcanons!

Teru 🤺 and the Yugi twins 🧑🏻🧑🏻 with an s/o who writes poetry (gender neutral):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teru 🤺:

"what beautiful words you have there, darling~"

i headcanon that teru is a big fan of poetry

so when he found out that you, his beloved and sweet s/o was a talented poet he was estatic

he was like a little kid finding out their mom is taking them to McDonald's

he tried to keep his cool and totally not geek out about his favorite pieces of poetry and ask to see your work

definitely romanticizes you writing mysterious poems and leaving them in his locker or something

he just watches you in awe as you form the right words and make up a meaning behind each sentence

he's practically towering over you and blocking the light tell him to stop please

gets very giddy when you do write him poems, specifically love letters that are super detailed and cute and ah-

staring at it for hours on end

he would want to go on library dates and just write poems together whilst you two have coffee and sweets

give this boy sm poems pls he's in love

Yugi Twins 🧑🏻🧑🏻:

"you write beautifully.."

"you're beautiful yourself too!"

boy oh boy

i can see tsukasa finding out first that you are the person behind the paper of those marvelous words

at first he'd be a lil confused, give him some time he'll figure it out (with your help) BUT once he connects the dots he'll be like an eager lil puppy

he wouldn't tell you that he knows about your poetry but he would tell amane, bro is over the moon when he reads your work my goodness

the way you put together your words with such delicacy and thought just marvels them

if you wrote them love letters, especially secret admirer letters, they would wanna respond back with their own poems

amane definitely uses astronomy metaphors and leaves lil cutesy trinkets in those lil letters

tsukasa on the other hand leaves stains on the letters and manages to go through three pens and a pencil just from writing two stanzas, ill let your imagination think of what kinda stains he leaves

if you recite your poems to them they're done for, bonus points if you have an enchanting and alluring voice man they are beet red

the twins would love to watch you do your magic but amane would get a lil nervous since he knows the pressure of being watched whilst doing something as intricate as writing, tsukasa on the other hand is bombarding you with questions about the meanings, why you used that word, etc

over all, these lil lover boys are head over heels for you and your gorgeous words~

OH MY GOODNESS IM SO SORRY THIS IS SUPA LATE, SCHOOL HAS BEEN KICKING MY BOOTY DAWG ☠️ HOPE YOU ENJOY!

-ooga :D

[whumpsical]

⭐️💙👁😭🧠

YOU’RE SO AMAZING!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!

🥺😱😱💖 omg thank u!! This was so much fun to compile!

each of the snippets below the cut will have their own content warnings <33

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⭐ share a snippet where a character is the best at something

contents: trafficking/forced prostitution, mention of snuff, dissociating, internalized slut shaming, a hint of nsfwhump

Jian tried his best not to think about it anymore. If he stopped caring about what happened to his body, if he lost his mind enough, he could take a cock down his throat like he was still getting paid for it.

That was why Lucia was keeping him out of the snuff rooms, anyway. He had a pretty face and even prettier screams for the position, a fact that Lucia was happy to remind him of every time he was chosen to serve another violent but non-lethal client, how his skills in cocksucking made up for the one-time profit. As long as he kept it up.

He could do that. He could check out, let his eyes go blank and let Lucia's clients do what they wanted to him, work his dumb whore magic and swallow, keep them coming back for him, keep himself alive. As long as Lucia didn't expect him to show some kind of gratitude to her for holding him just above the chopping block.

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💙 share a snippet where a character falls out of love a little

contents: a drug/alcohol relapse fueled booty call, a whole stockholm/lima syndrome mess

this comes from an au with @yet-another-heathen where Garcia kept Jian as his pet <33

"...with your invitation? Believe me, if you wake up tomorrow morning and still have the mind to I would love nothing more in the world than to fuck you so good neither of us manage to get out of bed for days."

Jian set his frosty down and hugged his knee to his chest, bracing his foot on the rim of the empty Home Depot bucket.

He wasn't scared of Garcia. For some bizarre reason, he could trust him. Somewhere deep in the demented chemistry of his brain, he still knew he could trust him. That's why he'd called him. Not because he hoped he'd get whisked away to be held in indefinite captivity, but because he knew he wouldn't.

And right now, that realization made the thought of going back to him like this so wholly unappealing that he couldn't help but sniffle out a tiny, derisive laugh at his own expense. This whole stupid scheme of his was supposed to hurt. Garcia had said it himself, Jian was out here looking to take his punishment into his own hands.

Still, to have such bad taste in men that Garcia was off the list was an unexpected blow.

"I don't... I don't think I will."

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👁 share a snippet where the character is very visually engaged/a snippet with description

contents: Jian being drunk, back in his whoring era

Someone touched him from behind, shoving past. Someone else nearly knocked the cup from his protectively raised hand, but Jian just flowed with all the movement around him, swaying between and bumping into anonymous bodies who blinked in and out of existence along with the rhythm of the strobe lights. A girl in front of him, he couldn't remember what she'd just introduced herself as, but right now they were headed towards the back patio to meet one of her friends.

Jian liked her shoes. Tall studded platforms in lime green, their apparent hue shifting dramatically with the utra-saturated red and violet and blue lights that flooded the space. Each of the metal studs on the heel reflected every single little light that surrounded them, making the girl's shoes glitter and flash in Jian's eyes like disco balls.

He knew they had made it outside when the thrumming in his ears reached a pitch louder than the noise around them, and the girl's shoes only shimmered with the golden string lights that stretched across the patio.

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😭 share a snippet that will break our hearts

contents: trafficking/forced prostitution, discussion of death

"Chris is dead," Jian told Greta plainly, once both of them had been locked into their room early the next morning, hours before sunrise. Jian didn't feel anything saying it out loud. Maybe relief. He was too numb to really know.

Greta gave a wry chuckle and a nod, but her veil of sarcasm was moth-eaten and rotting. Even in the dark, Jian could see an emptiness in her eyes that must have matched his own.

"If... if I ever..." Jian stuttered and fell from his track. He averted his gaze, finding Greta's impassive, moonlit face unsettlingly lifeless. "Don't let me go like that, Greta. If I get sick, don't– don't let me die like that. Please."

For a long time, Greta didn't say anything, and Jian was already mentally fortifying himself to take on the task if it came down to it.

When she did speak, Greta's voice was unnaturally flat and quiet.

"That's a lot to ask. You'd do the same for me?"

"Yes," Jian said without hesitation, not knowing yet if he actually did have the courage to deliver on his end of the promise. But he knew he couldn't bear an ending like the one he'd just watched Chris endure.

"Okay," Greta agreed, and the two of them never said another word about it.

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🧠 share a snippet where the character realizes something important

contents: slavery in a historical fantasy setting, failed escape

another crossover with @yet-another-heathen!! this one's how my Morgo entered his Jackal universe <33

The creature approached them once more, and Morgo watched, paralyzed with overstimulation and aching from the heat, as the ifrit handed over a selection of raw emerald along with a small handful of gold coins. Morgo stopped breathing entirely. That was more than enough to--

No. NO. He was not fucking leaving with these demons. If he had one choice left to make in his life, he would choose how he fucking departed from it. He would prefer to perish in the open desert and be buried alone under whirling sands than spend his final few hours among these horrible creatures. Without any care for how savagely it shredded what skin remained on his wrists and neck, Morgo used his body to wrench the rope from beneath Ashok’s foot and sprinted off, making for the clearest horizon line he could find.

His feet never touched the sand. In less than a blink, the ifrit took him down with one huge hand and laid him flat to the fibers of the rug, forcing out a strangled moan from deep in Morgo’s gut.

[silkchifffon]

Classic Monochrome Python Snake Skin All Over Print Bodysuit, $22.73

Plus Crocodile Embossed Tank Bodysuit in Silver, $7.00

Seamless Ultra Shimmery Tights, $15.00

Professional Fishnet Seamless Tights, $32.00

Kimono Beach Bikini Cover Up Wrap in Black, $29.99

Kona Sol Sleeveless Cover Up Maxi Duster, $30.00

Studded Decor Square Buckle Belt in Black, $5.00

Plus Double Black Pyramid Stud Belt, $15.60

Faux Leather Lace Up Above Ankle Block Heel Booties, $41.99

Milwaukee Performance MBL9433 Black Triple Buckle Strap Riding Boots with Block Heel, $42.05-87.99

[mspirations]

Toni Topaz "Brave New World" - 2x22

Zara Checked Skirt With Chain

SiSi Tights

Topshop Rosemary Leather Jacket

Jeffrey Campbell Lilith Block Heel Booties in Red Plaid Fabric

Dark Rose Jewelry Strength of the Serpent Choker

Thanks for identifying:

Shop Your TV

[myleatherknapsack]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: White leather boots.

[theunemployedrogue]

I went shopping for clothes and shoes today for the first time in a while. I wound up finding some pretty good shirts and pants for when I have to go into the office, and a pair of booties with a small (2.5 inch) heel. First time I have worn a non-block heel in a looooong time but I walk fine in them and they're surprisingly comfortable :] Plus I get to be a whooping 5'5 while wearing them lmao