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quokkacore · 3 years

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can you dig it? (m) [kim doyoung & kim jungwoo]

summary: post concert highs can be a real bummer, and tonight, after a particularly intense performance, your boyfriends help you come down.

pairing: kim doyoung x kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre: poly!au, 70s!au, band!au, smut, fluff

warnings: drug usage (weed specifically), mentions of other substances (lsd and cocaine), shotgunning, established poly relationship, soft dom jungwoo, mentioned switch jungwoo, hard dom doyoung, sub reader, high sex, sex on a water bed!!, unprotected sex, spit kink, they're all so sweaty help, mxm, degradation kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, minor possessiveness

song recs: don’t stop - fleetwood mac // unlock it (feat. kim petras & jay park) - charli xcx // love her madly - the doors // ziggy stardust - david bowie // rhiannon - fleetwood mac // eclipse - kim lip (loona) // flick of the wrist - queen

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this is for my best friend, who i love with all my heart,bc last month we were talking abt the dowoo photoshoot and she said smth about high sex with dowoo. happy birthday queen <3 thank u for listening to me complain abt writing all the time :’)

masterlist

Friday, July 22rd, 1977

The concert hall smelled like cocaine and sweat, you noted to yourself as the three of you joined hands to bow. Cheers from the crowd bounced off of the walls as you bid them your final goodbye, wishing them a good night and telling them to drive safe. Still, their chanting persisted. "Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel! Seoul Motel!"

You wondered vaguely if this was what it was like to be a young god.

The curtain lowered, and the three of you were ushered offstage, to take some pictures and then head back to the hotel, to try and get some rest before you were off to Philadelphia, some five or so hours from where you were now: Boston.

Truthfully, everything passed in a blur. It was almost always like this after these concerts. The thrill and euphoria of performing made it difficult to focus on things. That might have also been because Jungwoo had passed you a joint before the concert. You couldn't be completely sure.

Your tambourine and guitar seemingly disappeared, but you knew it would show up tomorrow for soundcheck when you got to the Philadelphia venue, right along with Jungwoo's bass guitar and Doyoung's drum kit.

What you did know was that here, in the car back to the hotel that your manager was driving, lecturing you and Jungwoo about the importance of being sober when talking to reporters, Doyoung had a hand on your thigh, and that was all you could focus on.

Doyoung was high too. You knew this because ten minutes before you were needed on stage he pulled you forward by the hips and told you to take a few hits from the hand rolled joint and blow the smoke into his mouth. Of course, he wasn't as high as you and Jungwoo were, and he knew how to hide it better. But if you were to get close enough you'd notice the redness rimming his eyes, the dilation of his pupils.

The three of you were something, that was for sure. You had been, probably ever since Jungwoo joined the band, some eight years ago, in the fall of '69. You only really defined what you were once you got your first big hit thanks to some disc jockey in LA playing a song you had written, Calabasas, on the radio back in '73.

The song had blown up, and suddenly the three of you were whisked into a whirlwind of celebrities, drugs, paparazzi and producers who thought the three of you were born yesterday. Yes, you were college kids that ran on booze and weed, but you weren’t complete morons. That was when the three of you sat down to properly discuss boundaries, what slid and what didn’t.

You and your boys decided that night that weren’t down with the idea of everyone knowing. Too many prying eyes. The public didn’t really know, because the press would have a damn field day.

Other than that, it was a pretty open secret. In the industry, who was going around with who didn’t really matter—a lot of them were too off their face to even care. You realized that a few years back when David Bowie walked in on you watching Jungwoo and Doyoung get it on in a bathroom at some afterparty in New York City, and closed the door muttering something about how strong the edibles were.

So, what your manager said fell on deaf ears. Too much weed, too much adrenaline, too much energy for someone who needed to head back onto the road in a few hours.

When you finally got back to the hotel, Jungwoo grabbed your hand in the elevator on the way up to your rooms, which were right next to each other. "You said that your bed was really big… can we come up?"

You nodded, leaning against his arm. Doyoung hummed affectionately at the sight, noting how tired you both were.

"You two are about five seconds from passing out," Doyoung mumbled, and you waved your hand in denial.

"Are not," you protested like a child.

"Y/N, don't be a chump. I'm pretty sure if Woo weren't next to you, you'd have fallen over."

You didn't have the energy to counter, and as the elevator slid open, you were the first one to march out, ready to just take a cold shower and die for the next few hours.

Realistically, you knew that wasn't what would happen. What would happen was that you would shower, get into bed and then toss and turn for another hour or so. Only then would the adrenaline truly wear off. The weed didn't help, making you feel sleepy.

You unlocked the door, and Doyoung and Jungwoo gawked at the sight—and size—of your bed. It could probably fit all three of you easily.

Since only one room would spark rumors, the manager usually booked two: one for Doyoung and Jungwoo and one for you. Your room always went unused. Usually, you would have to push Doyoung's and Jungwoo's beds together to make enough room, leaving an awkward and uncomfortable dip for the person in the middle. Whoever got the middle was handed the terrible double edged sword: cuddles galore, but a sore back in the morning.

Immediately Jungwoo jumped onto the bed, gasping and immediately laughed gleefully as the bed sloshed underneath him.

"A water bed!?" He exclaimed, splaying out his limbs. "Oh, far out. You really lucked out, dollface."

He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle, eyes fluttering shut. You followed, sitting at the side as you peeled off your white leather go-go boots. Throwing yourself down next to him, you sighed at the sensation of waves beneath you, and nodded. "Oh, this is ace," You murmured, "Feels great."

Peeling one eye open as Jungwoo wrapped his arm around you, your gaze landed on Doyoung, who was still leaning against the wall. You beckoned him over with a hand. "C'mere, princey."

He made sure that the air conditioner was working before sitting down on the other side of Jungwoo, for which you were grateful. The still drying sweat on the back of your neck and on your chest started to cool instantly. You and Jungwoo giggled as Doyoung’s weight sent waves rippling beneath you.

"So, are you guys gonna sleep or what?" Doyoung asked, kicking his shoes off as well and peeling off his denim jacket. His eyes were still wide open and he didn't look tired at all. "I'm probably staying up a little later, I have some ideas for some lyrics I want to get down—"

"I would love to sleep. But I can't," Jungwoo declared before glancing knowingly at the both of you, "and neither can either of you."

You hummed in agreement. "Hmm, you're not wrong. Too much energy left."

You turned to bury your face into his chest. His forest green short-sleeved button up was only buttoned up halfway, easily revealing his collarbones. He smelled like pot, sweat, and designer cologne. His chest rumbled as he continued to speak.

"What about you, bunny boy? You can't tell me you don't still feel it."

"The weed or the concert jitters?" Doyoung's voice was raspy, cautious. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. Once you and Jungwoo ganged up on him, it wouldn't take long to wear him down.

"Both," You and Jungwoo said in unison. You laughed at the sound. Doyoung chuckled as well, and you cracked your eyes open, despite how cozy you felt with Jungwoo stroking the skin of your nape.

"Well, the jitters are still there. That's why I'm staying up. As for the weed… well, yeah. I still feel it."

Jungwoo sighed. "How's the weed hitting you, though?"

"Honestly?" Doyoung's eyes met yours, and you felt something simmer in your chest. He huffed, deciding to take a bite of the apple, and leaned towards the both of you.

"The weed, plus watching you two perform… Safe to say I'm pretty fuckin' horny right now."

You bit your lip, giving him a sleepy grin. "Oh, Woo, we turned him on." The teasing tone wasn't missed despite the sleepiness in your tone.

"And what about it?" Doyoung asked, leaning back on his hands. "You can't say that watching Jungwoo do the thing doesn't get you going."

"I have a thing?"

"We all have a thing, Woo. Princey's over there is at the end of Mr. Jones' Motorcycle. You know, when he finishes the solo? He always throws his head back, because there's sweat and hair in his eyes. You can see his neck and shit..."

Jungwoo blinked. "Shit, that is his thing… What's mine?"

You raised an eyebrow at Doyoung. "His is the thing where he gets so into it that he throws his head back and plays, and still manages to get every bass note right, right?"

Doyoung nodded with a satisfied hum. "Gets you going, right?"

You brought a hand up to Jungwoo's chest, slowly sliding it down his stomach. Your voice lowered to a raspy murmur, and Jungwoo's hand tightened around your waist. "Damn right it does."

"And plus, you both have told me that watching me put together the drum kit is hot."

"'Cause it is!" Again you laughed as Jungwoo said the same thing you did.

"Jungwoo." Doyoung's voice sounded thicker. "You can't tell me that Y/N isn't an absolute vixen on stage."

"You're right," The younger man answered, voice gruff. His hand slid down, gripping your butt and giving it a light squeeze, before directing his words at you. "Oh! Y/N, your thing is when—you know how every time you play the transition from Calabasas to Saturn’s Rings you sway your hips and flip your hair back and forth? Sometimes you’ll look at me or at Doyoung while you do, and you looked at me tonight. You're a little tease up there, dollface."

Your breath hitched at their words. “Oh, yeah?” You goaded, cuddling further into Jungwoo’s chest. You let a coy smile grace your face as your eyes fluttered shut. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Don’t be a brat,” Doyoung growled.

“No, Doie,” Jungwoo hummed. He suddenly sounded a lot more awake. “...What would you have her do about it?”

Your eyes fluttered open, swallowing despite the sudden dryness in your throat. Doyoung's pupils were still blown wide, but you were pretty sure it wasn't because of the weed. He licked his lips. "Princess, get on your knees."

Jungwoo prompted you up, pulling you up to stand at the side of the bed. Doyoung circled around the bed, before standing next to Jungwoo. Your gaze fluttered between your two boyfriends, one looking stern, the other looking like he was having the time of his life.

Quietly, you lowered yourself to kneel on the plush carpet, fingers gripping the silver fabric of your dress' skirt to hike it up, so that you wouldn't kneel on it. Your hands itched to reach for them but you knew you needed to ask for permission. "Can I touch you?"

Doyoung smiled, reaching for his belt. "There's our good girl," He said. Your mouth was already watering embarrassingly as you helped him undo his belt, pulling him out of his boxers. He was already half hard, and as you lifted your hand to spit in it, someone grabbed you gently by the rest. Jungwoo leaned over, turning your hand to reveal your palm to him. His eyes seemed to burn into yours as he let his spit fall into the palm of your hand. You felt your legs close, thighs trying to rub together at the sight.

"Go on," Jungwoo murmured, using a hand on your jaw to move your head. Your eyes fell on Doyoung's cock again, slowly getting harder and harder. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking slowly as you met his smoldering gaze. You stroked him until he was rock hard in your grip, and his breathing turned heavy. Again, you swallowed, and Doyoung noticed this time.

“What is it, princess? You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” You whispered, eyes wide. He chuckled breathily, head tipping back as you ran your thumb over the slit. His eyes met Jungwoo’s, who was palming himself through his pants.

“What do you think, baby?” He asked him.

“Don’t be mean, Doyoung,” Jungwoo said softly. “Look at her, she’s desperate. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You whined, nodding. The pair chuckled. Jungwoo grinned at the state you were already in. “Go ahead, dollface. Give it a kiss.”

Before Doyoung could say anything else, you took his dick into your mouth, and let out a soft moan at how heavy he felt, hot and pulsing. He let out a guttural groan of your name, a hand burying itself in your hair. His other hand gripped Jungwoo’s shirt, pulling him forward to meet in a tongue-filled kiss.

Slowly, Doyoung’s hips started rocking back and forth, grinding into your mouth. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t fit, as well as his balls. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to relax so as to not gag on his length. But when he sped up, it became too much to avoid.

A tap on your shoulder, and Doyoung let you off of his cock. You turned your head to look up at a very flushed Jungwoo, who had pulled his dick out of his pants as well. The words, “Me too?” tumbled out of his swollen lips. And with that gentle, breathy tone, who were you to disobey?

You wrapped your lips around Jungwoo, who hissed at the sudden heat of your mouth. From there, something primal inside of you took control, wanting nothing more than to please—you took turns sucking them off and stroking them, the muffled sounds of their moaning spurring you on.

It was always like this—during sex, Doyoung was the meaner one, manhandling you and throwing degrading words in your face that made your stomach curl in sick pleasure. He was the one who could put you in your place when you became too bratty to handle. Jungwoo was gentler, but he was all too content to watch Doyoung toss you around. He would always swoop in after Doyoung took you apart, and piece you back together. He’d tell you how good you were, how good you made the both of them feel, and while he definitely didn’t treat you like fragile porcelain, he definitely didn’t leave as many bruises as Doyoung did.

And then, when they were both done, they’d shower you in kisses, and whisper in your ear how grateful they were to love you, and say some philosophical thing about eternal love and the cosmos that you’d always be too fucked out to comprehend, but that made your heart do a backflip regardless.

“Shit,” Jungwoo groaned, pulling away from Doyoung’s lips. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

You pulled off of Doyoung to look up at Jungwoo. “In my—in my mouth, please, Woo.”

He nodded, licking his lips as his hands fisted themselves in your hair, gripping but not pulling as he allowed you to touch him the way you wanted. His hands gathered the loose strands into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide your mouth up and down his hot cock. His hips bucked into your willing mouth, the sound of his hissing and his moaning getting louder and louder, until…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N… Y/N!" He groaned, as he came into your mouth. His head tipped back, which gave Doyoung access to his neck, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin. This sight was worth the bitter taste that coated your tongue: one of your lovers in ecstasy while the other anchored him to the ground.

He left his dick in your mouth for a moment, before pulling out with a shaky breath. Doyoung pulled away, letting him breathe. As Jungwoo caught his breath, Doyoung pulled you up, and he sat on the bed, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap.

You turned your head to face Jungwoo, who smiled at you, coming closer to the both of you. One of his hands patted the top of your head. "That was wicked," He said.

Doyoung smiled softly, and gripped your chin to get you to face him. His sweet grin didn't disappear as his grip forced your mouth open. He groaned at the sight of your tongue coated in Jungwoo's semen.

"Gorgeous," He mumbled, eyes trained on your lips as it began to spill out.

"Kiss her," Jungwoo told him, "You know you want to."

So he did, his tongue almost immediately slipping past your lips to get a taste of Jungwoo for himself, swallowing it down greedily. Your hands came up to unbutton his black dress shirt, and his hands pushed up the skirt of your dress to get you to rock your hips against his. You gasped against his mouth at the feeling of only your soaked panties separating him and you, before pushing the shirt off of him.

He moved to lie you down on the bed. As he pulled away from you, you caught his tongue slipping out to lick at a dribble of Jungwoo's cum on his lips. To make matters even worse, the bed was rolling beneath you, making your head spin.

Jungwoo pulled his shirt off before he sat down behind you. Meanwhile, Doyoung moved down your body, parting your legs. He prompted you to sit up, resting your back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your earlobe as Doyoung peeled your underwear off of you, biting his lip at the sight of your drooling pussy.

"You're absolutely drenched, princess. And all from sucking our cocks, huh?"

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Jungwoo's lips began kissing along your jaw. When you didn't say anything, Jungwoo pinched your sides gently. "Use your words, doll," He whispered. From behind you, his eyes met Doyoung's. "You're gonna keep being our good little girl, right?"

"Y-yes, Jungwoo." Your hand lifted itself to press against his cheek, a silent plea for more kisses. He smiled against your skin.

"Atta girl," He praised, "On your best behavior for us tonight, huh?"

"The little slut's just being good because she wants to get fucked, Woo. Don't get it twisted."

"Please, Doie," You pleaded at the mention of being fucked, "Need it."

The older man chuckled lowly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit.

"Told you."

His tongue pressed itself against your hole, and you immediately cried out. You would have immediately started grinding against Doyoung's face if it weren't for Jungwoo's hands on your hips, holding you down and keeping it still.

"I don't think you wanna do that," He murmured. His hands travelled underneath your skirt, gripping the silvery blue gossamer as he tried to lift it up. You did your best to keep your squirming at a minimum as you tried to help him get you out of it. Finally, the bell sleeves were pulled off, and you were left naked as the day you were born.

Jungwoo’s hands moved to your breasts, playing with them as he watched you whimper at the sensation of Doyoung’s mouth working at your folds. When he slipped his tongue inside, you keened, head falling against Jungwoo’s shoulder.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He whispered.

Your chest heaved, squirming up and down as he began to tug and pinch your nipples, calloused fingertips making you cry out.

Doyoung’s free hand gripped your thigh, and his fingers on the other hand slipped inside when he pulled his tongue out. Immediately, he plunged in two fingers, curling his fingers as he attempted to search for that one special spot.

"Ngh, Doie, faster, pleasepleaseplease." Your legs were trembling slightly now.

"So fucking slutty," Doyoung mumbled, chuckling wickedly, "And all I had to do was stick my fingers inside."

He complied with no protest, and the sensation of Doyoung stroking your walls and Jungwoo continuously pawing at your breasts caused a string of moans to come pouring out of your mouth. Jungwoo had been sucking a bruise into your clavicle, but leaned up to press his lips against yours.

"Don't want anyone hearing what's meant for Doie and I," He said, lips brushing yours.

The idea made you even needier, the double entendre making your head spin. Jungwoo didn't want anyone to hear you because if they did, rumors would spread. And on top of that? He didn't want anyone to hear. You were theirs. They were yours. This was a sacred ritual between bodies meant to be witnessed by only the three of you.

Your head felt like you were floating, even though your limbs felt like they were sinking into the watery mattress. A coil began to tighten in your stomach, and your soft whines, muffled by Jungwoo's plush lips, increased in pitch.

They both knew what this meant, because a second later, Doyoung removed his fingers from your core, and Jungwoo pulled away, his hands moving from your breasts to rest on Doyoung's atop your hips. You were left reeling and breathing heavily, that familiar sensation floating away.

When you looked down at Doyoung, you swallowed at the sight of his lips, chin and fingers, all glistening with your wetness.

He lifted himself up off the mattress, and proceeded to sandwich your chest in between his own chest and Jungwoo’s back. He gripped his dick, rubbing it against your folds, which were now even more soaked than before.

"Tell me how much you want it, princess." He pressed his forehead against yours, hissing when the tip caught your clit. You let out a desperate whine, clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Do—Doyoung, please fuck me," You begged, reeling at the sensation. He was so close, all he had to do was slide in. But he refused.

"Not good enough," He insisted.

"Doyoung, don't be mean," Jungwoo said, but he seemed to be more amused by your desperation than anything.

"No, I wanna hear how much she needs us."

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to gather your words. Jungwoo's hands stroked your sides, trying to calm you down. "You doing alright, doll? You wanna take a breather?"

"We can always stop." Doyoung's voice had turned stable, secure, safe. He started pulling away, until you grabbed him by the forearm and shook your head. You opened your eyes, seeing concern in his eyes

“No,” You mumbled, “Jus’ want some water. Think there’s some in the minibar. ‘M really hot.”

Doyoung nodded, getting up and striding over to the small refrigerator on the other side of the room. He pulled out a water bottle, and popped open the cap before passing it to you. Jungwoo had taken to fanning your face lightly with his hand. You took several long swigs of water, before setting it on the nightstand.

“I’m fine,” You promised. “Can we please keep going? I can take it.”

Doyoung pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah,” You said with a nod.

“Doyoung,” Jungwoo murmured, “Be careful.”

“I know, baby." He lowered his eyes to study your face. "I won’t go that hard on you, Y/N.”

You nodded, even though deep down you wanted to protest. You knew that this was probably the best route to take. You could already feel the high—from the weed and the concert—wearing off. You knew that if Doyoung were too rough you’d probably crash on the way down instead of float.

So, Jungwoo brushed some stray hair out of your sweaty face, and Doyoung grabbed your legs gently, wrapping them around his hips. Slowly, Doyoung eased in, and you sighed in satisfaction of finally being filled. He bit into your shoulder, taking deep heaving breaths as he let you get used to the sensation. Jungwoo took turns pressing kisses to the top of your head and the top of Doyoung’s head.

“I love you both so much,” He whispered, “I’m so grateful the universe brought us together.”

Doyoung looked up at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My baby,” He murmured against Jungwoo’s lips. He then turned to you and did the same, “My princess.”

You smiled at their words, but the need in your core was becoming unbearable. "Doie, Woo, I love you both so much," You murmured, "But Doyoung, if you don't move I'll pin you down and do it myself."

"And you were doing so well," Doyoung groaned with a laugh, before beginning to thrust his hips. It was a slow, torturous glide, and the way it caused the bed to rock left you dizzy in the best possible way. Doyoung was panting into your ear like some sort of beast, and you were whining softly with every cant of his hips.

"You must feel so good right now, huh, doll?"

"Jung—woo," You moaned, clawing at his bicep.

"I know, dolly, I know." He sounded sympathetic enough, but the way he was grinding his dick against your ass suggested otherwise. "Bunny boy is just so good with those hips of his, hm?"

"H-he is!" You cried, "Feel so full, ah, Doyoung!"

Doyoung's eyes met yours, and his hips picked up their pace, until your eyes rolled up into your head. Your head thrashed side to side, leaning against Jungwoo's shoulder. His mouth lowered once again to kiss at your neck, and your hand wrapped itself against his nape, while the other gripped Doyoung's shoulders.

Jungwoo's hands slithered down to where you and Doyoung were connected, and started rubbing at your clit. You shrieked, chest arching. Doyoung hissed. "Shit, do that again," He bit out, "Fuck, princess you just got so tight."

"D-Doie, harder!"

Doyoung looked up at Jungwoo, the two having an unspoken conversation. A second later, Jungwoo gave a cautious nod. Doyoung smiled, before he adjusted his legs. Then…

Then. He began pounding into you at a breakneck pace. Your legs tightened around him, wanting him even deeper than before.

"You love this, don't you? Our pretty little slut." His voice was tighter now, panting with exertion. You nodded.

"Yes, yes! I'm your slut!"

Doyoung grinned, before locking lips with you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, before letting you do the same to him. You could tell he was starting to feel something—he always kissed you or Jungwoo as a way of telling you he wouldn't last much longer.

Truthfully, you could feel it coming too—your body felt like it was on fire, and your hips couldn't stop squirming. Whether it was towards Jungwoo's calloused fingers on your clit, Doyoung's cock, or away from both, you couldn't tell. Your moans were getting shriller too.

You clenched down on his length again, and he grit his teeth, grunting as his pace turned sloppy.

"C-c'mon, princey," You pleaded, "Give it to me, give it…"

"Shit, yes…" His head lolled onto your shoulder. "Gonna stuff you so full, princess, you'll be dripping—"

"Please! Oh, please—"

The two of you fell apart almost at the same time, your orgasm triggering Doyoung's a second later. Your mouth fell open, legs trembling and heart pounding as waves crashed over and under you.

When you came down, Doyoung rolled off of you, turning onto his side to watch you and Jungwoo. Jungwoo, who ceased the movements of his hands and slowly laid you down. Your head landed against the pillows, and you let your eyes shut as you caught your breath.

"Can I take care of you one last time, doll?" You heard Jungwoo say. Your eyes opened blearily, and you reached a hand out towards him, legs parting of their own accord.

Both of your lovers groaned at the sight of your pussy, Doyoung's cum brimming from your folds.

"Absolute perfection," Jungwoo murmured, crawling between your legs. He gripped his dick with one hand, the other swiping through your folds, and you immediately whined at the sensitivity there, teetering the fine line between pleasure and pain.

"Please," You whimpered, "Woo, I want it."

"You're insatiable." He sounded so affectionate, so in love. You watched as his eyes studied his index and middle fingers, covered in a mix of Doyoung's cum and yours, before dipping them into his mouth to lick them clean. You sighed, a dopey smile gracing your features. He lowered himself down to brush noses with you, dark eyes blown wide, wide awake despite the dark circles underneath.

"Guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He slid in as if he was coming home, immediately setting a solid pace that had you seeing stars, arms wrapping around his shoulders to lock hands at his nape. The sensitivity left you pliant in his arms, and Jungwoo didn't hesitate in cradling you in his arms.

"So good for us, Y/N. Always Doie and I's sweet girl."

You nodded, tears brimming at your eyes at the heaviness in your chest, the pulsing in your core. His hair was falling into his eyes, and you lifted your hands to his face, doing your best to brush it away. Your hands cupped his cheeks, heavy eyes burning into his. Your hips were rutting against his desperately now, wanting nothing more than to feel that high with him.

Jungwoo pressed a brief kiss to your neck, feeling something simmer in his gut embarrassingly fast.

Doyoung placed his head next to yours, gently lifting Jungwoo's head to kiss him, hand brushing the other man's ass. When he pulled away, he kissed you as well, and Jungwoo's mouth pressed itself to one of your nipples. You keened against Doyoung's mouth, hips losing all semblance of grace.

Here, you were needy, animalistic, running on instincts, and your boys were drinking it up like water from a desert oasis.

Doyoung pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his lips to yours. His hands cradled your head.

"Can you feel it yet, princess?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, silent moans falling from your lips. "Ah, yeah, Doie… s-so close…"

"Me too," Jungwoo groaned between your breasts, "So wet, Y/N…"

"That's from all the cum she's filled with, right, princess?"

You nodded. "Mm—ngh! Stuffed me so good, Doie."

"Yeah? You gonna let Jungwoo fill you up even more? Gonna keep it all inside, right?"

Your stomach did a backflip, and you felt your toes curl. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want it—"

"I'll give it to you, doll," Jungwoo growled, "It's all—fuck—all yours. S-same way this is all for us, right?"

Those words were what caused you to finally fall over the edge. Your high was so intense that you could have sworn that your ears popped—clawing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, your eyes squeezed shut. Only one side ended up scratched, since you always kept your right hand nails short to properly play guitar. You sobbed against Doyoung’s lips, and he eagerly swallowed up your cries, shushing you gently as you came back down.

You didn't feel Jungwoo come inside, but you felt it immediately afterwards—the satisfying stickiness, the warmth in your stomach.

You looked at Jungwoo, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead before prompting him to move off. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you towards him as his little spoon, peppering kisses to your cheek and whispering how good you were. The two of you looked at Doyoung. You reached out, making grabby hands at him. His eyes were drooping, and he was blinking blearily as if he were trying to fight off sleep.

Still, he got up and pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, as well as his lighter. As he sat back down on the bed, the waves sent you and Jungwoo further and further into the recesses of slumber. As consciousness left you, you caught Doyoung looking down at the two of you as if you were the most precious beings he'd ever encountered. His tone was low and grumbly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye.

"I hope you two are happy. I can't remember those goddamn lyrics anymore."

#kwritersworldnet #nct smut #doyoung x reader #jungwoo x reader #doyoung smut #jungwoo smut #kpop smut #kpop au #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #my writing

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conaionaru · 4 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

I'll run to you

Synopsis:

Warnings: Ivar, Silas, toxic family, mentions of murder, angst

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @queenbeeta @astridbaby @chynagirl13 @thereareendlessopportunities

P.S. I did some edits of Ivar x Vanya. And I found the perfect song for them (where the title of this chapter comes from) and made an edit of that as well.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

When Vanya was a little girl, she dreamt of marrying a noble Prince and becoming his Queen. She imagined a huge castle and her father visiting her as often as possible. Even her mother was proud of her for being a good Christian wife.

Never did she dream of being here, drifting on a boat with a sore shoulder, woozy from mead with her sleeping heathen son in her lap. Why must dreams always be so wrong?

But truth to be told, she loved the life she lived now. Well, not right now, but the last year. Her experience in Kattegat was perfect. Despite his short temper, Ivar was a good man. He loved her unconditionally, protected her, and listened to her. His brothers were kind to her, and she trusted them with her life. Even Sigurd, with who she sometimes butted heads. She had a friend and found a mother in Aslaug and Helga.

She missed them so much. Two days on the water made her want to cry. She cried nowadays more than the babe she gave birth to. He seemed content; he loved watching the ravens fly over their heads and played with her hair when she held him.

How funny it seemed to her that she loved sailing when she came here. Now she yearned to stand on dry land and sleep in a warm bed wrapped in Ivar's arms.

Whenever Vanya didn't think of home, she thought of Silas, especially what she would do to him. She had been meek and peaceful for so long, forgave him everything he did to her. But that changes now; he didn't just hurt her or degrade her. He tried to kill her and her son. His knights murdered an innocent woman. He would pay the blood price for it.

The raven made a sound and left their usual circling spot. Vanya watched them go and perked up. Land. It meant land was near. She put her child into the nets and rowed towards the direction the birds flew.

Her shoulder screamed in protest, and she felt it reopen as her dress got wet with blood. She ignored it and kept on rowing. She was out of food, and the mead wouldn't last more than two cups. They needed to find water and food.

Ivar laid in his bed, sweat dripping from his forehead, the whites of his eyes blue. His legs hurt too much today; he had to stay in bed but couldn't sleep at all. All he could do was lay there in pain and think of all the ways he will torture Vanya's attacker. He prayed to the Gods that she was still alive. Two days ago, she went missing, and everyone was losing hope.

Aslaug had no visions, and Hoenir was no help. He dragged himself to the Seer yesterday, but all he got was vague answers. "You know the answer, Boneless." He knew Vanya had grown stronger and that she promised to protect their son. But so did he and now, he doesn't know where she is or if she is even alive.

He promised her that no one would ever lay a hand on her again, and he failed. If he ever saw her again, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

"Drink the tea, Ivar. It will help." Ubbe ordered, walking into the room, looking at the untouched cup on Ivar's bedside. Right next to the tea was the carved figure of Fenrir and Vanya's serpent necklace.

"Did you find her? Anything?" Ivar begged as his brother wiped his damp forehead.

Ubbe shook his head and put the rag down. "A fisherman's boat went missing two days ago. Mother thinks Vanya might have taken it. So we sent some boats out to look for her. But if she drifted out into the open..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence for Ivar to understand. If Vanya drifted away, the storm that was gathering would sink her ship and drown them both. Hoenir saw her drown, what if he was right and she would? No amount of sacrifices would bring her back then. He would be alone again, with Aslaug the only one to love him. Ubbe might love him, but there are moments he must wish his brother wasn't alive.

The times he had to carry him or stay at home because Ivar was in pain. Having to check on his legs and eyes all the time. In everybody's eyes, Ivar was a burden; he was aware of it. Vanya was the only one who didn't care or look down on him. In her eyes, Ivar was perfect despite his shortcomings. Over time, she grew used to his temper and pain. She comforted him, held him, whispered sweet words into his ear as he fell asleep.

She loved him, and he left her alone after she bore him a son. He didn't even get to hold him. His perfect son, who had his eyes and hair. His healthy boy. Ivar hated himself, but he hated the world more.

"How long we have to keep looking? It's been two days now. The corpses must show up soon." Pæga complained, pulling off his boots and sinking his feet into the bowl with water.

Silas glared at the knight and stabbed his dagger into the table. "Boats were sent out to search for her, a fisherman's boat went missing, they think Vanya is in it. If she survived and they find her... My sister saw your faces. She isn't so stupid to fall for a few farmers in your clothes. If you get caught, then it means my death as well." He spat at his knights while Stithulf sat in the corner, sharpening his sword.

"I doubt she is alive. She doesn't strike me as a survivor. Vanya was sent here to wither and die, to brake and suffer. She might have charmed her way around Kattegat. But smiles and gifts aren't going to save her from death. She was hit with an arrow; I saw her sink. All they will find is a dead child in the boat. Vanya is dead, and you are the only possible ruler of Slegia."

Stithulf stood up after his rant and walked towards his King. He lifted the crown from the table and put it on his head. "A crown for a King. The one true King. Vanya will never wear this thing; neither will her children; I made sure of it."

Silas nodded and proudly pushed his chest out. The knight was right; he was the King, and Vanya was dead. First, he dealt with her; next is his mother and her new husband. Then his uncle and Wrosan will be his. The victory was certain.

Vanya hauled herself from the boat and pulled it on land so the tide wouldn't wash it away. Her son stirred in his little bed while Vanya collapsed on the ground, exhausted.

The ravens left them alone, and she had no idea where to go. This part of Kattegat was unfamiliar to her. So as she laid there, she prayed to the Gods to show her a way to get home. But no sign or help came.

So she wrapped herself tighter in her cloak and took her child with her heading west, the other way than she drifted off. She needed to get to a familiar location: the hunting hut, Floki's house, or even the forest before Kattegat.

Vanya walked with her son in her arms, without a pause. She managed to find some berries Helga taught her were edible and a stream of water. After she ate, she fed her son and carried on in her way. Her feet were sore, and her son was becoming too heavy for her weak arms.

Other than wilderness and silence, there was nothing around her. Every tree looked the same, and the shade they gave her made navigating with the sun harder. She shivered as the winds grew colder.

When her son whimpered in her arms, she froze. Her being cold wasn't that bad. But to him, it meant death. So she carefully put him on the ground and took off her cloak and swaddled him in it. Her thinned down frame shook in the cold winds while her son burrowed himself into the new warmth.

Vanya looked down at his little content face and smiled. All of this hardship was worth it if he was healthy and alive. This life she created and carries inside her, that she spent hours bringing into the world. It meant everything to her; it hurt to admit that her mother was right. A mother has no choice but to love her child; only a monster would ignore her own blood like that. But the thing Siflaed was wrong about was that Vanya did love Ivar. Despite everything she heard about him and his people, she grew to love him no, her people. Kattegat was her home now; she was born to live here; she knew it.

And when she returned, she would never leave again; she would remain and raise her son. She would see all the other sons of Ragnar start their own families and see Aslaug grow old. Hold Bjorn's adorable children and gossip with Torvi and Brynja. She would sit on the bench in front of the Great Hall, sewing a dress together, with Ivar by her side with their son in his arms. Vanya would come to visit Helga and Floki more often like she promised she would and try to make Margrethe less afraid of Ivar. He wasn't the monster; everyone made him out to be; her husband had a lonely heart with high walls made of anger.

She remembered the story of Eve and the Devil. The way the serpent tricked Eve into eating the apple and be banished from Eden for it. She also remembered the story one of Siflaed's lovers told her of the Greek goddess Persephone and the pomegranate. How Hades offered the fruit to her, and she stayed with him as his wife.

But Vanya didn't feel like Eve; her husband was no evil serpent leading her on. He was Hades, the god known for his dark demeanor, but a good husband. She wasn't a meek Christian like Eve, Vanya was Persephone. A good heart with love for nature, married to a man of shadowed behavior who everyone feared. But they both held darkness and light, she wasn't just a maiden who plucked blooming flowers, and Ivar wasn't just an angry heathen with a quick tongue. Her tongue was as equally sharp as his and his love as real as hers. They were King and Queen of the Underworld, Prince and Princess of Kattegat.

With determination, Vanya strode on, thankful for the shoes she managed to put on before her escape. Walking barefoot on top of lightly dressed would have meant her death. She could hear an owl hoot somewhere behind her until it flew past her and landed on a branch. "Frigga." She whispered as the bird stared at her with yellow eyes, it's white feathers standing out in the treetops.

"Have you come to take me home, All-Mother? Odin's ravens looked over my son and me on the boat, and now you have come for us. Goddess of mothers and queens, of war, wisdom, and strategy. I beg you, take me home." She begged the hooting white owl that took off and landed on another branch, waiting for the ginger to follow.

Vanya chuckled at the sight and followed after the frequently stopping bird. "This better be Frigga, or I will die. That's your descendant on the line, Odin. Don't let me die, All-father, All-mother."

Everyone stood gathered in the Great Hall in the evening, waiting for what Aslaug had to say. Silas stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by his armed knights. "My brother Ivar was graced with a son three days ago. But his son and wife were ripped away by a murderer, who sneaked into their hut and killed the wet nurse." Bjorn announced watching the faces of everyone present.

Floki and Helga leaned a support beam, both looking grim, while the boatbuilder glared at Silas. Ivar sat next to his mother, with Hoenir standing behind them. Brynja and Margrethe watched the whole ordeal from their place with the other servants and slaves. The other brothers stood behind Bjorn, who towered over the room, reminding all of their father. He carried the same authority even without a crown on his head.

Aslaug lifted her head higher and wrapped his fingers around the armrests of her throne. "The one responsible will answer to the Gods. The more blood they have on their hands, the more dire their demise will be. This person is charged with treason and murder..."

Ubbe left his mother's side while she talked and walked with Floki and Hoenir towards the exits. They barricaded the door while no one was watching. The only way to open them now would be from the outside, where Floki stood watch.

"The return of my daughter in law Vanya is becoming unlikely. A funeral will be held soon to honor her death, Floki has agreed to build a boat to bury her. If she is not found until the ship is done, we shall burn some of her possessions instead."

Stithulf observed the heathens around him; they seemed on edge, ready to pounce at any moment. Of course, Silas was obvious to all this, too distracted by the Queen's speech to notice.

"But, we do know the one responsible for this tragedy." The knights head snapped towards the throne. Everyone grew silent, waiting for Aslaug to continue. "We questioned people and gathered that there is only one possible suspect behind all this. Someone willing to murder a mother and child int heir sleep."

The room was tense as if a war would erupt at any moment. Ivar clenched his jaw before smirking at Silas, who froze in his spot.

"How do you answer these charges... King Silas?" The Saxon's breaths hitched in fear as the knights wrapped their hands around their swords' handles, ready to draw them and kill everyone. But they were outnumbered and locked in with bloodthirsty heathens.

"This is outrageous! I loved my sister. And you are claiming me as a murderer only because you failed to find the real one. My sister is dead because of you!" He roared at the remaining sons of Ragnar and his wife. But they didn't even flinch all the Queen did, was push her shoulders back and raise an eyebrow at his outburst.

"So you claim, but there is no proof. All we saw were spiteful words and tantrums. You bribed farmers to change clothes with your knights; then, you ordered them to kill Vanya and her son. But Margrethe remembered their faces, and it wasn't the faces we see here today." Sigurd called out as the said thrall covered behind Brynja. She confessed this to Sigurd last night, and since then, the Ragnarsson and Aslaug had been plotting.

Silas frowned and shook his head, chuckling. "And do tell me... What would my reason be? Sibling rivalry? Don't be ridiculous. I may not have been overly fond of my sister, I admit. But I wouldn't murder her. And the baby? Son or not, I hold no ill will against either."

"Vanya and her son possessed a threat to you, childless, unfit to rule. But Vanya is loved here, and I am sure she was the same in England. You ordered her death and will die for it. An eye for an eye." Bjorn threatened as Silas gulped and gave an uneasy smile.

He shrugged and spread his arms wide to show he was unarmed and possessed no threat to them, other than his knights who drew their swords. "Let's spare ourselves these dramatics. Vanya is dead, and I am not the culprit. Let's not have a ghost of a disobedient whore get between our agreement."

Ivar slammed his fist against his chair and glared at the daring King. He would have leaped out of his seat and strangled the bastard if it wasn't for Bjorn, Sigurd, and Hvitserk holding him back. "How dare you?" The Ragnarsson roared his nostrils flaring in rage.

Silas pointed to Ivar's legs with a smirk. "Your... Affliction. Do you really think the child was yours? My darling sister would do anything to please you as a proper wife should. And giving you a child, even one that's not truly yours. It would please you. Wouldn't it? To think that you are a real man, able to produce an heir." The blonde Christian taunted as everyone glared at what he was suggesting.

"I did you a favor before things escalated, and you would believe other idiotic lies my sister would have fed you to keep herself alive a little longer. I saved you from further embarrassment and grief. Vanya is dead, and there is nothing to change that." He sounded at peace with his oncoming death. Silas knows he and his knights will die, but might as well anger the heathens some more. Die a horrid death and go down in history as a martyr: Saint Silas, The tortured King.

Stithulf, on the other hand, looked distressed, all the whispering he did, all for nothing. All his hard work wasted on a foolish king with a big ego and greedy heart. His chance at fame and ruling, all gone, because of a ginger Princess who just couldn't stay meek and timid like she was meant to be.

The sound of something shattering broke the tense atmosphere. Everyone looked st the redheaded servant that let her jug of water, fall to the floor. "Vanya." She whispered, her face pale and eyes wide. They followed her gaze and gazed at the open door in shock.

"Why do you think I am dead, Brother?" Vanya's voice rasped out as the ginger leaned against the door frame, a shield pierced with many arrows in one hand. Her hair was frizzy, her skin pale, and her eyes sunken in. Her white dress was stained with bloody some on her shoulder, the rest on her lap, from childbirth.

She took a shaky step forward and shifted her arms slightly. Helga runs to her side, and Floki stood behind her in case she fell. The Ragnarssons run to her while Ivar stared at her in shock. Standing up, Aslaug observed the presumably dead Princess in wonder.

"Helga, you need to look after my son. I tried to keep him warm and fed. Please check him." Vanya pleaded with the blonde woman, letting the shield riddled with arrows fall to the floor. Hidden behind the protection was a bundle of furs and cloak, squirming at the new warm place they entered.

Helga shakily took the babe out of Vanya's trembling embrace to see the child alive and well despite the ordeals he went through. She ushered the child away as Ubbe reached his sister in law, laying a hand on her shoulder to steady her. But she shook it off and slowly advanced towards Silas, who took a few steps towards her as well.

"How? You should be dead." He whispered, still in denial that his plan didn't work.

"I forgave you so much, Silas. So many wounds. I forgave them all, ignored them, and asked my family to ignore them as well. But that ends today. You killed an innocent woman! You tried to kill my son!"

Silas shook his head, refusing to admit defeat against his little sister. His foolish sister, who was born weak and was meant to abide by him. The one who defied him and survived. "You won't hurt me, Vanya. You are weak. Remember your place, and we can forget this. Beg me for forgiveness, and I shall grant it to you. All I want in return is save passage back home. Kill my knights instead."

"You think I will beg? I did nothing to ask forgiveness for! You are a monster, Silas. Just like father and mother said you were. Do you think I will cower before you? Just because you are my brother?" She seethed stalking towards him as Silas drew a dagger and pointed it at her, shaking, fearful of this side of Vanya.

The ginger keeps on advancing, not caring for the weapon pointed at her. The adrenaline running through her veins made her forget what fear feels like at all. All she could see was the man who made her life a living hell and tried to kill her son! "Blessed are the meek, Vanya." He reminded her, hoping that the sentence that their mother used to drill into her head would calm her down, but his sister didn't even blink.

"Yes. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven." She spat back a part of the Beatitudes, laughing at his poor attempt at containing her rage. "Do you think the words of Jesus or God will stop me? Do you honestly believe that you will be forgiven? I am past forgiveness and meekness! I want you to pay for my and my son's suffering in blood!"

Silas took a few steps back, his hand shaking like crazy. Vanya was nearly in front of him now, her hand grasped his dagger around the sharp edge, no fear in her eyes. They looked like frozen over fjord's, determination and anger swirling around. She tugged his knife from his grasp and threw it behind her, surprising everyone. Blood dripped from the cut on her palm, trailing down her slender fingers and hitting the floorboards.

"I would burn cities and kingdom's to the ground and make him King of the Ashes if they dared to threaten him!" She screamed at her brother, getting into his face and glaring up at him as he shook in his spot.

"Vanya, please, have mercy. I am your brother. I did it to protect my claim. You must understand. I was born to rule; I deserve to sit on the throne for eternity. Please have mercy." The two siblings stared into each other's eyes, the frozen fjords meeting the tearful sky.

She softly shook her head and softened her angry expression. Ivar crawled towards them, observing the blood-stained dagger and her bleeding hand clenched by her side. "Mercy is a Christian value, and I am not Christian anymore." She hissed backhanding him with her bleeding left hand so hard that he hit the floor.

Silas cradled his aching cheek and stared at Vanya in shock. The ginger glared down at him with disdain obvious in her expression. "That's why I wish you the most painful death instead." She spat at him before two men dragged him away as he cried and cursed at them, begging them to let him go as other Vikings killed his knights when they dared to attack.

Ivar crawled to Vanya's left and took her cold bleeding hand in his, startling her from her trance. She looked down at him tenderly as he looked over her tired body. "I missed you." He whispered, staring up at her with adoration as she returned his tender look, softly smiling.

"I missed you too." Ubbe supported her swaying frame and carried her towards the awaiting healers, thanking the gods for her return, alive and well. Ivar watched her get carried away and spared a glance at the dead bodies of the Saxon knights before he followed his brother and wife.

#vikings #vikings imagine #history vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #original character #original female character #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x oc

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