Work Text:
No one had realized that the spell went onto a second page.
“I should have known you two don’t know how to read.” You shake your head at the two men standing before you. Your friends. Your slightly-magical, mostly-infuriating roommates.
“We do know how to read, we simply, didn’t,” Taehyung states, motioning to the spell. The old grimoire lays open on the workbench, which is cluttered with ancient books, stoppered and bubbling vials, and half an eaten sandwich.
“Welp.” Jungkook only hesitates for a second before his hand drifts down to the hem of his shirt and he begins to tug it upwards. Your eyes widen. As he yanks his shirt over his head, the broad planes of his chest are exposed.
“W-what are you doing?” you sputter, grabbing his shirt and tugging it back down over his chest.
“The spell says sex magic, so sex magic it is.” Jungkook again attempts to take his shirt off. You yank it down once more.
“Stop that.” you say, but Jungkook just looks back with wide, innocent eyes. “Shouldn’t we talk at the very least talk about this?!” you stammer.
Taehyung nods, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Hold your horses.” He turns towards you. “You’re the one who suggested the spell. You’re the one that said that we won’t make it through the winter without some kind of magical assistance in the garden. Jungkook was the one to find the spell. We should have read til the end, you’re right, but the harvest is in two days, and without this, we’re screwed.”
“There might be another way,” Jungkook says. “But it took us two weeks to find this spell, I guarantee it’ll be another two weeks before we find another.”
You look at your two friends and they look back at you, serious as hell.
You sigh. Two weeks is time you don’t have. “What the fuck. If I want trombocino in my garden this year. I guess there’s only one way.”
What you find out is that there is absolutely and entirely more than one way to have sex with your two roomies. After the spell was set up, Jungkook had led you both to his bedroom, sitting at the edge of his mattress while you both stood with your arms crossed and feet tapping nervously. It was good to know that they were as anxious as you were.
“Kiss him,” Jungkook had finally said. “That’s as good a way to start as any.”
So you had. It was innocent at first. Like a child’s first kiss, lips pressed tightly together. But then Taehyung’s hand had drifted to your hip, and something had sparked in that touch. Maybe it was that you hadn’t been touched in so long. Maybe it was the magic. With his hand on your hip, guiding you, pressing you closer, thus it had begun.
As most things do, it had all begun a little bit awkwardly, a mess of limbs and tongues and teeth, misplaced appendages, a yelp or two, tentative hands, and unruly thoughts.
Taehyung’s hands are longer and leaner than you remember as they skate across his skin.
Jungkook’s eyes are bigger than you recall when he settles between your thighs, his hands pushing you wider, just to make room for him.
When his tongue presses against you, you try your best to silence the noises that want, desperately want, to spill out of you. But Jungkook looks up at you and says: “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
And Taehyung says: “He’s been wanting to get some real honest feedback from someone on his tongue technology. Tell him. Show him what you want.”
You’ve always been someone who doesn’t hesitate to ask—or better yet demand—what you want. But there’s something different about fucking around with your friends. A part of you that says that they haven’t seen this side of you, and that it should stay that way. It makes it hard to let the words slip easily and freely from your tongue.
Taehyung seems to notice this and settles beside you, his head propped up in his hand.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asks.
You nod.
His fingers trace your stomach.
“Do you like this?”
You nod.
“Good. Now use your words.”
“Yes.”
“What about Jungkook? Do you like what he’s doing?”
“Uh-huh—“ you hiccup, as Jungkook slips a finger in you.
“So wet,” Jungkook says. “Just for us, too.” He looks up at you and you can see the shit-eating grin that dazzles his face. You want to roll your eyes, but Taehyung’s grasp on you tightens, bringing you back to the moment.
“Focus,” he says. “Close your eyes and tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Um,” you begin. “Jungkook’s tongue, against me. And his finger. Thrusting in and out.”
“What would make it better?”
“A little slower. A little more rhythmic.”
Jungkook changes his pacing to match your request and suddenly the warmth in your belly is expanding, mimicing a feeling you know all too well: the feeling of magic growing.
“I want to hear from you too, want to hear what you’re feeling,” you say, and the words come out easier than before. Maybe it’s time that loosened you up, or Jungkook’s deft and quick fingers between your legs, spoiling your in pleasure.
Magic sparks on your fingertips, little golden lights blossoming forth as you wrap your hand around Taehyung’s cock ever so tentatively, your fingers fanning out around his girth. You pause. When he doesn’t startle, you continue.
His eyes widen as he looks down, and you’re not sure if it’s due to the blinking lights alighting his most sensitive parts or if it’s simply the sight alone of your hand wrapping around him. Either way, it tugs a little smile to your lips.
“Feels—good.”
“Tell me more.”
“It tingles.” He must feel the magic.
“Mm.”
“And—never thought I’d have you like this.”
Your eyes widen. “You—you thought of me?”
“Tell me how I couldn’t?”
You tilt your head, urging him to go on.
“Oh come on. You can’t pretend that living with someone like you, someone attractive like you, wouldn’t inspire a fantasy or two.”
“Or more,” Jungkook chimes in sheepishly.
“Really?” you say.
Taehyung nods.
“It’s easy, when you’re always half-dressed or saying something half-suggestive or just walking around like you own the damn place,” Jungkook says.
“I do own the damn place.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You can’t blame us,” Taehyung cuts in.
“Or maybe you should,” Jungkook adds, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe you should blame us. And punish us.”
You laugh.
“Why don’t we talk about that more later, sweetheart?” Taehyung gives Jungkook a warning look. Not now, you read between their shared gaze. “Sometime when you don’t have my dick in your hand. Why don’t you give it a taste, huh? Why don’t you put it between those sweet lips of yours?”
You nod and give the head of his cock a slow lick, and blink in surprise.
“It’s… sweet?”
“A little charm never did no harm,” Taehyung chuckles.
You suck the head of him between your lips, then lap greedily at his cock, before sliding down the length of it. “Mmm,” you groan around him, and you fall in love with the way he shudders beneath your touch, his hands clenching and unclenching, searching for control. You want to make him do that again.
The purpose of sex magic is pleasure, and ultimately, orgasm. Through the former is less important in terms of duration and intensity, the later is the ultimate aim of the practice: orgasm is the catalyst, the center of the magic. Where creation bursts, where energy is released.
However, Jungkook seems much more concerned with the former, spending a good amount of time teasing you, suckling at your lower lips, building you into an absolute frenzy, until you stop him, hand tangled in his hair and ask him why.
“If this is only gonna happen once, I wanna make sure you remember it,” he tells you.
You wonder if it has to happen only once. If maybe in your large and overflowing grimoire, you might find another necessary spell that requires your two handsome roommates naked and wrapped up around and inside of you. You wonder if you should say as much, but Jungkook’s tongue against your clit soon washes all thoughts but more from your mind.
You aren’t prepared for the stretch when Taehyung pushes into you.
“God—fuck—“
“Be careful what you curse,” Taehyung warns, though his voice is strained with pleasure. “Shit, you’re so warm.”
You’re on on your hands and knees while Jungkook looks on from the head of the bed, draped over the pillows and looking a little worn out. But his cock strains against his stomach, the head dark and dripping. And you can’t take your eyes off it. There’s something about this moment of restraint, his whole body thrumming with desire while he sits so still, dark yearning swimming in his eyes, that makes you want him all the more.
Once Taehyung is seated firmly inside you, you motion for Jungkook to come to you. “Jungkook,” you call, but his name turns into a moan as Taehyung begins thrusting into you. “Want you closer.”
Jungkook’s face lights up.
“You want me closer?” he asks, hope lighting in his eyes.
“P-puhlease.”
In an awkward maneuverment of limbs, Jungkook slips beneath you, and Taehyung takes a place above your back. It’s an intimate positioning, what you have here, your body shifting against Jungkook’s as Taehyung ruts into you from behind. You slip a hand between your bodies and take Jungkook in your hand.
“Wish you were inside me too,” you say.
“Can I fit?”
He does fit.
“This is how it’s supposed to be done,” Taehyung grunts as he presses into you. And you wonder if he’s talking about the magic or sex in general or the three of you. He doesn’t say any more, just grunts in pleasure, and you wonder if he might mean all of it.
With one man beneath you and one man behind you, you slowly grind together, hips rotating in synchronicity. There’s something more personal, more intimate about this slow movement of pleasure. It feels dangerous. But god, if this is sin, you’re a sinner.
Their cocks move against each other, against you, within you. The pleasure that builds from this is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Breaths come in pants, moans spill out like little songs, curses and pleas like sugar. You drink it up, and become drunk on it all.
At times, one of them will twitch, or thrust, like the magic, like the pleasure, ruts through them to. These movements force the breath from your lungs and spark something deep within you.
Jungkook’s hands come to your waist at the same moment that Taehyung’s do. At first they startle, still against you. But soon their fingers are intertwining and they begin again, finding a rhythm, moving your hips against them to a shared will.
It’s a slow, deadly grind. Heat sears in your abdomen. Your mind empties of everything except for them, the pleasure soaring in your limbs, the feeling of being held between two bodies that want you.
As you speed towards your orgasm, you try to hold it off. You fight to hold it off, squeezing your eyes shut, willing yourself to think of anything but how good you feel.
They notice this. Notice the tension that solidifies in your body. “Just let go.” Jungkook leans to you to whisper it in your ear, hands tracing over your body, like he’s trying to tease it out of you. “Come for me.”
Taehyung’s hands wrap around you, one at your sternum, another hand winding around your neck. He pulls you up, so your back is flush against him as you continue to ride them both.
“Do what he says.” His voice is deep in your ear.
Eyes locked on Jungkook, you unravel like a ball of yarn, rolled across the floor. Your limbs collapse, you fall forward, clinging onto Jungkook. Their names spill from your lips as you clench around both of them.
The warmth that fills you is unlike any other orgasm you’ve had before. It tingles with vibrancy, with vigor, and you know it’s the magic winding through you. There’s a sense that you have, a kind of distant knowing, that that same warmth is tangled in their abdomens as well. Your magic reaches for theirs, spinning webs and knots of golden light.
Taehyung follows you first, and Jungkook soon after. Their cries, their moans, your name—you’ve never heard anything like it. For a moment, you think the room is brighter, the heat from the fire hotter, the flames licking out into the room, towards you, towards your lovers tangled in the bed.
Untangled and sprawled across the bed, silence settles over you, a thousand questions dangling in the air and in the spaces where your limbs are still connected—a leg thrown over someone’s thigh, an arm across another’s chest. And then, like liquid gold, laughter bubbles between you. You share knowing looks as the laughter jolts through you, shaking your bodies with mirth.
“Do you think it worked?” you gasp against your own breath.
“You better have the best most prize-winning trombocinos in the goddamn fucking world,” Jungkook says, when the laughter breaks enough for him to get a word in. His breath still comes in pants.
You’re painted in them, in their sweat, in their come. For a moment you feel like you’re theirs. And that feeling sparks a second feeling, one that twists in your gut and yearns.
“Should we try it once more, just to make sure the spell sticks?” you ask quietly. “Just in case.”
“Just in case. Yeah,” Taehyung affirms.