#slightly spicy under the cut but more angst and hurt/comfort than smut

[sokkastyles]

Finally. They'd been in meetings all day. Zuko had this unbelievably sexy habit of biting his lower lip when he was concentrating on something, and he'd had to do a lot of concentrating today. Katara, sitting across the long table in the council chamber, had not concentrated on much else.

But now they were alone at last. Zuko shrugged out of the pointy firelord shoulder piece, leaving his robes tousled in his haste to rid himself of it. Katara slipped off the heavy ornamental furs which she wore as a status symbol, but were much too warm for Fire Nation weather. Especially given her...current condition. Zuko pulled her to him, and she slid a hand up to undo his topknot, loving the feeling of running her fingers through his silky black hair.

They had loved each other for years, each telling themselves that it was strictly platonic, until it wasn't. Katara's appreciation for his body - she had always known that Zuko was objectively attractive - now lent itself to curious exploration that he matched with an equal hunger for her. Katara found lately that she relished in Zuko's hair. She'd been thinking about it all day, almost as much as that lip...

They kissed, and Katara broke the kiss long enough so that she could bite playfully at Zuko's lower lip, running her tongue over the place where her teeth had been. Zuko made a small sound of pleasure in response, and Katara grazed his lip again with her teeth, trying to draw out more from him, her mouth smiling against his.

His hands were under her top, fingers cupping her breasts. Zuko's thumb grazed over a nipple and Katara gasped. Determined to make him moan, she lowered her mouth and began to suckle at his jaw, satisfied when he shivered against her.

Lightly dragging her teeth along his unblemished side, she could tell that Zuko was losing focus, his hands listless under the fabric of her clothes. She'd backed him against the wall and pulled his head down with her hand still entangled in his hair so that she could catch his earlobe between her teeth, and got the reaction she wanted.

She had thought of this all day, of unraveling him, but she wasn't done yet. Katara pulled Zuko's head to one side and began to kiss along the other side of his jaw, wanting to see if she would get a similar reaction.

Zuko's body stiffened abruptly as she began to kiss his left side. He didn't push her away or pull his head up, letting her do what she wanted, but she could tell this time that letting her was what it was.

She pulled back. "I thought you liked this," she said, a little breathlessly.

"I...I do," Zuko said quickly. "Keep going." He pulled his hands away from her, leaving her suddenly cold, and fumbled at the hem at his waist, bringing her hand down to feel how hard he was. "See?" He laughed.

But something had changed in the way he was breathing, the stiffness of his reactions.

"Please," he said, when she hesitated. His voice was pleading, but not with pleasure. His body was so tense. She tried to get him to relax by running her hands down his sides, and he leaned back against the wall again, urging her to keep kissing him. She leaned close to his scarred ear and -

This time he jerked his head away so violently that he almost hit the back of his head against the wall.

"Sorry," he said, trying for lightness and bending down to try to kiss her again.

She pulled away from him. "We can't do this. Not like this. Not when you're like this."

"Katara, I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. He was trembling, now, trying to hide it with clenched fists.

"Usually I can just...get through it," he said, sighing and sitting down on the bed.

It was the scar, she realized abruptly, wondering why she hadn't noticed before.

"I don't want you to get through it for my sake," she said, sitting down on the bed next to him, making sure she sat on his right side and not his left. "I want you to tell me when you're uncomfortable."

"It's not that I'm uncomfortable!" He said, hurriedly. "I'm comfortable, I want, I mean...it's just that sometimes when I'm touched there it..." Zuko put his face in his hands, pushing fingers through his bangs. "It only happens sometimes." His voice became smaller, then. "I'm such an idiot."

"You're not, okay?" She fixed him with her gaze, and he looked at her like he didn't really believe what she was saying, but he didn't look away or contradict her, either. "I want you to tell me if something bothers you, even if it seems stupid."

He looked at her for a long time, as if considering. "Can we just...lie down for a little while?"

"Yeah," she said.

Zuko shifted so that he could lay on his left side, facing away from her. He was still shaking a little, but he leaned into her when she wrapped around his back, muscles beginning to relax. Soon his breathing became slow and easy, his heart rate calming to a steady beat, and his body warm against her, skin against skin.

[junghelioseok]

delicate.

↳ some say three’s a crowd.

◇ hoseok x reader x jungkook ◇ smut | angst? | poly!au ◇ 5.1k [1/1]

alternatively: new relationships are hard, but you and hoseok are determined to make sure that jungkook knows that he belongs with both of you.

notes: i guess i have a poly!junghope mini series now? thanks a lot, @bendthekneetobangtan!!! this took forever to write and made my head hurt, but i think i’ve finally reached a point where i feel okay about it and that’s just gonna have to be good enough for now! 

⇢ based on the relationship in my fic, tryst, which you can find in my masterlist under the series name pomegranate. 

warnings: minimal editing on my part (🤷🏻‍♀️), a wee bit of angst, insecure!kook (he’s a shy bub really), oral (male and female receiving), dom!hobi, sub!kook, a lil cumplay, threesome (mfm, mmf!!!)

There are few things in life that you love more than arriving home after a long day of work. Especially when you open the front door to find your boyfriend prancing around the kitchen, belting out an over-the-top rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” while wearing a flowery pink apron that clashes horribly with his cherry red hair. He’s oblivious to the world around him, completely unaware of your presence as you step inside the house, and when he raises his spatula like a microphone, you almost laugh out loud. It’s absurd and ridiculous and he’s more than a little off-key, but your heart still swells with warmth at the sight, all thoughts of the wintry air outside forgotten.

“Hi, Hobi,” you call, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music. Your boyfriend whirls at the noise, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Babe!” Hoseok exclaims, turning the music on his phone down before waving his spatula happily in greeting. “You’re finally home! How was your day?”

You shrug tiredly, allowing him to pull you into a hug. “It was fine. What about yours?”

Hoseok hums. “Pretty good. Taught a few classes at the studio this morning. Jimin agreed to take the rest of the afternoon and evening ones, so I owe him big time.” His chest rumbles with laughter. “Worth it, though. I’ve missed you.”

“Did you?” you tease. “Or are you just excited to see him?”

He laughs. “Why not both?”

You grin. Tugging him down, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth, giggling when he tries to deepen the kiss. “Later,” you promise. “Shouldn’t you be checking on our dinner?”

Hoseok lets out an affronted huff. “Shouldn’t you come help me?”

“Shouldn’t you let me change first?” you retort, tugging playfully on the hem of his flowery apron.

That earns you another laugh, high and bright. “Go on, then,” he says. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long!”

With that, Hoseok returns to the kitchen, humming under his breath. You make your way to your shared bedroom, shucking off your coat and fishing a loose tee and shorts out of the dresser. Changing quickly, you head into the kitchen to join your boyfriend, peering around him curiously to see what’s on the stove.

“That smells good,” you murmur, winding your arms around his waist from behind.

Hoseok turns in your embrace and lifts a spoonful of food to your mouth. “I think it’s missing something, though. What do you think?”

“Maybe some more pepper?” you suggest, accepting the bite and chewing thoughtfully. “Or something spicy. Cayenne? Chili powder?”

He hums and grabs a bottle off the spice rack, adding a few dashes before giving it a quick stir and extending another heaping spoonful toward you. “Now?”

“Perfect.”

Satisfied, Hoseok returns to stirring the pot. You take up residence at the counter beside him, gathering up the array of washed vegetables in the sink and placing them on a cutting board. “How do you want these cut? Sliced? Diced?”

Hoseok glances up briefly, pursing his lips. “Diced,” he decides after a few seconds’ consideration. “Thanks, babe.”

“Sure thing.”

It’s comfortable, cooking with your boyfriend like this. After three years of dating and nearly two years of living together, the two of you work seamlessly in the kitchen. It’s a small, narrow space, but you’ve learned to adapt. Hoseok brings you a bowl to put the vegetables in before you even think to ask, and when you approach him to add them to the pot, he steps aside without even needing to look.

Hoseok is in the middle of seasoning the meat when the doorbell chimes. He almost drops the salt shaker at the sudden noise, and you giggle as you watch him fumble with the little porcelain Snoopy figurine. “Don’t drop Woodstock too,” you tease as you head for the entryway, earning a playful scowl from your scaredy-cat of a boyfriend.

When you swing open the front door, you are greeted immediately by a flurry of snow—a few fat flakes settling on your nose and cheeks. Brushing them away, you turn your attention instead to the young man standing on your doorstep, his shoulders dusted with white. He’s staring down at his phone, forehead creased, but straightens up with wide eyes when you clear your throat. “Oh! H-hi.”

You grin. “Hey, Jungkook. You wanna come in, or are you planning on staring at your phone some more?”

His cheeks flush. Sheepishly, he tucks his phone into his pocket and steps inside, toeing off his black Timberlands when he spots the shoe rack leaning against the wall. You take his coat, hanging it up neatly in the closet, and when he unwinds his scarf from his neck you hang that as well, returning his murmur of thanks with a smile and a squeeze of his hand. His answering smile is shy and hesitant, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he twines his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing along your knuckles and sending warmth bubbling up in your chest.

Hoseok chooses that moment to poke his head out from the kitchen, his face splitting into a grin when he sees the two of you approaching hand-in-hand. “Hey, Kookie! You’re early!”

Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Oh, god. Sorry.” His gaze darts down to the watch on his wrist, and you see his eyes widen even more when he realizes that he’s arrived nearly twenty minutes before the scheduled time. “I must’ve—well, I definitely overestimated how long it would take to get here.”

Hoseok waves off the apology, his face melting into laughter. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll be done here in a few, if you wanna take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” you ask, releasing Jungkook’s hand so you can inch around Hoseok to get to the cup cabinet. “We have wine, Sprite, milk, water… and that’s it.”

“Water is fine,” Jungkook says, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Filling two glasses, you are about to hand one over when the soft yellow glow of the oven light catches your attention. “Hey, Hobi?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “What’s in the oven?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Hoseok replies nonchalantly.

You blink. “Chocolate chip cookies?”

“Yeah.”

“You made cookies. Cookies.”

The red-haired man chortles, turning around to wind his arms around your waist. “Don’t believe me? See for yourself.”

Disbelievingly, you peer into the oven, eyes widening when you see a baking tray lined neatly with balls of dough. They are just beginning to brown at the edges, and upon opening the oven door, the smell of warm vanilla immediately fills your nostrils.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out,” Hoseok points out, laying his hand atop yours and urging you to shut the oven. “Do you want raw cookie dough? Haven’t you heard of salmonella?”

“Are you kidding? I always want cookie dough,” you reply with a laugh. “Besides, these are basically done. Where’s the oven mitt?”

Hoseok grabs it off the counter and hands it over. Carefully, you put it on and pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, inhaling deeply as the delicious smell wafts over you. Hoseok moves an empty pan off the stove so you can put the tray down, and snorts out a laugh when you almost drop it.

“It was hot!” you whine, smacking his shoulder with your mittened hand. Hoseok pretends to stumble back, clutching his arm as if mortally wounded, and you giggle as his back hits the counter. Pulling off the oven mitt, you throw it at him playfully. It bounces off his chest and falls to the floor, and Hoseok follows its downward trajectory before looking back up at you. “Now you’ve done it,” he growls, raising his hands in mock threat, his fingers hooked like claws, and you shriek when he bounds across the tiny kitchen in a single step and begins tickling you. “Hobi! Haa—oh my god, I can’t—”

Hoseok, however, is merciless. He clutches onto your sides as you try to wriggle out of his grasp, holding on until you are reduced into a mess of flailing laughter, still uselessly trying to bat him away. “Give up yet?”

“Fine!” you gasp between giggles, trying to get some air back into your lungs. “You win!”

Chortling, Hoseok releases you, fixing your shirt where it had ridden up during his attack. “Don’t I always?”

You roll your eyes. Opening your mouth, you are about to respond when a sudden movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. In the frenzy, you’d almost completely forgotten about your guest.

“Jungkook?”

The dark-haired young man freezes mid-step and turns back around sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I should go—you probably don’t even want me here, and it’s getting late anyway…so I should just go. I’ll leave. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait—you don’t think we want you here?” you ask in disbelief. “Jungkook, I… why would you think that?”

The dark-haired young man shuffles his feet and gestures around vaguely. “It’s just that you—I mean, you have all of this, and I’m just—” He sighs, dejected. “It’s weird. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. Like I’m intruding, or something.”

Your heart sinks at his honest admission. Slowly, you take a step forward, taking his hand in yours and giving it a soft squeeze. “I understand,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. Your relationship with Hoseok carries a certain air of comfortable ease that can only be attained with time. And considering how Jungkook had only come into your life a mere three weeks ago, well, you want to kick yourself for your carelessness. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “This can’t be easy for you. But we like you, Jungkook. We like you a lot.”

Jungkook exhales shakily, gnawing on his bottom lip. You watch as his gaze flickers over to Hoseok, who is slowly making his way over, coming to a stop a few feet short of where you are standing. “We want you to be here, Jungkook,” he assures softly. “Wouldn’t have invited you over if we didn’t.”

You nod in agreement, exchanging a glance with your red-haired boyfriend before turning back to Jungkook. You can practically see the gears whirring in his head as he considers your words, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But then again, maybe words alone aren’t enough. He hasn’t tried to pull his hand away from yours yet, and you take that as a good sign. Slowly, you run your thumb along his knuckles before tracing a translucent blue vein up to his wrist. And when he sucks in a soft breath, brown eyes flickering down to meet yours, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

To your surprise—and delight—he doesn’t move away. His fingers tighten around yours as if in silent encouragement, and you are more than happy to oblige. Carefully, you press him backward until he’s seated on the couch again. You lay a hand on his denim-clad thigh, and, upon encountering no resistance, shift until you are settled firmly in his lap with your legs on either side of his muscular thighs.

“Is this okay?” you ask, squeezing his hand.

He swallows, his throat bobbing harshly. “Y-yeah. It is.”

You smile. Slowly, you drift closer until your noses are almost brushing, glancing up at his eyes for any signs of hesitance or discomfort. Finding none, you press closer still. You can hear his breath coming in soft pants and feel the warmth of each exhale against your cheeks, feverish and uneven. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you close the distance between your lips.

He tastes like cinnamon—sweet, yet with a hint of sharpness. His movements are tentative but firm, and by the time you finally pull away for air, his pupils are blown out and blacker than the night. Emboldened, you lean in again to press your lips to his jaw, kissing a trail down to the hollow of his collarbones and sucking lightly at the delicate skin. Your hands smooth along the taut ridges of his abdomen, and when his muscles tense, you can’t help the smile that settles on your face.

“Still okay?” you murmur softly, letting your fingertips drift down to his belt buckle.

His gaze flits down to your hands before meeting yours again. “Yeah. Still okay.”

“Good.”

Jungkook watches raptly as you unbuckle his belt, working the leather free so that you can pop the button of his jeans. His breath hitches when you brush your thumb along the growing bulge in his pants, and anticipation flares up in your belly when you feel how hot and heavy he is even through the worn denim. Slowly, you lift yourself off his lap, lowering yourself down to the floor and urging him to spread his legs so you can situate yourself between them. Your knees are digging into the carpet and your back is against the edge of the coffee table, but you can’t even bright yourself to care because Jungkook is gazing down at you with darkened eyes, completely entranced by the way your hands smooth up his thighs and to his waistband. Obediently, he lifts his hips so that you can tug his jeans down, and lets out a quiet hiss when his cock finally springs free.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, relishing the flush that overtakes his cheeks at your remark. He isn’t fully hard yet, but grows rapidly underneath your fingertips as you reach out and give him a few languid strokes. And when you lean forward to give the tip a kittenish lick, he lets out a low, cavernous groan that sends heat straight to your core.

Emboldened, you take the head of his cock between your lips, sucking lightly before dipping your tongue into the slit at the tip. Jungkook’s hips stutter, sending his dick deeper into the warmth of your mouth, and you indulge him by flattening your tongue and sinking down until he’s reached the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck—” Jungkook rasps, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. His thighs tense up as you slide your tongue along the vein running along the underside of his cock, his fingers twitching toward your head but stopping just shy of tangling in your hair. Instead, he finds the swell of your cheek, stroking along the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. “Jesus, {Name}.”

Pride wells up in your chest when you hear the desperation lacing his voice. Glancing up through your lashes, you meet his gaze, his eyes dark and hooded and staring down at you with wonder. Deliberately, you let your hand slide up his thigh, savoring the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch. Reaching his hips, you trace his pelvic bones gently before dipping beneath the hem of his shirt and pushing it up. Jungkook moans when you run your fingers along the dips and ridges of his taut stomach, and you, determined to ruin him even more, pull off of his cock only to flatten your tongue and lick a stripe along the vein on the underside, all the way from the base to the tip. Then you envelop him back into your mouth, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you can swallow around him.

Jungkook’s head falls back with a hoarse groan. “Fuck. Fuck, that—that feels so good—”

“Don’t let him come, princess.”

Hoseok’s voice suddenly sounds from your right. Warm fingers trail down your spine, and you shiver when you feel him kneel down beside you, pushing the collar of your shirt aside and pressing his lips to your exposed shoulder.

“Stand up,” he orders softly. His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and immediately you are releasing Jungkook’s cock, watching it flop against his stomach as you clamber to your feet.

Jungkook blinks dazedly. You can see the unspoken questions swimming in his eyes—confusion and disappointment written across his face at your sudden abandonment. But it’s quickly replaced by heady anticipation, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as Hoseok makes himself comfortable on the coffee table.

“Come here, princess,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. One hand settles on your hip as you sit down, squeezing gently before pushing the thin material of your shirt up. “And this—I think it’s time we got this off. What do you think, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook nods slowly, too busy drinking in every inch of your newly exposed skin to give Hoseok a proper answer. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, though, chuckling softly as he tugs your shirt over your head. His hands return once he’s tossed it away, cupping your breasts and skimming his thumbs across your nipples until they pebble under his touch. Sighing, you let your body relax into his embrace, electricity dancing up your spine when laughter rumbles through his chest once more.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Hoseok breathes against your ear. “But I bet Jungkook’s cock will feel even better, stretching you open and filling you up. Don’t you think so?”

You nod, shivering when Hoseok’s hands trail south, sliding down your stomach and coming to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “Stand up for me,” he commands, tugging the material down along with your panties to pool at your feet. Experimentally, Hoseok slides his hand between your legs, and when he pulls away, his fingers are glistening.

“Drenched,” he remarks, so casually he may as well have been talking about the weather. Deliberately, he spreads his fingers apart, admiring the way your juices string between them before letting his tongue dart out for a taste. “And so fucking sweet. You always taste so good, princess. Why don’t you let Jungkookie get a taste too?”

In an instant, you find yourself pulled down onto Hoseok’s lap again, your legs forcibly spread wide. The exposure is enough to have your cheeks flushing with warmth, but your embarrassment is nothing compared to Jungkook’s—his desire for you warring with his lingering hesitance and culminating in a rosy blush that blossoms across his cheeks and stays there, even as he allows Hoseok to grab his hand and tug him until he’s kneeling between your spread thighs. Dark, beseeching doe eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. His hand, still twined with Hoseok’s, is warm on your knee.

Gently, you reach out, twining your fingers until all three of your hands are interlocked. Jungkook squeezes yours, and you squeeze back.

And then he’s leaning forward, his soft lips closing around your clit. He lavishes the sensitive nub with attention—flicking at it with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently, and then harder when that doesn’t garner an immediate reaction. The sudden burst of stimulation has your mouth falling open in a moan, and you feel his mouth curl up into a satisfied smile at the sound.

Hoseok chooses that moment to mold his hands around your breasts again, tugging at your nipples before rolling them between his fingers. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, your chest heaving, and he presses his lips to your cheek before seeking out your mouth, kissing you with a fervor that leaves you desperate for more.

Something is coiling in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter like a spring. Your thighs clench around Jungkook’s head, his hair tickling your skin, but he’s quick to spread you back open and dive in with renewed vigor. He alternates between licking long stripes along your entrance and circling your clit with his tongue, and when he suddenly slips a finger inside, you gasp and break away from Hoseok.

“Jungkook!”

“Wanna make you come,” he says, pulling away from your pussy just long enough to mumble the words. Then he’s sucked your clit back into his mouth, adding a second finger and curling them upward with each thrust. You keen out his name again, threading your fingers into his hair. Your body tenses.

And then you’re unraveling, clenching so tightly around Jungkook’s fingers that he’s forced to stop his movements entirely. Instead, he flattens his tongue and lets you grind against him, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you’re falling limp in Hoseok’s arms, completely and utterly breathless.

It takes you a few long moments to realize that Hoseok is speaking again—and to you, nonetheless. “How are you feeling, princess? Think you can take Jungkook’s cock now?”

The thought alone has you salivating. “Yes,” you breathe, watching the dark-haired man straighten up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Why don’t you lay down on the couch, then?” Hoseok suggests, nudging you forward and giving your ass a playful smack. He relaxes back onto the coffee table as you make yourself comfortable on the soft cushions, freeing his hardening dick from his jeans with one hand. “I could use a show,” he adds with a wink.

Jungkook glances from you to Hoseok, and then back to you again. Uncertainty begins to overtake his expression, but you grab his hand and pull him down onto the couch beside you before he can say anything. “I want your cock so bad, Jungkook,” you murmur, reaching out and running your thumb over the head of his erection, slick and hot. “Please.”

“Christ,” Jungkook rasps, his hips stuttering and his eyes darkening to obsidian as he glances at your hand wrapped around him. “You can have it, baby. You can have anything you want.”

You aren’t sure who leans in first, but the next thing you know, you’re kissing. It’s sloppier than the first time, all tongues and teeth as he clambers over your body and cages you against the couch cushions with an arm on either side of your head. You can feel his cock against your thigh, hot as a brand against your bare skin, and the reminder of what’s to come has you murmuring his name like a prayer. Your fingers tangle in the silky hair at his nape, and when he groans and presses himself flush against your body, you smooth your hands across his shoulders and down his muscular back.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, tugging at the soft material of his collared button-up. “Shirt. Take it off.”

He obliges, fumbling with the buttons for a moment too long before you decide to help him, starting with the bottommost buttons while he starts at the top. In seconds, his shirt is discarded and forgotten, joining the ever-growing pile of clothing scattered around the room as you pull him back in for another kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back, and Jungkook must sense your desperation because he pulls back with a soft laugh, reaching down to palm his cock. He lines himself up and pushes inside, and you keen as he nestles deep inside your core.

“God,” you warble, clutching helplessly at his shoulders as he rolls his hips. The hot, heavy drag of his cock along your walls is enough to send all rational thought flying out of your head, your body reveling in the way he pulls back only to ram even deeper. “Your cock feels so good,” you gasp, nails raking across his back when he picks up his pace. “So, so good. Fuck, Jungkook, oh my god—”

Jungkook grunts, his grip on your waist tightening. You can see sweat beginning to line his temples, matting down the hair at his nape and around his ears. His breath is coming quicker now—but he’s not the only one. You are short on air yourself, and when you glance over at Hoseok, you see that he isn’t faring much better, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as he strokes himself.

“Jungkook,” the older man begins, his voice thick. “Can you handle me joining in?”

The younger man’s rhythm falters slightly, his throat bobbing as he nods slowly in assent. Hoseok stands up, shucking off his jeans, and you vaguely hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper before he lets the denim fall to the ground. Carefully, he kneels behind Jungkook, whose breath hitches when Hoseok’s hands trail down his spine. His dick is still inside you, but his movements stop entirely as Hoseok prepares him.

The sound that leaves Jungkook’s lips when Hoseok finally slides home is nothing short of sinful. Caught somewhere between a low whimper and a sharp gasp, it catches in his throat and jolts his entire body forward, sending his cock even deeper inside you.

“Oh, fuck.” Your fingers fly up to clutch at his shoulders, nails digging crescents into the skin when he thrusts forward involuntarily. His head falls forward onto your shoulder, his nose buried in your clavicle, and for a few moments, there is only the sound of Jungkook’s ragged breathing. You know from past conversations that the younger man has never done anything like this before, and both you and Hoseok had promised to take it slow. Hoseok squeezes his hip gently, giving him ample time to adjust to being pinioned between the two of you, and you rub along his tense shoulders, massaging the muscles until you feel him relax.

It isn’t long before Jungkook is raising his head, sweat-dampened hair falling into his eyes. Gingerly, he rolls his hips, his mouth falling open when he sinks back into your aching heat. Your back arches at the surge of fullness, savoring the way his heavy cock drags along your walls with every thrust. He works up a gradual rhythm, his thumb finding its way to circle your clit, and you soon find that the familiar coil in your tummy is beginning to tighten once more.

When Jungkook’s pace stutters slightly, you know that Hoseok has started up his own rhythm, timing his thrusts perfectly to drive the younger man even deeper inside you. Words are long forgotten—the room filling with groans and whimpers and the obscene sound of skin against skin. It’s the sound of three becoming one—you can no longer tell where your body ends and theirs begin—and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Jungkook reaches his high first, his fingers digging into you waist as he floods you with spurts of creamy warmth. He collapses with a low groan, his breath warm and sticky against the crook of your neck, and you laughingly crane your head so you can press a kiss to his temple. He nestles closer, seeking out your lips like a flower in the sun, and it’s only once he’s licking lazily into your mouth that he suddenly freezes.

“Wait, y-you didn’t come,” he stammers, eyes wide with alarm as he pulls away to glance between you and Hoseok. “And neither did you… oh, fuck, I—”

You can’t help it—you giggle. “Baby, I feel amazing,” you tell him, stroking his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to the little scar that sits high on his cheekbone. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. Besides, I already came once on your tongue, remember?”

“Plus,” Hoseok adds, “now I get to finish her off. Bet it won’t take much, right, princess?” Experimentally, he presses his thumb into your clit, huffing out a satisfied chuckle when you jolt at the pressure. “Thought so.” Turning to Jungkook, he gestures for the younger man to sit back. As soon as he’s out of the way, Hoseok shifts until he’s kneeling between your spread legs. Jungkook’s cum is beginning to dribble out of your ravaged pussy, slicking along your thighs, but Hoseok is quick to gather some onto his fingers and push it back inside.

Your head falls back as he sinks a third finger inside you, curling them upward until he’s found the spot that’s sure to send you into oblivion. He strokes his cock in time with his thrusts, his thumb coming up to rub messily at your clit, and it isn’t long before you’re tightening around his fingers, your hips bucking against his hand as the coil in your tummy snaps. A wave of pleasure crashes over you, rendering you utterly boneless beneath him.

“Where… where do you want me?” Hoseok grunts as he quickens his pace, his thumb gliding over the swollen head of his cock. His jaw is tense and his teeth are gritted, and you know that he’s getting dangerously close to his own high.

“Doesn’t matter,” you tell him breathlessly, reaching for his free hand and interlacing your fingers. “I want you everywhere. I want you all over me.”

Hoseok groans at your incendiary words, his throat bobbing harshly. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, squeezing your hand. And then he’s coming, thick ropes of white spilling onto your stomach and thighs.

For a while, everything is still. Hoseok falls lax against the backrest beside Jungkook, taking the younger man’s hand in his free one. You cannot find the energy to sit up, so you remain sprawled on the other end of the couch. Somehow, your feet end up in Hoseok��s lap.

At some point, Jungkook stands up and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a damp paper towel. He kneels down beside you, wiping at your sticky skin with such tenderness that your heart swells in your chest. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” you whisper, smiling tiredly up at him.

Jungkook smiles back, rewarding you with a flash of his adorably prominent teeth. “Me too.”

///

Dinner is cold, but that’s okay.

The meal passes quickly in a flurry of conversation and laughter, and you and Hoseok opt to do the dishes while Jungkook wipes down the dining table.

“So, how do you think it went?” you ask, peering at the dark-haired man from out of the corner of your eye. He’s humming softly to himself while he works, the veins in his arms bulging as he works on a particularly stubborn speck of food.

Hoseok follows the direction of your gaze, fiddling idly with a half-washed bowl. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “He was ready to leave at the beginning of the night. That’s not a good sign.”

“But he didn’t,” you point out. “He stayed.”

The red-haired man nods. “Yeah. Tonight he did. But who knows what will happen later?” He pauses, studying his soapy sponge carefully before speaking again, this time in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. “You remember how Taehyung didn’t work out.”

You nod.”Yeah. I remember.” Your gaze skitters over to the young man in the dining room again, who is now singing under his breath. “But I think Jungkook will.”