#He was in charge of like. Recreational stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

two in one (explicit)

genre: 100% smut

pairing: hoseok x reader x jimin

summary: you finally have a much-needed smoke session with your best friends, just like old times. you’re also pretty sure they’re gay… right?

word count: just under 12k, help

contains: explicit sexual content!!! M/M/F threesome, double vaginal penetration, come eating, mutual masturbation, recreational drug use (just weed tho), friends to lovers, multiple orgasms, a lot of cunnilingus, a smidge of dirty talk, crying after sex (in a good way), and some incredibly stupid/v mildly problematic discussions of sexuality

A/N: i am literally so embarrassed that this is my first crosspost to tumblr but hi, i made you this p0rn, i hope you like it. this is also on AO3 if that's how you prefer to get down

~*~

The three of you have the perfect smoke session down to a science. Your roles are considered sacred at this point, unchanged since you were fifteen years old and smoking mids out of horribly constructed apple pipes in Hoseok’s parents’ basement.

Hoseok provides the pot.

It’s easy for him, social butterfly that he is, to make the connections and bring up the question just delicately enough to get what he wants without seeming like a narc. He’s always been able to thread the needle of finding a reliable plug with good quality stuff who doesn’t awkwardly overstay their welcome by asking to smoke it with you (or worse, try to push pills or other shit on you).

And now that he’s rich, he gets the best stuff there is, probably flown out from California with stupid names like Maui Wowie and Super Lemon Haze. He has to pack the bowl, too– you’re lazy so you prefer pre-rolls, but Hobi refuses to do anything rolled if Jimin is smoking it. (“Have you seen his lips? He’d soak right through the thing.”)

Jimin brings the snacks.

These have not changed from when you were teenagers, but you can actually afford them now, instead of forcing Hobi to distract a store clerk while you and Jimin shoved as much as you could into his backpack.

Honey butter chips, shrimp crackers, pepero, the little chocolate puffs that he can toss in the air and catch in his mouth every time– Jimin’s snack game is elite, and he’ll always lovingly set out a full glass of water for each of you before the session starts. He’s even been known to disappear into the kitchen, only to return with three bowls of fire noodles that he managed to whip up while blazed as fuck.

And you are in charge of the music.

You’ve had other friends argue that this isn’t enough to be considered a real session contribution, but you know Hobi and Jimin understand the importance of ambiance. You’ve learned the hard way how awful it is to be high as shit in absolute silence– or worse, high as shit with Adult Swim on in the background. Your best friends, thankfully, have taste.

Over the years you’ve built up a collection of playlists perfectly crafted to follow the arc of a session: Fun pop to ease you into the giggly stages, then slowly moving on to stuff with more psychedelic layers as the body high sets in, and of course a nice dose of chillwave to round things out. (Is there anything better than falling asleep stoned to Tycho? The answer is no.)

“Hoseok, I can’t figure out your fancy Bluetooth shit,” you whine as your phone once again refuses to connect to his built-in home stereo.

You’re in the living room of their bougie apartment, sinking into the pillows of a couch that feels more like a cloud. Quite a change from the basement years, when you’d all try to squeeze on an eyesore of a loveseat, the upholstery torn away on the arms to reveal the foam stuffing underneath. It was really only built to fit two people, so inevitably, someone would end up on the floor. Usually Jimin.

Hoseok is kneeling on the carpet, working diligently atop the glass coffee table. You glance over at him for help, but he’s in full Hobi-focus mode, tongue between his teeth as he gingerly removes the lid from the grinder, bringing it close to his face to check the consistency. Giving an approving nod, he pinches the grind between his delicate fingers and begins packing it into the bowl of his rainbow glass pipe. His favorite, naturally.

Jimin flops down on the couch next to you, taking your phone out of your hands without asking. He repeats the exact same steps you’ve done three times, but for some reason when he does it, the device connects without issue.

You roll your eyes and snatch your phone back, scrolling until you find your latest session playlist. You tap play and the opening guitar notes of Lil Nas X’s MONTERO surround you from all sides.

The reaction is immediate from both of them. Hoseok throws one hand in the air, doing the best body rolls he can manage on his knees while still packing a bowl with the other hand. His tongue lolls out of his mouth as the beat kicks in, and he throws in his own ad-libs (“yeah”, “uh-huh”) between the lines of the first verse.

Jimin, being Jimin, reaches his hand between his shoulder blades and pulls his shirt off over his head.

It’s been a fact for as long as you’ve known him– Jimin is terrible at keeping his clothes on. You’ve seen him shirtless, even down to his boxers, easily hundreds of times. There is no human more immune to the charms of a six-pack than you are, you’d wager.

The defined indentations just below his hips, though… His sweatpants ride low enough as he wiggles to the music that you can see them now, and your gaze lingers for a moment. Those are pretty good. It’s a shame, really.

You grab his shirt off the floor and toss it back at him. “Keep your clothes on, Jimin!” He sticks his tongue out at you and you poke a finger into his side until he squirms away and does as he’s told.

Hoseok grabs the seat next to you on the couch. “Alright Jimin, you do the honors,” he announces, passing the bowl across you and retrieving a lighter from the coffee table.

As Jimin gets the bowl started, you feel Hoseok’s hand gently creep up your back. He’s always so touchy. It’s funny how all their mannerisms come back to you in pieces, like you’d forgotten your best friends. It’s been too long, you guess, nearly a year since the last time you’ve been able to be together like this.

Hoseok’s fingers absentmindedly start to massage a knot in your shoulders and you shiver at the sensation, letting your eyes flutter closed for a second. God, that feels good. You have so few friends who are comfortable being physical the way he is, and you haven’t had a proper fuck in way too long.

Not that that’s Hobi’s problem to solve, of course. But at this point, you’ll take what you can get, even if it’s just a one-handed shoulder massage.

Jimin exhales the first hit in an impressively large cloud of smoke. His hand still working your shoulders, Hoseok leans over you with his lips pursed, inhaling at the air as if to pull the smoke in.

You laugh as you take the bowl and lighter from Jimin, because Hoseok looks ridiculous. You let the flame lick at the bud and when you inhale, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“Please, Hobi. If you want to shotgun, you have to do it right.” He places his fingers under your chin to tilt your head up, his mouth hovering close to yours, and parts his lips.

You roll your eyes because Jimin is such a fucking flirt. He always has been. Feeling put upon, you exhale a stream of smoke and he sucks it in. It’s not particularly sexy, but having someone’s face so close to yours, with Hoseok’s fingers still pressing into your skin, is enough to make your pulse quicken.

Good god girl, get a grip, you think to yourself. These men are not interested.

You hand the bowl off to Hoseok and he removes his hand from your shoulders to take a hit. Apparently not satisfied with only one shotgun, Jimin leans across you to encourage Hoseok to do the same. He’s always been the king of playing chicken.

Hobi’s eyes crinkle as he fights to keep the smile off his face. Jimin’s hand lands on your thigh for balance as he moves over you.

You’re not sure if it just takes you by surprise or if you’re really that touch-starved, but you flinch at the contact, which is enough to make Hoseok laugh and choke on the hit, coughing smoke out at the both of you.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I’m jumpy today.” You sink back into the cushions.

The rush of the first hit after far too long is enough that your head is buzzing a little and you have no filter, instead there’s simply a direct line from your brain to your mouth. “I need to get laid. I’ve been in a dry spell for like…” You pause to count. “Jesus, almost six months. It’s starting to fuck with me.”

You look up and Jimin and Hoseok are having some silent conversation between the two of them in facial expressions you can’t make sense of. Jimin has paused with the bowl halfway to his lips and is failing to suppress a laugh, creases appearing under his eyes.

Jimin has forever been able to make Hoseok cackle without saying anything. “It’s all in the eyes!” Hobi would always say after doubling over for a solid minute. “Just his eyes make me laugh!” Now is no exception, and Hobi does his classic move where he laughs so hard he stands up, which never fails to make you laugh.

You clap a hand to your mouth and that makes both of them laugh more, until Hoseok is sprawled on the floor and you’re slumped sideways on the cushion where he was sitting.

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally manage to gasp, launching a couch pillow at Hoseok. He effortlessly catches it between his feet. “I know you guys never have this problem, alright? Must be nice.”

Jimin, about to finally take his hit, pauses again. You sit up and smack him on the arm, and he flicks the lighter and runs it around the edge of the bowl, inhaling deeply. Trying his best to hold it in, he manages to choke out, “What does that mean?” before coughing up the lungfuls of smoke. When he finally recovers, he hands you the bowl. “We don’t fuck fans.”

You give him a look. “Well yeah, obviously.” You take a hit, the bud sizzling in the flame of the lighter.

Hoseok sits up. “I’m confused.”

You pass the bowl and lighter to him with one hand, using the other to gesture back and forth between them, like it’s obvious, then finally exhale smoke through your nose. “You’re– you know! You two!”

Hoseok grins ear-to-ear, like he’s finally understanding. “Me and Jimin-ah?! We are not together.”

You sigh, frustrated. “Okay, fine, whatever label you want to put on it. Roommates, fucking, whatever.”

Jimin squints hard, leaning his whole body away from you so he can survey you like you’ve gone insane. “What?!”

Your mouth goes dry (well, even dryer than the cotton mouth that was already starting to happen). You reach for your glass of water on the coffee table, the physical need completely overtaking your desire to continue the conversation, and chug in silence for a few seconds.

Hoseok exhales a pretty stream of smoke, then frowns in confusion. “Who told you we were fucking?”

You shrug, glass still to your lips, then finally swallow and return it to the coaster. “Nobody.” Your cheeks flush with heat as the delayed embarrassment finally starts to kick in. “Forget I said anything.”

Jimin takes the bowl and lighter from Hobi but is clearly not satisfied with your answers, because he sets both down on the coffee table and fully turns to face you, crossing his legs under him on the couch cushion. “What made you think we were?”

You make a face, wondering how that’s even a question. “I don’t know, have you seen the two of you interact?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Jimin flirts with anything that moves.” Jimin shrugs and nods as if to co-sign this assessment.

“You’ve been roommates for like a decade! You always talk about living together forever!”

They blink at you, apparently waiting for you to produce better evidence for your claims.

You close your eyes and let out a deep exhale. “Whatever, look, I made an assumption and I shouldn’t have. And I was wrong. My bad. Let’s move on.”

You crack one eye open to see them both shrug it off.

Jimin reaches for the lighter and bowl once more as a weird feeling bubbles up in your chest. You grab your phone to find a song to reset the energy of the space. You didn’t mean to kill the vibe, you think to yourself, and then Kendrick Lamar seems like the obvious choice.

They both nod in approval, Jimin’s full lips wrapped around the end of the bowl, and Hobi immediately starts to sing along. The chorus is perfect for his deep vocal register, and he effortlessly slips into the fast-paced verse as Jimin inhales.

You should leave it alone. You know you should. But something you assumed to be objective truth has just been disproven, and now you have to question everything. Is the sky even still blue?

“You guys are gay though, right?”

The laughter starts up again, and you sink so low on the couch you almost slide off. “What the fuck?!”

“Oh my god, look at her,” Hoseok cackles, crawling over to slide onto the cushion next to you. You scoot back up and roll towards him, burying your face in his shoulder and tucking your knees alongside him. “Did your entire world just turn upside down?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You’re terrified to say anything else, so you can only nod your head against his shoulder.

Taking pity on you, Hoseok wraps his arms around you, his fingers running gently through your hair. His nails barely graze your scalp and you shiver in pleasure, melting that much further into him. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.” He scoffs. “No, we’re not gay.”

While you were having an existential crisis, Jimin must have snuck in a second hit, and he chokes on it now, coughing out a few puffs of smoke. He gives a little shrug. “I mean, I’m not not gay.”

“But you, Hoseok?!” You pull away slightly to look at him and he gives you a look right back.

“What’s that supposed to mean, bitch?”

You scramble to find some evidence for this belief you’ve held for a decade and are unable to come up with much. “Y-you’re such a good dancer, and you love fashion… You saw Lady Gaga in Vegas!”

He rolls his eyes and shoves you. “Alright, get off me.”

“Wait, no!” You slump backwards, bumping against Jimin’s leg, and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry, Hobi, I didn’t mean it like that.” He pouts at you, apparently still a little hurt.

You continue, trying to dig yourself out. “I seriously don’t care, and you know I love you guys no matter what. But you have to understand that I’ve held these… clearly delusional beliefs for a long time.” You pause and a smile cracks over your face. “And I’m also high as shit, so like. Just give me a second to process this.”

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok’s concentration has suddenly shifted away from you, and you turn to see Jimin taking his third hit in a row. He looks sheepish as he blows out the smoke, then flashes a small smile.

“What? You guys seemed busy.” He finally hands you the bowl and the lighter; you’re grateful for the distraction.

You’re about to touch the flame to the green when he adds, “I think Hobi’s just mad because he always wanted to fuck you, and now it turns out you thought he was gay the whole time.”

You nearly drop the bowl. “What?!” You scream, but you’re drowned out by the half-yell, half-laugh Hoseok makes as he leaps over you and tackles Jimin.

They roll onto the floor, leaving you sitting stupidly on the couch alone, way too fucking high for this.

Hobi wraps himself around Jimin, pinning his arms and legs in place in what almost looks like a full-body hug. He’s cackling like a madman, his nose pressed into the crook of Jimin’s neck. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you smug son of a bitch.” He whispers, and Jimin giggles and squirms, trying to free himself.

You look down at the bowl in your hand, beyond confused, then shrug and take your hit anyway.

Jimin manages to wrench one arm free, tickling Hobi until he finally relents and they break apart from each other, both breathing heavy. Jimin lays flat on his back, laughing contentedly to himself as he stares up at the ceiling. Hoseok is on his hands and knees, and he leans forward to press his forehead into the carpet, gasping for air.

Nobody says anything for a moment, and you set the bowl and lighter on the table. “Can we just start over? Forget everything that everyone has said tonight?”

Hoseok lifts his head to make eye contact with you, still panting. “I don’t know why Jimin said it like that. Like he didn’t wanna fuck you too.”

You grab a pillow off the couch and shove it over your face. “Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on,” you wail, slightly muffled by the fabric.

A pair of hands close around yours, and the pillow shifts out of your vision, replaced by Jimin’s face. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, leaning in. His eyes linger on your mouth.

“Hoseok’s not wrong.” Jimin licks his lips.

“Oh my god Park Jimin, do not fucking flirt with me right now!” You yank the pillow back from him and move to smack him with it, but your reflexes are slowed enough that he’s able to shield his face with his arms in time, dissolving into a fresh round of giggles. You continue to beat him senseless with your fluffy weapon.

“Okay, okay, ow! I’ll tell you the truth if you stop hurting me!”

You’re slightly more intrigued than you are pissed off, so you relent, hugging your arms around the pillow in your lap. “Go ahead.”

Jimin seems unprepared to say more, and his eyes dart to Hoseok, looking for an out.

Hoseok groans and pulls himself back onto the couch, and Jimin mirrors him on the other side of you. “The truth is…” Hobi starts, clearly unsure of how to phrase it. “We were fifteen. And you were a cool girl who smoked weed with us. So obviously, we wanted to fuck you.”

Your head spins and you cling to your pillow for dear life. “B-but… Neither of you ever… We never…”

“Never what? Tried anything? Come on. We didn’t have any game, we were total losers back then. And you didn’t seem like you were interested, so we didn’t want to ruin things.”

“I don’t know why you weren’t.” Jimin leans one elbow on the back of the couch, resting his head in his hand and purposefully flexing his bicep.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning, amused by Jimin’s antics as always. “It’s also kind of awkward when you’re both into the same girl.” Hobi shoots a very specific look at Jimin, and your eyes dart between them, trying to decode the hidden message.

Jimin bites down on his bottom lip, cheeks puffing out in laughter, understanding something that is lost on you.

“Tell me!” You smack a hand on each of their thighs. “No more secrets!”

“Ohhh, Jimin-ah, do you want to tell her?” Hoseok tilts his head, his face flushing. “It’s embarrassing!”

“Well, now you have to tell me!” You persist.

Jimin’s cheeks are red now too, and he shifts uncomfortably, playing with the hem of his shirt. It must be bad if the guy who is literally known for being shameless can’t even say it. A thousand possibilities race through your mind.

“Sometimes after you left, I’d, uh, go to the bathroom while Hoseok stayed in the basement and we’d… You know. Take care of things. Separately.”

Surely the drugs were laced and this entire conversation is some wild hallucination, you think to yourself. This cannot be real life.

“And sometimes,” Hoseok says, his voice breaking as a nervous laugh rips through him. Jimin turns away and buries his face in the arm of the couch, already full-body cringing in preparation for whatever Hobi is about to say. “We’d take care of things… not separately.”

At this, you’re on your feet, your security pillow falling to the floor. “So you are gay!”

“No!” Hobi stands up beside you, hands reaching to grip your shoulders as he convulses with laughter.

“I thought I made my status clear earlier,” Jimin mumbles, face pressed into the couch.

“The dicks never touched,” Hoseok clarifies with a shake of your shoulders, still laughing.

“Like that makes any difference,” you counter.

“We never touched each other’s dicks. It was a… mutual masturbation of sorts.”

You pause to consider this. “I– Wow. I think I need a minute.” You allow Hoseok to gently push you back down to the couch. He sits next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders again, guiding you to lay on your side with your head resting in his lap. You don’t resist.

“I really thought we’d take that one to the grave,” Jimin says with a laugh, reaching for his glass of water.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” you mumble. Your mind drifts back to high school. It feels like another lifetime. How did nothing ever happen? Why weren’t you interested in them?

You think back on fifteen-year-old you and give her a pity laugh. For starters, she was a fucking trainwreck. You were so self-conscious and anxious back then, it probably never even occurred to you that anyone was capable of having any desire towards you.

And then at some point, as you got older, you’d convinced yourself they were boyfriends, or at the very least fucking. Once it seemed like the option was off the table, you’d never considered it again.

But now… Your head spins.

Your best friends are obviously extremely attractive; you have eyes. And they apparently want to fuck you– or at least, they did. But what about now? The unspoken question lingers in your mind.

You’re desperately touch-starved and in need of a good fuck, this much you know. But these are your best friends. Could you do it? Should you? Would they even want to? Would it mess everything up? And how would it work, logistically? Would you have to pick one? Would they take turns? Or would they… share?

Your body shudders with a mixture of arousal and confusion, and you feel Hoseok rub his hand along your upper arm, then your back.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come back to earth. Don’t let it ruin your high.”

You’re not sure you even feel high anymore, just overwhelmed and on edge. You sit up slowly, still shivering.

Something bumps against your arm and you realize it’s Jimin’s hand. He laces his fingers through yours and gives your hand a squeeze. You glance at him.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow hard and let your eyes flutter closed for a moment. These little touches alone, Jimin’s hand in yours, Hoseok rubbing small circles into your back, feel incredible. You’re overcome with the realization of how much you love them both, how grateful you are that this bond you share has stayed the same for more than a decade despite so much else changing.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m good.” You open your eyes.

The fingers of his right hand still working along the column of your spine, Hoseok leans forward to grab the discarded bowl off the table. Communicating in their own silent language, Jimin grabs the lighter with the hand that isn’t holding yours and circles the flame around the bowl when Hobi puts it to his lips.

He takes a long, steady pull, then sets the bowl down again and turns to you. His left hand ghosts over your thigh, just above your knee, while his right slowly moves up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You instinctively turn to face him and realize your pulse is racing. “Can I?” Hoseok asks, his voice stilted as he holds the smoke in, and your heart skips a beat.

You nod, and his right hand cups your jaw, pulling you in. You open your mouth slightly and he does the same, fully closing the distance to press his lips to yours.

He exhales and you inhale, and it’s definitely a very different sensation compared to the chaste inches-apart shotguns you’ve done with them before. You feel him smile against your mouth and you break away to exhale the smoke with a laugh.

“Is this okay?” Hoseok asks again, his eyes searching yours.

You shift, then realize that your hand is still intertwined with Jimin’s, and you look back over at him. He appears to be enjoying the show, which makes your face heat up. No one’s ever watched you like this before; being something worth watching feels good.

You unlace your fingers from Jimin’s and pat his leg. “Be right back, okay?”

You answer Hobi’s question by taking his face in your hands and pulling him in, this time for a kiss that’s just a kiss. Hoseok presses his hands into the small of your back as you move your lips slowly against his, your mind spinning.

You’re kissing your best friend, you can’t help but think to yourself. Your best friend who is not gay. The whole thing is truly unbelievable.

As if sensing how in your head you are, Hoseok takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, and your breath hitches as you’re suddenly unable to focus on anything else.

He brings his lips to your jaw, then below your ear, then down along the slope of your neck. You tremble at the heat of his mouth on a particularly sensitive spot and he stays there, lightly worrying the skin with his teeth until you whine, then running his tongue across the mark.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you gasp into his ear as he blows a cool stream of air over the same spot. You lean in for more of him, and then you hear the telltale click of the lighter and an inhale from behind you.

God, there’s two of them. You don’t think you’re going to survive this.

You look up at Hoseok as if to ask permission without saying anything. You bite back a smile as you try to think of how on earth you’d phrase it as an actual question: Hey, I know we were just making out, but is it cool if I turn around and make out with your best friend now, who also happens to be my best friend?

You briefly wonder if Hobi can read minds when he grins and says, “Go ahead.”

You shift to face the other way with a nervous giggle and Jimin is there, smiling with his eyes as he holds the hit in his mouth. He repeats the same motion from minutes earlier– you can’t believe it was only minutes earlier– of grazing his fingertips along your jaw, but this time when he tilts your head up, he brings his mouth all the way to yours.

Jimin’s lips are so soft and warm that it takes you a few seconds to remember what you’re supposed to be doing, and then you inhale the smoke that he breathes into your mouth. You wind your fingers in his hair and he moans against you.

The way he kisses is so different from Hoseok, but so equally perfect. Your pulse quickens as you wonder what else they might do differently.

Jimin sucks gently on your bottom lip for a moment, then pulls away. “Do you want to keep going?” He asks, and you can’t imagine how anyone would ever say no. You nod.

A smile lights up his face, and his gaze moves from you to over your shoulder at Hoseok, then back.

“Well, somebody’s gotta go first.” Jimin says, and he proceeds to do what Jimin does best– strip immediately down to his boxers. The speed at which he goes from fully-clothed to nearly naked makes all three of you laugh, and that’s enough to break some of the tension that’s been building in the room.

Jimin pulls you back in for another kiss and you feel hands snake around your hips, just barely pushing up the fabric of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Hoseok murmurs in your ear, his breath on your neck.

“Yes,” you say between kisses, and the attention from both of them at once makes it come out more like a moan. Your face flushes at how needy you sound. You break away from Jimin as Hoseok strips your shirt off, and then his fingers press against the band of your bra.

“This too?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to vocalize your answer. Hoseok undoes it easily and you slide it off, shivering a little as the air hits your bare skin.

Jimin’s mouth drops down to your collarbones, then trails lower, and you lean back on your hands to allow him better access.

The couch shifts slightly as Hoseok stands. You hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor at the same time Jimin closes his full lips around your nipple, and the mix of anticipation and sensation is enough to make you moan again.

Jimin sucks the bud into his mouth and teases his tongue over it, earning another whine of pleasure from you. “Yes, Jimin,” you gasp.

Part of you wants to take things slow and enjoy the moment, but another part of you can’t stand being the only person with your pants still on, can’t stand the fact that these two don’t have access to every single inch of you to do whatever they please with.

You don’t wait for either of them to ask, your hands moving beneath Jimin to wriggle your leggings down your thighs.

Jimin takes his mouth off you and giggles, helping to pull your pants the rest of the way off.

You figure it’s your turn to raise the stakes, so you hook your thumbs under your panties and push those down too. Jimin raises his eyebrows as if to ask if you’re sure, and you nod, so he pulls them off. You never would’ve imagined at the start of the evening that you’d end it naked in front of your best friends, or that you would enjoy it so much. It already seems impossible that there was ever a time you didn’t feel this way.

Hobi returns to sit next to you, stripped to his boxers. You only have a moment to wonder what the etiquette is here before he wraps his arms around your waist and scoots you towards him until your back is flush with his chest.

Hoseok’s mouth finds your neck again, clearly enjoying how sensitive you are there. “Hi,” he murmurs against your skin, and then he trails gentle bites from your collarbone to your ear. You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he chuckles when you gasp each time.

He brings a hand up to cup your breast, then rolls your nipple between his fingers and your hips jerk in response. You glance at Jimin who is watching the two of you intently, hand just barely grazing over his boxers.

Jimin brings his other hand to your thigh, and you spread your legs for him. You’re on the verge of desperation, you want it so bad.

“Please,” you whine.

Jimin trails a finger through your folds right as Hoseok gives your nipple a hard tug, and you can’t hold back the cry that rips through you.

“Shit,” Jimin breathes, looking up at you and Hoseok. “She’s already so wet for us.” He slides his finger down to tease circles at your entrance, and you’re so slick that you can hear it. Hoseok groans at the sound.

When Jimin moves up to lightly tap at your clit, you whimper and shudder violently, your head dropping back onto Hobi’s shoulder.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” Hoseok asks, pressing his lips just behind your ear.

Jimin taps again, eliciting the same response from you, even louder this time.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hoseok says with a soft laugh, and you nod. “Jimin, can you keep making her feel good?”

You see Jimin blush a little at the direction. “Yeah, I can do that.”

There’s a moment where Jimin pauses, looking at how much real estate he has left on the couch and clearly trying to do some quick threesome mental math.

“Hang on a second,” he mutters, and then he stands up and begins to drag the coffee table away from the couch. Watching him do it all with his dick straining against his boxers is enough to make you giggle.

Hobi guides you to turn and scoot forward until your hips are at the edge of the couch, his legs resting on either side of yours. He nudges your thigh with his hand and you gently spread your legs again.

He nuzzles into your neck. “This still okay?”

You’re so wet you think you might literally be dripping onto the couch. “It’s better than okay,” you say. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

Having sufficiently cleared enough space, Jimin returns to kneel between your spread legs. He’s so fucking pretty, you think to yourself as you watch his eyelashes flutter. His full lips trail teasing kisses along the inside of your thigh, and you smile, reaching down to brush his hair off his forehead.

Without warning, Jimin licks a stripe up the center of your cunt. Hoseok must be watching him because he rolls your nipple between his fingers at the same moment. It feels so good that you almost can’t take it.

“Jimin,” you gasp, aching for more. “Please, I need you.”

Understanding what you mean, Jimin settles in between your legs and brings his mouth to you. You moan as he works your clit, alternating between circling it with his tongue and firm suction from his lips. Everything is so slick, his mouth so soft, that it feels amazing.

When Hoseok’s lips and teeth find your neck again, a wave of pleasure rolls through you. Hoseok’s hands close around yours, and he guides you to wind your fingers in Jimin’s hair.

“Ride his face,” Hoseok groans.

Tentatively, you circle your hips, and Jimin whines encouragingly. “Oh fuck,” you hiss as your cunt slides over his tongue.

You’re already close to coming undone and desperate for it now. You grip Jimin's hair, reveling in the pleasure and the filthy wet sounds as you grind your clit against his tongue. Hoseok nips and licks at your neck, and then you feel his breath in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Come on his tongue.”

All you can do is whine and nod, and your orgasm crests as they take you apart together.

You keep Jimin’s mouth held firmly to you as you pulse and shudder, until finally it’s too much. You drop your hands and collapse back against Hoseok, who presses a kiss to your temple. You take a moment to lay there, blissed out, letting the post-orgasm high wash over you.

“Wow,” you breathe. “That was fun.”

Jimin wipes his mouth with his hand, then leans forward to rest his head on your stomach. “Very fun.”

“Now what?” You ask, sitting up a little, and the eagerness in your voice makes them both laugh.

“Well, that’s up to you.” Jimin moves to sit on the couch next to you. “We can stop, if you want to stop.”

You can see they’re both still hard, and you feel a little guilty that you got off without so much as touching either of them. “That’s not fair, you two didn’t even…” you trail off, embarrassed.

Hobi shrugs. “Don’t feel like you have to be responsible for it. This was just about making you feel good.”

You smile. “Well, don’t get me wrong, that was amazing.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves. “But I do specifically need to get fucked.”

They look at each other and exchange knowing smiles, clearly pleased with your response.

“But first,” you continue. “Would you show me, uh… what you used to do? After I left?” Their faces both flush and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly very aware of your nakedness after stating your desire so plainly. “I mean, only if you want to! Don’t do it if it’s weird. I don’t know what the rules are here.”

Jimin looks at Hoseok with a shrug. “It’s your call, babe,” he purrs in an apparent test of Hoseok’s boundaries.

Hobi snorts. “Don’t call me babe. But yeah, we can show her.” He pauses for a second, making a face like he’s deciding whether or not to say something. “But Jimin, do you want me to…?” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, leaving some question unasked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you exclaim, your eyes darting between the two of them as you try to understand. “Back up. Is there more?” You’re not sure you could handle much more. “What didn’t you tell me?”

Hoseok keeps staring at Jimin with that same look on his face, then he clears his throat. “Would you like to tell her or should I?”

Jimin giggles, obviously embarrassed. “Hoseok would…” He smiles. “Mmm, how do I put this. He likes to talk. When we did… that together, he would talk to me. I didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually.” He shivers a little.

You blink, astounded by the confession. You’ve picked up on their natural leanings towards dominant and submissive, but you never would’ve expected this.

“I… I want to hear it, if that’s okay.”

Silently agreeing that it is, they move to fully strip, Hoseok untangling himself from around you. You can’t watch both of them at the same time and your eyes jump back and forth between them, unable to make a decision.

Never one to turn down the opportunity for a show, Jimin swings a leg over you so that he’s straddling your thigh, thumbs teasing at the waistband of his underwear as he rolls his hips. He’s done this to you before, because he’s Jimin, but never this seriously, and never with his dick straining against his boxers the way it is now.

Your face flushes as you watch him move. You long to reach out and take him in your hand, but you try to behave and not touch the performer. He licks his lips and then gives his waistband a proper tug down, and his dick springs free, thick and perfectly straight. You swallow hard.

Satisfied that you’re appropriately teased, Jimin shifts back to stand up, turning around to peel his boxers all the way off. Even his ass looks good, you think to yourself as you watch him.

You hear a laugh and realize Hoseok has been enjoying the show too, and he steps forward to occupy the space in front of you, gently nudging your legs apart so he can stand between them.

“Would you like to help?” He asks softly, and you nod.

You run your hands along his stomach, scratching your nails against his skin in retribution for his earlier teasing bites. He hisses a little at the feeling, and then you move one hand to palm him over his boxers and he groans.

“Take it out, baby,” he encourages, and you do, slipping the waistband down to pull his cock out. He’s not as thick as Jimin, but the length and slight curve of him make your core throb. He’s rock hard when you wrap your hand around him.

Hoseok bites his lip in an apparent attempt to maintain his composure as you give him a few slow strokes. His fingers brush under your chin and he tilts your head up to look at him. “Do you want to watch us?”

You really do, it’s almost embarrassing how much you want to. You nod and push his boxers down his thighs, and Hoseok smiles, stepping away to finish the job.

They stand in front of the couch, far enough apart to ensure no chance of touching, but still close enough that you can keep your eyes on both of them at the same time. You grab a couch pillow off the floor and hug it to your chest.

The absurdity of the situation clearly sets in, and there’s a pause as no one is quite sure how to begin.

Then Hoseok says in a booming voice, “okay, Jimin-ah!”, and it’s enough to make Jimin double over in laughter, his dick slapping against his stomach.

You wrap your arms around the pillow in your lap as you laugh, too, and it’s with a strange sense of relief. A reminder that these two idiots are the same idiots you know and love, even with their dicks out.

“Stop, stop,” Jimin gasps, trying to breathe. “We have to be serious.”

He manages to compose himself enough to survey Hobi again, a smile still playing at his lips. The look on his face is his classic flirtatious expression, like he’s daring Hoseok to look away first. “Go ahead,” he challenges. “Like old times.”

In unison, they each bring a hand up and spit into it, and you have to keep yourself from giggling. You hide your face behind the pillow, but peek over it, not wanting to miss a thing.

“Touch yourself, Jimin,” Hoseok commands as he begins to stroke himself, and Jimin obeys, starting off at a slightly slower pace.

You bite your lip at the way Hoseok watches him. “How does it feel?”

“Good. Really good.” Jimin grunts, his eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. His hips roll, matching the rhythm of the way he works his cock. You just know his stroke game must be deadly and your cunt clenches, ready for more.

They can’t be the only ones allowed to enjoy this, you reason, and you slip your hand between your legs under the pillow.

“Are you having fun tonight, Jimin?”

Jimin just barely moans as he lets out a sigh, face flushing. “Yes, fuck. It’s so hot.” You bite your lip and nod in agreement as your fingers push into your cunt, still soaked from Jimin’s earlier attention.

“Did you like kissing her?” He smiles, and you can’t help but do the same. “Yeah, I did.”

Hoseok’s voice is a little more breathless now. “Did you like playing with her tits?”

“Uh-huh,” he whines. You slide your other hand up to pinch your nipple, your back arching at the feeling.

“How about making her come on your tongue?”

“Fuck yes,” Jimin groans, pausing to squeeze his hand at the base of his cock. You can see fresh precum leak from him and you lick your lips. You speed up the pace of your fingers. “It was so fucking sexy.”

“Was it as good as you always imagined?” Hoseok says with a dry chuckle.

Jimin rolls his hips into his hand again. “It was better.”

“What else do you want to do tonight, Jimin?”

At this, Jimin’s eyes flutter open, and he stares intently back at Hoseok. “Anything,” he says, and then he fucking winks.

To his credit, Hoseok manages to keep his composure, though he can’t quite hide the smile on his face as he continues to stroke himself. “Is that right?”

Jimin only nods.

Hoseok turns to you, as if he might pose the question to you next, but then he sees the state you’re in. He takes his hand off himself to reach for the pillow, and you don’t fight him as he moves it away, leaving you with nothing to hide behind.

“Holy shit, look at you,” Hoseok breathes.

You let your eyes fall closed as you continue to touch yourself. You’ve never felt more exposed or more turned on.

You sense something move above you, and when you open your eyes again, Hoseok is kneeling in front of you. His hands trace up your thighs, thumbs massaging expertly at the muscles there, and your legs reflexively spread wider to allow him more access.

“Shit, Hobi,” you whine.

“Do you want us to fuck you now?” His low voice is almost a whisper, and all you can do is nod. You slide your fingers out from your cunt. He catches your wrist in his hand and pulls it to him, closing his lips around your slick fingers to taste you with a glint in his eyes.

You whimper at the sight, and your gaze flickers up to Jimin. He’s standing and watching the two of you, pillowy lower lip between his teeth, his hand squeezing the base of his cock.

Hoseok pulls off your fingers and smiles. “Who do you want to fuck you first?”

Your eyes linger on Jimin, and your core throbs at the thought of the way he was rolling his hips.

You look back at Hoseok and a strange wave of anxiety washes over you. Jimin went down on you– if Hobi hasn’t actually done anything yet, shouldn’t he be the one who gets to fuck you first? You’d never considered the mental calculus involved in a threesome before. You don’t want to make anyone feel left out or less desired. You really do want both of them.

He must be able to see the wheels turning in your head, because Hoseok takes your face in his hands, his expression serious. “Hey,” he says, gently shaking your head side to side. You smile a little and he smiles back. “Hi,” he tries again.

“Hi.”

“It’s not a trick question, okay? There’s no wrong answer. I literally just want you to tell me what you want. And if the honest answer is that you want to stop, then that’s also a right answer. You hear me?” You nod your head in his hands, and you think your heart might burst as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Now,” Hoseok tries again. “Would you like to suck my dick while Jimin fucks you?”

You swallow hard. “Yes, please.”

“Do we need condoms?” Jimin asks, and you look up at him, then back down at Hoseok.

“I–I’m okay. I mean, I’m clean, and on the pill. Unless you guys want them.”

“We’re both clean,” Jimin nods, his face flushing a little. “Honestly, not a lot of time for sex in our schedules.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Maybe you should just fuck each other.”

Hoseok barks a laugh. “It would certainly be easier.”

As he’s clearly the person in the room most comfortable giving orders, Hoseok has you switch places with him so that he’s sitting on the couch and you’re kneeling in front of him. You run your hands along his thighs, enjoying the opportunity to return the massage, kneading at the firm muscles in his legs. He groans and lets his head drop back on the cushion as your fingers tease higher and higher.

His dick is hard and leaking, flush against the flat plane of his stomach, and it twitches when you take it in your hand. You work up some saliva in your mouth and let it drop onto him. Hoseok hisses as you spread the wetness over his shaft.

You lean down to put your mouth on him, and that’s when Jimin chooses to slide into you from behind. The way his thick head stretches you open feels so good that you moan around Hoseok’s dick, and his hips snap up in response.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses at the same time Hoseok groans “fuck”. You could get used to making two men fall apart at once, you think.

Jimin fucks you slowly from behind, hips rolling fluidly, and the fullness of him feels incredible after so long. He’s just as good as you thought he would be, and his pace is gentle enough that you can still take Hoseok’s dick in your mouth without feeling like you’re choking on it. You revel in the sensation as Jimin’s rhythm naturally pushes you up and down along Hoseok’s length.

“God, your fucking mouth,” Hoseok groans as you swirl your tongue around him. His hips shudder up towards you, desperate for more, and you can tell that Jimin’s relaxed pace is driving him crazy.

Jimin must notice this because you can hear him giggle softly behind you. “Sorry–” his voice breaks as he grinds into you. “This is about as fast as I can go,” he rolls his hips again with another whine. “If you want me to last.”

You slide your mouth off Hoseok with a wet pop, continuing to stroke him with your hand. “I don’t mind either way, Jimin.” You do your best to look back at him. “It feels fucking amazing.”

You return your attention to Hoseok, and his eyes are dark with lust.

“Can he come in you?” Hoseok asks, his voice hoarse. You lick a stripe up his cock and he groans, laughing a little at how much of a tease you are.

“Yes,” you say with a shy smile.

“Do it, Jimin,” Hoseok commands. “Come in her.”

As if he’s been waiting his whole life to receive the order, Jimin pushes into you with a newfound ferocity. He keeps the same fluid movement but his hips roll faster and faster, and the feeling of his cock pounding into you is so overwhelming that you can’t stop yourself.

“Oh my god, Jimin, fuck, yes, fuck–” You gasp and rock your hips back, matching his rhythm.

You hear Hoseok grunt and for a moment you lose concentration, your thrusts faltering and your head swimming as the worry creeps back in that you’re not giving him enough attention. You look up, still breathless from the way Jimin is fucking you, to see Hoseok jerking his cock at the same tempo, gaze fixed on you. His tongue toys sloppily at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like watching Jimin fuck me?” You manage to ask, attempting to try out your own dirty talk and simultaneously check in on Hobi. A smile breaks across his face.

“I fucking love it,” he groans, giving himself one long, slow pump before he resumes his steady pace. His other hand reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Keep fucking yourself on his cock like that. You’re perfect.”

You follow Hoseok’s instructions, rutting back onto Jimin, and it’s enough to finally send him over the edge.

With one final body roll, Jimin pushes all the way into you with a high-pitched whine, his cock pulsing inside of you as he comes. He gives a few shallow thrusts, milking all of his release out, and then he slumps forward, thoroughly spent.

“Holy shit,” he giggles, arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel him trembling, and you turn over in his arms, leaning back against the foot of the couch. Jimin drops his head onto your shoulder and you press your nose into the crook of his neck, trailing a few gentle kisses across his collarbones.

As you shift you feel his cum slowly start to leak out of you, and you look down in mild embarrassment, pressing your knees together. Having someone come inside you is the kind of thing that always sounds sexy until it actually happens, and then it’s just a mess.

Hoseok gives Jimin a few moments to recover, hand still teasing over his own cock, then finally gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, Jimin-ah. Switch with me.”

Too spent to say anything, Jimin grunts and crawls off you, waiting for Hoseok to free up the couch before he collapses face-first onto it.

You expect Hoseok to pull your mouth back onto him, or turn you around so he can slide into you, but instead he kneels in front of you. “Can you sit up for me?” He asks softly, and you lift yourself onto the couch cushion behind you, Jimin shifting to make enough space for your ass.

Hoseok places his hands on your knees, which are still clenched together to hide everything leaking out of you, and he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Your pulse quickens at the look in his eyes, and you slowly let your legs drop open.

You can feel his breath over your center, and then he swipes a finger up your thigh to push a trail of arousal back inside you.

“Can I taste you?” Hoseok asks, and you squirm a little in response. “You can say no,” he reminds you.

“I-I mean,” you falter. “I would like that, but– you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Since it’s… messy. We can just fuck.”

Hoseok laughs. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. And frankly, there isn’t much I don’t want to do to you.” He leans in to lick up another drip running down your thigh and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

He looks at you again, waiting patiently for your final answer, and your face grows hot as you nod your consent. Needing no further encouragement, he spreads your legs even wider and brings his mouth to you.

Hoseok’s tongue is long and precise, and he laps up and swallows every bit of Jimin’s cum from inside you like it’s his last meal. The little gulps and groans he makes as he licks into you again and again are unreal. Your pussy is so sensitive from just being fucked that each stroke of his tongue makes you whimper.

This takes his affinity for cleaning to a whole new level, your last brain cell thinks, and then he drags his tongue up your folds and you can no longer form coherent thoughts. You can only moan while still softly laughing at your own joke as he licks figure eights over your clit.

When he slips two fingers into your cunt, your back arches.

“Fucking shit, Hobi, oh my god–” you moan. You collapse back, lost in the feeling, and knock against Jimin, stretched out on the couch behind you.

You reach towards him, and his hand finds yours, your fingers interlacing. You turn your head to look at him and he’s watching you intently, lips parted slightly and pupils blown with lust.

You’ve gotten the idea a few times tonight that Jimin is a bit of a voyeur, and you’re starting to learn that you quite enjoy being an exhibitionist for him.

Hoseok quickens the pace of his fingers, pressing deliberately on your front wall, and you cry out from the pleasure, your gaze locked on Jimin. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine, and Jimin nods along with you.

You notice that his other hand is reaching to gently palm at his dick, already getting hard again. “God, you are so fucking sexy,” Jimin murmurs.

Hoseok hums around your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jolt up at the feeling. Aware he’s onto something, he keeps going, humming low in his throat while his tongue works your clit, the vibrations rolling through you. His fingers rub circles inside of you, and you writhe, unable to get enough, your peak rapidly approaching.

Jimin shifts on the couch next to you, your fingers still intertwined, letting go of himself to bring his other hand to your neck. He presses his full lips to yours and sweeps his tongue into your mouth with a groan.

The attention from both of them at once is enough to make you come all the way undone.

You break away from Jimin, bearing down hard on his hand in yours, and cry Hoseok’s name as your second orgasm hits you full-force.

Hoseok’s tongue and fingers slow as your walls flutter around him, but he doesn’t completely let up until your final aftershocks subside.

You squirm away from his touch as you become oversensitive, and he laughs and relents, wiping the back of his hand across his face. His nose, lips, and chin are all shining with your slickness, the results of his efforts. It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You’re not sure you remember how to string words together to form sentences, so you’re unable to protest when Hoseok hooks his arm under your knees and pulls your legs up across the couch so that you’re laying down. You roll over in submission and Jimin’s there pressed against you.

Jimin pulls you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours. You lean your cheek into his chest and shut your eyes as your breathing slows. Then he shifts, and you feel something nudge your thigh.

Eyes fluttering open, you glance down and laugh. “I can’t believe you’re already hard again.”

Jimin blushes, kicking his feet a little as if in frustration. “It’s your fault!”

A pair of hands come to your shoulders that could only be Hoseok. Those perfect fingers trail down your back, massaging along your hips. You whine a little at the feeling.

“Well, did you have fun?” He asks, and you turn to see him properly. When he gently rubs his hands across your thighs, you shiver; you’re still overstimulated, but it’s not unpleasant.

“Is it over?”

“If you want it to be,” Hoseok shrugs.

A desire that’s been building up inside of you all night blurts out before you can think to stop it. “I did have one more idea,” you start, then bury your face in Jimin’s shoulder. “I can’t say it, though. I have no idea if it’s even really possible.”

“If it is, we’ll make it happen. We want you to feel good,” Jimin says, wiggling his erection against your hip for added emphasis.

“Okay, but if you don’t actually want to do this, please tell me, and we can all pretend I never said it and that the threesome ended here and everyone was happy.”

“Tell us what you want,” Hoseok commands.

Your voice is nearly a whisper. “I think I want to try double penetration.”

Jimin hums in surprise. “Are you prepped for that?”

You lift your head up as you realize the misunderstanding. “Oh, I– no, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to do anal. I was talking about, um, both of you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, face hot as you’re forced to say it out loud. “In my pussy. Together?”

“Wow,” you hear Hoseok groan at the same time Jimin lets out a shaky exhale.

You open your eyes to look at both of them. Hoseok is grinning, and Jimin’s hands roam over your body, gently running along the curve of your waist and then cupping your ass.

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks softly. “That’s probably going to be pretty intense for you.”

You nod, still flushed with embarrassment. Your core is already starting to throb again at the thought. “I learned from a well-endowed hookup that I really like, uh… girth.” You cringe at the unsexy word. “Is that okay? Can we try it? You can say no.”

Jimin grinds his hips against your thigh with a smirk. “I wasn’t joking when I said I was up for anything.”

Hoseok stands up decisively, doing a terrible job at hiding how excited he is about this. “We’re gonna need some lube. Be right back.” He disappears, heading for the bedroom.

The arousal is already pooling in your belly at the promise of what’s to come, and you press your nose into Jimin’s neck, trying to remember how to breathe. “Hi.”

Jimin dips his head to kiss you. His lips are so soft. He pulls away with a small laugh. “Hi yourself.”

“So, this has been a pretty crazy night.”

He’s still smiling, looking as dazed as you feel. “Tell me about it. This is payoff, like, a decade in the making. I don’t think I’ve ever waited so long for anything.”

Your heart skips a beat. “I’m having a really good time.”

Jimin presses another gentle kiss to your forehead. “Me too,” he says, and then Hoseok returns, holding the bottle of lube triumphantly, like it’s a prestigious award or a designer bag.

You sit up and offer your palms to him, and he squeezes a decent amount into each one. The movement is just clinical enough that it has you all giggling, tense with anticipation.

Hoseok and Jimin kneel on either side of you, and you work your hands over them until they’re nice and slick and groaning under your touch. You’re still soaked from Hoseok’s tongue, but you rub what’s leftover on your palm across your entrance, if only for good luck.

Hoseok leans back against the arm of the couch, his dick fully erect and leaking. His eyes are already heavy-lidded with lust, but he’s smiling so big, you don’t even have to ask if he’s enjoying himself.

You crawl over him and he kisses you hungrily as you sink down onto him. He’s longer, and you have to take a second to get used to the new feeling, circling your hips a little.

“God, you take my cock so well,” Hoseok groans, giving your ass a playful smack. You wiggle until you’re sure you’ve sunk as low as you can go on him. “That was the hard part. Now it’s just Jimin,” he teases with a laugh, and Jimin sends a pillow sailing in his direction, missing by several inches.

You lean forward, bracing yourself over Hoseok who takes the opportunity to graze his lips and teeth along the slope of your neck. You feel Jimin’s head press at your entrance.

“Ready?” Jimin breathes, and you look back to nod at him. He starts to push into you, devastatingly slow.

It doesn’t really work like porn or romance novels would have you expect, where everything slides in easily and feels great right away. There’s a stretch and a fullness that’s intensely uncomfortable at first. You have to ask Jimin to stop and wait a couple of times while you adjust and wince at the sensation.

He and Hoseok are impressively patient with you, teasing their hands and mouths over your body in an effort to get your cunt to relax, until you’re nearly shaking from the pressure in your core. Little by little, Jimin manages to slide himself into you alongside Hoseok.

After minutes that seem more like hours, Jimin grunts, his head dropping onto your shoulder as his hips give a final push. “Fuck. That’s it. That’s all of me.”

The pain is still there, but you can tell it’s starting to morph into something else, something good. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You all take a second to breathe and let it sink in that this is really happening. No one is quite sure what to do next. Hoseok experiments first, rolling his hips in a lazy circle that makes all three of you react with a noise.

“Fuck, Jimin,” he groans. “I can feel you.”

Jimin bites his lip, his cheeks flushing, and nods in agreement.

Hoseok sets the rhythm, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes, and then Jimin’s fingers grip at your hips and he gently starts to move, too.

You can’t help but whimper at the way it feels– you are overwhelmingly, perfectly full.

The sensation is incredible now, the way they slip and grind against each other inside of you. You can only sit there and take it as they alternate fucking into you. You swear and groan their names interchangeably, over and over.

“Tell us how it feels,” Hoseok grunts. “Taking two dicks in your tight little cunt.”

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good,” you moan.

“Shit,” Jimin groans, “all this friction…” He lets out a shaky laugh. “God, I think I’m gonna come again.”

Your breath hitches and Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. “You like that, baby? You want Jimin to fill you up again?”

You nod with a whimper. “And you. Both of you.”

Hoseok laughs and groans at the same time. “Oh my god, you are so fucking hot.” He punctuates the final words with three thrusts into you, picking up his pace. Each thrust means he slides against Jimin, and on the third one, you hear a moan behind you.

“Shit, Hoseok, agh! I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jimin ruts into you in fast, short strokes as his climax hits, and his cock twitches and shudders inside you again.

As Hoseok groans beneath you, you realize that he can feel it all too.

“Fuck yes, Jimin,” Hoseok hisses. The extra slickness of Jimin’s fresh arousal just makes everything that much easier, that much messier, and that much hotter. You know Hoseok is fast approaching his end as he fucks you, his strokes deep and hard.

The way his length bottoms out inside you when you’re already so tender is too much, and you lean back into Jimin.

“Yes, fuck, yes, I’m–” you gasp with each thrust, and then your third orgasm takes you by surprise and you can’t do anything but cry out.

Jimin wraps an arm over your shoulders to steady you. You can feel him trembling beneath you as your walls pulse around both of them again and again and again. You’ve never come this hard in your life, and the endless waves of your orgasm are enough to finally bring Hoseok to his peak with a hoarse groan of your name.

Your hips grind down on him and work him through his release and the aftershocks of yours, riding out every last bit until your cunt is quivering from overstimulation. With all three of you entirely spent, you let yourself crash from the high and slump forward against Hoseok’s chest.

There are a few moments of bliss before you feel everything start to drip down your thighs. It probably should be gross to be so full of lube and two loads of cum. Maybe it will be in a few minutes, you think to yourself.

But right now, it’s fucking hot.

“Holy shit,” you whisper as the room slowly returns around you. You can feel both of them starting to soften inside you, and you glance down, mostly because you can’t believe that really just happened.

When you do, you realize that at some point, Hoseok must have also gripped onto your hips, probably when he was fucking up into you. You were too busy taking two dicks at once to keep track of exactly who was doing what when. But now, you see that Hoseok and Jimin have interlaced their fingers together over the curve of your hips.

It’s one of the tamest things that’s happened tonight, but something about it makes your heart crack open.

Your breathing uneven, you run a finger along their still-joined hands. It’s only when the first drop of moisture hits your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

You’re turned enough towards him that Jimin is able to see your expression, and then he’s the first one to break the scene, shifting to slowly withdraw from inside you. He scoots back on the couch, and you feel his hands come to cup your shoulders.

Hoseok keeps his hands on your hips, his touch featherlight as he lifts you up so he can slide out as well. The look on his face is concern mixed with pure love, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for all that he is, all that they both are, your two best friends. That hasn’t changed.

Jimin speaks first. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come here.”

You lean into his touch and allow yourself to lie down as more tears spill over. Jimin’s fingers scratch along your scalp, and you roll onto your side and curl up. “Post-orgasm chemicals can be weird, and that was–” he bites back a laugh, “–really fucking intense. Just let it out.”

You’re leaking out of both ends, you think to yourself, and you press your cheek into the couch cushion, laughing and crying at the same time. “This is so embarrassing. I swear to god I’m fine.”

You feel what must be Hoseok’s hand rubbing gently along your thigh, and his voice confirms it. “Happy tears?”

You nod. “Very happy tears. That was incredible.”

Hobi wiggles his body into the tight space between you and the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling off. “You were incredible. I’m glad you had fun.” He shudders softly against you and you look up to see Jimin running his other hand through Hoseok’s hair.

“We definitely did,” Jimin says with a small giggle as he scratches both of your heads. “I think our inner teenagers can rest happy with the knowledge that it did finally end up happening one day.”

You smile. “I’m glad it happened now, because I definitely couldn’t have done any of that when I was a teenager.”

Hobi cackles into the crook of your neck. “And Jimin would’ve came even faster than he did tonight!”

At this, Jimin fists the hand in Hoseok’s hair, leaning over him. “My dick is sensitive, and I don’t appreciate you making fun of it,” he growls.

Realizing how close their faces are, Hobi is the one to start the game of chicken this time, tilting his face up towards Jimin. “Is that right, Jimin-ah? Got a sensitive dick?”

Jimin doesn’t miss a beat and continues to lean towards Hoseok’s mouth, tugging on his hair. You really think they might actually do it this time, considering everything else that’s happened, but Hoseok finally relents in an explosion of giggles, turning to hide his face against your shoulder before Jimin can kiss him.

“I yield, I yield!”

Some things never change. ~*~

Approximately half an hour and one shower later, the three of you are again collapsed together in a heap on the couch, shifted over by one cushion to avoid the wet spot. Jimin’s arms are wrapped around your waist while Hobi plays with your hair.

They’ve lent you clothes to sleep in, and the big t-shirt (Hoseok’s) and black sweatpants (Jimin’s) are each infused with the scent of their respective owner. Smelling like both of them at the same time makes you feel loved, even claimed. Your brain is buzzing from the post-threesome and post-crying endorphin overload (not to mention the THC), and you sigh happily.

“Hey, Hobi?” You say with a restrained giggle. He turns to look at you, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “I think you might be a little gay now.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god. Shut up.”

“Your dick literally touched another dick. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, inside you! Surely that negates the gay part!”

“I don’t know, Hobi,” Jimin says in agreement. “You also ate cum out of her. I don’t even swallow that stuff, man.”

“I hate you both,” Hoseok laughs, folding his arms behind his head. “Look, I don’t give a shit. If enjoying every single second of tonight makes me gay, then I’ll lead the fucking pride parade.”

You laugh, scrambling to find your phone. Now you have to play Gaga. You put on Bad Romance and Hoseok instantly sits up.

“Okay, I do also know the dance to this. Wanna see?” He untangles himself from you and Jimin to jump up and strike a pose, hands already fixed into monster claws.

Jimin giggles, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “I’m gonna go make some buldak, but please film this so we can blackmail him forever.”

~*~

A/N: if you actually made it all the way to the end you're a real one. i'm v lazy about crossposting/putting my masterlist together on here, but i've got more stuff on AO3 if you enjoyed!! would love to hear your thoughts, i'm honestly dying for more friends in this space lol. thanks for reading 💜

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #don't rly wanna tag this as jihope bc it's like... not gay? only a little gay?#what am i doing with my life #two in one

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sathina · 2 years

Text

Fantasy

Pairing - Jack Harlow x reader

Summary - everything written on a piece of paper, can become the dirtiest fantasy

Warnings - smut reading, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem), slightly rough sex

You felt the heat between your thighs rise by the passing seconds. Your imagination running wild to see the things that are written on the page.

When he was close enough, he pressed his lips to hers, quickly swiping her tongue and leaving him in charge. His kisses traveled down towards her neck, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her own head was thrown back, breathless moans filling the room.

You were so into it you didn't even notice the door opening, heavy footsteps making their way over. As your eyes scanned the page, you felt a soft hand touch your thigh.

Quickly your heart beat picked up, your body jumping from the shock.

" Jack!" you threw the book down, looking up at the man smirking over you. " You scared me." You breathed out clutching your chest.

" Oh, I'm sorry, ma." Still, the teasing smile didn't leave his face. Instead, his gaze traveled to the book, the shiny cover out in the open. " And what kind of fine literature has got my baby rubbing her thighs like that?"

Before you could even process what was happening his hand already reached out, grabbing the book before you could tell him otherwise.

" No, Jack-" He didn't listen to your pleading though, ironically skipping to the chapter you were on only a few moments ago. " His hands traveled down to her thighs, giving them both a gentle squeeze before grabbing the hem of her shirt." The man above you quietly mumbled out, chuckling to himself. " You into this shit?"

When you didn't answer he only laughed louder.

Your eyebrows pulled together, lips settling into a soft pout. " Stop it. You don't see me making fun of what you're reading, do you?" Snatching the book out of his hands you turned around, placing it on the nightstand.

You pretended to be busy with the bed, tugging and pulling on the sheets. Jack on the other hand was still laughing, one hand on the wall to keep him steady. But when he finally processed your word his chuckles died down, now only a small smile still visible on his face.

" C'mon. I'm only teasing." Jack crawled up behind you, his hands landing on your hips, his lips meeting your shoulder briefly. " And besides, we could recreate some of that stuff. Don't you think?" His palms moved lower, lightly tracing down your thighs.

" No. I don't want to memorize a script while we're having sex." You tried to get up, but a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into his lap.

" Who said anything about memorizing, mama? You can just read and I'll do the job."

" Jack…"

He turned you around so you were facing him, hands still lightly resting on your hips. " Just tell me what they were doing."

With moments of complete silence you spoke up yet again. " They're in the kitchen." Your voice was small, quiet against the heavy heartbeat in your chest.

" Continue."

" He has her up on the counter." Jack moved to sit you up on your own, quickly moving beside you and picking you up bridal style.

" Will the vanity work?"

" Yes…" you breathed out. The excitement was pumping in your veins, your blood boiling.

You were still in his arms while he walked to the farthest wall, your stuff was cluttering the whole wooden surface. While you were looking into his eyes you heard a crash, quickly you were dropped off on top of the vanity, your makeup and hair stuff on the floor beside it.

Your eyes scanned the mess, your favorite blush clearly broken in pieces.

" Jack! Why did you-"

" I promise I'll buy you ten more. Now tell me what happened next."

You looked back at him, his own eyes filled with lust.

" I-I don't know. I haven't gotten any further." He only smirked and turned around, quick footsteps leading their way to the nightstand.

Your own desire only grew stronger watching his muscles flex under the thin material of his wife beater.

He shortly returned with the book, handing it to you with a soft smile. His warm palms found their way back to your thighs, squeezing and molding them between his fingers.

You flipped it open, the numbers engraved in your mind so you wouldn't forget a single word.

" So?"

" Uhh, the guy, he's shirtless by the way." Jack pulled off his shirt, only for a second breaking the contact between you.

" What happens next, sweetheart?"

You cleared your throat, your hands slightly shaking, your eyes barely being able to focus. " His hands traveled down to her thighs, giving them both a gentle squeeze before grabbing the hem of her shirt. ' The breakfast…' " you read out loud, at the same time feeling Jack's hands doing everything the story is telling. " 'Baby, I wanna have my meal first.' The thin fabric was pulled from her body, cool air hitting her bare skin. As he slowly crouched down, his lips moved to her chest, hands palming and grabbing the soft flesh. ' I love you.' "

He quickly pulled your shirt off, mouth meeting your boobs as he too fell to his knees.

" C'mon, continue reading."

" Uhhh, she moaned in response when his teeth grazed her nipple, her fingers running through his curly hair, b-brushing out the morning knots. He finally fell to his knees, spreading open her legs, he quickly bent down. His tongue running up and down her folds–" a whine fell past your lips when you felt Jack's mouth on your pussy, the vibrations you were feeling explained perfectly on paper. With a trembling voice, you kept reading out loud. " –thumb circling her clit a-as she wrapped her legs around his broad shoulders. It only pushed him in further. She started rocking her hips against his face, hands still pulling at his hair strands, the pressure making him moan, sending vibrations through her w-whole body."

His tongue met your clit, lazy figures eight drawn over the small, sensitive bud. Your moans only grew louder, he was licking and swallowing, tasting any and every piece of you.

You honestly forgot where you were, the intoxicating feeling making your head spin, your mind turning blank.

" Keep reading, mama." Jack quickly said before returning to his delicious meal.

" Sh-she felt like a mess. Eyes tightly shut, red blush on the tip of her nose and cheeks, pornographic moans spilling out like a-a prayer. And when she felt the usual feeling of her stomach tightening, legs shaking and breath hitching, he pulled away. S-she let out a desperate whine while he only smirked, his lips glossy, coated in her wetness." The man below you stuck his tongue out, shaking his head from side to side, your pussy lips moving with him. " Mhm, ' I-I wanna feel you.' He quickly hosted her up in his arms, swiftly placing her on the counter and leaning in a kiss."

And Jack did just that. He rose from his kneeling position, his hair now messy, his lips glossy. Just like in the book.

" So, what's next?"

" It was a s-sweet, wet, hungry kiss. His mouth was perfectly molding against hers as his hands untied the knots of his apron. The fabric falling off somewhere on the kitchen f-floor."

Your boyfriend undid his sweats, the material falling down to his ankles, only to be kicked farther away from you two. He gave you an encouraging nod, silently telling you to keep reading.

" He pulled h-her closer, his palm moving up and down his dick. He quickly placed the tip, and with a thrust of his hips, he placed himself in her. Th-the feeling was magical, she was so full again, while he was feeding off of the feeling of her sq-squeezing him." And when Jack did the same, the book was long forgotten.

It fell to the floor with a thud, both of you completely ignoring the sound.

His hips were molding into yours at the speed of light. Every hit pushed you closer and closer to your release.

" Fuck." Your soft voice croaked out, your mouth was wide open, head thrown back, skin glistening with a thin coat of sweat.

Jack adored the sight in front of him. With hooded eyes he watched your back arch, your chest pushing into his as you came undone in his arms, his hips still moving, still chasing his own release.

" I-I can't…"

" C'mon, baby. I know you can. Be a good girl, okay? Make me cum."

And you did, you squeezed around him, arching and whining, moaning right beside his ear, in the process, cumming yourself, yet again.

When his movements stilled, you both were out of breath, leaning on each other's shoulder.

" I'll run you a bath, okay." Jack asked in a silky smooth voice, the deep cracks still making you shudder.

" Yeah, that would be nice."

#jack harlow #fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow smut #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x y/n

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estah · 8 months

Text

The BOLD THE FACTS tag by @helenofsimblr

The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

i was tagged by @akitasimblr (thank you so much 😊❣️) and harps was chosen! so here we go 🤸🏾‍♀️

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / unsure

✔ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying / other (she graduated with a distinguished culinary arts degree and earned a mixology specialist certificate)

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children : had a child or children / has no children / wants children

◑ Relationship with Family : close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings /sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith : monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care (big fan of anything haunted, legends, myths, stuff like that)

✮ Belief in an Afterlife : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

❃ Belief in Aliens : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✧ Religious : orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

❀ Philosophical : yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable /naive and clueless / romance suspicious

❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic (harps is a celebrity mixologist so when she comes up with a new drink, she tries it, to make sure it actually tastes nice lol! so no one complains and she starts seeing herself on news articles for trying to poison someone 💀)

☁ Smoking : trying to quit / quit / never / trying it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs : never / quit / trying it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs : never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

☻ Unhealthy Food : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater

$ Splurge Spending : never / sometimes / frequently / Shopaholic (anything for her daughter 🥹)

♣ Gambling : never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

i'm tagging: @kashisun @whiimms @deathbypufferfish @bloomingkyras @buglaur @neighborhoodstories @tulipsimss @minty-plumbob @druidberries @seokolat and anyone who wants to do this! 😊

-> here's a link to the OG post so you have a fresh "template" : bold the facts tag.

#tag game #*harper-rose

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punsmaster69 · 6 months

Text

31/OCT/20XX

"Uhh.. Papyrus?"

"YES?"

"Why are you in full costume already? Trick-or-treating doesn't start for another two hours."

"BECAUSE!!"

"THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALWAYS PREPARED!.. AND,"

"..IT DIDN'T TAKE AS LONG TO PUT ON AS I THOUGHT IT WOULD."

"Well, you look absolutely GORGEOUS, if I do say so myself."

mettaton looked over papyrus' outfit.

"Maybe you should do an all-pink rebrand! It really works on you."

"I don't need TWO of you running around!! One is enough!"

"... You're right, Undyne."

"There is only one one person that can be as fabulous as I, and that's ME!"

"More like as ANNOYING as you!"

papyrus' costume of mettaton was a faithful recreation of his (non-rectangular) form.

and mettaton's... a very pink papyrus.

pink scarf, pink boots (now with heels), pink gloves..

but, other than the palette change, was actually pretty accurate.

——

alphys helped undyne finish tying up her hair into two ponytails.

mettaton completed the cat makeup on frisk's face.

tori put on her witch hat, and looked really pr

cool.

she adjusted the leaves of my pumpkin ensemble.

"There we go! A perfect little pumpkin."

wheels squeaked beside me.

"A WAGON TO CARRY IT IN!"

"..the whole time?"

"PREFERABLY."

"...ok."

"Has everyone got their baskets?"

they all raised their baskets.

"Then, I think we are ready!"

so out the door and to the streets we went.

undyne lead the charge, alphys and mettaton not far behind.

papyrus, who would normally be in the front with undyne, lagged farther back this time, next to toriel.

tori drug the wagon i was in.

frisk hung out alongside me, flowey in arms.

——

a look at me, a look at flowey.

at me, at flowey.

at me..

"Here. Take this."

"ok."

"WH-"

"NO! I don't agree to this!!"

"Sorry man, but I either carry your candy bucket or I carry you."

"Both is getting kinda heavy."

"...Fine, hand me to that idiot instead! Just don't let him have my candy!!"

"not gonna eat it, y'know."

"Like I'm gonna believe that for a second!"

i swapped them his bucket for the flower himself.

"ok. whatever you say."

——

"Why couldn't Papyrus carry me instead, like last year?"

"want him to have 𝗳𝘂𝗻."

"....."

"I'm fun."

"fun if you like shouting matches."

"You just annoy me all the time! I talk quiet, too."

"really?"

"maybe you should show me how quiet you can be."

"for the rest of the night."

"NO!!!!!"

"worth a shot."

"Besides, I'll have you know that Papyrus DOES like shouting matches!"

"Papyrus yells all the time!"

"........"

"He's been quieter though, lately."

"....."

"..Ha. What? You think you're the cause of it or something? Don't get ahead of yourself!"

papyrus snuck a look back at me like he has been all night. clearly surprised to see me and flowey looking at him as well, he gave a small wave.

"........"

"i wish i wasn't, same as you."

"Everyone just needs to stop caring so much. It'd make everything a billion times easier!"

"agreed."

frisk gave us a funny look.

"What's even the point, if you don't care?"

"I 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 care."

"easier to get through stuff."

"That's dumb."

"How?"

"The point of life is caring about things."

"Well MY life is just fine without caring, thank you very much."

"Really?"

they took a candy from flowey's bucket and handed it to me.

"WHAT are you DOING?!"

"Give me that!"

"You sure do seem to care now."

"W-"

"Whatever! Just give that back!!"

he shouted, snatching his candy from my hand.

——

"Flower cat."

"Cat flower."

"Tiny cat.."

"...Pet the kitty."

flowey hissed at frisk's approaching hand.

"wow. you really 𝗮𝗿𝗲 like a cat."

"Shut up, gordo!"

"...What are you two laughing at?!"

"nice one."

"What?"

"gourd-o."

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵??"

" 'Cuz pumpkin."

"….........."

"You know what'd be REAL funny?"

"If I carved you, and turned you into-"

toriel glanced over her shoulder at flowey and i, and he wiped the evil grin off his face immediately.

"Golly! I'm having SO much fun trick-or-treating with everyone."

("He's having SO much fun!")

frisk whispered, repeating flowey in a mocking tone.

he gave me and frisk the stink eye as soon as tori looked away.

....

we're getting along.

——

"..somethin' wrong, undyne? what's all the brow furrowing for?"

"Why are so many humans going as skeletons??"

"BECAUSE WE SKELETONS ARE COOL!"

"But why NAKED ones?!"

"THAT... I DON'T KNOW."

"FRISK, WHY DO HUMANS DRESS UP AS NAKED SKELETONS?"

"Dunno. Maybe the thought is if you remove the flesh, the clothes come with it..?"

"BUT WE WEAR CLOTHES, TOO!!"

"i'm sure there's some skeleton nudists."

"I GUESS.."

——

"Isn't it kinda weird for a human to dress up as a skeleton, anyway? I mean, they ALREADY have skeletons INSIDE their bodies!!"

"THEY'RE SIMPLY HONORING THEIR ANCESTORS!"

"Ancestors?"

"HUMANS DESCENDED FROM SKELETONS, RIGHT?"

"....."

"Frisk, did humans descend from skeletons?"

"Uhhhh.."

"Probably."

"SEE?"

"Huh."

"Doesn't that make you guys, like, super old..?"

"NO!! IT DOES NOT!!!"

"nearing a millennium in age, myself."

"ANCESTORS DOESN'T MEAN 𝗪𝗘'𝗥𝗘 THE OLD ONES."

"IT'S GENERATIONAL, OR SOMETHING. LIKE.. IF YOU WERE TO GO BACK TO THE PARENTS OF OUR PARENTS OF OUR PARENTS A COUPLE TIMES, YOU'D PROBABLY FIND THE ORIGINAL SKELETON."

"You guys don't even have parents, though??"

"And where did the original skeleton evolve from-"

frisk interrupted.

"Stop. My brain hurts."

"AGREED."

——

grillby was handing out candy too, so of course we stopped by.

after everyone got their candy, i wanted to hang back and chat with him for a bit.

"THEN I'LL HANG BACK AS WELL."

"Grillby will keep an eye on him, Papyrus."

"i'm in good hands with grillbs."

grillby did a thumbs-up.

"..ALRIGHT. JUST DON'T BE TOO LONG."

"i'll catch right up."

——

"you really did up the joint. looks good."

"......."

"...?"

"yeah, i know i don't normally dress up."

"but.. couldn't really say no to tori."

"......"

"he's doing well."

"....?"

"oh, that."

"i.. had some health stuff going on. it's kinda put him on edge."

"i'm ok though."

"......"

"tori..?"

"......?"

"n-no. not dating."

"...?"

"no 'yet'. not at all."

"....."

"not you, too.."

"......"

"a new face?"

"..i always look the same, grillbs."

"...."

"........."

"you're the first to not pry."

"....."

"you can't 'see it from my face anyway', i'm totally poker-faced."

"......"

"pffft."

"ok mr. dealer man, go ahead."

"........"

"wow. you need to get a new job, 'cuz you're reading these cards wrong."

"...."

"..enough about me, anyway. how's everything been with you?"

"............"

"sounds good."

"i'll come try it sometime."

"......"

"they've been missing me that bad, huh?"

"...."

"maybe. been busy, you know?"

"....."

"..only slightly related to her."

"...?"

"i'd rather not talk about it tonight."

"........"

"sure. when i come by again, i'll tell you about everything."

"..."

"......"

"..you're probably right."

"seeya grillbs. happy halloween."

"......."

".....happy halloween."

——

"I take it you had a lot of catching up to do with Grillby, then?"

flowey looked incredulous.

"How?!"

"how what?"

"He doesn't SAY anything!"

frisk interjected proudly.

"Grillby said something to me once!"

"What did he say??"

"He said, 'thanks'."

"Basically NOTHING still!"

"you just have to learn his way of communicating."

"HE'S QUITE AN INTERESTING GUY WHEN YOU GET TO KNOW HIM!"

"You too?!"

looking between me and papyrus, frisk seemed confused.

"Is there some kind of secret fire-to-skeleton communication system?"

"NO...? I DON'T THINK SO."

"Then why are you two the only ones able to understand him all the time??"

papyrus shrugged, so frisk looked to me.

i also shrugged.

"Sans, will you get back in the wagon already?!"

"Let's GO, punks!!! We've still got some trick-or-treating to do!!"

——

as much as tori wanted to just walk past asgore's place, he was giving out full-sized candy bars.

she refused to set foot on even just the pathway leading to his (semi-decorated) house.

"what did ol' fluffybuns do, anyway?"

"...Let's just say that there is a reason I left that cretin long ago."

.........

the whole

'sharing a last name but not being related' thing..

makes a lot more sense now.

definitely.. should have pieced that together sooner.

never really thought about who the ex-queen actually was, i guess.

........

sorry, asgore.

——

"Last ones of the night! Let's make 'em count!!"

"ok. start with one, then go to two.."

"NOT LIKE THAT!"

"..FRISK? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

"Tired of walking.."

"WE'RE ALMOST DONE!"

"you can get in the wagon instead if you want."

"NO! YOU NEED TO BE THERE, WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, SINCE YOU WON'T LET ME CARRY YOU."

"I COULD CARRY 𝗬𝗢𝗨 THE REST OF THE WAY INSTEAD, FRISK?"

"I-I'm good..."

"Why is it always Papyrus offering to carry people?! I could lift all of you nerds at ONCE! Let me carry someone!!"

"Sans, come here!"

"NO?!"

"Why not?? I'm super safe!"

"SAFE, IN TERMS OF OUTSIDE FORCES, BUT YOUR METHODS ARE A BIT..."

"U-UNSAFE."

"Frisk, can I-"

"Let us all just.. walk. We are nearly done, are we not?"

——

"...Why do you keep wincing?"

"wincing how?"

"Like you're in pain or something."

"dunno what you're talking about."

"You keep doing it! I SAW it!!"

"you're just hallucinating things, i think."

"....."

"Fine, whatever. Suffer. See if I care."

——

as soon as we got to our house, frisk threw off their costume onesie and laid face-down on the floor.

"exhausted, kiddo?"

i laid down on the floor beside them.

"yeah, me too."

flowey paused mid candy-bar opening.

"You didn't even WALK."

"How are YOU tired??"

"hey, being a pumpkin's real hard work."

"HOW-"

"Whatever. I have candy, and you don't, therefore I don't care."

"ok."

"And it's SOOO tasty."

"cool."

"And you don't get ANY!!"

"ok."

he looked irritated by my lack of interesting responses. instead of continuing to fight, flowey resumed digging into his candy.

picking out the chocolates first, he definitely has a favorite.

i'll keep that in mind.

for the next time i wanna shut him up, you know.

——

"AND SO, THE FABULOUS METTA-RUS DISSAPEARS.. AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS RETURNS!"

"welcome back."

"HELLO. WHY ARE YOU TWO ON THE FLOOR?"

"AND WHY HAVEN'T YOU CHANGED OUT OF YOUR COSTUME YET?!"

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FLOOR, AT LEAST GO PUT ON NORMAL CLOTHES."

tori peeked out from the open bathroom, where everyone who wore makeup was removing it now.

"Aww. I will miss my little pumpkin.."

"Will I see him again next year?"

"wouldn't count on it."

"Then will it be someone else I see?"

"maybe. probably just some lazy skeleton, though."

"Ah, a favorite of mine!"

"Sorry to interrupt your little thing here, Toriel-darling.."

"Unless you're going for a bold two-faced look, you might want to come wipe the rest of that eyeshadow off."

"..Right."

"....."

flowey glared at me for the i've-lost-counth time.

"A 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 favorite of 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦."

frisk lazily swung their hand at flowey's face without looking.

something reminiscent of a "shut up, dude" came muffled from the area of floor their face was planted onto.

he slapped their hand away with a vine and rolled his eyes.

——

undyne sat, back on the floor, with these.. carbonated sugar-rock things (surface candy is weird) popping in her mouth.

"I feel like one of those fancy fountains."

"HERE, TRY THE BLUE ONES!"

papyrus already gave his to undyne, since these things are saliva activated, therefore they don't really work for skeletons.

"WOWIE!! IT REALLY MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE ONE!!!"

frisk stared, with a weird look on their face.

"...Lemme try that."

"It IS like a fountain!!"

"Right?!"

"In all my years of dumb-assery.."

"I can't believe I never thought of doing THIS."

"whoa. do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Do YOU kiss my mother with that mouth?"

flowey snapped at frisk,

"NO."

then at me.

"Don't even THINK about it."

"ok."

——

"Sans."

frisk turned to me on the floor.

"Does your mouth open?"

"nope."

"Damn."

"...really abusing that tori isn't in here right now, huh?"

"I never get to Freaking swear."

"pfffft."

"that one's too much for you?"

"......"

"aren't you a bit young for all this big language?"

"Flowey does it."

"Don't throw ME under the bus!!"

"Besides, he knew that."

"Why does he get to?"

"he-"

"This trashbag has no jurisdiction over me!!"

"I can say whatever the f-"

"Whatever the-"

"......."

"Whatever the HELL I want!"

"i'm gonna tell tori you've got a big ol' potty mouth."

"D-don't!"

"or maybe i'll just ground you myself."

"You can't even do that!"

"Sans."

"yeah, kiddo?"

"You know what you sound like, saying that?"

"....."

"do i wanna hear this?"

"Like a dad."

".........."

"..Wow! That really shut him up!"

"YOU shut up, Flowey."

"Hey?!"

"What did I do??"

they sat up.

"What did SANS do???"

"He's an insufferable trashbag!"

"thanks."

"But WHY do you hate him?!"

"When did YOU become number one trashbag defender?!"

"When I realized I liked the idea of having-"

"AGH-"

flowey shot a pellet at their face.

"FLOWEY, I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!!"

"What is going on in here?"

tori, stern look in her face, stood in the doorway.

——

"If you cannot get along, then I will take you both home early."

"Sans will let me know if anything else happens."

"i will?"

"Please."

"..ok."

"Be good, will you not?"

"Sorry, mom."

".....Sorry."

toriel returned to the kitchen.

she's in there making some green drink with everyone else. a recipe she found, i think.

frisk and flowey sat in an awkward silence.

"...what'd you say you realized?"

"Nothing."

"𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥."

"......."

"Heyy, Flowey..."

"..What?"

"My favorite sibling-plant-thing.."

"You'll trade me this, right?"

they grabbed one of flowey's candies and traded it for an objectively worse, chalky one.

"NO-"

"Hey, we're supposed to not fight."

"......"

"you're totally rippin' him off, kid."

"That's what I'm-"

"Wait."

"Why are you on my side for this??"

"i know a bad deal when i see one."

"But you shouldn't give a shit!"

"why not?"

"You should HATE ME!"

"..why?"

"B..because I treat you TERRIBLY."

"You- you should-"

"Hate me."

"Wish the worst upon me."

"Hope I choke."

"Want me to-"

"but, you're just a kid."

"......"

"and i know there's good in there somewhere."

"even if you hate it."

"....Facts."

"Frisk."

"That was cheesy as hell."

"I'm gonna- cheese your hell if you don't shut your trap."

"What does that MEAN-"

"Wait, you still haven't traded me back! Give it!"

".....Say please."

"It's MINE."

"Say please."

flowey looked at me, like i was gonna do something about this.

i didn't.

"..Fine! Can I 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 have my candy back."

they threw the candy back to him, almost hitting his face.

"Sans!!"

"yeah?"

"They CLEARLY just tried to hit me."

"i mean. you did 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 hit them, earlier."

"They're sticking their tongue out at me!!"

"you have eyelids, don't you?"

"close 'em."

"....You're not useful at all!!!!"

——

....

to be honest,

it hurts.

has been, all day.

this skull-splitting, aching, vomit-inducing... thing.

..just won't leave me alone, will it?

not risking ruining today for anyone, so i'm outside in the cold again to make absolute sure i stay awake.

no passing out. i can't.

i can't.

——

"What're you doing all alone out here?"

"....."

"wanted to enjoy the weather longer today."

"Yeah, I get that."

undyne handed me a cup with a green liquid inside. a scoop of ice cream and some sprinkles sat on top.

"what's this?"

"It's witches brew."

"There's like, lemon and soda and whatnot in it. It's good!"

i looked at the drink. it didn't look particularly displeasing, or sound bad. but for some reason, i still felt sick.

"...i'll drink it later. i've had enough sugar for today."

"Fair."

"I think you'll like it, though."

"The ice cream is sherbet!"

"probably gonna melt before i get to it."

"It's kinda melted already, anyway."

"....."

"Today was cool, right?"

"yeah."

"There were a ton of cool costumes, but ours totally KICKED ASS!!"

"Had a lotta fun making them, too."

"that's why paps always makes his own."

"Let's make it a tradition! Yeah!! Making our own costumes every year is gonna be SUPER RAD!"

"..rad?"

"Didn't wanna say 'cool' again."

"still thinking about that?"

"I didn't realize how just how often I said it until the other day."

"it's a cool word."

"Yeah."

"...Whoa."

she looked up at the stars in awe.

"always been a fan of stars, too."

"even the ones in the underground."

"..This is better."

"leagues better."

"........"

"Do you ever miss it, sometimes...?"

"The quiet."

"The... knowing everyone around."

"The familiarity.."

"...."

"nah."

"Yeah, me either."

"The surface RULES!!"

"The underground can eat my DUST!!!"

"..Uh, not literally, though. If I die, I wanna die up here."

"same."

"Wonder if anyone stayed?"

"they're missing out."

"Probably a few, at least. They'd wanna stay in their houses, right?"

"just bring the house up too."

"...How'd you guys do that, anyway?"

"do what?"

"Bring your house up."

"it's just a recreation."

"The snow is still on your roof."

"a very faithful recreation."

"The other one is GONE!!"

"sometimes a good recreation takes a sacrifice."

"You took it up piece by piece?"

"what? no, that'd take ages."

"Then HOW??"

"yep."

"HOW???"

"mhm."

"Dude. You..."

"BOTH of you."

"Constantly seem to defy logic and reality..."

"And you're always keeping secrets."

"......"

"Be honest with me."

"...."

"Skeletons totally have warp powers, right?!"

"...sure."

"I KNEW IT!!"

she quickly got up and raced inside, shouting for papyrus to show her warp magic.

close enough.

....

i really should take something for this pain.

52 notes · View notes

tricoufamily · 8 months

Text

no one tagged me in that bold the facts thing but i'm doing it anyway with beckett and connor and i'm making connor facts purple and beckett facts green i'm very sick you have to indulge me it's the law

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other

✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other (high school dropout not that that matters for what he does lmao)

✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed (shoplifting dismissed when he was like 13. not for uhhh the other stuff)

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent / not applicable (it's a long, bad story)

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ disorganized / organized / in between

♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic / it's complicated

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious / his relationship with religion is COMPLICATED

❀ Philosophical: yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / unlabeled

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic

☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater

$ Splurge Spending: never (if he wants it he ain't paying for it) / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic

♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

#this is pre/very beginning of blood sports beckett and connor some things would be different if it was after the events of it #connor #beckett

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aurorangen · 8 months

Text

The BOLD THE FACTS tag.

Thank you for tagging me @lynzishell @akitasimblr @duusheen @alinelie and @pralinesims 🥰 Time to talk about Bryce!

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate (but close to poor, he keeps spending it and leilani wants to sell his old stuff but he's like 😩 so the money is always low) / poor / in poverty ✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / street trash / slave / unsure ✔ Education : qualified (biology degree👍) / unqualified / studying / other ✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children : had a child or children / has no children / wants children ◑ Relationship with Family : close with siblings (he's a triplet) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased ◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between ♦ disorganized / organized / in between ♦ close minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between ♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless / in between ♦ patient / impatient / in between ♦ outspoken / reserved / in between ♦ leader / follower / in between ♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between ♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between ♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between ♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown ♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown ♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith : monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic ☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits : yes / no / don’t care ✮ Belief in an Afterlife : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✯ Belief in Reincarnation : yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ❃ Belief in Aliens : yes / no / don’t know (after mermaids who knows🤔) / don’t care ✧ Religious : orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious ❀ Philosophical : yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual ❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless ♥ Romance : romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious ❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious ⚧ Potential Sexual Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all ⚧ Potential Romantic Partners : male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good (not as good as billy) / moderate / poor / none ≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic ☁ Smoking : trying to quit / quit / never / trying it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker ✿ Recreational Drugs : never / quit / trying it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / addict ✌ Medicinal Drugs : never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess ☻ Unhealthy Food : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater $ Splurge Spending : never / sometimes / frequently / Shopaholic (when it comes to diving gear, water equipment, jet skis/speed boats, he says it's all for work! but also DIY stuff, new grills, other useless junk lmao) ♣ Gambling : never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

#I question myself with some answers 😂#postcard extra #the random caps/spaces idk why its like #that but its a mess #tag game #oc facts

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triskhellion · 10 months

Text

While We Still Have Time

Rated: Teen (3.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Tags: POV Stiles, Road Trip, Song Lyrics, Cussing, Recreational Drug Use, Stiles & Derek Leave Beacon Hills, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Roscoe breaks down when Stiles tries to escape Beacon Hills. He calls Derek for help and they end up leaving together.

Soundtrack

Prompts: Mead Moons — Claiming, Herbs, & Rituals. Sterek Weekly — Trouble (and Pillow.) Sterek Fests — Road Trip to Anywhere. Sterek Bingo — Road Trip.

It was finally happening. He had a duffle bag with his favorite clothes, toiletries, a couple towels, and some other essentials in the back. A backpack with his laptop, a notebook, and half a dozen books he never got around to reading between all the monsters of the week last year and the Hunter bullshit this Spring. They’d been buried under various mountain of stuff and semi-dirty clothes, forgotten until his pre-Get The Fuck Out of Here cleaning spree. He wasn’t going to leave a mess for his dad to deal with. Unlike all those other times with far worse kinds, you mean?

Yeah well, that’s why he was going. One of the many reasons, anyway.

He had his wallet in his left side pocket and phone charging in a makeshift holder by the dashboard. Jugs of water on the floor and a paper bag with a few nonperishable staples and an assortment of sandwiches, snacks, and caffeinated beverages in the passenger seat. His pillow, which would be especially necessary when he’d need to sleep at a rest stop or something.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlist he’d selected to start off his journey. He didn’t even know where he was going yet, just heading south until he had to get gas or piss and then he’d decide. There’d been no time to waste. This need to get away had been building for a while now and when he woke up this afternoon — he couldn’t fall asleep until after dawn — all he knew was that today was the day. It couldn’t wait another week or even until tomorrow or something else would come up to keep him there. He just knew it.

So he’d started the first load of laundry and then speed cleaned and showered in the quickly tepid while it was washing. He went to the store while the second load was going and the first one in the dryer, which had everything he was planning to take. Then he packed his stuff, set the remaining laundry to dry, scrawled a note that was frankly more stream of consciousness than rational explanation, but at least ended with a promise to stay in contact “Love, Stiles,” and then he was off.

Miles ticked up on the odometer and pavement passed beneath Roscoe’s wheels. It was at once exciting and bittersweet. He was done with high school and, more importantly, 18 so it’s not like his dad or anyone else could actually force him back. Not that many of the old crew were even going to be in Beacon Hills for much longer. Those that hadn’t already left like Jackson, Chris, and Isaac did overseas or Lydia getting an early start in Cambridge.

But unlike her or Scott and the others he wasn’t heading off to college or something like that. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore, was still stuck processing or at least dealing with having been possessed. As in he had to deal with it — the memories and nightmares and new little quirks that made him question himself — not that he was handling it in any particularly effective or healthy fashion.

And so it was like it was expected, or at least assumed, that he would just stay here for all the shit the town and that fucking tree could possibly throw his way. Well, how about no? Again, he’d been possessed! He deserved a goddamn break. Or if not deserved (the little voice in his head had very different ideas about what he deserved) he fucking wanted one. Needed one before he broke anymore.

Stiles only wished he could take his dad with him. And maybe a certain Sourwolf if he was being honest with himself now that it mattered even less than it already did before. Those big, impossible feelings he never wanted to look at long enough to pin down. The pull he liked to pretend was just him being a hormonal bisexual teenager who was warm for the former Alpha’s form. That it didn’t matter because it hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’tmatter.

He thought of guarded green-hazel eyes, a clenched, stubbled jaw, and stubbornly crossed arms as he wailed along with Jim Adkins.

“The things we think might be the same, but I won’t fight for more. It’s just not me to wear it on my sleeve, count on that for sure.”

Stiles snorted and shook his head. It was all too fitting, whether more for him or Derek or both of them equally he wasn’t sure. There were times, after all, when he’d thought that Derek also…

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. Famous last words.

Seconds later smoke was rising from beneath the hood of the Jeep. Always a wonderful sign. Fuck. No no no, please not now.

This couldn’t be happening. Just another too vivid daydream, right? Or maybe he’d actually fallen asleep waiting for the laundry and this was simply a nightmare because of his nervousness about the upcoming trip. Haha, very funny brain!

More smoke billowed out and there were sounds. Oh no. No no no. Fuck!

Stiles pulled off onto the wide shoulder, put the car in park, and snatched the keys from the ignition, hurling them onto the floor. Then he just sat there in silence with his head against the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even made it 30 miles and it was already over. There was always something. Some kind of trouble, like clockwork. Like a curse.

He’d worked over senior year and into the summer, doing odd jobs and seasonal gigs to save up the money that he was now planning to use for gas and cheap motels and food. That he’d already spent part of on getting Roscoe some much needed maintenance and repairs over the last few months. Not enough, apparently.

After smashing his head into the horn so that it blared obnoxiously a few times he pulled himself upright and scrolled through the contacts on his phone like he had options. Gone, gone, doesn’t have a car, gone, doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a license, don’t want to talk to him and have to explain anything right now.

Stiles sighed. Well, he didn’t want to call his dad at the moment either — with any luck he could at least get home before his failed escape was revealed — so that left only one person. Of course it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Derek. So funny story, I’m about 28 miles from town on the highway heading south and my car broke down. Yes, yes, I know. So, um, if you don’t have anything better to do, you think you could come get me? Let me know either way. Uh, catch you later.”

He wondered how long it would take to walk back to Beacon Hills. 10 hours? What if he just took the backpack, removed some of the books and added a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a towel and just kept walking south. Maybe he could hitchhike.

By the time he dug into the secret compartment in the lid of a jar of peanut butter and pulled out the little baggie of weed his hands were shaking. He’d gotten it from an acquaintance of Danny’s — the guy really could hook you up with just about anything — and still had some left. Enough for now and a few times more.

He retrieved the rest of his supplies and crouched down on the other side of the car, calming as he performed the little ritual of rolling his own joints. Of lighter and flame. Burn, inhale, hold, exhale. Taking the edge off. Lightening him up. What if he just walked into the trees and disappeared. Became one with the forest like whats-her-face in Annihilation who was done with fighting the freaky bullshit and just noped the fuck out. If only.

17 minutes later his phone chimed.

<Sourwolf: Be there in 30.>

Stiles responded with a thumbs up emoji. Alright. Okay. He took a few more hits and snuffed out the end, saving the rest for later.

Derek’s face did all sorts of things when he got there, half of them with his eyebrows alone. How did he ever used to think the man was unreadable? Devoid of emotion except anger?

Obviously, he’d smelled the marijuana, but Derek didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Hey handsome, think you can help a damsel in distress?” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes and sticking out a leg like he was pulling up the hem of a skirt before bursting into giggles. Derek shook his head and popped the hood on Roscoe.

“Since when were you a mechanic, big guy?” He set a hand on a leather-clad shoulder. It’s August you silly goose.

“I know a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you do,” he vamped, leering exaggeratedly and then abruptly pivoting to walk to the back of the Jeep where he set his forehead against the cool glass. What the fuck are you doing?

Burning everything down around him apparently. He started chuckling, a dark, sharp-edged thing, and Derek looked over at him with concern.

“Stiles?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just falling to pieces.”

He sat down hard on the ground and cracked right up, laughter turning to sobs as footsteps crunched toward him.

“I thought I was actually getting out, Der. I tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t. I can’t,” he got out between gasping breaths.

Derek crouched down beside him and started rubbing his back, tentatively at first and then in long, soothing strokes. His head moved and Stiles could swear he felt a kiss at the top of his head. Or something like that. He found himself practically head-butting Derek in his stupid muscly chest as he leaned into him, hands grasping at his left side and right elbow. Oh, he was going to be so embarrassed about this later. Derek took a deep breath.

“I’ll take you.”

“What?” Stiles’ head jerked up, tear tracks drying on his face.

Derek nodded toward the Camaro.

“Wait, seriously?”

The werewolf shrugged.

“Yeah. You’ve got your stuff packed and everything.”

“But what about you? We have to go back, get your things and a tow truck for Roscoe and—“

“No,” Derek cut in. “I can just grab what I need on the way. I’ll have Malia, actually no, Mason, check on the place and I can call now about getting your Jeep towed to your house.” He raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “I’ll give ‘em your dad’s number in case there’s any issues. But no going back there now or something will happen and you’ll never leave. So let’s just go.”

Stiles clambered up from the ground feeling strangely light and warm. Hopeful. And still kinda high he supposed. While Derek made that call he rearranged some of his stuff and then took all of it out it of Roscoe, putting the duffle bag in the now open trunk of the Camaro — it was so getting a name on this road trip — and throwing his backpack, pillow, and snacks in the back seat.

“Shotgun!” he yelled, completely unnecessarily before getting in up front. Derek squinted at him and shook his head, getting behind the wheel.

The sun had just gone down, but it wasn’t dark yet and he caught his beaming reflection in the side mirror. Stiles hooked up his phone to the stereo.

The chorus of “Work” came blaring back to life just as Derek put the pedal to the metal and peeled out of there (after carefully checking the mirrors and blind spots of course,) tires kicking up dirt and gravel. “You wanna take a ride? Get out of this place while we still have time.”

The Camaro even fishtailed some pulling back onto the pavement and Stiles smirked, pretty sure that display of Fast & Furious-ness was for his benefit. He grabbed the Oh Shit handle and whooped. Now he was off! They. The both of them.

“So where are we going?” he asked a few minutes later when his heart rate had returned to what passed as normal for him.

“Wherever you want,” Derek replied, a bit too conspicuously.

Wherever. Where. Ever.

Stiles’ left leg began bouncing up and down and he turned away to gaze out the window, eyes unfocusing so that the trees blurred into one continuous spiny ripple. He was hearing what he hearing, right? I mean, he was pretty sure.

But if there was a 10% or even 3% chance that Derek would turn this car around or like, jump out the window of a moving vehicle in horror at his feelings and desires he didn’t want to risk it. No matter how much he wanted…whatever. Because if this trip ended before it even began Stiles didn’t know what he would do. How he would survive or if he—

A large hand clamped down to still his jittering. Warm and squeezing just above his knee. The inner side of his thigh. Without looking — he couldn’t okay, not until he knew he wasn’t wrong — he “casually” put his left hand, palm up, a bit higher up on his leg. Derek laid his own on top of it, thicker fingers twining with his. Holy shit. Okay.

Stiles turned slowly then, hardly daring to breathe, and met glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it felt like something in his chest, in his soul, rearranged. Stabilized. A pack bond snapping properly into place. He rubbed over his sternum with his right hand as Derek inhaled sharply and then wrenched his attention back on the road since he was driving and all.

Whoa.

There’d been lots of upheaval over the last few years. Being Scott’s, Being both of theirs. Derek giving up his Alpha spark for Cora and leaving, the Nogitsune, things being all fucked up and not feeling like he belonged to anyone at all. Derek coming back, but them both out of sorts and dealing with their own shit amidst everything and him being confused and isolated and not really open for connection. Had to close the door.

Their bond hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been right either. And now…

Already he was feeling more settled. Stronger. Content even after they claimed or re-claimed each other as pack or whatever exactly that was. Stiles cleared his throat.

“How about Reno?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but then broke into a grin.

“Sure.”

Several more moments passed with his brain trying to regain functionality and Derek looking at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Stiles flailed and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled up the routes and selected one for directions. That done, he started looking up stuff about the city. Places they might want to eat or walk around.

About halfway there his dad called and he took a deep breath before answering. They talked for a while, Derek hearing everything of course, but Stiles had shaken his head no when he mimed pulling over. It’s not like the werewolf wouldn’t hear just as much anyway unless he ran off a good ways and that would just be silly.

Stiles wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised at the clear relief in his father’s voice when he learned that Derek was now going with him.

“You two stay out of trouble, alright? Derek…”

“I’ll look out for him, sir,” he responded loudly.

“Good man.”

Stiles watched Derek duck his head a bit, bunny teeth peeking out as he smiled. God, he was adorable when he let himself feel things.

“Okay kiddo,” his dad said, addressing him again. “Well, I hope you get what you need out there. I’ll just be here enjoying the peace and quiet and bacon burgers every day—“

“Daaad,” he groaned as his father laughed.

“Just kidding, son. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Dad”

“Alright, Love you, have fun.”

“I love you t—”

“But not too much fun.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Bye!” he yelled, hanging up.

They stopped at a drive-thru for some hot food on the outskirts of Reno. Burgers and sodas with curly fries, of course. It was around midnight when Derek pulled off at the next turnout, overlooking the city. They ate half-sitting, half-leaning against the warm hood of the Camaro.

Stiles was going to propose going down there and gawking at the late night antics for a bit (unfortunately, unlike some places in California he was too young to play a few slot machines here and see if his luck really was turning around.) Then finding somewhere to sleep. A motel room. With Derek.

There was a flash of heat in his belly and it became a bit of a struggle to swallow his current bite of potato-y goodness. He managed not to choke as he blushed at where his imagination was heading and felt very accomplished.

Derek looked over at him, nostrils flaring, and reached out to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth with a thumb. Not quite daring enough to take it into his mouth, Stiles leaned into his palm and those searching eyes first softened and then focused intently. In the blink of an eye Derek’s face was much closer, but not quite touching his. Warm puffs of breath tickled his skin.

He closed the gap and then they were kissing. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and tasting, and then something deeper. Hungrier. Derek was the first to pull back, grinning and leaving him breathless, but craving more. If it was left up to him he probably would've kept going until they both passed out. Or just him, who was he kidding. Damn werewolf constitution.

They turned back to the shining oasis in the darkness, flashing lights and neon signs, and he sidled up to Derek, who then put an arm around his shoulder. Slotting into place like puzzle pieces. A satellite passed by overhead, but he wished on it like a shooting star anyway. Please let this be real.

Stiles snuggled even more into Derek’s side and breathed him in, calmed by his warmth and woodsy scent as if he were a wolf himself. He closed his eyes to the sound and vibration of pleased rumbling, comfortable and pondering the possibilities opening up before them.

The crunch of balled up wrappers and other garbage being placed in the bag that their food came in had him jolting awake. He must’ve dozed off for a while. God knows he needed it.

Derek smiled at him, one of those special fond ones that Stiles had collected like rare treasures and placed inside his stupid little heart before forcing himself to think of other things. He didn’t have to do that anymore though, he could hold onto them and inspect them all he wanted. Do his best to get more of them.

“You ready?” Derek asked, holding out his free hand. Stiles took it and was pulled upright, where he stole a kiss.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Thanks for reading!

Previous (unrelated) fics for the Mead Moons event/series:

Second Chance Strays

Thunder

@sterek-and-stuff-events @sterekfests @sterekweekly @sterekbingo

#sterek #sterek fanfic #mead moons #mead moons claiming #mead moons herbs #mead moons ritual #sterekweeklytrouble #sterekfests #sterekfestsroad #sterekfestssummer2023 #sterekbingo #mead moons trisk

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acestories · 9 months

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So, I know this isn't technically my writing blog (though I could make it), but I'm working on a story that I feel like at least someone here will like.

"In some ways the world hasn’t changed; Karens still scream at grocery store clerks for no reason, Douchebags think they own the roads, and the sun continues to rise every morning. But, it’s definitely changed; people fly through the air on their own, a car mechanic lifts the car he’s working on with his bare hand, and a thief outruns a squad of police cars.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. 2020 was terrible already, but as if that wasn’t enough it had one last fucking piece of shit to throw in our faces. Christmas night, there was a violet star in the sky. By new years eve, it had become a sun. By new years day, a violet mist that brought with it plague, one with a 10% mortality rate, and the rich and powerful hid themselves away from it. As they always did.

But as it turned out, ⅕ of those who survived it got what could only be called Superpowers. And very few of the rich and powerful got Superpowers. The inevitable started to happen.

And where do I fit into all of this? Well, I'm the ñonbinary cat boy waiting for their take out to be ready. What? Just because I got Superpowers doesn't mean I don't want tacos. And these guys make a gochujang teriyaki sauce that is to die for. And I'm not gonna let some random ass fuck wad villain destroy this place, I can't recreate the sauce!

The villain (who I think called himself Syndrome or some shit like that, I can't rememeber) charged at me, fist raised high. I'm able to dodge at the last minute, the concrete street corner shattering as it took the blow, which when combined with my latest bruises, are enough to tell me that this guy has one of those Escalating Strength powers in addition to the basic stuff.

Gotta take them out fast, before they start punching Blackholes or something. I think someone can do that?

The villain starts monologuing; ooooooh, his name is "Symptom." That's actually kinda cool, I gotta admit. Regardless, thank fuck this guy is long winded. Or really into L.A.R.P.ing.

Doesn't matter now though; I charge at him with the speed of a bullet and unleash a flurry of blows. After a few seconds of what sounds like a machine gun going off, he starts to fall backwards, a look of surprise on his big stupid, neck-bearded face.

Heh, I caught him Monologuing. Guess that makes me a sly cat instead of a sly dog. :D

Oh yeah, the cat parts. While only ⅕ of survivors got super powers, over half of survivors got "fantasy bits." I got turned into a cat boy, but I've seen people with other parts. Someone I went to high-school with got turned into an Orc.

Oh, and these things aren't a package deal, but there is enough overlap that it's testing fate to make a cat girl angry. So the Boomer who's screaming and making threats at me for not saving his car is either really brave or really stupid. I'm betting on the latter.

Regardless, my food is ready and I wish to return home, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

#not ace #my writing #superheroes #i feel like the primary emotion in trying to invoke is the feeling of how classic our world is these days #some of that good old “beat the rich guy with a baseball” punk vibe #but with superheroes

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thegainingdesk · 2 years

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The Walk of the Goddess

0. The Fool

The Fool depicts a young man or woman, dressed in a floral tunic, standing, carefree, on the edge of a precipice, positioned as if to walk off. The figure holds a satchel on the end of a stick in their right hand, and a white rose in their left. A small white dog bays at their feet. The background shows mountains, or perhaps a rough sea.

The Fool represents the beginning of a journey, and limitless potential to learn, to change, to grow, to become. The Fool may step off the edge and fall, or perhaps they may fly.

Morgan laid five cards out in front of him, three side-by-side, one above, and one below.

"The Fool," Morgan said, pointing to the first card. "The Magician, The Ace of Cups, The Hanged Man, reversed, The World." He looked up at Rory and smiled. "All the signs are looking good."

"Yeah," Rory said, not looking up from his phone. "The weather's looking pretty good. I was worried about rain, but its saying it's going to be sunny now." He took a bite of his bacon and egg sandwich. "I don't trust a forecast that changes too much though, you'll still want to take a rain coat."

Morgan shook his head. "It won't rain. Not now," he said confidently. "But I didn't mean that. I meant the portents, the omens. I think today's the day for the walk."

Rory looked up, his eyes wide. "I'd bloody hope it is!" he said. "After driving all the way down to bloody Cornwall and paying ninety-five quid a night for this hotel!"

Morgan shrugged. "If the energies weren't aligned today there'd be no point completing the Walk of the Goddess." Rory could hear the way he capitalised the words, Morgan placing a gentle solemnity on each.

"Bloody hell. If I'd known that I'd have asked you to check your bloody cards before we booked it," Rory sighed, shaking his head. "So what's so special about this Goddess walk anyway then? There's about a hundred places on the coast we could have found the exact same walk, and about two hundred miles closer to Sheffield."

"The Walk of the Goddess," Morgan corrected, his eyes narrowing a little. He'd explained all this a few times, but Rory had never paid any real attention to Morgan's beliefs, seeing them more as a hobby or special interest. "It's a ritual pilgrimage, recreating the journey of the High Goddess with her acolyte and lover from where she first stepped on these shores, to the peak where she looked out onto the landscape and claimed the land as her own."

Rory was checking the inside of his bag. "That's nice. So that's around here then?"

Morgan sighed. "That's around here, yes."

Rory drained his coffee. "And I don't need to do any of the ooky spooky stuff, yeah? I'm happy to carry the bag and be in charge of you not getting lost in the harsh wildernesses of a Cornish public footpath, but I'm not in for all that."

"The ritual needs you to be present, but that's the extent of it," Morgan comforted him. "It really follows the Goddess, but as she traveled with her lover, it can't be completed alone."

"Yeah, and this 'lover' stuff, listen-" Rory started.

"Don't worry," Morgan interrupted. "I know I'm far too skinny for your tastes," he teased. Rory knew Morgan's joking was all in good faith - Morgan was straight, and Rory had confessed a couple of years ago that he much preferred his men on the larger side, and he liked to tease him about it at any opportunity.

"Good," Rory said. "I'm happy to go on a hike, but that's it, no funny business. Right!" He slapped his knees and stood up. "I reckon it's about time to go, if that's alright with you and your cards? Got any crystals you want to ask first?"

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I'm okay for crystals. I might ask a tree on the way though." Rory wasn't sure how serious he was being. Morgan stood as well, and the two made their way outside.

"So the beach you wanted to start is about a half hour walk down this way," Rory said, pointing and making his way. "This bit will all be downhill, but you're alright that the rest of it will be uphill, yeah?"

Morgan nodded. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine as long as you're alright for me to set the pace?" He'd asked Rory here as one of his more outdoorsy friends, so appreciated his concern that he might not keep up.

"Yeah, sure," Rory said. "Its not too strenuous of a walk anyway, and it'll be easier since you don't have a pack."

Morgan smiled. "Thanks for that, by the way. It's part of the ritual. Anything I hold on the Walk would by default become part of the ritual, and it would get elevated to the status of sygil or icon. It would be idolatry against the Goddess."

"Yeah, don't worry about it mate," Rory said, looping his thumbs through the loops on his bag's straps. "Happy to sherpa for you while you do all your witchy shit."

I. The Magician

The Magician depicts a haloed figure in robes in front of a workbench covered with a variety of esoteric obscura. In the raised right hand, the figure holds a wand; the left hand points towards the ground.

The Magician represents the taking of action, and agency. The Magician sees the fates meted out by other cards and takes hold of them, channeling them to their own ends.

Morgan and Rory walked quietly for a while, the wind blowing inland towards them growing saltier with each step. The spring sun dappled through the trees, making it warm but not uncomfortably so. Eventually the two reached a series of narrow steps down into a cove, low cliffs running around its edge. They made their way down carefully, with Rory leading the way and their feet only just fitting onto the narrow steps.

"Right," Rory said at the bottom, "this is it. You know where we're going from here, right?"

Morgan nodded and pointed along the coast to the east. "We'll be following a river just down there. Do you see there's a gap in the cliff? It's basically just going along the banks of the river until we end up at the peak of the mountain."

"It's a fairly big hill," Rory corrected. "It's really not a mountain."

Morgan shrugged. "If you like. I've got to do some preparations, should only be five minutes or so." He made his way to the river he'd pointed out.

"Right, fair enough," said Rory following him. When they reached the mouth of the river, where it met the sea, he settled down on a rock a short distance from Morgan.

Morgan took his shirt and shoes off, and his hands moved towards his belt. "Woah!" Rory shouted once he'd noticed what he was doing. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"My preparations," Morgan said simply, not stopping in his stripping. "I need to bathe in the sea and I need to be completely naked for the whole walk. Anything I wear will be raised to the status of ceremonial garb and will be considered-"

"Idolatry against the Goddess," Rory finished for him. He sighed. "Right, fine, fine, whatever." He rubbed his face with one hand. "But if you get arrested, I'm not going down with you, alright?"

Morgan laughed. "Don't worry. Everyone else I've spoken to that's done the walk has said they've never seen anyone. It's nice and secluded."

Rory rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sure we won't see anyone on our scenic walk through Cornwall on a public footpath in the middle of spring if your fucking magic friends say so."

Morgan didn't hear, or pretended not to, and now stood fully naked, unembarrassed to be so exposed in front of Rory. Over the years they'd both seen each other naked countless times before, in changing rooms or on holidays, but Rory was surprised how unbothered Morgan was nonetheless. Morgan was agonizingly thin, with ribs showing clearly beneath a thin smattering of body hair, the complete opposite of Rory's type.

Morgan turned to Rory, who tried his best to not look down at his penis. "I'm going to go in the sea now, which is the start of the ritual, and then we'll set off," he told Rory. "Once we start, we can't stop, we can't turn around, and I'm not going to talk to you. This is it. Are you ready?"

Rory stood and nodded. Even if he was a little put off by Morgan's sudden naturism, he understood that this was important to the thinner man, and was here to support him.

Morgan strode purposefully into the sea, gasping loudly at the cold, but continuing on. He didn't stop until the water came up to his navel, when he bent down and submerged himself fully, long enough that Rory began to worry and stood to make his way towards him, but just as he reached the water's edge, Morgan broke back through the surface in a spray of salt water, gasping as he did so.

"Mother Goddess!" he called out, teeth chattering from the cold. "I come to the place of your ascension, and your rebirth! I walk in your footsteps, I follow your path, I give myself to you as supplication. With me walks an acolyte, who shall walk beside me and whose journey shall mirror my own. We give ourselves to you, blood and heart and flesh, memory and sould and mind, for you to mould as you wish!"

With that, he began to wade back towards the shore, still gasping. As he reached the land, he grabbed Rory by the arm for support, but did not stop walking forward.

"Fucking hell!" Rory cried. "What the fuck was that about? You could have mentioned you'd be bloody drowning yourself! And what was that about my blood and soul getting moulded by your Goddess?"

Morgan just stared back, not saying anything. He walked forwards, across the beach, towards the tree line. Rory sighed, hoisted the bag onto his back, and followed. It had begun.

Ace of Cups

Ace of Cups depicts a hand holding a chalice of gold, or perhaps bronze. Water is being poured into the chalice while it overflows. A dove flies above the chalice, holding an olive branch.

Ace of Cups, as the entire suit of Cups does, represents bounty and wealth, both literal and metaphysical. Ace of Cups shows this in its purest form, showing abundance, excess and generosity. In many ways the interpretation of this card is simple - the cup runneth over.

Aside from the utter weirdness at the beach, and having to try and avoid looking too much at Morgan's pale, skinny arse, Rory was quite enjoying the walk. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, but the air was crisp and cool. The scenery was stunning, passing through a seemingly ancient forest and following a crystal clear river.

Every so often, Morgan would pause to touch a tree or a rock, or dip his hand into the water, before moving on, but otherwise was silently striding forward at a fair pace. Rory was content to follow along at Morgan's pace, stopping and starting along with the naked man ahead. Occasionally Rory would open his mouth to say something, or point out a particularly nice view or bird, but remembered his companion's momentary vow of silence, and simply made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Rory tugged down his shirt. As the walk continued, he found that it kept on coming untucked from his waistline. When he'd put it on that morning, it had seemed a perfect fit, but perhaps he'd washed it on too high a temperature. He hitched his trousers slightly, as he noticed a chill breeze across the top of his bum.

Rory didn't think anything of it, and continued on, occasionally fidgeting with his suddenly ill-fitting clothes. He stopped to watch a large crow, or perhaps even a raven, hop across the path. It tilted its head at Morgan, who smiled, and knelt down to it. The bird stretched up until its beak was nestled in the hair by Morgan's ear, almost lost against the thick black hair there and if Rory didn't know better, it almost looked as if it were telling his friend something. After some time, Morgan straightened up and turned back to give a small smile at Rory, and walked forward once more.

As the raven flew off into the trees, Rory continued on, before stopping. The straps of his bag were suddenly cutting in around his chest and stomach. This was odd - Rory was usually so fastidious about making sure his pack was comfortable, knowing how much of a difference it could make to a hike. He looked down at himself as he adjusted the straps to make more room. He did seem to be filling out his shirt more than usual. Clearly his recent endeavours at the gym, and perhaps at the dinner table, were starting to pay off, as he became aware of a slight pinch of fabric around his shoulders as well.

He walked on with a touch of swagger in his step - while in general he'd always taken on more of an admiring role in his enjoyment of a fuller figure, he wasn't adverse to putting on a little weight himself, and if that came with some muscle, all the better. Still, he was surprised he'd not noticed - he'd been going to the gym more yes, eating more maybe, but was it really enough to have caused such a noticeable change? Perhaps the changes had just come so gradually he'd not paid them any attention.

Rory knew he was handsome, if only in a slightly awkward way. A square face framed a large nose and dark brown eyes, deep in his face. Never particularly atheltic, he looked after himself, and, until now, maintained a trim body with a touch more muscle than might be considered average. Dark, scruffy stubble and chest hair perpetually pouring out the top of whatever shirt he wore ensured he always had some admirer or other willing to go home with him.

Suddenly cognisant of the changes to his body, Rory felt hyper-focussed on all the strange sensations of his body. His trousers seemed to be growing more uncomfortable as he walked, not just at his waist where they pinched in at a sudden thickness, but around his thighs as well. He tried to look around to check, but his arse seemed to be coming along for the ride, his trousers riding down cheeks that were clearly bigger than when he'd bought these trousers - but, he thought to himself, surely that wasn't that long ago? Why hadn't he registered in the fitting rooms that these were clearly not the right size for him?

He'd given up on pulling his shirt down to tuck it in, accepting that his newfound pudge and the motion of the walk would just pull it out again. He stroked the underside of his new, small paunch appreciatively, fingers tracing the soft hair there. How had he, of all people, not noticed that it was now large enough to bow out, clearly visible through his shirt, now that he'd noticed it? Surely one of his friends or recent conquests would have commented, knowing his predilection for the larger man? And it wasn't a simple bloat, this was soft, creamy fat, clearly having had a while to develop and form, as he even noticed how it jiggled and shook slightly with each step.

It wasn't simply fat though, oh no, Rory realised. His chest puffed up round and proud, filling his shirt and pulling the top few buttons taut. He flexed his pecs and was delighted to see them visibly bounce - something he'd thought only real gym addicts could achieve. He'd not really been meaning to bulk, but he'd take what he could get. He half-jokingly flexed his arms for himself, and was astonished at the bulge that swelled underneath the short-sleeves of his shirt, the hem actually cutting in to the mound that rose up. While there was a thin layer of fat there, there was real, firm muscle as well. He could almost hear the fabric creak to contain him.

Rory laughed quietly at his own obliviousness. Had he really not noticed such a significant change to his own body? He thought back, trying to convince himself that he'd taken notice of them before, maybe in the mirror of a changing room, or in the way his clothes had fit, and that maybe it was all just heightened now with the exertion of the walk. He couldn't quite convince himself though. He'd spent his entire adult life chasing men with a few extra pounds, and now he'd achieved a body he'd go crazy for without so much as a glance at himself?

He shook his head. He'd in all likelihood put on twenty pounds, no more, probably just winter weight he'd not quite shed yet, that's all. He'd get back to the hotel, look in the mirror, and see a small layer of fat and the slightest muscle tone that wouldn't get a second look in a gay bar. The newness of it all and the exertion of the walk were just exaggerating it in his mind.

Morgan had stopped to pick up a flat rock, no larger than a pebble, held it up to each of his eyes in turn and thoughtfully placed it back exactly where he'd found it. Rory was grateful for the chance to stop. The path must have been steeper than it looked, because he was hot and sweating already. He dug a water bottle out from his bag, squeezing it past the large, soft pack that Morgan had asked him to stash away, and drank thirstily. Panting slightly, he offered it to Morgan, who declined with a small motion of his hand.

Rory was impressed - the thinner man barely looked exerted at all, but then, he didn't have any clothes to keep him warm. Rory saw Morgan's eyes flick up and down his body, before he turned and walked on ahead. Rory self-consciously tugged at his ill-fitting shirt, which somehow seemed to be even tighter now. Why had Morgan not said anything? He looked ridiculous, like a sausage stuffed into a too-small casing. Rory realised there were even gaps between each button! How had he even got the shirt on this morning, never mind not noticed how it fit?

He packed the water bottle away, slung the bag across his back, and resolved to ignore the confining fit of his clothes and his sudden realisation of weight gain.

He stubbornly tried to think of anything else as his gut shook with each step. Would that milk he had in the fridge be okay when he got back? Shake. He really needed to remember to wash his bed sheets. Wobble. And call his mum, when was the last time he'd rang her, wasn't her birthday coming up, must get her a present. Bounce. And his TV license needed renewing didn't it? Must remember to get that sorted. Jiggle.

As the first button fired off of his shirt, Rory couldn't ignore what was happening any longer. Something very odd was going on. As he heard the tear of stitches along his bulging shoulders and biceps, his cock throbbed in restricting trousers.

XII. The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man displays a figure being suspended upside down by a single ankle on a wooden beam. The figure's hands are tied behind their back, and their face is resolved and at peace. Around their head is a glowing halo or nimbus.

The Hanged Man may obviously represent sacrifice, tribulation, or martyrdom; a lamb being offered to some unknown deity. However, the figure's expression and glowing halo suggests a deeper meaning; enlightenment, wisdom, divinity. The Hanged Man may struggle against the gallows, or embrace them.

"Morgan!" Rory called, jogging ahead and trying in vain to pull the two sides of his shirt together. "Morgan, something's happening to me, something weird."

Morgan didn't turn round or slow at all. Rory tried to ignore the shaking of his body as he hurried after him. He heard further ripping, and felt a coolness on his thighs as cool air hit them. Looking down he saw buttons straining against soft, hairy flesh pulling against them. As he looked another button pinged off, and his gut shook as it expanded into its new freedom.

"Morgan, stop! Morgan, look at me, something's wrong, I-" He reached out and grabbed Morgan's shoulder. As Morgan spun round, Rory almost took a step back. He let go of his shoulder immediately. Morgan's eyes were wide and angry, his nostrils flaring. Rory saw Morgan's eyes fixed on his hand, still outstretched. He let it fall to his side, and Morgan's expression softened a little.

"Morgan, I know this is important to you, but something really fucked up is happening, look at me," Rory implored. He could feel the stitching on his sleeves pulling apart, as his muscles fought against fabric. Morgan didn't reply, instead merely looking into Rory's eyes.

"Look, I get it, walk of the Goddess, magic ritual, no speaking, no touching, communing with nature, but I thought this was some kumbaya, healing crystals, meditating and connecting to the wonder of Gaia bullshit." Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he still didn't react. "But I get that this is real and I promise to never make fun of you and your witchy friends again but something is happening to me Morg." Rory gestured down at himself, somewhat needlessly. Morgan's eyes didn't leave Rory's. "We need to turn back." Morgan was still for a moment, before turning back, and continuing up the path.

Rory walked a few more paces, doing his best to keep up, but between his growing body and the tightness of his clothes, he struggled. Another button fired off into the forest, this time from his growing chest. The feeling of construction around his waist grew unbearable, and he struggled to undo his belt and trouser button, needing to suck his gut in to make any progress, but even this left his waistband far too tight to move the button. He stumbled on a little, his belt open but his trousers closed - after a few steps, the unyielding button gave up, the thread snapping and the button falling amongst some pebbles. Rory sighed in relief as his ball belly and fat pad pushed the zip down. He laughed to himself at the thought - his ball belly and fat pad as if he wasn't as trim as ever that very morning. Words he'd so erotically used to describe one-night stands and crushes, he was using to casually describe himself, and all it took was a gentle country-side stroll.

Rory continued to laugh despite himself, unable to stop. He laughed at the feeling of fat shaking, at the way his flesh bulged out between tears and hems of once perfectly fitting clothes, at his broad shoulders hunching over against fabric and too narrow bag straps, and at the ridiculousness that this was really, actually happening. Morgan had stopped at a ridge and looked down at Rory passively, seemingly unconcerned with the breakdown happening just 30 feet away. Rory walked heavily forward, making no effort to rush now, laughing breathlessly.

A few steps from Morgan, Rory felt the entire back of his shirt tear to shreds. Despite the sudden release of tension, the single remaining button on his shirt still strained against a wall of fat and muscle and hair, bisecting a heaving chest from a firm, round gut, just starting to encroach downwards over the folded waistband of his underwear. Rory's trouser legs had continued to split down the sides, and now thick muscle squeezed out of a gaping tear all the way down to the hems, which still held on, although Rory realised that even his ankles seemed to be growing.

"Please Morgan. Please." He collapsed down in front of him, and the sound of tearing that ensued elicited one final bout of hysterical laughter. "Please Morgan," Rory continued to beg. "I know this is important to you but, but… you said I wouldn't be a part of this, you said." Rory looked up at Morgan, whose face was unmoved. "We've got to turn back." Still, no reaction. "Fine, if, if you don't come back, then I'll go." Rory struggled to stand, unused to new contours of his body. "I will, I swear." Morgan made no move to walk in either direction. "Morgan, I'm not bullshitting you, I'll turn back right now and you can do you little goddess stroll without your acolyte."

Morgan's face was stony and unmoving, but Rory could read it perfectly. Go on then, it said. Try it. Rory did try. He willed his body to turn around, his legs to step back. He gritted his teeth with effort to try and move himself away from Morgan and the path ahead. He even tried to launch himself backwards, tried to allow himself to fall onto the slope below him, closed his eyes and spun round before attempting a step, anything to break this spell that had him rooted to the ground.

Morgan smiled slightly, turned, and walked up the hill. Rory stood for a while longer, willing himself away. Less than a minute later, he resigned himself, and took a single, easy step forwards. Rory thought that he could see Morgan's self-satisfied grin even through the back of his head.

"Fine! Fine! You win!" he called up to Morgan's naked, thin back. "But at least stop for a minute yeah? Let me get these fucking clothes off." Morgan didn't turn around, but stopped. "Fuck me," Rory muttered to himself. He threw the pack down next to him, the straps struggling to get past his newly square shoulders, even as he extended the straps to their furthest extent. He realised quickly that removing his clothes in the normal way was impossible, as the fabric simply didn't have anymore stretch to allow him to manipulate it around his hulking body. Recognising that his clothes were already in tatters and were of no use to him anymore anyway, he opted instead to simply tear them off. Even through his confusion and shock at what was happening, he thrilled at his developing strength, easily ripping through the fabric like it was paper.

Naked, he looked down at himself. While he was undeniably fat, his firm muscles couldn't be completely hidden, and he was developing the look of an overfed powerlifter. He flexed, marvelling at his python-like arms, bigger around than many men's thighs, while his thighs were surely bigger than his waist used to be. His cock hardened, unseen below a great cauldron of a gut, as he examined his new body. Despite himself and the bizarre situation he was in, he found himself loving this. Wasn't this the kind of body he'd always idolised? He realised he was even bigger than more than a few of the men he'd slept with over the years, and that he'd be the one to be idolised now.

He realised, as he undressed, that he'd stopped growing for the moment. He turned back to look down the path and thought back to what Morgan had said earlier - it was the act of walking that was the catalyst for this change, not simply being in the woods. He looked up, past Morgan, to where the trees thinned slightly. He could see the path continue to rise and rise, with no end in sight, and remembered from looking at the map earlier that there were barely halfway along the trail. How much bigger would be get? He slung his bag back over one shoulder, took a deep breath, and took a step forward, up the path, towards whatever may come.

A while later, he realised that he could almost feel his growth with each step. There was a tension deep in his flesh, a tingling over his skin, that faded whenever he stopped, which was growing more frequently as his bulk required him to stop to catch his breath more and more - even with the increased strength from his expanding muscles, there was no getting away from the fact that with each step he was carrying more and more weight, and it was clear that more fat was being added than muscle.

Rory tried, on the whole, to not spend too long examining his body, choosing instead to push his way forwards and not think too much about the implications of what was happening to him. Nonetheless, he couldn't ignore the way that his gut rounded further and further out, firm and shapely yet soft and pliable to the touch. While the powerful muscles at his core were still evident in the way his body-shape formed in a series of heavy spheres, suspended by the muscle beneath, they were no longer visible, continually being further buried in a now thick layer of fat.

Rory's cock had been hard for quite some time now. If he'd met a man with this body, hell, if he'd achieved this body himself in any normal timeframe, he'd have been over the moon, absolutely beside himself with arousal. As it was, that arousal was tinged with fear and confusion. What was Morgan doing? What would happen at the end of the walk? When he had to go back to his regular life? Hell, how would he even get back to the hotel, for that matter? Rory looked up at Morgan's indifferent back. If he ever got back to the hotel and his regular life, some quiet part of his brain said.

Rory reached under his heavy gut, and lifted it slightly. With his other hand, he reached between his legs, searching for his cock, leaking with precum, seeking to rearrange himself and free his equipment from the prison of his tree-trunk like thighs. He realised ruefully that despite his expansion, his penis had stayed the same size. While he'd certainly never had any complaints in that department before, he was concerned at the way he could feel the way the fat at his groin subsume his length, even while fully erect, making his cock feel short and stubby. He wondered what it looked like - his penis had always been rather thick, and now it must be positively disproportionate. Rory managed to push his privates forwards, still a little uncomfortable between mammoth thighs, but at least no longer pinned between their unstoppable growth.

He closed his eyes and walked forwards, trying to distract himself, singing songs, listing types of birds and trees, remembering world capitals in alphabetical order, anything to distract from the delicious, impossible feeling of his flesh expanding, stretching, moving against itself as he walked.

Eventually, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping from his forehead and running in rivers down plump tits, and through canyons and valleys of flesh, Rory looked up as he realised he'd just stepped into sunlight. He saw Morgan stood in a spring at the top of the hill, arms outstretched. He turned around to face Rory.

"What the actual fuck Morgan?"

XXI. The World

The World depicts a naked feminine figure, often identified as Hermaphrodites from Greek mythology, draped in a long cloth, breasts displayed proudly. The figure holds a white wand in each hand, and is surrounded by a wide, circular wreath. In each corner respectively, there is represented the heads of a young man or woman, an eagle, an ox, and a lion.

As the final card in the major arcana of the tarot, The World represents the end of a journey, both literal and spiritual. Once disparate and conflicting natures are unified and balanced. Masculine and feminine energies are both represented in The World, both in harmony and distinctly. In a reading, The World represents one's most true desire.

Long black hair framed Morgan's slender face, ending just above small, pert breasts. Further down, Morgan's penis was conspicuous in its absence, legs instead framing a dark triangle of public hair.

"Morgan, I-" Rory started.

"It's Morgana now," she said, shaking her head gently. Her voice was softer now, and higher.

"Oh fuck off," Rory said. "Morgan the warlock turns into Morgana the witch in an ancient magic ritual in Cornwall? Bit on the nose isn't it?"

Morgana shrugged. "I didn't decide to get into ancient transgender magic for the subtlety of it all."

"So the point of the Walk of the Goddess…" Rory could hear himself capitalise the words himself now.

"Is to turn someone into a woman, yes, just as the Goddess transformed millennia ago" Morgan walked forwards, out of the spring. "For a price."

"The price being…" Rory gestured down at his newly massive stature.

"The bodily transfiguration of another, yes. There's a towel in that pack I gave you, would you grab it?"

Rory complied, pulling the bag off and rooting around in it, until he found the pack. Opening it for the first time, he found it contained several large pieces of fabric. He passed a towel over. "How long have you known?" he asked.

"That I was trans? Oh, forever, really. I've always been Morgana, this was just about getting my body to show what I knew inside." Morgana's face was a bright smile, and she moved slowly, as if exploring her body anew.

Rory strained to stand. "You know, I'm pretty sure there's other ways of transitioning these days."

"On the NHS? You must be joking, I'd be on a waiting list until I was 40. And there's forms to fill in, and I'd have to get my name changed and come out to everyone and-" She ran her fingers through her hair. "No, this was so much easier."

"Sorry, this was the easier option?" Rory asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well I knew it would work, after Natasha did it, so-"

"What? Natasha's not trans," Rory interrupted.

Morgana looked over at him, from underneath her towel as she dried her hair. "Yes she is, she used to be Josh," she said simply.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'd know, we went to school with her," Rory protested.

"That's part of it. Makes everyone remember you differently. Doesn't change anything, just sort of makes people not think about it too hard." Morgana looked at Rory's confused face. "Okay, so, in school, you did PE with Natasha right?"

"I mean, yeah, that's how we met, we were on the same footie team," Rory said.

"A football team for…" Morgana prompted.

"Under-14s…" Rory said, not getting at what Morgana meant. She made a motion with her hand, indicating Rory should continue the train of thought. Rory's eyes went wide with realisation. "Under-14 boys. Fucking hell, how does that work?"

Morgana shrugged. "Like I said, doesn't change any events, just makes you not think about it too hard."

"So people won't be shocked that I'm…" Rory shook his gut. Morgana shook her hair and continued drying herself. "So who did Natasha make fat?"

"She brought Ollie along."

"Her brother? What? Ollie's tiny."

Morgana sighed impatiently. "It's different for everyone, Ollie got cured of cancer," she said, like she was explaining something blindingly obvious to a particularly annoying child.

"Ollie never had cancer," Rory pointed out.

"Terminal thyroid cancer. Four months to live. Natasha invited him along, bam, no more cancer, hair all grown back, everyone's very confused about why they'd been visiting him at the hospital so much." Morgana smiled. "It's two spells working in tandem. One spell slowly transforms the acolyte's body into their heart's desire, that transformation gets reflected at the person acting as the Goddess, and it all sort of stores up and zaps all at once."

Rory stared down at his body, finally starting to get over the shock of all that had happened. "So you're saying that I grew this fat because I wanted to be this fat?"

"Basically," Morgana said. "I'd sort of guessed, to be honest, you always a sort of wistful, unfulfilled look in your eyes whenever you talked about fucking a fatty. I figured that I needed someone who's heart's desire was a physical transformation of their own body, and you wanted to get fat. Win-win really."

Rory looked down at himself properly for the first time since he'd entered the clearing, and attempted to take his whole body in. He was enormous - if he saw someone with a gut his size, he'd say they were 350 pounds easy, maybe even 400, but he had no idea how much weight his muscles might add. Fifty pounds? A hundred? Even having been obsessed with fat men all his life, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a man so large, not in person anyway, and couldn't guess at a weight. He must outweigh most powerlifters now, but who knew by how much?

He let his hands paw at his body. He lifted his plump pecs, soft and round and pert, and let them fall, a sharp slap ringing out as they collided with the top of his gut. His belly was a masterpiece - one of the largest he'd seen, but it somehow defied gravity to hang, suspended in front of him. His hands could push into it, moulding the fat with thick fingers, but it couldn't be shifted, a firm core keeping it stationary. His hands followed it's curve around the tyre of fat to his broad back, before they stopped, unable to explore any more of his body, his own size resisting his movements.

His limbs were huge. Thick fat formed his arms and legs into mighty pillars, and creased with each motion, and while the muscle underneath might never be visible, it mounded up even through layers of flab to push his biceps and thighs into great balls of muscle and beef. His hands roamed upwards to his neck, which felt wider than his head, and shortened by encroaching delts. His face felt round, and wide, and soft. His cheeks were large enough to cup in his hands, and he could feel a double chin compressing and changing shape each time he spoke or turned his head. He longed to see a mirror.

"I packed some clothes for you," Morgana said, as she pulled a black dress over head. She smoothed it down and gave a small twirl, her face practically glowing. "Over there, in the pack. I sort of had to guess how big you might end up." Her eyes moved up and down Rory's body. "To be honest, I'm not sure I quite appreciated just how big you'd want to get."

Rory nodded and moved over to pile of clothes. He held them up. They looked like tents, absolutely obscene sizes, surely not meant to be worn by real people. Holding them up to his body, he realised they would probably be too small.

He started with the t-shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He tugged it down, not quite covering his belly button, and straining around his arms. It rode up as he bent down to pick up the trousers.

He was relieved that the 54 inch waist was elasticated. He had to sit down on the ground to pull them on, his new size meaning he couldn't balance on a single leg for long enough to get it into the trouser legs. He pulled them up as high as they would go, stretching them over thighs like rhinos', and tried to determine if his privates were at least covered.

"Am I decent?" he called over to Morgana, who was running her hands up and down as she explored her new body.

"Not at all," she replied immediately. "I can't see your cock though. Pubes out the top and about half your arse crack is showing, but that's the best we can do for now I suppose."

"Right. Yeah, right." The realities of the situation were starting to set into Rory. Where would even sell clothes his size now?

"Come on then," Morgana said, heading back the way they'd come.

"That's it?" Rory asked.

"That's it."

"And it won't… reverse or anything? While we walk down?"

Morgana spun round and smiled at him. "Would you want it to, big guy?"

Rory looked down at himself, the enormous clothes that barely fit, the gut that stuck several feet in front of him, the frame that would stop him comfortably sitting in any seat again. He thought about having to replace his entire wardrobe, and probably more than a few pieces of furniture. He wondered if he'd need to move, to comfortably fit into his own shower. He thought about the looks of shock and horror he'd receive from now on.

He smiled at Morgana. "I'm quite hungry actually." He scratched the side of his gut.

Morgana grinned back and practically skipped into the forest, back down the path. Rory lumbered after her.

#gainer fiction #gainer story #gaining fiction #weight gain #weight gain fiction #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #the walk of the Goddess #the goddess cycle

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