: PEGGING? - Tumblr Posts

pairings: piercer!eren x reader

warnings: smuuuttt 18+, eren is the president of the subby men club, pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

a/n: I'm nervy to put this out omggg

pt.2 to Good girl but ofc can be read as a standalone

Boss

You heard him before you could see him. The slam of the front door, throw of his keys and heavy sigh alerting you he wasn't in the best mood.

“Baby?” You peeked your head out before walking into the living room, where he sat with his hands over his face, fingers separating wide enough to look at you before he put his arms out.

A telltale sign he had a bad day. Eren was usually the energetic one of your pair, always coming home with a smile on his face before he made you take a break from whatever it was you were doing to ramble on about his day, and happily listen about yours.

However, on bad days he just wanted to be held, quiet for the night as you whispered affirmations in his ear.

“Wanna talk?” Your hands cradled his face as he pulled you close.

“Today was annoying. We had two shipments come in, and of course one of them was wrong. Then one of Mikasa’s clients was being a perv and when I tried to handle it the asshole swung at me, so of course I had to beat his ass, and call the cops. Their asses didn't even help because they tried to accuse me of selling drugs out of the shop. Shit was a fucking mess.” He groaned. Crescent indents formed on your hips as his grip tightened.

“I'm sorry, pa” Your plump lips littered slow soft kisses on his.

“Anything I can do to make your day better?” The tension in his shoulders dissolving as you massaged them.

“Just you- fuck just you being here is perfect, baby” He groaned as your hands traveled down to his biceps, the tension high in his muscles.

He leaned back into the couch, eyes shut as you worked your magic. His body had finally started to relax after the events of the day when he felt you get off of him.

“Where are you-” He opened his eyes, pausing when he saw you down on your knees in front of him, fingers hooked around the waistband of his sweats.

“Y-you don't have to baby. It's okay” He let out a shaky breath.

“I want to. All you have to do is relax. You've been the boss all day. Let me have my turn.” Your thumb grazed the growing bulge under his sweats before pulling both his boxers and pants down in one swift motion.

“Ahh” He whimpered, low eyes watching as you stroked his length a few times before your lips parted, kissing his tip as your tongue swiped up the precum.

“Baby, please” He whined, hips bucking as you swirled your tongue around his frenum piercing.

As badly as you wanted to tease him till he cried, you knew he was due for a break. Allowing your gathered saliva to slide onto his length as you shined his dick, fingers wrapped tightly around his base as you slowly took him in your mouth, getting halfway before letting your hands do the rest as you bobbed your head.

His chest heaving as you took more every time your head came up to lick along his slit.

He was needy. You could tell by the soft whimpers he tried so hard to contain whenever you took him out of your mouth to suck on his balls, tongue circling his ass for a quick second before coming back up to wrap your mouth around him.

“D-don't stop, mommy” He whined as you widened his legs, thumb applying pressure to his aching hole as you took him fully into your mouth.

You couldn't tell if it was the blowjob, the pressure to his puckered hole, or the mixture of the two as he cried and whimpered, thighs tensing as his dick jumped in your mouth, salty cum filling your mouth.

Letting him slide from your mouth with a pop, you kissed along the underside of his dick, tounge running over his veins as you stroked the last few drops of cum from him.

“What do you want baby?” You coaxed him, looking up into his needy eyes while rubbing soothing shapes into his thighs.

“Need you to fuck me, mommy, please” He whined, slowly pumping his dick with a tight grip.

He eagerly followed you to your shared bedroom, patiently spread out on the bed while you fished out your favorite pink confetti strap and a bottle of lube from your closet.

You couldn't help but smile down at him as you situated yourself between his legs. It took weeks of begging him to at least think about allowing you to do this, finally caving when he felt your tongue accidentally graze over his ass one night while giving him head.

Nothing would ever top him fucking you from behind when it came to your sexual encounters but having him needy and whiny under you as he begged you to go faster definitely came second.

Apologizing for the cool sensation of the lube you prepped him, basking in the way his standing dick twitched when your thumb slid in. After coaxing a second orgasm from him just from foreplay you squeezed a large amount of the gooey substance onto the dildo, coating the object before slowly easing into him.

You took care to tease him with slow, deliberate strokes, your fingers tightly wrapped around the base of his dick as you stroked him with the same pace of your thrust. Green eyes staring up at you as he moaned for more.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.” You murmured, watching him squirm.

“Feels- fuck feels so good, mommy” He whimpered, abs tensing as your fingers ghosted over his tip.

“Yeah?” You smirked, free hand gliding up his abs to pinch his tiny pink buds as you increased your pace. His grip tightening on the sheets as he panted your name.

“H-harder, please” He moaned, trembling under you.

Who were you to deny your boy? Changing positions you gave him exactly what he asked. A hand wrapped around his dick as your hips ricochet off of his cheeks. Your name left his lips in whiny muffled cries as he arched back into you. The sound of wet slaps echoed through the room as he cried from pleasure.

“C-can't hold it anymore, mommy” You already knew he was close, his dick twitching with every thrust and stroke.

“I know, baby, let go” Your fingers wrapped tightly around his base, thumb circling his sensitive tip.

“Fuck- nghh” He became a moaning mess, cum spurting on your hands and the sheets as you milked him dry.

Slowly retracting from him, you licked your fingers clean, kissing up his back as you whispered I love you's and praises, before helping him clean up and change the sheets.

With a smile on your face, you climbed into bed next to him.

“Feel better?” You pecked his lips, giggling at the slap earned on your ass, as he deepened the kiss. He truly just needed his frustration fucked out of him to get back to his usual self.

“Almost” He smirked.

“Almost? And what would make you better than this?” You asked, confused by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Sit on my face?”

Behind every great man is a great woman, and it's true. It's me. I'm pegging all of th-- [gunshot]

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lord help me I'm getting into jpegmafia again...

day 10 ♡ chan

⇢ pairing: chan x fem!reader ⇢ word count: 805 ⇢ genre: smut, established relationship!au ⇢ kinks: pegging, double-ended dildo ⇢ summary: chan tests his limits with you ⇢ warnings: 18+, minors dni!; use of a double-ended dildo, anal penetration, mentions of rimming and anal fingering ⇢ day 9 ♡ day 11 ⇢ masterlist ♡ kinktober masterpost ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3 ⇢ reblogs and feedback are always motivating and appreciated! ♡

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Something this non-masculine shouldn’t feel so good, that’s what Chan thinks. Why would it feel this good? Getting penetrated is the furthest thing from masculine he can imagine, yet here he is, craving it, enjoying it, never wanting you to stop.

It’s your fault, it’s all your fault. Before you, Chan enjoyed being the one in control, the one who was in charge even if was just lying there and letting someone else do all the work. It was the way things were supposed to work—he was there to fuck the other person, not the other way around.

And then, you two met, and you showed him giving up some control can be good. He can try out new things too, instead of always being the one to teach his partners something. Through this learning process, Chan figured out that having someone play with your ass actually feels good, no matter how much he thought he’d hate it.

He could play with yours all day, but the thought of you touching him there made him feel too… vulnerable. Too open. It was just more intimate than what Chan was ready for back then.

With time, though, he let you try what you wanted to try with him, trusted you enough not to make you stop when you rimmed him, when you used your tongue to make him feel things he’s never felt before, made him come so hard he almost passed out.

Then, Chan let you finger him. The feeling was completely different from your tongue, but because you took your sweet time with him and ensured he was ready for it, he enjoyed it. In fact, he wanted more of it as soon as it was done, thought about your finger in him when he would jerk off.

Later, he let you try out a toy on him while you blew him. Nowadays, he expects at least a thumb pressed against his ass while you suck him off—some kind of contact has to happen. You’ve conditioned him to enjoy it, and that’s what’s funny about it. Something he was repulsed by has now become a regular thing in his life and he enjoys every second of it.

So, Chan is not surprised at all that he’s enjoying your latest stunt—a double-ended dildo, one end of which is inside your pussy, the other in his ass. You two have been in this position before without the toy separating you, only that time, his dick was in you and he was the one pushing his hips into you, enjoying the way his cock just sank into your hole with ease. Now you’re sitting with your legs intertwined, crotches inches away from each other, the pretty thick dildo connecting your bodies.

“Why is this so fucking hot?” he grunts the question at you, unhappy with the fact that he loves seeing the same toy enter you and him at the same time, not to mention how perfectly it fills him up. You get the thicker part of the dildo, as agreed, so Chan can only imagine how good it feels in your pussy, especially after he’s made you come with his mouth, got you all hot and bothered, wet and messy, ready for the toy.

You did the same to him, so the smaller part of the toy that’s inside of him feels like heaven, rubs his prostate just right, makes his cock leak precum against his toned stomach. You’re both grunting and using the toy to get off, and something about it feels so dirty and wrong that it just turns Chan on even more. You should do this more often.

“It’s like we’re fucking each other,” you hiss back, grinning before you look down again, “but in a way we just can’t. You can’t fuck me while I fuck you… That’s why this is amazing.”

“Makes sense. Wish it didn’t.”

His admission makes you chuckle and lean in to kiss him. You’re the one who’s moving more, who’s trying to fuck the toy. Whenever you let it sink into you, you push it into Chan a bit further, but it’s nowhere close to the feeling of you fucking him with a toy. Still, the sight makes up for it—he loves seeing you with anything stuck inside of you, filling your pretty pussy up, making you groan and arch your back. “You’re just bitter that you like it.”

“So what if I am?”

You giggle and continue to move the same way you do when you’re fucking yourself against his cock, which is now rock hard and resting on his lower stomach, dying for your attention. But, Chan knows he’ll come fast if he touches himself. “Not manly enough for you?” you tease, squeezing the toy and smacking your hips against it so it enters him faster, deeper. “Don’t feel like a man with a dildo in your little ass?”

“Shut up,” Chan tells you in between moans, making it very clear he doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t be here sweating and leaking precum if he wasn’t enjoying every second of it. “I can still fuck you into tomorrow.”

“Baby,” you coo, giggling, “I know you can. You can also take it in the ass. What’s so wrong with that?”

Chan sighs and looks down, pretending he didn’t hear you. He can’t answer that question because he doesn’t know.

“I think it’s really hot,” you go on, groaning when the toy enters you fully. “You’re so big and manly and attractive… But you like your ass played with. Those two shouldn’t work well together, but they do, and I love it so much—”

“I know you do,” he agrees with a hum, happy to know you’re having fun. “You just want to prove that you’re right about ass stuff.”

“No, I want you to have the best orgasms with me…” you admit, smiling at him sweetly as if you’re not impaling yourself on a toy to get off, for his eyes only. Everything about you is perfect, including the fact that you can always tell when something is on his mind. “And don’t you?”

“I do,” Chan nods enthusiastically, “every time.”

“Then? Just enjoy it. No one knows but us,” you reassure him, which is exactly what he needs to relax his walls and let the toy enter him a bit further.

“It shouldn’t feel this fucking good… I wish I could fuck you at the same time.”

“We can help each other,” you say with a cocked up eyebrow, head tilted to the side. You seem playful, so he knows you’re up to something. “Just push yourself against it, let it enter you… Please.”

Chan hates doing this—he feels slutty for bucking his hips into a toy, enjoying the way it rams into his ass and rubs his prostate, hating the way his cock twitches at it, but he does it for you. The next second, you do the same thing, which causes the toy to push towards him. The next time he bucks his hips, there’s more friction since you’ve just pushed the toy.

So, that’s what you two do, just fuck the toy at the same time, swirling your hips, naked and panting, too turned on to care about keeping it down. It goes on for a long time, so long Chan is afraid he’ll lose his voice from moaning. He’s the first one to come, cum spraying out of his cock and landing everywhere on you and him, but neither one of you stops fucking the toy. Only after he blows does he start moving his hips so fast you practically scream for him and spread your legs wide, letting him use the toy to fuck your orgasm out of you. He hates that it all feels so good.

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DAECHWITA: Chapter 4

« PREVIOUS CHAPTER · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

“Please be with me tonight, princess,” he came closer to you with quiet steps, “Let me hold you in my arms again.” “Hyunjin, don’t–” “Please,” he started begging with his eyes as well as his words while sneakily wrapping one hand around your waist, “Please. I can’t stand being without you anymore.”

Chapter 4: Sanity Fair

📜8.2K words | Approx. 35-min. read 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings. For this chapter, there are some elements I'm not willing to explicitly "warn" for in order not to spoil what's ahead. Read at your own risk: Threesome, spitroasting, dom/sub dynamics, referenced foot fetish, lowkey dacryphilia, praising, deepthroating, spitting, hair pulling, squirting, hate sex, verbal degradation (m rec.), pegging. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

I cannot breathe.

Your mind felt stuffy. It was multiple uppercuts you had to endure in the span of a single night. Multiple decisions made, none of which seemed right. It felt like there were several splinters on your fingers, and if you failed to find the courage to stick a needle to remove them, callous skin was going to form over each and every one of those, just to drive you insane with the sustained lack of relief. A constant reminder of your embarrassing lack of control over your willpower.

You’re weak.

Not only were you not allowed to see Chris again, but you were also relieved from your assistant duties to his class, which you assumed was to make you cut contact with him completely. The fact that you couldn’t do anything about all this frustrated the crap out you—you were trying really hard to remember the last time you felt this helpless so that it could spark an idea to help you deal with it. 

Something. 

Anything. 

To no avail. 

You eventually buried yourself in your studies as a desperate attempt for self-distraction. With time, the wildfire of severe withdrawal gradually turned into a burning amber, but it still refused to die out completely. It kept slowly burning inside you, reminding you of what his soul felt like, what his eyes looked like, what his laughter sounded like, what his skin tasted like. You could feel the longing reaching dangerous levels of uncontainable, and even you weren’t sure what you were capable of doing if it threatened to pour out of you one day. Not solely because of one night of intimacy you shared, but because… It felt like you lost a friend. The friend.

You weren’t recalling the remains of Chris every now and then. He just never left your mind.

“The Queen would like you to take on the instructional duties of her son.”

You were convinced even years later you were going to remember where you were, what you were doing, what you were wearing, and what time it was when you heard that sentence. Your heart dropped to your stomach at full force, doing multiple backflips on the way. It was so hard not to smile. So fucking hard. You had to exert conscious effort to make it seem like you weren’t readily accepting it, but finally… Finally you could see him again. You didn’t know for how long this was going to be your new assignment, but you didn’t even care. Even just once would be more than enough. Just once to get your fix, hug him tight when no one was looking maybe so that it could last you for a little while.

Was there a snowflake’s chance in hell that… that he asked for it himself? Would it be at all possible that somewhere on these grounds there was a man going through the exact same things you were going through?

That night you laid in your bed with your arm over your forehead, just looking at the ceiling. You didn’t even know what prompted that but you found yourself contemplating the discrepancies between day and night. Black and white. Chris and Hyunjin. 

How was it even possible that two citizens of the same womb born into the same family, having the exact same upbringing could be this drastically different from each other? Even when they came so close to possessing the same color, the shades were so distinct, like the battle of bright red orange versus luscious burgundy. While Chris was the definition of the toasty warmth of soothing coziness, Hyunjin felt like boiling hot water—when you dipped your finger in it, your synapses wouldn’t be able to instantly register the extreme temperature, so you’d think it was actually awfully cold at first. Only after some time passed, no matter how brief, would you let out a cry of pain, and end up getting blisters on your skin. You thought, you thought, and you eventually thought yourself to sleep.

Until…

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she? Makes you wanna fuck her awake.”

“Don’t be crass.”

You weren’t able to tell whether the whispers were real, or just a byproduct of your imagination, but when you opened your eyes, you jumped in your bed seeing two shadows towering over you, regardless of how familiar they looked.

“Shh, it’s me beautiful,” Hyunjin laid down next to you and caressed your hair to calm you down, “I invited a guest tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”

You squinted your eyes to make them adjust to the darkness and followed the shadow making its way to the other side of you.

“Chris? Is that you?”

“Told you she had her eyes on you,” Hyunjin softly chuckled and placed a kiss on your temple, “Yes, it’s the golden boy you've been dying to fuck, princess.”

The golden who that you–? What?

“I missed you, baby,” Chris made himself comfortable on your right side, “When Hyun wouldn’t shut up about you the entire night, it riled me up a bit too much, so we wanted to pay you a secret visit.”

You… You weren’t supposed to know. Nobody is supposed to know. How d–?

“What– What does that even mean? I’m so confused.”

“I know you’ve been really confused lately, so I figured we could make it easier for you,” Hyunjin dragged his finger from your shoulder down your arm and spoke into your ear, “Why settle for one of us when you can have both of us?”

The shock. The immediate clash of the dark and bright. The prospect of being desired by two men who share the same DNA versus the absolute condemnation of it going at each other’s throats to death. Surrendering against resisting. 

Why were you even hesitating?

You’re weak.

“You’re… You’re brothers.”

“Brothers, schmothers, let’s not get too caught up in the fine print, princess,” Hyunjin’s lips found their way to your neck, and he spoke before latching himself to you, “No one will know. I promise.”

As Hyunjin did what he did best, disarming your defenses one kiss at a time, Chris’ hand made it to your inner thigh and kept stroking you in a manner between affectionate and arousing.

“Sorry in advance, but I'll keep you up again.” 

The deep voice coming from your right hardly cleared the fog in your mind.

“Again? But you–”

“I don’t tire that easily, baby,” his lips brushed against yours, “We're gonna fuck all night.”

Chris seemed like he got confidence steroids injected into him. The shy guy who was barely able to tell you what he liked was nowhere to be found, possessed from head to toe by this sex god instead, telling you what was about to go down. Yet, no matter how you looked at it, the turn of events uncontrollably unfolding right before your eyes was so wrong that you despised yourself for being this aroused by it.

“But isn’t that why it’s such a fucking turn on, baby?”

“How did you–?”

“Shh,” Chris pressed his fingers on your lips, “I know everything.”

“Don’t think,” Hyunjin slithered his left hand into your nightgown to feel your breasts, “Just let this happen.”

You’re weak.

After flipping off the voice in your head, you took a deep breath like you were about to go underwater, clueless if you were ever going to come back up, and let yourself go. 

“Every time I see you, I get this feral urge to fuck you senseless, you know? Look at what you’re doing to me,” Chris closed your hand over his bulge to make you palm him, “It hurts so bad. Can you kiss it better? Please?”

Still in the middle of kissing his soul out of him, you slid your hand inside Chris’ bottoms. He felt amazing to the touch, just so smooth and warm, throbbing in your hand for more friction.

“Let me see you, beautiful,” Hyunjin stopped peppering kisses all over your collarbones and caressed your hips, “Arch that perfect thing for me.”

You positioned yourself between Chris’ legs and arched your ass all the way up for Hyunjin to admire. He slid your underwear down to expose you for him fully, grazing his teeth on the supple skin and clearly fighting the urge to bite into it. It was his degenerate excellency for fuck’s sake; when was ‘regular’ ever enough for him? While you were ridding Chris of his bottoms, you felt some movement between your legs. When you looked down, you saw Hyunjin’s porcelain features directly facing your pussy, and he pushed your hips down towards his mouth to indulge in his favorite pastime activity.

“God, that feels so fucking good.”

Hyunjin loved getting a rise out of you every time he ate your pussy like that was a fine dining experience, meant to be savored and consumed over the course of a couple of hours. This wasn’t a basic need to be quickly satisfied just to feel full—he was fully aware it was a luxury not affordable by everyone, not even to those who were well-endowed. You felt the familiar vibrations of his soft laughter against your folds as you kept grinding on his face.

“Like what you see, huh?” Chris brushed his thumb on your cheek while lazily smiling with one hand behind his nape, “I can see you drooling.”

“You look… a bit too good… spread on my bed like that.”

“Choke on it for me, baby, come on.”

Perfect. Everything about him was just perfect. His firm skin begging to be touched by you, his sandalwood pheromones invading the whole goddamn room, getting you way more riled up than you should have ever been. The deep husky moans he let out with every stroke were complete music to your ears, meant to be listened to on repeat during still nights. The way he wouldn’t break eye contact with you when you hollowed your cheeks, his brows furrowed so hard making him look like he was furious when you took him deep down your throat was everything. Chris kept caressing your hair like he wanted to soothe you.

“You’re fucking ascending me,” he let out a throaty groan while throwing his head back with his eyes closed, “You’ll swallow all of it, right? My baby girl won't waste a drop.”

Baby girl. His baby girl. 

His. 

His. 

His.

You weren’t able to identify the exact feeling that address induced, but it was so strong that you didn’t even hesitate to choke on Chris with all you got until you made him cum into your mouth. The way he was loudly moaning for you made you clench on Hyunjin’s lips. 

Hard.

“Kiss me, baby. Show me what I taste like.”

You made a move towards Chris, but Hyunjin wouldn’t let your hips go. He pushed you down on his mouth instead while sliding his tongue inside you to lock you in your place. When you managed to sit up, it was literally you sitting on his pretty face, and the sight seemed to have annoyed Chris for some reason.

“Play nice, Hyun,” he pulled you towards himself and turned you around to get you comfortable on his lap, “Sit on it now. Let me get hard inside you again.”

Chris had just cum, but when he still met resistance trying to slide into you, it made him chuckle.

“I’m barely hard, but you’re still this tight,” he quietly moaned into your ear, “Love it when you’re dripping. Fucking love stretching you open.”

Meanwhile, Hyunjin slid your nightgown all the way up to your waist to expose you for him and positioned himself between your legs, the shadow passing through his face still somewhat visible in the darkness of the room.

“Settled, baby? Can I fuck you back to sleep now?” Chris placed a tiny kiss on your earlobe, “Legs open wide for me. I wanna watch how he devours that pretty pussy.”

This was Hyunjin’s cue to step into the spotlight, which stained his lips with a half-smile. He started eating you out properly while Chris fucked into you with languid thrusts.

“Just like that. Getting wetter on me,” he hissed into your ear, “Feel it. Feel me get harder inside you. Does he make you feel good, too?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you threw your head back on his shoulder.

“But it feels better inside you, right? This is how you do it. Look,” Chris placed his hand on yours and instructed you, “Guide his head to your moans. He loves that. Will eat better.”

This was simply the most horrendously wrong thing you ever engaged in that made you feel this fucking good. You were still viscerally aware of it and were forcing yourself to have an internal conflict about it. You had to, that was the right thing to do, but the fact of the matter was nobody would be able to have their logic intact while getting fucked into oblivion by two young gods.

“Much better, huh?” Chris kissed your neck, “He may eat pussy for his own pleasure, but I fuck you for yours. You know that right?”

“Chris...”

“Let’s make out, baby. Let him watch us, too. Get him to leak.”

He slid his hands inside the smooth fabric hiding you from him to fondle your breasts, and kept fucking into you while inhaling your lips. It was the way he moaned into you that almost made you lose your mind for good.

“God, I’m so fucking gone for you. No one can take dick this well,” Chris turned his attention to Hyunjin and chastised him out of the blue, “Stop eating with manners, motherfucker. The audience wants to hear you slurping.”

Hyunjin took it as an order and started eating you out with pornographically wet sounds, trapping your clit within his lips and releasing it in frequent intervals.

“Ah, fuck!”

“Shh, that’s it, baby. Into me. Relax,” then Chris continued with his orders, “I want her teased everywhere. Do your thing.”

The stimulations from both sides began to overwhelm you. Your legs were shaking and your breathing was getting labored. The only thing your mind was able to process was extreme pleasure and all twenty-one undertones of it.

“Shh, shh, you’re taking it so well, baby. So fucking well. You’re making me so proud,” Chris locked his hands under your knees to keep them open, “Spread wider. I’ll fuck you so good while he gets you soaked. Then we're gonna get you to squirt on his pretty face and you'll let me watch you clean that mess.”

One man behind you whispering the filthiest things your eardrums had ever let in as if he was reading you a bedtime story, the other between your legs luxuriating in the most delectable delicacy he could get his hands on… You were feeling yourself getting overcome by excessive gratification by the second as they both picked up their pace.

“Spit on it. I said I want this pussy soaked,” Chris gently spread your labia to expose your clit more, “Right there. She loves it there.”

You felt the intensity when Hyunjin did as he was told. Come to think of it, it was a bit unlike him to ‘take orders’. Even when you were completely disarmed like that, you briefly wondered whether that was because it was his older brother talking to him, or because he actually liked being told what to do.

“Just like that. Suck on it nice and good. I wanna see that clit swollen.”

“Hyunjin…”

“Feels so good, right? Shh, I know, I know. You’re doing amazing. Kiss me,” Chris turned your face to him to taint your lips with himself again, “I’ll let him take care of you this once. Then I'm gonna eat it myself properly, baby. It's mine.”

You clenched so hard and you were sure both of them felt it this time. Chris flashed a perverse smile against your mouth.

“You have a thing for sitting on pretty boys' faces, don't you? Turns you the fuck on.”

“Stop fucking exposing me!” you turned your face away from him.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he kissed your hair while filling his lungs to the brim with your scent, “Say, wanna make him cum untouched?”

“How would you know how to do that?”

“Told you. I know everything,” he responded empathically, “Tell him how pretty he is. He's so weak for that.”

You turned your attention to Hyunjin between your legs, completely in his own world. He really wasn’t lying when he said he ate pussy for his own pleasure. You ran your fingers through his silky hair and spoke in a soft tone, taking deep breaths in between your words to suppress your moans.

“He knows how pretty he is, doesn’t he? He knows he's pleasure materialized.”

Then it hit you. You remembered how thickly he gulped when he saw your toe ring the first night he came into your room.

“Want me to stroke you with my feet? You can cum on them if you want,” you teased while still stroking his hair, “Only if you promise to clean them of course.”

Hyunjin’s moans were clearly audible for the first time that night.

“Want me to put on some heels for you? I'll even paint my toes in your favorite color so you can worship them properly.”

He moaned louder. You and Chris chuckled at his reaction.

“Look at how he's fucking losing it. Grab him by his hair now,” Chris instructed you calmly with a soft voice, “Shove his head into your pretty pussy, baby. Choke him.”

It was when you did exactly as told that Hyunjin started going feral, squeezing his eyes due to how much pleasure it was inducing in him.

“See? Moans louder when you do that.”

You watched Hyunjin with your lips parted, taking this egotistical pleasure in seeing him go to town on you like that. Getting a man that looked this hypnotically beautiful, this tantalizing to absolutely lose it for you… The sight was so delectable that it made you feel like nothing but a fucking goddess.

“But you're just so pretty. Your lips were made to eat pussy. Look how good they look sucking on my clit.”

The way he looked dead into your eyes at that moment while pleasuring you as if he wanted to fuck your soul. His gaze was darker than the dusk enveloping the room, and how much it turned you on was simply unreal.

“So fucking thick and juicy, my god. Let me kiss those lips, pretty face.”

Hyunjin unleashed himself at you like he was waiting on standby. His lips were all swollen and wet by then, his chin excessively coated with your arousal to the point that it was dripping. He was kissing you like he wanted to eat you alive. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them to stop him from touching himself at all costs.

“What is it with your obsession with pretty pussies? Can't fucking control yourself?”

Of course. He told you that he had no self-control himself, but it still made you fucking furious how weak he got in front of any pussy he deemed pretty. Somebody had to be reminded of what he was allowed to eat.

“Look at you. You’re so pretty you make me wanna hurt you. I wanna sit on your beautiful face just to defile it. I'm gonna make you fucking cry under me. You're gonna be even prettier.”

Hyunjin moaned with his eyes closed, but you didn’t lie. You had so much pent-up anger towards him. How fucking dare he looked for another when you were right there.

“Tell him what he does to you, baby,” Chris kissed your shoulder and placed his chin on it, “Tell him.”

“He knows what he's doing to me,” you flashed a smile as dark as Hyunjin’s eyes, still speaking in a comforting tone that didn’t match the thorns of your words, “You do, don’t you? You turn me on so much it pisses me the fuck off.”

He moaned louder. You pressed your forehead against his and carried on with your assault.

“I fucking hate how much I wanna fuck you on sight. You’re driving me fucking insane.”

Even louder. That was the moment you whispered right into his ear with so much air, quite convinced of the consequences that were going to follow.

“But I love it when you cum so much because of me, pretty face.”

“Oh, FUCK me!”

The only thing you aggressively stroked was his gargantuan ego, yet Hyunjin still came all over your crotch, heartbeat running loose to the point that you could feel it on his forehead.

“Tsk, look at this mess,” you pecked his lips while Hyunjin was still trying to come down, and laid back into Chris’ arms again, “Clean it for me now, will you?”

While Hyunjin was slurping on the trail he left on you, you kept whispering quiet odes to his beauty and what a stellar job he was doing, which only seemed to have skyrocketed his enthusiasm. Meanwhile, you felt Chris getting even harder inside you, and it was quite apparent he had run out of patience by then.

“You’re so fucking hot when you get nasty like that,” he repositioned you on his lap to be able to reach a particular spot he had in mind, “This is where I make you cum so hard.”

The lazy movements that had been going on for who knows how long mutated into hard precise thrusts. The sudden peak in delicious pressure alerted your whole entire body.

“Good god, Chris!”

“You like it right here, huh?” he palmed both your breasts from behind you and began fondling them, “I’ll hit that so good it’s gonna fucking blow your mind, baby. Don’t hold back.”

Hyunjin wasn’t about to let you cum without him included, which immediately prompted him to start lapping at your clit. That concoction of pressure and stimulation as well as the loud moans of three different people mixed together rapidly devolved beyond endurable. In a matter of seconds, you violently snapped and watched yourself squirt partially on Hyunjin's face and partially in his mouth.

“That’s it. There you go. Does just as she’s told, my baby girl,” Chris attacked you with kisses all over your shoulders, your neck, and the side of your face, “Let me keep fucking you when you ride it out.”

“Don’t think so. I believe she has some cleaning to do on my face, don’t you princess?” Hyunjin rose from his position, “We’re switching.”

“Make me,” Chris shot an annoyingly challenging smile, “I think she’s pretty comfortable where she is. You can leave us be.”

“Tell him you want me more, beautiful. He needs to hear it from you.”

Not that you were in a state of full rationality at that moment, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say that. Not to mention, it was obvious that Hyunjin wasn’t demanding a line for the sake of a scene; he wanted to hear what he thought was the truth. The more your silence ensued, the more visibly angrier he was getting.

“Tell him. What’s stopping you?”

The smirk on Chris’ lips when he uttered that sentence was the last straw for the younger one.

“Because she loves me, brother.”

It happened in the blink of an eye. Hyunjin reached under your bed to pull a gun out of nowhere and aimed it at you and Chris, causing both of you to take defensive stances.

“Tell him you don’t.”

“Hyunjin, calm down.”

“Tell him.”

“Hyunjin–”

“I said fucking TELL HIM!”

BANG!

You woke up gasping for air to the sounds of fireworks going off on the grounds for Dragon Day celebrations. Drenched in sweat and your heartbeat through the roof, you immediately felt your chest for a sign of blood or people in your room. There was no one. You tried to shoo away the haze of disorientation by checking under your bed as well as the time, which showed 12 AM sharp. Not only were you scared to death, almost on the brink of a heart attack if not a stroke, but you were also confused to the point of questioning your whole entire existence.

Maybe dreams were much like our instincts, and they were trying to tell you something.

That morning as you were making your way to The Zen Room on the main residence, you were hoping from the bottom of your soul that the room was aptly named because there was no way you would able to contain the civil war going on inside you. You weren’t even sure how long it had been since you last saw Chris, but it felt like forever ago. It didn’t matter a single bit; it could have been since yesterday for all you cared—nothing could justify how much you had missed him. You took a deep breath and finally slid the ornate door open. 

It smelled like jasmine tea inside. The entire place was backlit due to the room facing an interior garden, much like the little backyard you had in your building. The only things visible at first sight were the scripts adorning the walls and the little wooden table on the floor harboring two rolls of parchment, inkstone and sticks along with a variety of brushes neatly placed next to each other. Disturbingly symmetrically.

And his figure overlooking the little life-size terrarium with his back turned to you, seemingly holding a tea cup in his hands. You couldn’t control the smile on your face as you started taking purposefully slowed-down steps towards him.

“Since when are you into calligraphy, bathroo–? Oh.”

The vague figure turned his back and allowed the sun rays to kiss him. Your disappearing smile began to resurface on those porcelain features you knew all too well.

“Since always, princess.”

As he put his teacup away, you sat down and channeled all your attention on the little table—a bit too little for you to keep a proper distance. More importantly, however…

Why did this feel like you fell for a trap?

“Care to inform me why I have been summoned here?” you asked, eyes scanning each piece of instrument in front of you. Hyunjin sat diagonal to you with exorbitant amounts of grace like he was about to put on a performance, very unlike a clueless student would.

“I am just horrible with traditional characters. I would very much like to master cursive.”

“It’s a little presumptuous of you to think I can help you with something your tutors cannot, your grace.”

Hyunjin grabbed one of the middle-sized brushes, which you assumed were made of fox hair, and brushed his thumb on it.

“Mother knows best, don’t you think? She says there is nothing our resident prodigy is unable to do,” a very content smile tainted his lips, “And I couldn’t agree more.”

How bored out of his mind must he have been consulting to such means to entertain himself? This was like a little skit for his excellency, and you were in no mood to humor him. Traditional cursive script? Why of course, by all means, maybe it was time to drag this spoiled brat to hell and back.

“I wasn’t given a schedule,” you poured a little water into the stone and started grinding the ink stick, “As you would understand, I have studies of my own. For how long is this going to last?”

“Let’s just say twice a week for as long as it’s necessary,” Hyunjin watched the way you were making ink with complete fascination, “If it ever comes to that, your graduation requirements can be adjusted. We happen to know some people.”

“With all due respect, I like earning my achievements rather than having them handed to me,” you responded with a total lack of pause, “I understand if it’s a difficult concept for you to grasp, though.”

Hyunjin was asking for it. He was asking for it because, for some unexplainable reason, he realized how much it was tickling him when you talked back to him, and rightfully so. He was aware of the glass wall you insisted on putting up between the two of you. He was aware that it disappeared when the room temperature rose through the roof, and that it solidified back again the morning after. Leading a life where he simply took and took and took whatever the fuck he pleased, he didn’t know how to give, yet the more you resisted him, the more it made him wanna crush that wall into mere dust for good. So that he could give you everything.

You held the bamboo handle of the brush and soaked it with the ink you just made. Your grip was just firm enough to not let the brush fall off your fingers.

“Please observe,” you scraped the excess ink on the edge of the inkstone and began drawing the first of six characters you had in mind.

The landing, the dragging, the finishing. The strokes and the hooks. You were dancing on that piece of parchment and Hyunjin was watching you with nothing but awe on his face.

“Now copy it with me.”

It was obvious. You may not have gone through the insufferably formal royal tutoring, but your teacher was your father. Watching him for all those years also taught you to differentiate skilled hands from the ones pretending to be subpar. For whatever reason.

“Could you model it with my hands, please? I think I’m getting some of the strokes wrong.”

Yes, he was, but not because he didn’t know how to do the landing. Not because he didn’t know what a rising hook was. You heaved a sigh as quietly as you could manage, and got behind him, placing your hand on his right one to draw the character with laid-back movements. His distinct sweet fragrance started filling your lungs again, and you knew for a fact that it happened every time his pulse accelerated.

“This feels like making love to you on paper, beautiful.”

You were pretty familiar with that extremely sensual aura by now, but what you saw on the night of Chris’ birthday was engraved behind your eyelids like a venomous nightmare you just couldn’t forget. And he would still have the audacity to carry on with the smooth talking?

Despicable.

When in fact, you had absolutely no right to be this furious. He was a human being before he was a prince, meaning he was free to do whatever he goddamn pleased with whoever he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. It wasn’t like you could ever be something more than a—

“Er erhm. We’re here for your studies, your grace.” 

“I know,” Hyunjin turned to his right to face you, “and there are many things I would like to study with you, princess.”

“Please stop using incorrect addresses and follow my lead,” you squeezed his hand in a manner far from affectionate and quickened the strokes of your brush. 

It turned out that The Zen Room was nothing but a complete hoax since all you were able to feel was five kinds of discomfort. For whatever reason.

“I would like to see this character perfectly copied the next time I see you. We’re done for today.”

“Wait, are you—?”

“We are done, your grace,” you emphasized and got up to leave before he could do or say anything else to coax you into staying. Because deep down inside you feared that you would.

For whatever reason.

You had started spending more of your time with Hyunjin now. To his credit, he at least dialed down the intensity of whatever ulterior motives he had and was only talking to you through barely defendable innuendos. How the brush strokes reminded him of a soft touch. How the ink was as dark as a moonless night. Twice a week. While practicing the correct order of strokes. From top to bottom. Left to right. Horizontal then vertical. You didn’t talk about anything else. You didn’t converse. It was mostly silent in The Zen Room, but in your experience, it was always the quiet ones.

Always the quiet ones that fucked shit up.

The day Hyunjin finished the sixth character on his canvas was the day he found himself at your door again. He didn’t know what else to do to deal with your absence anymore. He told you he had no self-control himself, yet he was still willing to try for your sake. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since he touched you, but it felt like forever ago. It didn’t matter a single bit; it could have been since yesterday for all he cared—nothing could justify how much he was about to crush his walls into a pile of debris.

He had to have you. Again. As many times as he could. He knocked on your door without having an exact script in his mind for the first time.

“What are you doing here?” you answered the door while tying your robe.

“Came to practice calligraphy.”

“That’s a daytime activity, your grace.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Hyunjin tsked with a pout, “Didn’t I forbid you from calling me that, beautiful?”

“You can cry about it in your diary then.”

Malice. He didn’t understand why exactly you were filled with it, but he could feel the burn of the poison splattered from your words on his skin.

Something had shifted within you.

“May I please invite you to my room? I would very much like to show you something.”

This again. Why the overpolite royal booty call antics? He could have straight up asked you ‘Hey, you down to fuck?’ and it would have still had the same impact on you. Sheer irritation.

Interestingly enough, a couple of weeks ago it wouldn’t.

“Show it here.”

“I can’t carry it around. Please.”

Not the begging kind. The polite order kind. With that ‘Kindly know your place’ undertone that you would never be able to prove, but it was just there. You let out an exasperated sigh and followed after him. What was it going to be this time? A spreader bar? A suspension rig? A goddamn coffin?

But when you walked into Hyunjin’s room, you saw a monochrome painting depicting a warrior princess holding a katana instead. Fully grayscale, texture reminiscent of the ink you had been grinding. Her face was hardly visible and only her bare back from the waist up was showing. Delicately violent. There was a tattoo on her spine consisting of the exact same characters he had been practicing with you.

Mind over matter.

Fuck your entire life if you gave him the satisfaction by noticeably swooning all over this.

“Cool painting,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “Anything else?”

What did you mean by not melting in front of this grand gesture? What else did he need to do so that you would get the message? Wasn’t that why you didn’t spend the night with his br–?

Hyunjin lost all reasoning, not that he had much, to begin with.

“Please be with me tonight, princess,” he came closer to you with quiet steps, “Let me hold you in my arms again.”

“Hyunjin, don’t–”

“Please,” he started begging with his eyes as well as his words while sneakily wrapping one hand around your waist, “Please. I can’t stand being without you anymore.”

You almost got lost in the feeling when he started kissing your neck. It was incredibly hard to do, but you managed to pump the brakes before losing control of the steering wheel for good, and took a step back. Even if you hadn’t officially confirmed it, you had an idea that Hyunjin would have a problem with rejection of any kind.

And he wasn’t able to properly veil it anymore.

“Why are you running away from me?!”

You were still somewhat keeping your cool, but the ugly shades of spite started to swim to the surface of your skin at full force.

“The answer to that question resides with your kittens, your fucking grace.”

How little Hyunjin’s eyes widened was not visible to the naked eye. You had to be specifically looking for that flinch to recognize it. Yet when you had pure acrimony vision, having realized you were getting sick and tired of how entitled someone could be with complete disregard to everything ever, that was all you could see. Hyunjin started spilling his guts either because you poked somewhere you shouldn’t have, or because that was legitimately his last resort.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through that night?!” he spat while breathing heavily, “I know you were with my brother. The idea of you with him… With anyone… I was this close to doing something stupid!”

“So you opted for doing something extremely stupid instead.”

Your voice wasn’t even as loud as Hyunjin’s passionate declaration, but it seemed to have a calming effect on him. His breathing instantly turned to normal, and you could see hints of a smile appearing on his lips.

“You’re mad,” he started walking towards you again, “It upset you that I touched someone else.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I know jealousy when I see it, princess. I invented it.”

He was believing it. Hyunjin believed it was the sheer act of him gratifying himself with another person, or worse with other people that made you feel this agitated. How hard was it to be able to read the room? How hard was it to abide by a handful of unspoken rules? How fucking hard was it to restrain yourself from slashing someone’s pride, especially if that someone was a person you claimed to care about in whatever capacity?

How goddamn hard?

“You want me,” Hyunjin stepped closer with squinted eyes as if he cracked a code while you stood still in your place silently, the clench on your jaw somewhat noticeable by then, “You want me to only touch you, don’t you?”

You could feel the venom of malevolence rising from your stomach up to your throat, getting dangerously hard to control by the second.

“You want me to make you feel good,” he got even closer and crossed the invisible line you drew between you two, “And only you.”

“It’s like you’re asking to get your life smacked out of you,” you hissed between your teeth and turned around to control the urge to do just that. Hyunjin grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards himself, his body flush against yours.

“Hurt me.”

He blurted it out so casually like a greeting, and it was so out of the blue that it completely caught you off guard.

“Exc– What?”

“Punish me for what I’ve done. I deserve it. Hurt me.”

You couldn’t possibly be hearing this right. Even by his standards, this ‘request’ sounded absolutely…

Maniacal.

“Take your anger out on me. You have my full consent.”

“For what?!”

The beautiful creature standing in front of you spoke with a voice dripping with determination.

“To take me against my will.”

Hyunjin could see the colors in your eyes change. This had nothing to do with simple lust anymore. You were on the brink of seeing cinnabar red, but he was still pushing it, fully aware he was going to inhale mouthfuls of mercury vapor if he kept raising the temperature.

“Don’t you just wanna make me repent? Don’t you wanna show me my place?”

“Stop it.”

“Don’t you wanna make me regret what I did, princess?”

“Hyunjin, stop it.”

He brought his moist lips right against your earlobe and whispered before placing a small kiss on it.

“I know you do. Hurt me.”

You heard a faint ringing in your ears before the disturbing silence that lasted maybe for a nanosecond, and literally felt the snapping caused by your soul leaving your body.

You slammed Hyunjin against the wall and attacked his lips, kissing him like you absolutely despised him. Teeth sinking into skin, dragging the sensitive flesh to hear him moan, scratches on his bare chest. The more you were trying to inflict pain, the more he seemed to get aroused out of his mind.

“Was it good? Did you like fucking her hard?!!”

“I thought of you the entire time.”

“Don’t… fucking… lie to me, pretty face,” you harshly grabbed his chin to squeeze it and threw him on his bed, “You’re incapable of controlling yourself, aren’t you?”

“Do you wanna know how many times I touched myself to the thought of you?” Hyunjin attempted to sit up just to get pushed back down, “Do you wanna know how much I fucking crave you? You’ve ruined me!”

“I don’t care. Looks like I didn’t do good enough of a job,” you straddled him and sneakily entangled your fingers in his silk hair, “Nobody can leave you unattended for one second. Then you immediately revert back to the pretty slut you are.”

When you pulled on it hard, Hyunjin arched his back and let out a loud moan, left of the center on the spectrum of pleasure and pain. You were feeling like a completely different person possessed by whatever diabolical urges he injected in you with his mere words.

“You love hearing how pretty you are, aren’t you, your grace?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re the prettiest,” you spoke with a borderline soothing voice and brought your face millimeters away from his, “But you’re such a fucking whore.”

It didn’t even feel like a kiss anymore. It was you emitting intense mercury vapor, cursing mouthfuls at him with your lips on his. Although he was the one that wanted to initiate a scene, Hyunjin was having a very hard time sticking to it with how hungrily he was devouring you already. It started to irritate you more when you noticed how much he was enjoying the graze on the sensitive skin on his neck, just hissing and groaning at the sensation.

“Let me taste you again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s all I can think about,” he kept panting while cupping your face, “I keep daydreaming about your taste. I even see your scent in my dreams. Please, beautiful.”

“Well, you can’t.”

“Please,” his whimper came out way too loud, “I’ll do anything for you, I swear. Just choke me between your legs, I’m fucking begging you.”

The innocence you were feigning was massively overshadowed by the devilish smile on your face.

“But I wanna make you cry.”

“Then fuck me, princess.”

“How is that making you cry?” you raised your brows and spoke in an utterly derisive tone, “I don’t feel like rewarding you for what you’ve done.”

“You do wanna see me fall from grace for you, don’t you?”

The insinuation was there. It somehow registered in whatever was left of your sanity, but was he actually offering you this? Were you maybe witnessing the edges of what desire was capable of making him do?

“Do you– Do you want me to peg you?”

“Yes.”

Zero hesitation. Casually. Like he just asked you to touch him. To kiss him. To stroke his hair. Or whatever the fuck he associated affection with.

“Why are you– Why are you this– Fuck!”

Hyunjin harshly pulled you towards him for a kiss again. Everything was so intense that you were both out of breath in the middle of it.

“You do want to make me shut up for good, don’t you?” he spoke against your lips.

“Yes, I do. I fucking do!”

He reached out to his drawer and brought out what looked like a double-edged dildo, just to hand you the toy with no room for second thoughts.

“Go crazy on me, beautiful.”

It felt like time stood still. Why was he willing to go this far like a trust fall, not giving a shit about what you were actually capable of doing? What if you were about to do something crazy? Something way darker than the cinnabar red. Was he gonna be simply okay with it?

Was he aware of the things he was in the middle of trading?

"Do you trust me, pretty face?"

“I do.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you deliriously smiled at him, “Maybe it’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”

You were looking for the slightest hint of fear in his criminally ethereal face, but Hyunjin couldn’t have looked more composed. Almost tranquil. You were overcome by the idea of punishing him, but you still couldn’t find it in you to go that insane. You drowned the dildo in lube, and when he felt the cold sensation against his entrance, Hyunjin shuddered, expectancy visibly peaked.

“Fuck me like I fuck you, princess. Hard and good.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, pretty face. Sit there and take it.”

You could feel his thighs getting tense around you when you started slowly pushing in. It took a while for him to get used to the feeling, but quite honestly, not as long as you would think.

Like he had done this before.

“Please. Harder.”

“So you like getting fucked, huh?” you kept pumping the toy into him with obscenely wet sounds accompanying his moans, “You like feeling full. You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“No, it’s– it’s you,” Hyunjin panted with his eyes closed, “I've never let anyone else do this to me before.”

You almost felt a part of you getting soft, but unfortunately for him, the demon on your shoulder had the mic.

It’s a lie. Don’t fall for it. How else is he gonna take it that well?

“Are you lying to me by any chance, your grace?”

“NO! No, I’m not, I swear. You’re the only one that gets to do this besides me,” he offered a panicked explanation in the middle of perishing under you, “Harder. I can take it.”

“So, you don’t want me to fuck you, do you?” you sneered, “You just wanna fuck yourself through a proxy.”

When Hyunjin’s cock laying on his crotch visibly twitched, you let out a small chuckle, and if gestures had subtitles, yours would read ‘Don’t be so fucking obvious’.

“Then beg for it, prince.”

“God, please,” Hyunjin loudly whined, “Fuck us both with it. I wanna watch you cum to fucking me.”

“I told you not to tell me what to do, didn’t I? Don’t you dare touch yourself.”

You started fucking him harder, only meeting him halfway with his demands. Hyunjin’s chest started heaving in even more frequent intervals, a clear sign that he was about to let go.

“Good god, it feels so fucking good when you rail me flat like that! FUCK!!!”

I do. I really fucking love you. Oh, god!

As Hyunjin unloaded all over his stomach, you closed your eyes and saw Chris behind your eyelids. While he was coming down, you laid on Hyunjin’s bed to collect yourself, your robe still on you but feeling somewhat dirty like you ran through a field of mud.

“What would you call this thing between us, beautiful?” Hyunjin spoke from your right, caressing your torso with a hint of anticipation in his voice. You didn’t look at him. You examined the nonexistent details of the ceiling corners instead.

“I don’t know. Fuckbuddies at best.”

“If we’re fucking, are we just friends?”

“Didn’t know you were this emotionally attached to your kittens,” you retorted with as much animosity as you could inject in your tone, “I don’t think we could ever be anything more than that.”

“Why? What’s so wrong about us?”

“For one thing, you shouldn’t even be doing this. Didn’t you say you were supposed to abstain?”

“I don’t care.”

What was this conversation about anyway? You would break into a hysterical fit of laughter if Hyunjin legitimately offered you the position of his lead entertainer or something. When you got up from the bed, however, he immediately descended into a state of worry.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“But why?!”

“For one thing I’m not one of your entertainers, and I don’t intend to be,” you looked right into Hyunjin’s eyes to get your message across, “If you’re not willing to find yourself some other room on these grounds, I’ll ask for another location for myself. I’m not going to out you, don’t worry.”

Your confident steps towards the door mutated Hyunjin’s worry into sheer panic and he grabbed you by your wrist like a Hail Mary pass. The literal latest resort.

“Don’t go. Sleep in my arms again.”

“Why?”

“Because…!”

The struggle. The fishing for words that he never once used. The desperation of it all.

Too bad you couldn’t feel sorry about any of it anymore.

“You make me feel things, beautiful. Things I shouldn’t feel.”

Hyunjin did make you feel things, too. Intense things, but you didn’t possess the correct vocabulary to register what they exactly were.

Desired. Sexy. Aroused. Confident even. They all came close.

“Maybe you should reconsider all that, your grace,” you tied your somehow loosened belt tight and slid the door open to leave his room for the last time, “I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

But one thing you knew for sure was that this wasn't what love felt like to you.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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Hope you properly heeded the warnings for this one. If you're feeling disturbed, that's supposed to happen, by the way.

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-R. (CB97%)

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Guys look I know this is a trans guy and I'm a cis woman but... god I need this energy in my life. Like why did they spawn me in with a vagina and an attraction to men and comfort in calling myself a woman when I was born to be a top.

Like why do I literally get more turned on by pegging than being fucked. I literally can not even feel my penis it's just the concept and idea of fucking someone is so hot I lose control of myself. I need to be the one to inflict pleasure on another and watch them moan and writhe under my body. Imagine how unstoppable I would be with a penis.

Maybe the key for me personally is that I like taking an active participation in sex. That's why I like being on top for penetration, why I like pegging, and why I like giving head. I want to be the one to do something.

Sorry I separated so much from the original intentions of this post it just helped me articulate some thoughts I've been having for a while now.

Oh, you thought that just because I have a pussy, I'D be bottoming? That's hilarious, man. I ain't lettin' you put that cock of yours nowhere. Be good and bend over for me, now.

Good God this one does things to me.

How each of the boys feel when they get their first pegging:

Leo doesn't seem comfortable about getting his ass rammed by his female lover. You convince him to try it at least once, and he eventually starts to give in and try it anyways. He gets on his hands and knees as you come out with a sexy police officer outfit wearing a large strap on and a paddle on your hand. He stares wide eyed as he sweats swallowing his pride. You start with massaging and squeezing his butt cheeks and even whipping it a little. You tell him how a naughty blue boy he is and have him call you mistress instead of your name every time you speak. You peg him and talk dirty as he grunts at the sensation of you humping his manly hole. After it ended, he looks at you and says "Never again" and you smirk at him as a way of saying "oh come on. Your face says otherwise baby."

Oh boy Donnie would love to try it since he did research on what Pegging is, and the benefits it has, he decides wanting to try it. He gives you a strap on he got you from online, and he begs you wanting to try it. You smile and he takes off his gear. He even asks you if he can call you mommy during the whole thing since he also has a mommy kink. You smirk and you come towards him wearing a sexy school teacher outfit. He smiles and as you tease him and whip him with a paddle that says "yes mommy", he would moan like a girl.....if you hit the exact spot he is sensitive at of course. You ram him so good, he would beg you to go faster, harder, or both. You both enjoy it and he asks to you can do it again. You respond happily in agreeing in doing it during sex nights when he is a naughty boy mood.

Raph has never experienced pegging much like Leo. But he would be interested in trying it though. He picks out a strap on from your sex toy collection, and you smirk. As he waits fully naked, and a paddle with the word "Bitch" on it. He grunts at the whippings, and you call him your man slut and teasing him that you're the tough one, and he is now the damsel in distress. When you start pegging him, he bites his bottom lip and you go dominant on him going harder saying "yeah you like that Red?! Huh!? You like it when you get fucked by a hot woman like me with this pretty pink cock? Who's been a bad boy? Say it!" He grunts and moans a bit clenching in the bed sheets and cums all over and you both lay down exhausted and he looks at you a bit weirded out but when he heads home a few days later, he would complain some pains in his butthole and text you from time to time that it felt like it was stretched out like a wedgie. You couldn't help but chuckle and you give him some cream to help it out.

Mikey would love to try anything New, so pegging shouldn't be a problem. You get a fun looking strap on, and he comes over one night for some sexy time. You both get undressed, and he immediately gets on his hands and knees. He does get a bit nervous so you tell him to relax and you end up going slowly making sure he is comfortable. And at first, he was getting a bit uneasy about it,but as you slowly keep going, he suddenly starts to feel good about it. He would ask for you to keep going. You smile and keep on going until you both came and he would look at you and he wonders if he can use the strap on you had on, and Mikey Jr as he calls it to penetrate both your holes. You chuckle and you respond that perhaps next time he can try that.

@nikitaboeve @nittleboo @tmntspidergirl @turtle-babe83 @raisin-shell @kawaiibunga @cowabunga-doll @turtlesmakemehappy @foreignbrunette @thelaundrybitch @chicchanmooshy @exovapor @donniesdove @leosgirl82 @angelcatlowyn

thank you so much for this good food🙏🙏🙏🙏😭💞

Wow, I meant to make the miraak smut I’m writing short and sweet (I even cut out a proper undressing scene and everything) yet here I am at roughly 600+ words and the pegging hasn’t even began. You all best better be ready, I’m really liking this one and I think it may be done sometime either tomorrow or the next day 😉

“Do you have yourself prepped for me, baby? Did you put in your plug so you'd be open and ready for me?” With jungkook cUZ that boy got me MESSED UP BDBSBAN

I’m sorry for this drabble. It’s probably not what you were expecting but I wanted to take this opportunity to write something new! I do hope that you (somewhat at least) enjoy it~

Jungkook. 487 words. Smut (Warning: Pegging & Sub!Kook). 

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Park Jimin/Original Female Character Characters: Park Jimin Additional Tags: Femdom, Insecure Jimin, body issues, Smut, ass eating, Sub!jimin, dom!reader, Mommy!kink, Baby boy!jimin Summary:

You get worried when you can't find your boyfriend.

Jimin is insecure and doesn't know how to handle it.

Fair Play

; Hoseok x Reader

; Drabble

; Word Count: 2.6k

; Warnings: Pegging, anal play

; Synopsis: Your boyfriend agrees to something you don’t expect and finds he enjoys more than he expected too.

-

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How about you let two Asia dommes peg your cute ass 😉

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

Casanova (BBC, 2005)

whenever a woman has a sword its a strap allegory