#that won’t happen bc it’s my first time writing smut and it’s gonna be SO wonky but 😭 IDGAF!

[crybaby-bkg]

I’m writing a long fic about being a singer in a speakeasy that’s always visited by mafia bkg and I am struggling SO BADDDD trying to figure out an ending. everything I come up with feels so unnecessary and SCHEWPID and it’s annoying omg I’ve been actively writing it for over a month and it never takes me this long to finish fics but GODDAMN!!!!!!! why is this so hard I’m gonna cry

[gothsuguru]

listen since i can’t write any of my halloween stories for october (sad. heartbreaking. but i will save them.) i really just need to do this singular kinktober post 😭 and it’s not even horror related its just pure smut BUT HOPEFULLY THAT COUNTS… i just love the layout for it like it has to be my best layout ever even i gagged myself

[hoseoksluna]

MURK | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 16.9k

summary: one encounter with jungkook heals you enough to mend your boyfriend's heart.

pinterest board: murk

warnings: anxiety attack, different forms of self-harm and self-sabotage, mental agony, mutual masturbation, toying with polyamory, foreshadowing the use of a sex toy, alcohol consumption, seduction, provocation, teasing, oc wears pretty lingerie, cuckold kink, guided female masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, nipple play, clit rubbing, ass play, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, facial, cum eating

note: oh my god, this was supposed to have three parts, but it was getting way too long and i decided to prolong the series. i'm not gonna even mention how many parts this series is gonna have bc my characters surprise me every time i finish writing so... they're the boss of me. ANYWAYS, pls i am so proud of this work of mine and i can't wait for you all to read it. pls, spam my inbox anonymously! i need to hear your thoughts, so pretty please, let me know everything you're feeling, hating, expecting etc. i'm absolutely obsessed with oc, jk and yoongi. ALSO, let me know what team you are. team yoongi or team jk? i'll put a poll in the final part if i remember. hehe ENJOY READING ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Sensing Yoongi’s emotions, the clouds pull in, shunning the sunlight and you feel it. You feel it, enormously. 

The wind becomes violent. Curtains of sheer gray slap against the windows, undulating with such might that you sense its urgency. You stare at it in deep thought, naked and barren—void of any dignity, void of any rightness of feelings. A hole of blackness takes form in the middle of your chest, where the memory of Yoongi exiting the room hastily plays on a loop and there’s a faint, feeble hand in you, one of that urgency, that reaches for him, while the other remains slack at your side, caressing your own skin, pacifying your selfishness, your hypnosis—dragging you away from the side you had unwittingly and so unrightfully chosen. 

And while you want to mend what you’ve caused in your relationship, the only side you want to take at the moment is your own. The defeat pains you still, but what aches even more is the feeble wish there wasn’t any defeat at all. Not on Yoongi’s face, not on yours. 

You don’t regret what you’ve done. You don’t want to regret anything anymore, which is why you’re still standing dressed in your femininity as Jungkook apprehensively rakes his hands through his hair on the bed. You care very little for it because a bigger part of you is concerned about the well-being of your boyfriend. You wonder what he’s up to downstairs. Is he pacing? Is he busying himself from the onrush of his negative emotions, not able to stand the sight of you? You’d run to him, but there’s a bigger matter at hand. You have to fix your mind first. You have to cleanse yourself of the mess and the chaos, sort out the darkness so the light pours in. 

The light that will guide you to make the right decisions at last. The light that will burst your ugliness to smithereens, smother you with its heat so the hypnosis won’t penetrate it again. The light that should, ultimately, help Yoongi, help your relationship—fix its face, soothe out the overbearing tension. 

You’re aware Jungkook put you under a spell, now that the wind and Yoongi’s coldness has sobered you up. Turned you against him. Made you forget about him. You give zero fucks about how he does it time and time again. What you will concentrate on in the present time is making sure it won’t happen again. How? You’ll figure it out. Somehow. 

You don’t want any of the males to regard you as of now—and you wish you were alone, you wish you could escape like Yoongi did. That thought leads you, conspicuously, to begin to understand the reason behind his actions, but you don’t allow it to unfold in you. Not yet. You turn around to look at Jungkook. 

Elbows propped on his thighs, he’s digging a hole into the hardwood floors with the blackness of his irises. A small mole kisses the side of his ribs, the only visible part of his body that is otherwise clouded in shadows. You take your eyes away from that sight, not trusting yourself, hating yourself for naturally looking at that intimate part of him. Upon the sound of your movement, Jungkook flicks his eyes towards your form. You dislike everything about his attentiveness to you with every fiber of the betrayal that your body has become. 

His face is squished in his hands. He doesn’t look at your bareness. Merely studies the emotions written on your face. Like the healer he is, you know he wants to find something, anything to latch himself onto. And while you once obsessed over this need of his to mend, to make right, you despise it now. In spite of it, while you swallow down your distaste for it, your hand yearns to pet him like the wounded puppy he is, because you know that the tumultuous darkness both men are facing is of your origin, of your doing.

You keep it clenched in a tight fist. 

You don’t want to touch him anymore. You don’t want to touch any of them. Don’t want to cause any more harm than you already have with your desires. 

Jungkook startles when you make your way towards your travel bag. You hide your breasts beneath your forearm, not wished to be seen, not wishing to be vulnerable like that. The feeling of your stickiness along the inner sides of your thighs makes you cringe, worsens your hatred, and tears begin to sting in your waterline when you unzip your bag and grab the first thing you see. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but for the last time you avert your gaze from him and bolt to his bathroom. At the sound of his heavy steps, you slam the door shut. 

He calls your name and it is only then, when you’re alone, that you let those bitter tears and whimpers emit out of you. The sound is hidden by each strike of his palm upon the wood and your hand flies to your mouth in effort to stifle your emotions, feeling undeserving of them, feeling wrong, ugly, not worthy of his damned attention—not worthy of anything. 

“Sweetheart,�� Jungkook whines. The first pet name he ever called you. You let out a pained sound and he forces the door open with all his might. Even though you don’t want to, you let him see the state of you—clutching your wrinkled dress and panties, concealing the evidence of the pleasure he gave to your body, of your femininity that he had put under his spell. 

You step away from the threshold, slinking deeper into the shadows of the bathroom. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you with such solicitude and affection. His brows shouldn’t be knitted like that, those eyes bigger and rounded than they usually are, fists tight and clenched, veins thumping and thick. Yoongi should be standing in his place with the intention to heal. Not him. 

“Please, go away,” you whisper, hot tears pouring down your pallid cheeks. You’re ashamed of them because you know full well that at this point you should be doing anything but crying. You’ve gone through so much turmoil, mingled with the darkness to such great extent that you should be proud of your work. You wanted this at some point—you wanted to remain the opposite force with separate feelings. You wanted to be his, when you had no right to choose. 

Jungkook’s eyes glisten. You turn your back to him, unable to be a witness to his emotions. You can’t see that; you don’t deserve to and he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He should’ve long exited this disorder—

You sob louder, exhausted of your thoughts, exhausted of shoulds, of wrongness. Turn the shower on, aware of the traces of disobedience and pain on your backside and you want to hide, but you have nowhere to go to. 

Jungkook turns the main lights off, leaving only the soft flickering bulbs on by the mirror. Ever the healer who senses your emotions by some sixth sense that you hate. Dimness covers your shame. 

He takes away your dress and panties and you let him. Folds them neatly on his laundry hamper. You watch him treat your underwear with such gentleness that it hurts. A flashback of him ripping your thong and making your bum red fills your brain, causing your feelings to expand in your chest—so much that you think your body is too small to keep them in. You can’t breathe, your lungs don’t have enough space to stretch and you panic, taking small breaths that don’t appease your need for air. Not at all. 

You step into the shower, needing to get away. 

The hot water burns on the curves of your behind and you hiss, but it alleviates your hatred. You deem it is precisely what you deserve. Your hand turns the temperature higher, sobbing into the stream of water, lungs heaving with such heft and it is okay, for it camouflages your hypocrisy. That is, until Jungkook notices it. 

“Are you crazy?” he mutters in dismay, fixing the temperature, but you grip his wrist briefly, pushing it away. Don’t look at him. Only warn him this way, silently. His miffed sigh wafts into the mist rising along your form, diffusing into your hair that still carries the scent of the pond. You want to wash it all out. “It’s going to hurt more like this.” 

You scowl, cupping the water in your hands like a child. “I don’t care. Leave.” 

The outward pain of your body isn’t the problem here. It aggravates you how he doesn’t see it—how he can be so ignorant to the more important matter at hand. Yoongi left because of him and because of you, because of the single-minded pleasure between you both that had nothing to do with Yoongi. You might as well have been there alone with him—Yoongi being just a pair of helping hands. Redundant. 

Burning. Burning of eyes, burning of skin, burning ache of heart. 

Jungkook scoffs at your forwardness, dumbfounded. Has the audacity to follow the drop of water trickling down the small of your back. You splash him, willing him to go away, but he stays put. Unbuttons his cargos. Hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, ridding himself, and stepping into the shower with you, sliding the door shut. 

You whisk your eyes to him with as much ill-will as you’re able to muster and he seizes it, unafraid of it, backing you against the wall. Solemn mien, subdued and so soft amidst the hardness of his decisiveness. Small pearls of emotion are stained upon the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, twinkling in the shadows in tandem with the ever persisting glint perched on top of his irises. “I told you to leave.” 

He doesn’t blink. “You splashed me,” he utters, lowly. Grips your waist and pushes you against the coolness of the tiles. It takes a hold of the burn and rips it away, relief flooding in its place and your features relax against your will. “See how it feels better?” 

It does, but you don’t give him the benefit of the doubt—you refuse to. Not when you deserve to rot for hurting your boyfriend enough to make him leave, not when it should be him standing here with you—

“Don’t punish yourself,” Jungkook whispers, fixing the temperature yet again, letting the mist disperse. Such a tender, velvety sound that reaches deep inside of you, even when you want to fight him, even when you think that punishing yourself is the least you can do, considering how despicable you’ve become. But then he dabs a small amount of body wash onto his palm, rubs it across your sternum and it nobbles the drift of your self-sabotage. 

You feel the snugness of his touch, the darkness thickening in you and you take a fright of it. 

You put a stop to it. 

Grasping his wrist, you blink through the unrelenting fragrance of cherries filling your nostrils. “Don’t touch me.”

Seeing the panic flitting over your damp eyes, he lets go, respecting your wish. Smears it on the broadness of his chest instead. “Alright, I won’t touch you.” 

You sigh a whiny, vulnerable breath of relief. The glint of his irises ripples as tears pool across them. He, too, blinks them away. Stills as a sculpture while watching the film of your emotions. For a mere moment. Your throat constricts. Time, then, resumes. 

Jungkook hands you the bottle. Silence suffuses the profound atmosphere as you lather yourself in the cherry aroma. Almost without touching your skin, he peels your hair away from your back, capacitating you to reach your shoulder. As if his hands, now that they’ve acknowledged themselves with your body, simply cannot keep their distance. You shoot him a look that forces him to drop his limb. Note that it trembles on its way down to his side; note the same trepidation beginning its course on your body. Your mouth rounds in yet another rush of emotions, but you don’t cry. 

You’re so tired. So tired of feeling. So tired of guilt, of shame, of getting up and falling again. 

You avoid your intimate parts, your breasts and your behind. You hold your body instead, arms wrapped around your ribcage in effort to put yourself back together. You don’t understand why he’s here, why he cares; why he thinks he has the right to touch you without your boyfriend being present, why he thinks the situation between you and Yoongi is something he needs to remedy. And why, ultimately, he thinks it’s right to be on your side, instead of Yoongi’s. 

He’s not your friend. He doesn’t know you. 

You look up at him to fire that question at him, but Jungkook clutches the shower head and, with lukewarm water, he cleanses you of the foam, the bubbles and the stickiness on your thighs that he never got to wipe clean because you had pushed him away earlier. And then it happens. 

He cleanses you of your dirtiness, of your hatred and of your tiredness, too. With the same shower head, the same lukewarm water. And you can’t explain how he does it, how your body lets him, how it willingly lets go until there’s nothing in you anymore. Just the cherry perfume and the hole in your chest with a murky cloud in the middle. You merely watch it dribble down your skin, plop onto the tiles on the floor, swimming around your feet and his. Dumbstruck. 

You feel like stomping on it, but you don’t have the energy. Figure it will drown in the small pool of water on its own, die a slow, painful death, before it trickles down the drain. 

You don’t know how it came about now that it’s gone and you can’t take your eyes off of him. All he did was rinse you off. And the ridiculousness of it all is that, the more Jungkook deepens your eye contact, the more you want it back. You want to be the one who purges you of it. Steal the magic from his hands and splatter it back on your skin, in place of the cherries. He can keep those. 

Why did he come? Why didn’t he go to Yoongi? 

And you ask him. “Why are you here?” 

He fishes for a bottle of shampoo. “Will you let me wash your hair?” 

You scowl up at him. “I asked you a question.” 

Stillness in his features. “So did I.” 

That damned stubbornness, so reminiscent of yours, of your muted, silent one, hidden within you. Fair enough. You search within yourself for any hint of protest. Find none—find it’s been washed away, find cherries and the heft of the cloud, no darkness, much to your dismay. You turn your back towards him. 

“Tilt your head back.” 

Thankful that he didn’t do it himself, you do as he says. Jungkook wets your hair and you feel the pond leaving you, your heart skipping over to latch onto it, adamant on not letting it leave, but alas—it disappears along with everything else. You wish your heart would trickle down the drain, too. You have no need for it, anyways. 

Jungkook’s touch on your hair is benign, careful as he rubs the shampoo on your scalp. You flutter your eyes shut, welcoming in, somehow, the massage that diminishes the intensity, which your thoughts are hurled at you with, as though he was the owner of them and he came home to make order. And they settle altogether to listen as he begins to speak. “It shattered my heart. To see both of you so broken because of me. I saw it at dinner at first. Then I saw it again today. It pains me. It pains me that it’s my fault.” 

Silence, hefty, strong silence. The principle of being seen by another pair of eyes; the principle of your agony being seen and understood, no longer obscured within your mind, within your heart. Jungkook didn’t just see you, he saw Yoongi, too. Saw through you both. Something about that, along with the work of his fingertips, mitigates the heaviness of your emptiness, of your cloud, but it doesn’t tear the misty body. Not yet. 

Your throat is dry. “Why are you here, then? Why aren’t you with Yoongi? He’s your friend.” 

He gently drags his palms across your length. “Because Yoongi deals with things like this on his own. He doesn’t need a friend when he goes through shit. He needs to be alone.” 

You don’t understand. Yoongi always needed you when his mental health was at stake. Needed you as he unraveled the entanglement of ropes of that darkness that had enveloped his mind by talking to you about it. Then, he would eat with you, fuck you and try again the next day. It would be a long process, but it would be something you’d go through together. There never was a time he’d walk that path alone. 

And then it hits you. 

That was before you. Before he met you, he meandered through that decaying meadow alone. Jungkook served in the military—he doesn’t know anything about the change that occurred. Doesn’t know that Yoongi gave up his isolation. 

And you tell him. Merely a hint of it. Figure it’s Yoongi’s story to tell and you don’t have the heart to snatch that opportunity away from him. 

Listening to your words, Jungkook slackens. You only hear the sound of the shower head being put back into its place that indicates his shock to you. You figure he wanted to rinse off the shampoo, but the information paralyzed his body. You turn around to see that bewilderment writing verses across his features. Tenderness, too. A tendril of liquid emotion swirling past his waterline. “I tried my best to make that happen when I could,” he utters and you don’t think he realizes he said it, eyes unfocused, fixed on the tile beside your arm. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for him. To let you in.” 

You feel the same tenderness curling into your cloud. Your mouth rounds again. Touched, terribly touched. Gladness holds hands with that tenderness, gladness that he didn’t leave when you had told him to. Because if he had never stepped inside the shower, you wouldn’t have known. You wouldn’t have known the secret that changes everything. 

You yearn to see Yoongi. Yearn to hug him, hold him, to pour out your love into him. Think you’re ready now. Stable enough to satisfy your craving. And in the love that you feel for him, you sense the light swarming, begging to be seeped into him. 

You stand beneath the stream to rinse off the shampoo, the water blanketing your head, peace penetrating your skull, tidying up the mess in your mind. Hushing out your thoughts now that your negative feelings long slinked away. You’re a new person. Clean, purified. And while you find it hard to believe, all you want to do is truly run to Yoongi. 

You can’t let him venture back to that forlorn meadow, to the ghost of his isolation. You might have shown him the way, but you have the will to stop him—and that’s more than enough. 

The healer that Jungkook is… he did it again. He dismantled your attachment and now he fixed your mind. You don’t know from what source he had rooted out the light, but he gave it to you. He gave it to you when you needed it the most, without knowing a thing about it. 

Blindly, you hook a finger around his index in a gesture of thanks. You don’t want to look at his nakedness. Don’t want to be pulled into that energy again. It brings his attention to you and you want to weep. Differently now. You want to weep due to the fact he somehow, seemingly, knows because he cups himself. Due to the roundness of his eyes that you know, that still live under your skin—differently now, too. Due to the fact that you got to be acquainted with him, despite the ruckus and the pain it came with. 

And you hope, in all truthfulness, that you remain something along the lines of friends after this day is over. How else would you have gotten to this healing? 

You open your mouth to express your gratitude, but Jungkook speaks first. “Don’t look at my worm.” 

The laughter that dribbles out of your mouth is so lightweight, so full of breezy and summer-breathed relief that the tears, which were held in, do break through the confinement and roll down the apples of your cheeks. Different, different tears. 

Friends, yes, please. You beg the heavens. May they let him become your friend. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, squeezing your finger, relief, too, washing over him. “Don’t cry, I swear it’s not small like this all the time. It gets bi—”

“Get me a towel, you dummy,” you say, softly, amidst your sputtering laughter, wiping your tears away. Jungkook smiles, the change of the atmosphere illuminating him from beneath, and he slides the door open, letting the slight cold air in. You turn off the water, focusing your eyes on the last ripples of water draining your negative emotions until they slip, entirely, away. 

Jungkook holds out a beige towel for you. Doesn’t wrap it around you; still respects your wish. Lets you take it from him and then he disappears into the bedroom, closing the door shut behind him. 

You used the alone time to doll yourself up for Yoongi. At least a little bit—you didn’t want to overdo it, amongst other things that you already had. 

Although you missed your favorite mango scent, the cherries didn’t seem so bad and you got accustomed to it fairly quickly as you swiped a tiny bit of your cream blush along your cheeks, where you’ve let your relieved tears dry. You smeared the same tint of soft red upon the puffiness of your lips, connecting it to the perfume, connecting it to the healing that sank lower and lower in your gut. And you sealed it into the entwistment of your braid—sealed it fully.

You won’t let it leave you. Not this time; not again. 

By the time your feet pad down the wooden stairs, you discover what Yoongi was up to in his absence. Three plates of ramen are prepared on the dinner table, gone cold by now, along with utensils and opened cans of fizzy drinks. The sight lids your eyes with tears, but you stifle them, blink them away. You thought he wanted to forget you, when in reality he had you in mind the whole time. And not just you, but your culprit as well—and he cooked him food. 

A sudden roar forces your head to whisk towards the balcony. And your heartbeat quickens. You don’t feel your legs as you speed outside. 

Yoongi sits on top of the stairs, a cigarette in hand, torso twisted, facing Jungkook, whose shoulders sag in consternation, palms open towards him. He makes a move to his side, but Yoongi raises a limb to stop him. Looks at you for a moment. At your wet hair, at the same state of Jungkook’s. Your heart lodges in your throat—

“Get away from me,” Yoongi mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and you don’t feel anything at all. Not your legs trembling, threatening to drop to the ground. Not the standstill of your bloodstream. You’re struck, unable to speak, to think. Yoongi rises to his feet and points his busy fingers at you. “Did you enjoy your shower?” he spits the venom in your face, ruining your makeup that you diligently put on for him—your tears flow, mingling with it, hot to the touch. “Did you enjoy fucking him?”

You gasp. “No, Yoongi, I didn’t—”

Yoongi’s own tears pool in his clouded eyes. You’ve never seen them before and they break you, tear apart the cloud in you. “You didn’t what, honey?” he croaks out. Repeats the question. 

Your sobs ache, but you don’t care. You take a step towards him, reach out your hand like you should’ve done earlier before he left and he takes it. The light that spills out from your chest radiates him, radiates him enough that he gives you the chance to explain yourself, to redeem his heart and you’re willing to do anything for it. His palm is cold, more cold than it’s ever been and Yoongi squeezes you, as if to beg you to undo the gashes upon his heart. Jungkook looks at the intertwinement for a mere second and you refuse to note the sliver of pain whirling past his eyes. Not this time; not again—this is about you and Yoongi. And you’re glad when he leaves. You don’t watch him go. 

“I didn’t have sex with him,” you whisper, the only way you could keep your voice still, your tears soaking the neckline of your lacy dress. You will your healing not to quiver, but to remain strong, remain unbreakable. “I swear on my life that I didn’t.” 

The same drops of pain pour down his face and you can’t bear it. You bury your face into his clothed chest, bunching the material of his T-shirt in your fists, needing him to believe you, needing him—

“You took a shower with him,” he breathes in pure disbelief. You feel it palpitate in his heart that your forehead is pressed against. This time, you understand right away how wrong that was—that showers are something that belongs to you and him, your shared rose garden of some sort that they could become, even though you were too smothered by the darkness to realize it fully in the moment.

You halt the shame creeping in. The guilt, the wisps of darkness. You’ve healed, and it shall stay that way. No more. 

“I took a shower alone.” The wind nips at you and it is like a slash of a whip on your back. “He came in—”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Lets his cigarette fall to the floor of the veranda. With his lips pursed and like a bolt of lightning you can’t keep in your hands, he rips himself out of your hold and lopes inside the cabin with heavy, wrathful steps. 

And you can’t stop it—the colliding of Yoongi’s fist on Jungkook’s cheekbone. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of the fabric of Yoongi’s T-shirt to pull him back, your sight blurred enough that you can’t see. You can’t see properly the way Yoongi doesn’t let Jungkook fall to the floor, but instead grabs him by the collar and fumes in his face. Your sobs choke you and you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his torso, willing him to stop, begging him in your silent language. 

You feel the heavy, long thuds of his heart, the trembling lift and fall of his chest and you squeeze him tighter, weeping into the cloth of his garment, emitting liquid fear—fear of Yoongi receiving the same hit, fear of the darkness, much bigger one, enveloping all three of you. And you don’t have the time to blame yourself for causing this. Yoongi’s words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“You forced yourself on her?” he hisses, pushing him to and fro like the curtain billowing behind you. “Are you that fucking desperate for pussy that you forced yourself on my girl? Should I fucking kill you?” 

A momentary stillness. Your breath is loud. Louder than the hard huffs of air escaping the mouths of the two males. 

“Let go, hyung,” Jungkook croaks out, defeated. And you don’t know how the sound of it makes you feel. Perhaps, you’re feeling nothing, which is a good thing. You put your boyfriend first in your weak heart, his feelings, his well-being. Not Jungkook; not yourself. Even though your heart silently, painlessly cracks. 

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi’s wrath rises, absorbing the room, despite the fact his voice is deadly calm. You squeeze him harder. 

He did force himself into your personal space, but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been healed. You wouldn’t be here, on your boyfriend’s side. And the thought of being the opposite force if he hadn’t done that, cradling his back instead of Yoongi’s terrifies you enough that you speak up—in need to fix the situation. 

“He didn’t, Yoongi. I promise,” you whimper, burying your face deeper into the middle between his shoulder blades. And there you feel his spine shake. You caress his stomach to soothe him, peppering kisses along that strong column. 

Yoongi punches him again. It reverberates throughout your whole body. You only hear the crash of Jungkook’s form onto the floor. 

“Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again,” Yoongi hisses and he twists his wrist to alleviate himself of the affliction scattering along his knuckles. “And what you’ve done to her, the pain you’ve caused her is something I will never forgive you for.” 

Stillness. Terrible, terrible stillness. The whip of the wind. A roar of an upcoming storm in the heavens far, far away. You don’t become it. You remain yourself. His girlfriend, defended. 

Yoongi turns around and cradles your face in his hands. Wet, worried eyes, begging you for something that you can’t pinpoint. Shiny, sniffling nose, suppressing his emotions. Red, regretful mouth, breathing out exasperated breaths. Quivering chin—quaint in the rawness of his expressed love towards you. You yearn to kiss him, you yearn to take him home, so terribly remorseful that you got him into this gut-wrenching mess. And you listen to your body, fulfill the only right decision you’ve come across since meeting his friend. 

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whisper, pecking him softly. Yoongi nods, wiping your tears away. Takes your hand and leads you towards the front door. 

Jungkook, now standing on his wobbly feet, bruised and bloodied, merely watches the pair of you. Sorrowful. And as you walk away from him, you clutch in your heart what he’s done for you. 

Yoongi hands you his car keys. “Wait in the car.” 

You nod and you go. Don’t stick around to see the unfolding of the storm. Don’t say goodbye. 

The rain pitter-patters on the roof of the car. You’re tired of it. You’re tired of the summer. Don’t find any beauty in it. Not even in the mountains and the trees. 

Yoongi hasn’t come back yet. 

Your stomach grumbles, but you don’t feel any hunger. You’ve nibbled on your bottom lip so much that rawness of blood is all that your teeth sink into. The same blood that, much like your darkened self-sabotage, trickled out of Jungkook’s nostril. It tastes bitter on your tongue. 

A ruthless carousel of scenarios spin in your mind and you’re tightly buckled in the seat of fear with no way out. The fear that, in your absence, Yoongi’s hit got reciprocated. The fear that the same blood you taste could, possibly, be on your own hands. 

You want to get away from here. Far, far away. 

When Yoongi emerges from the cabin, a thunder announces it. The only blood you detect is the dried one on his knuckles. The rain didn’t get to clean it and once he places the same hand upon the shivering coldness of your thigh, a decision perks up in you. A decision to not let anyone get in the way of mending and cleansing anymore.  

You shall be the one who does it now. Not the rain, not Jungkook. They’ve both done enough. 

And when you lift that wounded hand to your lips, you wish you could clean it with your tears—but you fear the salt would only pain him more. So you settle for your sighs of relief, for your gentle kisses and for the light in you to do the work. 

“No more tears, honey,” Yoongi murmurs, cupping your chin and pecking you. “It’s over now.” 

You drift to sleep during the ride home. 

And you sleep through the whole afternoon in an anguished effort to forget. Forget the blood, forget the sound of Jungkook’s body hitting the floor… forget yourself. 

You didn’t dream about anything at all. Only the darkness consumed you, a lullaby of nothingness. 

And when you awake, your feet groggily take you to Yoongi. They seem to know where he is, even when your eyelids are still half-closed, even when your brain still dozes. A canopy of dusky, darkening heavens, with hues of roses dispersed all around, gently fondles your eyes to rouse them fully and right here, on the balcony, much different to the one you spent your afternoon on—much smaller, much more confined—is where you find your boyfriend. An empty pack of cigarettes on the table, a cold purple lighter and a dark bottle of liquor.

His strained back greets you first. He doesn’t hear your steps; he doesn’t sense your presence and it isn’t until your fingertips touch his saddened spine that he turns around. Wrinkles of the same dejected nature, absolute despair wrung into the paleness of his face. You cradle it and you bolster it when he spills into your hands, when you feel the hotness of his tears. And you spill with him—the only thing left to do. 

You will your light to swathe him. Press his head against your chest as you lead him to take a seat with you on his lap. And you keep your mouth tightly shut when the soreness of your muscles, the slight discomfort of the burn on your skin forces a whine out of you. You keep it caged in. Put your boyfriend first. 

Sifting your fingers through his hair, you kiss his scalp—kiss his mind, even when you don’t know its contents. To ease it, whatever it was that caused him to break. 

You sit like this until the moon springs from the clouds. You don’t look at it. Refuse to. 

It’s Yoongi who speaks first, cold fingers sunk beneath your thighs, seeking your warmth. 

“Tell me everything from the beginning,” he murmurs, weary eyes boring into yours. “I need to hear it from you.” 

You’d give him anything he asked, anything he wished for; you’d pierce your heart if the time asked for it. And so you nod, place your hand on his chest, lie against his good shoulder and you begin to leak. Leak the simplest of words you’re able to find in your windswept mind. 

“He put me in a trance when we were intimate. So much that I lost my mind, lost my surroundings, lost my sense of home.” You swallow, dryly, thinking that’s the best way you could explain it without deepening the gashes upon his heart. Decide you will not overdo it. “And when you left and I breathed in the fresh air, it was like I’d woken up from it. It hurt so much. I was worried about you, but I wasn’t ready to face you. Not when I had to deal with the repercussions.” 

Yoongi squeezes the flesh of your thigh to comfort you, thumb fondling the skin back and forth, listening intently. 

“I didn’t understand at first why you left. I was so out of it. But little pieces started to put it together in my mind as I was thinking about it. And then I saw Jungkook with his head in his hands and I knew I’d done something really, really bad. I wanted to run away, like you did, but I had no other place to go to other than the bathroom. And Jungkook…” you trail off, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for this part of the story—the thread that is linked to the bruises upon Yoongi’s knuckles. “I thought he wanted to comfort me, and maybe he did. I pushed him away but he relented. He was concerned because I—” A lump forms in your throat, your lashes quiver. “I made sure the water was boiling hot because I wanted to burn off—I wanted to punish myself for making you leave, for hurting you. And then he got in the shower and I didn’t say anything.” 

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you’re supposed to mention the matter of the burn of your backside and his concern regarding it without wounding Yoongi. 

“He—” Your throat constricts and Yoongi cradles your face in his palm, lifting your head so you can gaze into his eyes, draw strength from him. He nods, encouraging you to continue, while seemingly giving you as much time as you need. Tears the lump apart. “He was worried because the hot water was making the burn on my butt worse, but I—I didn’t feel it. I was crying so hard.” 

His eyes search for something in yours and you know right away what it is. The answer to his question on whether he touched you. You wrap your arm around his neck. Glad it didn’t wound him. Enough that you overbrim with the desire to assuage his disquiet. 

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper, although it’s not entirely true. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. “Not in the way you think. I told him to stop. He wanted to wash me. I told him no.” 

He blinks, but you can’t read his solemn features. You see the memory of Jungkook gripping your waist and pushing you against the tiles, so you wouldn’t burn your skin, and you saying nothing displayed on them. It overwhelms you, but you fight it. What’s done is done.  

The worst part of the story awaits you. You pluck it, ready to get it over with. 

“All he did was rinse me off. And he told me about how it hurt him to see us like this because of him. I felt everything leaving me when I was listening to him. I don’t know how, but I did. He asked to wash my hair and I let him. I felt so relieved to be ridded of the guilt and the pain I felt that I started crying again. He made me laugh. And then he left me alone. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t been there.” 

Stillness, awfully quiet stillness—like the one at the cabin, but you do not fear it. An abrupt onrush of strength fills your bones, giving you the notion that whatever comes next is something you’ll be able to endure. 

Yoongi drops his hand. You will your heart not to drop along with it. 

“The lines have been blurred so much that I—” He averts his gaze. Towards the glimmering stars up above as if they could give him the strength he’s now void of. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to feel the way I do, when—when I let him have you.” 

You are able to endure it. A motherly stimulus creeps in, one that has the capacity for the mightiness of whatever it is that he’s feeling. You want to swallow it down. You desire to. 

“What do you feel, baby?” you whisper, nudging your nose against his, an Eskimo kiss to relieve him, to help him. “Tell me.” 

Yoongi narrows his eyes in regret. “It should’ve been me,” he breathes. You nod, agreeing with him, even though you’ve accepted that fate wrote it was meant to be Jungkook. Perhaps for that very reason, he was inscribed to be pulled into that whole situation to begin with, no matter how lewd it was. “And it should’ve been me under that—”

He doesn’t let himself finish his sentence, but you know what he wanted to say. It brings tears to your eyes, the fact that he hated what you had done to yourself and instead wished it was him—to whom the harm was done. 

You let them pour out. You don’t want them smothering you. You want everything out, so you can move on—so both of you can. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Another Eskimo kiss, a longer one this time. Yoongi sniffles against you and you want to pull out more from him, to rid him completely of those negative feelings. “Like you said, it’s over now.” 

Yoongi nods, vulnerably, and you peck him on the mouth. And he’s unable to reciprocate the kiss, for his features twist in another rush of liquid emotions. You stroke the back of his hair, running your fingers down its length, urging softly more out. 

“I don’t regret anything,” you continue, pressing your cheek against his tears, letting them seep into your skin. “Even though it hurt, I don’t regret it, Yoongi. Neither should you.” 

He sobs and it reverberates through your body. You remain strong. Strong like the mountains. “I hurt him.” 

The breath you inhale is knifing you sharply. “He loves you—”

“And I hurt him,” he cuts in, squeezing you against him, needing you. “I didn’t trust a word he said. I didn’t—” he heaves, unable to catch his breath, hiccups. “Because I thought he hurt you, I didn’t hear him out. I didn’t know he helped you.” 

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me he didn’t force himself on you, but I didn’t believe him. I gave him so much shit for it, for spanking you. And then he begged me to hit him again.” 

The healer deemed it would make Yoongi feel better. Your heart warps. 

“Did you?” 

“No.” 

You kiss his temple and you don’t realize that it’s a silent thanks until you lift your lips, however you’re not thrown off balance. It should be like this. You should feel for both men. You should feel. It makes you a living, breathing human. And Yoongi’s reactions and emotions make him human, too, even if they seem wrong in the moment. It’s not something to hate him or judge him for—it’s something to love him for. He should feel safe. Deserves to. 

It’s better than to feel nothing. 

And you tell him. A thousand times until he nods, sloshing your words in his mouth before carefully swallowing them, accepting them. 

“It’s not a lost cause. You can talk to him. And you can try again.” 

Yoongi looks at you as he takes in what you’ve said, as if the concept never crossed his mind—or, if it did, it perhaps seemed too unrealistic to make happen. As if he was doomed for life. As if he lost him forever. 

Love is never lost. And you tell him that as well. 

Yoongi lights up from within. You wipe away his tears. Brush his hair away from his face. And you give him every last drop of your light, hugging him. And he hugs you back until birds begin to sing in the sky. 

It took several weeks for Yoongi to gather courage to call Jungkook. Liquor bottles piled in a row on the balcony and you didn’t count them anymore, you just joined your boyfriend, who had become a frail skeleton, whenever his nerves asked for the burning liquid. Either you would keep him company or you’d bring your own shot glass. And each time, it would end with a subdued, murky therapy session, without the fucking. 

Yoongi hasn’t touched you since the afternoon spent in the cabin. 

He wasn’t in the mood and you stifled yours. Your body was so accustomed to the daily release of pleasure that because it didn’t have it now all of a sudden, it felt weird—it felt out of place, and you drowned it out with alcohol and smokes, drowned it out with shopping sprees until money ran out and stashes became empty. So you had to settle for your own hand. 

And it was easy. You daydreamed about Jungkook. Felt the ghost of his fingers on every sensitive place your hand roamed. On your breast, on your thigh and on your clit, in your entrance. You replayed everything he’d done to you and it didn’t hurt; you didn’t feel shame. You’ve healed to the point that it drenched you, aroused you enough to coax your orgasm out in mere minutes.

And it didn’t feel shameful because Yoongi had told you the reason why he fled the scene. 

“You were in pain and I couldn’t stand it. You wouldn’t look at me and if you did, you’d look away as if I had no role in the sex. He took control when it should’ve been me. And I didn’t do anything to stop it.” 

It wasn’t about you being so preoccupied in the trance. It was about Jungkook taking charge as if you were his. Which was what led Yoongi to think he forced himself on you in the shower. It was about him being silent and not speaking up, prioritizing your pleasure. 

It made sense to you, but you still apologized. For what, you didn’t know. Just felt the need to. And Yoongi made you feel so safe, as safe as you had made him feel that night on the balcony, that you couldn’t help but yap about how enjoyable it was for you—what Jungkook did to you. And Yoongi agreed. 

You were content that you’ve moved past the hurt and focused on the real truth beneath, revealing it: you both had enjoyed it when you were pleasured. 

You didn’t check if the conversation made him hard, for you ran into your bedroom to relieve yourself of the ache between your legs as fast as possible. But he found you. Watched you. Validated you. Validated your daydreams. Told you what to do as he smoked a cigarette, standing in between your outstretched legs before the bed, the summer wind cooling the sweat on your body. And then he told you to do it again. 

And again. 

Until he couldn’t pull out any more orgasms out of you. 

He became obsessed with it. 

Because the next day and the many after that, you did the same thing. He would watch you while you fingered yourself. He’d tell you what he’s doing to you in your daydreams, taking charge of them, what Jungkook is doing to you. Other times he’d jerk off and come all over your tummy and cunt. Still remain hard; still remain needy. He wouldn’t fuck you. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t even insulate it. Wouldn’t slip it inside the dreams. And once his desire would run out of its sweet wine, yours simply wouldn’t. And the more you both indulged in this act, you figured out two things. 

One, Yoongi used it as a coping mechanism. As a healing tool to recuperate from the afternoon spent in the cabin, one that would ultimately help him have sex with you in the long run. Two, you were riding the waves of ideas and excitement with no real fulfillment, with no release. 

Tasting the picture of the sin at first might have been enough—but the more you did it, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into the real thing. 

You wanted Jungkook again. 

And like the intelligent man Yoongi is, he figured it out, too. 

A certain number of orgasms was an indication of an ending to this playful time. And the last time you did this, Yoongi—at this number—was ready to withdraw and jump into the shower, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hungry, starved, devouring his neck, grinding your still wet pussy against his softening cock. 

He put two and two together. Immediately.

“You’re hungry for what I haven’t given you yet, aren’t you?” 

You begged for it, moaning against his artery, reveling in the feeling of his cock against you after such a long time. And when you looked at him, you saw drunkenness seizing his features. Drunkenness without the consumption of alcohol. And you felt the same inebriation enclosing around yours, knowing your desire sparked this inside of him. It felt different. Way, way different. 

“Think about how you want it. Make yourself come as many times as you want. And when I come back from the shower, tell me about it. We’ll figure it out; we’ll make it work.” 

It grazed your hunger. Squeezed it in such a playful way. Like a human hand squeezing an animal because of the cute-aggression it feels towards it. 

You didn’t know how many times you came. You were too lost in the story you constructed, soaking the bed sheets even more than you already had. Your fingers had turned wrinkly by the time you opened your eyes, finished with the plot, to see Yoongi leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, not having the heart to disturb you in your passion. 

And while you showered, playing the story in your head over and over, Yoongi cooked you food. Poured you liquid courage. Waited for you at the table, dressed only in a pair of joggers. Chain-smoked, the rule of only smoking on the balcony long forgotten during his process of healing. 

When you sat down to eat, you slid your feet across his lap. Lifted your camisole, let him see your bare cunt the way he liked it that one time; the scent of your mango body butter wafting in the air, the sultriness of an August evening carrying that eccentricness right into his senses, readying him for what you were about to tell him. 

And you began, casually, with every bite of the delicious food he made you. You got ahead of yourself, though, dumb by the intensity of adrenaline and arousal coursing in your veins. “I want you to dictate every move. And it’s up to you if you let him fuck me or not. My first idea from the start was—”

“I want you to tell me your full fantasy. What you touched yourself to. From the beginning ‘til the end.” 

You fixed your mistake quickly. 

“I dreamed about him watching us. You gave him rules. No touching. Hands on the armchair I wanted him to sit in. No talking. Then, I began with you letting him see what we’ve been doing. Loudly, vulgarly. Me playing with my pussy while you jerked off until you came all over me. Then you ate me out and wouldn’t stop until I begged you to fuck me. From behind. While you stretched my ass with a butt plug.” 

“Did I talk? Like I do normally?” 

“Yes. He heard it all. Every word you used. And I wanted you to do it to make him needy. Needy enough to beg you to let him fuck me.” 

Yoongi only cursed. And you felt him hardening again under the soles of your feet. You caressed his ache with your toes.

“He thought the butt plug was used to stretch me for him, but it was for my pleasure, for decoration. You only let him pump your cum deeper into me. You didn’t let him come. And you held me from behind. Held me open for him in the air. And then he begged you for mercy. You gave in. Dropped me to the floor. And he fucked me ruthlessly, keeping me still on the floor with his thighs around me. He wasn’t able to last long. Begged you to let him come in me and you did. And then… then he ate me out. And so did you. At the same time. And I came so hard that I squirted. Then we took a shower. All three of us.” 

“Did anything happen in the shower?” Quick, hard breaths, as if he was on the verge of an orgasm from your footjob. 

And he proved to you, with a groan, that he was when you finished your story and his joggers dampened. “No, you both just held me. And we kissed like crazy.” 

And it was this release of cum that drove him to make that phone call. 

When Jungkook picks up on the first ring, Yoongi grabs his keys, blows you an air kiss and leaves. The joy that thrums in your heart is unlike any you’ve ever felt. You know where he’s gone. You know it fully well. 

And in the meantime, you doll yourself up. 

Hours later, he returns. With a grin blossomed on his face, one you haven’t seen since the day at the cabin, and a pink bag in his hand, one he hands you as soon as he takes off his shoes. 

Inside you find the butt plug you dreamed of. Silver with a purple faux diamond in the middle. Fairly small, just the kind you’re certain you will be able to take. With a freebie of a much smaller packet of lube. To be safe playing out the fantasy. 

Yoongi kisses you so hard when you look up at him that he steals all of your breath, ridding you of your chance to thank him. 

“He’s coming over later.” 

You kiss him, equally hard. Happy that he’s happy, happy to see movement in his healing journey. You give him tiny kisses, a hundred of them, and he breathes a laugh into your mouth, his joy filling you with energy and exhilaration. Finally, finally, finally—you’ve missed this emotion of his. Glad for the sadness, for the murkiness to be gone. 

And you pray nothing gets in the way. 

When Jungkook announces his arrival by knocking on the door, the sight you’re met with is quite uncanny. Though your heart isn’t stirred by it, bouncing in your chest like a small child seeing its father after a long, long time. 

It’s been almost a month and he’s become older since the last time you saw him. His hair, grown longer and thicker, curls at his temples, ears and the nape of his neck. Round eyes have stayed the same, as well as the glint, and there’s a hint of the same joy that you’ve found in Yoongi, whirling in circles past it. Nose void of any blood, cheekbone healed from bruises. His demeanor is careful as if he had been punished enough by the fight and the silent treatment that followed it, taking off his shoes and his zipper hoodie, revealing a much bigger broadness of shoulders and arms, exposed in a tight fit of a black tank. 

While Yoongi drowned his sorrow in alcohol and smokes and then came across his relief, his air in a sexual fantasy with his friend involved, he—the said friend—clearly found his coping mechanism in the gym. 

He’s huge. As if he hadn’t already been from the military. 

You lick your lips at him, and it’s such a natural reaction that you don’t even think about what you’ve done until you perceive that he doesn’t look at you at all. And it turns you on. It turns you on that he’s holding himself back from you. You know what hides beneath, what comes out when he lets go of his good boy persona.  

Glancing at Yoongi, he’s already smirking at you with a playful gaze. Affected by his ignoring of you just the same. The shared connection thickens the energy around, but Jungkook breaks it. 

He breaks it once he lifts his head, hangs his hoodie on the back of a chair and envelops you in a hug. Defaces your evident tendency to view him as an object, scribbles it in slashes until the ink runs out. All by a few strokes of his hand down your hair, down your back clothed in a new silky robe. 

And when he withdraws from the hug, you see the healer that helped you become the person Yoongi needed on his journey. 

His somber eyes skim over the long length of your nighttime attire, as if lamenting over the fact it’s not the red one. Over its dusty-pink color that parts the fabric to reveal your smooth leg and your toes. And then he’s gone, pulling your boyfriend in the same hug that lasts a bit longer, uttering silent words that should’ve been said that afternoon at the cabin with each increase of squeezes and pats within the hold. 

You know they’ve said what they needed to hear during the phone call to mend what’s been broken. You feel a certain proudness of Yoongi for managing so well, for being at this very part of the journey. It’s praiseworthy. 

“You hungry?” 

Jungkook looks at you at last, imaginary puppy ears perking up at your question. And his eyes soften, wet with emotion from the reunion. He rubs his belly. “Starving.” 

You shuffle your feet to make your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi beats you to it. Wave a hand towards the table, inviting him to sit and, out of habit, you pour some liquid courage into a shot glass for him from the bottle you keep there instead of a vase filled with flowers. 

He merely glances at it. Doesn’t drink it. 

“How have you been?” you ask, screwing the lid back on, not being able to take your eyes off of him—your entire history faintly blanketing your sight. 

And he deepens the eye contact. 

“How do you like your butt plug?” 

Taken aback, you laugh, the atmosphere so airy all of a sudden that your cheeks flush and your lungs heave with affability. This is the friendship you had begged the heavens for. Without strings, without pain. Light-natured friendship, with flirtation in the middle. You find it hard to believe you have it. Find it hard to believe he’s here. 

Find it hard to believe that when you had told Yoongi he could try again, he took your words and created this, embedding it into your fate. 

“It’s pretty,” you say, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Jungkook smiles, fondly, fingers wrapping around the shot. You’re reminded, momentarily, of the way he teased you with the foot of his wine glass on your first dinner date. 

As if thinking about that night, too, his other fingers sneak to your bare knee, tapping it once. “We picked it for you.” 

You nod in feigned, exaggerated gratitude, even though you mean it, even though the thought of them choosing a sex toy for you makes you burst into flames from within. “Thank you, Oppa. Thank you so much. I will use it well.” And you bow to him with each word in your seat next to him.

Jungkook laughs and it’s such a sweet sound that you feel unfamiliar flowers growing in you, laughing along with him. He lays his palm flat on the entirety of your knee. Heavy, strong, warm. Then, he widens his eyes, as if he only now realized what you’ve called him. “You’re younger than me?” 

You’ve guessed he was older than you. “I was born in 1999. I take it you’re around the same age as Yoongi?” 

Not the same, entirely. You recall him calling Yoongi ‘hyung’. He must be a year or a few years younger. 

That tenderness you know flashes in his face. “I was born in 1997. Yoongi is older than me.” 

Your mouth opens in the shape of ‘O’. Jungkook’s eyes flick to it before he averts them, slapping the side of your thigh gently, sighing as if he held his breath the entire time. Only then does he down the shot you poured him, keeping his hand there. 

Such a blessing, the simple act of getting to know him. 

He slouches in his seat and you ask him again. “How have you been?”

Smacking his mouth, he roams his gaze along the perimeters of the dinner table. And you realize he’s avoiding the question. Avoided it the first time you launched it at him, too. 

You fold your fingers under his palm on your knee, signaling your understanding and sympathy. Don’t want to think about the healing journey he had to walk through by himself. He’s reached the end and that’s the most important thing as of now. You caress his reddened, tattooed knuckles, smeared with flecks of violet and yellow—much like your bum that one afternoon—with your thumb, wondering how that tinge came to live there. “What happened to your hand?” 

Jungkook contemplates your study of his hand, stoically, still as ever. Then, his mouth rounds, barely, in a tiny suggestion of sadness. Your heart catches it before it disappears, making it hers. In such a swift moment that you don’t realize what you’ve done. 

“Boxing,” he murmurs, eyeing the way your hand is enclosed around his large palm, the way your thumb hovers over his knuckles, as if afraid to cause them any more pain. Seems touched by it and your brows knit, your heart speaking to you, telling you something, urgently, but you don’t understand her. 

“You don’t wear boxing gloves?” 

Jungkook shakes his head ‘no’. “Didn’t want to.” 

And then it hits you—the language of your heart unfolding within you, deciphered at last. It hits you how you and him are very much alike. 

This is his coping mechanism. Hurting his hand as he lets out his negative emotions. Knowing, just like you, that the pain is the gain, the relief. And by the state of the bruises, you were wrong. He’s not at the end of his healing journey—and he’s nowhere near the beginning. He traipses around it, steering clear of it, ignoring it. 

Your lungs swell. And that motherly impulse you’re familiar with croons around them, extends towards him with the dutiful intention to heal. 

And you will. 

You will heal both of the males. 

And the decision is strengthened even more in you when Jungkook hears Yoongi’s footsteps and startles, extracting his hand from your hold, from your thigh. Like he startled upon hearing your movement back then, scurrying towards your bag as if you were intending to leave him, abandon him. 

It is your heart that weeps now for him, not your eyes, remembering the words Yoongi uttered over his bruised cheek and bloody nose. Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again. You try your hardest to remain strong on the outside. For him, for Yoongi, for yourself. You try your hardest to forget that declaration, that physical pain of his, considering it over—long gone, a lifetime away. 

And when your boyfriend sets the full plates of food in front of him and he digs in wordlessly, you watch him. With a landslide in your insides. With a hand on his muscled arm, stroking back and forth, eyes flicked momentarily to Yoongi, willing him to see how broken his friend is. 

But Yoongi can’t bear to see it. 

He settles for a drink instead, fixing his gaze on the table. Takes a step back on his journey, his nerves pursuing him. And so he’s not alone, because it is your duty, you follow him into that rabbit hole like the Alice you are. With empty hands, void of any control, despite the onus you own in your heart. 

By the time sex is even mentioned between the three of you, you’re tipsy and your head is swimming. 

You’re conscious, aware of your body, aware of your surroundings and your home. Aware that you’re intoxicated, too, and it’s a peculiar feeling—to be present in your body and out of it just the same. And you owe it to the males sitting around the table. To the owner of the house, mainly. 

Yoongi has taken such a dominant role naturally that he’s the reason why your head is taking laps in his energy. And it was him who put the topic of sex to the front after double meanings found their way into the gradually unfurling conversation, imbued with exuberance. Asked Jungkook straight away if he’d been sexually active with people after you, to which he merely shook his head ‘no’, too vulnerable to express it in his own words. You don’t think Yoongi even realized the gravity of the question, influenced by the alcohol, the lighthearted energy and the fact that he got his friend back. And Yoongi… he praised him for it, making his head lift in disbelief and coyness. You saw the way it healed him, brought color to his face— it happened so quickly, too quickly, Yoongi turning the leaf over right after, seamlessly leading the conversation back to the double meanings, working them up until you and Jungkook blushed. 

But you didn’t listen entirely, and neither did Jungkook. You surveyed the way he turned the praise over in his mind, dwelling on it. And you knew, without a doubt, that, besides healing him—undoing the ugly words flung at him that day, it turned him on. He played with his bracelet in the air, a faint smile on his mouth, legs outstretched, touching yours, and you… you wanted to play with him, too. Your body begged you for it, telling you it’s time. 

In fact, you knew very well what the little bit of alcohol Yoongi drank was doing to him. Much like Jungkook, it helped him avoid the matter of his friend’s sensitive burden at hand while collecting information. Especially about where he stands in the realm of the three of you and sex. And while you’ve let him do it, thinking it was something he needed to do on his journey, you've also been deciding for the last half an hour when it was time to put a stop to it. The sexual comments, the double meanings—it became too much, became too obvious, even though he, in most probability, wasn’t even aware of it, was doing it for you unconsciously. And your body agreed, whispering to you that the only way you could do that was to take advantage of what was right before you.

You were going to outrun your boyfriend and seduce them both. 

You light up a cigarette, bringing Yoongi’s attention to you. You graze your foot on his shin as you cross your legs, lifting it higher until you reach his thigh. And when you take a long drag, you skim your hand on Jungkook’s knee, briefly—calling for his attention, too, preparing him. Your toe feels up Yoongi’s soft manhood and he stops talking, your hand trailing along the side of Jungkook’s thigh, inches away from his intimate parts. They let you touch them, both heads turned in your direction. 

Stillness, arousing stillness. You smile, innocently. 

Before Yoongi has the chance to scold you for interrupting him, you withdraw. You withdraw entirely. Pretend to take your cigarette to the balcony. Jungkook lifts his hand to grab yours, to put it back where it was, but you’re gone before you could take him up on it. 

You feel both of them watching you as you leave. You sway your hips a little. It makes you chuckle. Makes you feel invincible.

You stay there but for a mere moment. Don’t even finish your cigarette before you put it out in the ashtray. And when you return, you undo the knot while they are preoccupied, unaware of you. Uncover the outfit you spent your money on while Yoongi healed. 

A sheer, black crop top, with polka dots and puffed sleeves, that ties in the middle, ending beneath your breasts and adding nothing to the imagination. Could be mistaken for a wireless bra. Panties of the same tulle material with frills on the side. You leave your robe undone, the act of revealing yourself so casually stiffening your nipples. You consider taking a seat as if you did no such thing, but an idea pulls you to your boyfriend, who’s ignorant to your scheme, listening to something that Jungkook is telling him. 

You don’t grasp any of the words coming out of his mouth, however you do focus on the deep intonation of his voice. Let it curl beneath your skin; propel you to act out on your whim. 

You take a seat on Yoongi’s lap. Jungkook’s gaze falls on your intimate form, bare under the almost translucent fabric, and he parts his lips. He watches as Yoongi wraps an arm around your middle and smiles at the feeling of your bare skin. You rock your hips once, backwards, pretending you’re shifting to make yourself comfortable and Yoongi grips your waist until his fingers turn white. Jungkook doesn’t stop talking, hides his astonishment at your behavior, at your boldness. Doesn’t stop looking at you and neither do you at him, nodding to every other word as if you were listening. That is until you grab a handful of cheese balls and pop one by one into your mouth, purposefully letting one of them fall into your cleavage. 

“Can you get it for me? My hands are full.”

You have a perfectly free hand by your side.

You’ve interrupted him so rudely that you’re surprised that he doesn’t frown at you, but smirks instead. Yoongi caresses your thigh, validating you, catching onto your scheme, and it spreads the fire that burst in you hours ago, making it bigger, hotter. 

It’s time. You want both of them, badly. 

You lean forward for him, fingers ready for the next move you’re planning. Jungkook lifts a hand, reaches for the orange treat in the middle of your breasts and before his digits have the time to grasp it, you pull on the loose knot on your top, your flesh spilling, the treat slipping onto the floor.

He only chuckles, deeply. Teased, but pleased. 

“Oh, no.” Fake pity; fake pout. You look at the cheese ball, then back at Jungkook. Your impishness reflects in the blazing fire of his eyes, the same one that courses through your body. “I guess I didn’t tie it properly. Can you do it for me? My hand is dirty.” 

You eat the last remaining cheese balls while staring him dead in the eye. Show him your orange-tinted fingers once you’re done. A spark flashes in the fire; piques his interest. 

Leaning forward even more, Yoongi uses your position to slide your robe down your shoulders. Lifts you for a second to rid you completely of it, setting you back down sharply, causing your breasts to bounce. Throws it on Jungkook’s lap. A gesture that tells him playtime has begun. He sucks in a breath, biting his bottom lip, the way Yoongi gathers your hair in his fist stealing his attention fleetingly from you, fingers clutching the fabric. 

And when he takes the swinging laces in his hands and barely tightens them, you click your tongue, disapprovingly. “Tighter.” 

It arouses the beast in him, eyes lidding ever so slightly. He pulls on the laces until your breasts are squished together. “Like this?” 

You wet your lips before you quirk them up. “Yes. Make a bow for me.” 

Jungkook deepens the eye contact as he obeys. You lift your chin, asserting Yoongi’s dominance, taking after him, the inkling to own that beast in him absorbing you whole. 

And you shall. 

When he’s finished with the bow, he grazes the material of your top, fingers flat against your nipples before he slouches back in his chair. The touch was too brief for your liking, yet it spurs your cunt to soak your panties, the notion that you’ve done it intoxicating your senses—you’ve seduced him. 

You mimic what he did, theatrically—you slouch back into Yoongi’s chest, turn your chin to the side to tell on him. “Yoongi, he touched me.” 

Yoongi only smirks, playing along. “Did he? How? Show me.” 

Your fingers fly to your pebbled nipples, stroking them in downward motion like he did before you repeat it. Again and again. Your hips begin to slowly rotate, your body reacting to your touch, to the pleasure you’re giving it. “Like this.” 

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat. He spreads his legs. You do, too. And when you whimper, he twitches, your robe slipping onto the ground, joining the cheese ball. 

“Did it feel good? When he touched you there?” Yoongi asks, hands spreading across your thighs. You make a noise of agreement, whining into it. “Does it feel as good now?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, meaning it. “No, it makes me needy.”  

Yoongi hums. “Where?” 

You cup the soaked material of your panties, right over your cunt with one hand, while the other squeezes your breast. “Here.” 

Your boyfriend opens your legs wider, as if to take a closer look at what body part you’re showing him. “You should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“Like what?” 

“Touch yourself.” 

Jungkook stills. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Neither do you. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I should ask him,” he mumbles, fingers playing with the frills on your hips. “Do you want me to ask him?” 

The asking of consent, beckoning out your slick. You nod your head. “Ask him, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted in an enigmatic manner, waiting—waiting to be given what your boyfriend long teased him with. And you like the suspense, the tension pulled so taut, the process before he’s gratified. It makes you even needier and, like Jungkook, you clutch the fabric of your panties in impatience. 

Yoongi doesn’t ask right away. He tortures Jungkook until his lips lose their moisture. Dry, like a withered flower asking for the tiniest raindrop to refresh. And you want to give it to him. You’re leaking so much dewiness it is only right that he could get to drink it. You tuck that thought into your heart. 

Yoongi hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and slowly, like your robe, drags them down as far as he can reach. Then, he lets them pool by your knees. “Take them off of her,” he commands in a hushed tone, fingers drifting to your waist, stopping by your mound and your stomach on the way. And it isn’t until Jungkook rids you fully of the wet undergarment that he finally asks: “How should she touch herself?” 

Jungkook crumples it in his fist, tightly enough that white comes into view across his colorful knuckles upon the denim of his jeans. And among other things, his breath hardens. Gazes into your eyes as he says to Yoongi, “Tell her to lift her legs, lick her fingers and rub her princess parts until it feels good.” 

He’s tuned in into the role-play. You think about how you wanted to turn off your brain for him when he had told you to not think that he’d ever get sick of you. How you wanted to keep it stupid for him. 

You know that if you were to do that, if you were to let go—that he’d put you under his spell again, but you’re not letting that cave in on you. Because when Yoongi imparts the instructions to you and you lift your leg, propping your foot on Jungkook’s thigh, saliva-coated fingers finding your clit, you feel a sliver of something indescribably exhilarating. 

Jungkook moans at the first few careful circles. And it’s him who becomes hypnotized. 

It’s your green light to play the role of a stupid, innocent girl—in the hands of two very experienced, aroused men. Seduced, more like. You pat yourself on the back, mentally.  

And the proud feeling of your achievement, the feeling of his vigorous and ardent observance of your pleasured cunt, of the tendril of the profound reminiscence that sweeps in as if he truly missed the sight of her—it all incites you to speed up your movement. To consciously immerse yourself deeper in the role, in the pretending. You figure it should work like this; you won’t get submerged in the water of the hypnosis if you remain in control, clinging to it with all your might. Not if Jungkook is the one spellbound this time. 

You feel your orgasm drawing closer at that thought, breathing against your body. 

“Am I doing it right?” 

Jungkook sneaks a hand around your ankle, hard breaths puffing out of his still parted mouth, cheeks full of vibrant color, eyes dazed—so awfully dazed and fixed on your cunt, on the sheen of your arousal splattered on your folds. Then, he licks his lips, slouches further in his seat after he moves his chair to be more in line with you. Horny, curious puppy, needing to see the full view; your work of art. Yoongi’s soft chuckle rumbles against your scalp and you realize he’s been watching him this entire time, studying him—assessing the situation meticulously. 

“Is she doing it right?” Yoongi asks and you can hear the smirk coating his voice. Jungkook’s other hand, with the panties still clutched, wraps around his hard length, brows furrowing and you whine at the sight, but Yoongi tuts, disapproving. “No touching.” 

Jungkook lifts his hand and so do you—to stall your orgasm, the principle of Jungkook obeying so easily almost throwing you over the edge. You breathe heavily, a tingly sensation swarming within your skin, a certain string of words rising on your tongue. 

You turn your head towards Yoongi. Dart out your tongue to lick swiftly at his bottom lip before you kiss him. Yoongi hums, pleased. “Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Another similar sound, one that makes you smile. You drift a hand towards the back of his head, fingers sinking into the dark length of his hair. Yoongi purrs, blinking down at you like rose petals fluttering—you feel as though you were at the very beginning, living through the moment you learned Jungkook’s name, as if no pain, no murkiness never settled upon the three of you. You don’t know how it makes you feel and you hardly want to decipher it; you gravitate towards enjoying yourself more, thoughts and feelings pushed to the side. 

“He is, isn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs, taking your arm gently in his hand and joining it to your other one around the back of his head, then he roams his back, takes his time, until he plants it upon your cunt. You spasm at the long-awaited contact. “He listens well. So out of it, the poor thing forgot to speak. Maybe we should help him with that, don’t you think?” Poor thing. Your hole clenches, drooling with your dewiness and you groan, the aspect of Jungkook being degraded like this, after he dominated both of you the last time, making you utterly, utterly feral. 

At your noise, Yoongi begins to play with your slippery folds, pressing them together with his fingers flat on each side—not touching your pussy, but pleasuring her nonetheless. You give him more at each squeeze he bestows on your clit, elated that he’s touching her after such a long time, elated that he’s able to. 

It is, undeniably, working like this. Your heart thrums with elation. Happy it has come to this, happy it’s different this time—happy that both parties are happy. 

Not wishing to lose the momentum, you gaze at Jungkook. At the light cascading dimly from his lip ring—that pink, puffy, dry mouth that you long to kiss, that you long to feel on your bundle of nerves. His eyes seem to grow in size at your attention and you’re so touched to witness something like that. You need to ride his face; you need to watch those eyes roll back. You can see his need to take charge, to tell both of you what to do by his irregular breaths, clenched fists and bulging muscles, veins so prominent that you do well not staring at them at all—but he subdues that need, perhaps for you, perhaps for Yoongi. Both possibilities graze your feelings with such fondness that he’s putting himself last, prioritizing the hard truth: you’re not his, not in the sexual ambiance of your time spent together, not even in the lasciviousness of your daydreams. 

You’re Yoongi’s and he’s the boss, one he should’ve been since the beginning. And that’s the core of the difference. The key that makes this work. 

Covering your mouth, you spill your idea of how you should help Jungkook speak into Yoongi’s ear while keeping your eyes on his round ones. He aches to be let in on it, to know, but you don’t allow him that satisfaction. In fact, when you beam at Yoongi once you withdraw, it’s more of a provocation directed towards the puppy than an expression of your true joy. 

“Yes, fuck yes,” Yoongi agrees, orbs aglow by the idea, by something that you can only pin down to a feeling of safety within the environment. He feels safe. Feels comfortable. Feels okay—more than okay by the hardening length against your bum, by the moonbeams flecking across his irises, by the extension of his index finger to your clit, which makes you freeze, stop breathing altogether. “But I want to make you come first. Can I?” 

You peck him, deeply, to seal that package of positive feelings in him, to seal that sense of safety and comfort. Nod a million times. “Yes, please, baby. I need it.” 

Yoongi coos at the pet name, at your willing submissiveness to him and expression of neediness. Nudges his nose against yours. “Need what?” 

You giggle softly. Happy, so awfully happy. “I need you to make me come,” you say, but your words are muffled by the way he skims his mouth over yours, and you don’t think over the next words directed to the other male that tumble out of you. “You want to watch?” 

A stupid, stupid question because he’s been watching this entire time, although it breaks something. Breaks the invisible wall between you, Yoongi and him—breaks his coyness as he sets your foot down and leans forward, smiling fondly. “I’d be happy to watch. Honored.” 

It breaks the unspoken, unseen tension. Breaks the past. Breaks the hurt. And the difference, now validated, made beautiful by his smile, sinks in, spreads across the atmosphere surrounded by the three of you. The sense of safety and comfort now sails over into Jungkook’s pores, slipping inside. And you could burst now. Burst with your joy. 

The afternoon spent in the cabin dissolves. 

You didn’t expect that to happen. 

Yoongi feels it—and you feel him feel it by the trembling breaths he takes against your back. And even though you went into the rabbit hole with him with empty hands, now you hold healing in them. A warm round body of light, heavy and thick, ready for them both. Yoongi might have talked Jungkook’s head off and drank until his nerves eased and was able to escape them, but now he’s eligible to take the light. Jungkook is, too, now that he’s given you his consent for the dynamic to be different. A certain kind of glorious satisfaction envelops you in glow, ridding you of any intoxication and you’re bare. Vulnerable, horny and so tremendously bright. Filled with flowers, filled with love, filled with a delicious, selfish taste of control. 

You want to kiss Jungkook, but you recognize right away that there’s a time and a place for that, one that is not appropriate now. You stifle your craving, wiggle your hips to let Yoongi know you want him to begin. 

You brim with the need to forget now and just enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself at the hands of your long-awaited desire, now boundless, now right, now different. And you break the crumbles of the wall, the hurt and the past when you tell them. “I want us to forget about the last time and enjoy where we are right now. Can we do that?” 

Although you don’t know the contents of the long conversation they had in private about this, you’re glad you’ve said it out loud. Glad it’s out of your chest. Glad for the kiss Yoongi plants on your temple. Glad for Jungkook’s hand encasing yours. Even if that’s the only way they communicate their agreement. 

Out with the old, in with the new. 

And Jungkook keeps holding your hand when Yoongi begins to rub your clit. He tightens his hold, in fact, at the first twist of your features, at the relief intermingling, despite the fact he knows nothing about how this is the first time Yoongi touched you like this since forever ago. His hand feels much more different than yours, much more nimble and much quicker. And the pleasure that floods your body is more about that than it is about the stimulation. A wish pricks at you, a wish to tell him, but you don’t let it get near you, not when you know the time for that is long, long gone, not when forgetting is supposed to take place now because the new is here. 

You push those thoughts entirely away. The thoughts of there being a certain forever ago, a certain past along with it, too. 

And then Yoongi hums and the sound sweeps it far, far away from you. 

He pinches your nipple. Finds it’s not enough and forces your top open, undoing the bow, baring you to his and Jungkook’s eyes. Joins his other hand to knead both of your full breasts, but you whine, needing him elsewhere. Yoongi chuckles, listening to you—drifting his hand immediately back down to your clit, resuming his swift circles.  

Jungkook salivates. Makes no indication of being in demand of participation. Merely wipes at the corners of his mouth while his other hand squeezes yours in a tight, clammy hold. Light protrudes from his eyes, akin to the one you still own, cooling the sweat layering upon your body. No darkness of arousal, none whatsoever, only the chocolate brown of his irises, vibrant, mesmerized and absolutely affectionate. 

Newness, you breathe it in and exhale a moan. Yoongi changes direction. Moves from circles to side to side, angling your body so he can give it his all. You feel the incoming pressure of your orgasm and you ready yourself for it, squeezing your eyes shut. And when he decides to alternate, so quickly that you lose track of it, it is your ultimate undoing. 

Mainly when Yoongi curtly slaps your clit, transferring you back to the very beginning of your story, rooting you there. You come so hard that you fall apart. 

Tears fly out of you, but you laugh—and the sound is broken by a deep moan from your chest caused by pure, boundless euphoria. Yoongi prolongs your orgasm, keeps strumming your clit, purring onto your mouth and you open your eyes to witness his devotion to it, to your pleasure. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded, pouty mouth. Adamant on making you feel as good as—

It triggers another orgasm. A softer, mellow one. And the string of noises you let out are of the same dulcet nature. Yoongi swallows them, groaning, fondling your pussy, patting her gently, making you tremble, woozy, giddy and so incredibly girly. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, caressing you everywhere and you nod, a million times. You’ve missed him, terribly. 

You give him a nasty kiss full of tongue, aware of what’s happened and of what’s next just the same. 

Yoongi perches on the floor, knees on either side of yours as you crawl towards Jungkook’s lap. He leans back, a surprised grin appearing on his flustered face. And it hits him like a ton of bricks when you pop his button open and drag down the zipper of his jeans. Your words that follow, too. 

“Off. Everything.” 

“You want to suck me off?” A calm bewilderment coats his voice, such a heavy oxymoron for him to bear when he was fine with just watching. 

You smile at him briefly before you wet your lips, eager to make happen what he can’t believe you’re willing to do for him. “I knew it would get you talking.” 

An airy laugh. So endearing to your hearing sense. He cradles your chin for a mere beat of time. “You’re so smart.” He takes off his tank, revealing his enormous pecs adorned with a long but dainty silver chain that you crave to have swinging in your face, that steals your attention from the dose of validation he gave you. 

But when Yoongi leaves, your heart sinks in panic. 

Only to hoist it back up when you realize he went to fetch the gift he bought you, along with a bigger tube of lube from your bedroom. Your body tremors and it’s both of the males that try to alleviate it. Yoongi, who settles back behind you, fondling the skin of your bare bum. Jungkook, who turns you to look at him, nodding once to let you know everything’s okay. 

You release a breath, but you can’t hide the shakes. 

Jungkook strokes your brow. A tender touch that drives you to believe him. Yes, everything’s okay. The past is gone. Healing is contained in the conscious reminders. The light in your hands flutters, calling out to you, and you press it over that heft of your wandering heart. 

It’s you who alleviates the tremors. 

And when you take off your top, Jungkook follows suit, ridding himself of his jeans.

To distract your mind from hurling false thoughts at you, you finally allow yourself to look at his hard length—still, disappointingly clothed. Thick. You can almost feel the memory of him, the heaviness of him, when he had you pressed against him by the pond. The first time you touched him. You groan, softly. “Off.” 

Jungkook coos, patting you on the cheek with his finger. “So eager.” 

He paints a smile on your face with that brush of his digit. “Be a good boy and listen.” 

Without taking his eyes off of you, he swears. Pulls his manhood out, tugs his boxers a few inches down and you bite back a gasp, a moan and something in between. Red, swollen tip, the petal of a sun-kissed rose, little thick veins enveloping the girth. He keeps his balls covered to tease you. “Like this, Mommy?” 

You glare at him and it’s Yoongi’s second-hand embarrassment laughter that smooths out your features, contagious to such a great extent that when you look back at him to see him pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed and crinkly, you burst into the same laughter, lungs expanding, exhaling all that heft and momentary residue of panic until there’s nothing negative left. 

It even radiates Jungkook. He laughs so much that his cock bounces, which deepens your giggles and you hide your face in your hands. 

And when the conveyance of joy simmers, another tender tears rush out of your tear ducts. Good tears. You’re so content with life shared with the two males that you can’t help but be emotional. You shield those tears behind the premise of your laughter. They’re private—just yours. The final conclusion of the dark side. 

Yoongi skims his fingers across your tiny hole. Back to business. 

You tug Jungkook’s boxers all the way down and you lift his ankle to rid him completely of them. Mimic the way he did it to you. You even think about keeping them. Think about how this is exactly how it should be—recollecting only the good parts of the story, the light side while letting the dark one go. Jungkook sees it on your face and he lets you decide. 

You don’t have to think twice. 

You fling his underwear on the chair you sat on. Jungkook caresses your hair in response and you smile at him. Yoongi leans over you, fists your hair and pushes you toward Jungkook’s cock. At the sight, the puppy swears. 

“Spit on it. Make it nice and wet for him,” Yoongi orders and there’s slyness to your ever persisting smile when you gather your saliva and do exactly as he says. 

At the first contact of your liquid love, Jungkook swears again and there’s no stopping to that litany of vulgar words when you, just like him, swirl it around the top of his head with the tip of your tongue without taking your gaze off of him. It’s at this movement of yours that a flashback gleams across his still round, tender eyes for a split second. Now he remembers, now you’ve pulled him back to the place you didn’t even realize that you did. 

Yoongi guides you to wrap your mouth around him and Jungkook loses it. 

The suction of your cheeks, the eye contact, the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue, Jungkook rolls his eyes back before he whisks them back to you, not able to miss one moment of the pleasure you give him. Yoongi pushes your head back and forth and when it dawns upon you that there’s nothing else for you to do but to keep your mouth open while Yoongi does all the work, you moan. And like Jungkook, you can’t stop. 

You feel Yoongi’s lips at your ear. “You think you can take him all the way?” 

The mewl that comes out of you is the only agreement you can manage to give him. Yoongi groans, kissing your earlobe before he licks it, nibbles on it, taking his mouth to the skin beneath, causing your eyes to narrow. Your pussy drenches, throbs and your hand automatically flies to her. You rub yourself slowly to gain a hint of relief, bobbing your head up and down, tongue feeling up the thick veins along his girth and you whine so desperately—enough for Yoongi to check what was the cause of it. 

He draws back. Finds you touching yourself. Clicks his tongue and chuckles in absolute appreciation. He likes what he sees. Pushes your head until your nose swipes past Jungkook’s minimal pubic hair and only when you gag does he let you breathe—does he let you play with his tip on your own. “Mommy is playing with her needy cunt.” 

The curse word that wafts in the air is singular, coming out of your and Jungkook’s mouth simultaneously. There’s no laughter this time. Just thick arousal spreading across the room, dizzying all of your senses. Jungkook is breathless and the look you share is desperate, unspoken but so, so vivid. You take him in your free hand and jerk him off, reveling in the feeling of his veins. You give him all of your whiny moans, straightening up, your fingers sneaking to your hole. Eyes narrowing, mouth open, the sounds of your slick saliva in your tight grasp so obscene, so stimulating that when you begin to finger yourself and Yoongi latches his lips onto your neck, you know you’ll be coming in mere, pathetic minutes. 

Jungkook leans forward a little bit to watch you stuffing yourself full. Bites his lip, closes his eyes when you tighten your grip around his head. And you do it again and again to coax his moans and he willingly supplies you with them. Opens his eyes and the look he gives you stops time. “So good. So fucking good.” 

You yearn to kiss him and he does, too. You twist your wrist and he loses himself for a moment. That alone speeds up the coming of your orgasm. Your body flares with heat, your fingers picking up their speed instinctually and Jungkook angles his head to kiss you—

You push him back. To tease him, to make him more desperate because it pleases you and Jungkook smirks at you, gripping your panties in his fist. Hiding your own, you lick him all over and get to the undiscovered part you want the most. 

You mouth his full balls. Whimper against them. Hot flashes fill your sight at the scent of him, even more so when Jungkook inhales your sounds and emits the same ones. “Fuck, sweetheart, oh fuck, yes, like that.” Takes your hand and busies it, wrapping it around his length. You spasm at the pet name, at the warmth that seeps into your skin from him.  

It’s him who guides you now. Yoongi merely watches, in awe, wet fingers rubbing circles on your tiny hole, preparing you. “That’s it, honey, make him come.” 

You’re so overwhelmed by your task that you withdraw your fingers from your heat, though Yoongi is quick to replace his. And the speed he establishes, you mimic it on Jungkook’s length and he grunts at the contact of your dewiness on him. You twists your wrists, fucking yourself back on Yoongi’s fingers. Bore your gaze into Jungkook’s. Hard, hard breaths, quickening lifts of his chest, he struggles to reciprocate your eye contact, the rhythm so beautiful so seamless, working so well. 

And when you wrap your lips around him and suck him with fast bobs, he comes. 

You open your mouth, yearning to feel him paint your face. Quick to grip his balls to feel them emptying out for you and you milk his cum out of him, jerking him off until his ropes smear on the corners of your lips, hot and thick. Yoongi pulls out his fingers, latches them onto your hip. “Stick out your tongue.” 

You do as he says, in time to catch the last rope landing onto the muscle. You hum, swallowing, watching the tension screwing his features and the relief unweaving it as his orgasm reaches the end. Winded, dumbfounded, gruntled. A lovely sight to behold. 

Jungkook’s grip loosens on your panties. And with his other hand, he feeds you his cum. Swipes his fingers from your cheek onto your mouth, plunging it inside. Yoongi kisses the side of your face, gripping your neck to hold your head steady for Jungkook, allowing him to finish the job. 

You swallow everything, the taste of him suffused with mild earthiness, with tanginess and the tiniest hint of sweetness. Liquid candy, just for you. You allow him to see how much you enjoyed that, but it’s Yoongi first to whom you show that you’ve swallowed everything. 

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Well done, honey.” He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, and the thought of him tasting the residue of Jungkook numbs your senses entirely. “You did so well.” 

You’re panting when he withdraws and when you look at Jungkook, there’s a moment of stillness when you take in the thundering turmoil rushing inside him. You don’t have to guess what’s behind it. Jungkook voices it. “Let me kiss her, please.” 

Such a soft murmur, charged with so much desperation. You break at the sound of it, gripping his hand, furrowing your brows, ready to give him anything he wants, boundlessly. Your heart thuds and it only takes one look at Yoongi and he folds, too. 

Nods. 

You thought he’d kiss you from the position you’re in, but Jungkook stands to his feet, grabbing you along with him, picking you up like a child by sliding his hands under your armpits. And when he presses you against him and kisses you hungrily with fast pecks, breathing hard, you discern how illogical it was for him to call you Mommy. 

Even though he can listen like a good boy, it’s merely a role, one he plays for you, for Yoongi, one that fragments with each kiss. Who he truly is the reversal of it. 

He’s Daddy. Undeniably. 

You’ve never been keen for titles. You and Yoongi never used them, never felt the need for it, hence why you both laughed when it came up. But the more you kiss him, the more you sense it. The awakening dominance, the tendril of fatherliness that spirals around you, the deserved respect he emanates. It turns you on to the point that you find yourself wondering what else is there beneath the shadows of your undiscovered sexuality. 

The feeling of his warm skin against yours, his still hard manhood against your stomach, the provocation of the lip ring, the softness of his mouth slowing down and prolonging the kiss—fuck. How much more can you possibly get aroused? He empties out your brain, but you’re calm, not panicked by it at all. And to stay conscious, to stay in control, you wrap your hand around him again. 

He hisses, breaking the kiss, grasping your hand. “Too sensitive. Sorry. I came so hard.” 

You coo, pecking him deeply, squeezing his broad shoulders. “It’s okay.” 

When you turn around to give your attention to Yoongi, you find him deep in thought, fixed on Jungkook. “Remember how she came when you kissed her? At the cabin?” 

Your heart speeds up. Not due to fear or anything of the sort, but due to excitement. You know where he’s heading with this. 

“Hard to forget,” Jungkook murmurs and it thrums beneath your skin, spreading wide. 

“She came multiple times when I made her think about that,” Yoongi starts and you can’t halt the smile growing on your lips. A tiny whirl of shyness mingles with the words coursing through your bloodstream. “It’s what we did. I made her imagine that you were kissing her, eating her out while she touched herself. And now I want you to give it to her. Give it to her good. Better than she was able to imagine.” 

Sharp inhale of breath. You want to see his reaction to your secret—but then hands. Clammy hands on your hips, nose nuzzling in your hair. “Who’s gonna be in control when I do that?” 

Your eyes widen, pulse quickening to the point that it troubles you. 

And Yoongi looks at you when he answers his question, “You. It’s me who’s gonna watch now.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two 

[gay-wh0re-slut]

(sorry, english isn’t my first language) i’m not sure if you’re requests are open,but i wanted to tell you what an amazing writer you are.💜 you’re so gifted, i hope you never stop writing. could you do a Dom!rhea x inexperienced!fem fluffy smut. maybe like the readers first time, so rhea is supper attentive and caring… idk

just happy to be here😊

my requests are always open, but it might take me a while to get to them bc of my schedule but thank you so much, i’m glad you liked them!!! and of course i can, this is so sweet.

Gentle

rhea x fem!reader

content: super sweet rhea taking care of you in bed for your first time, super vanilla with an extremely tiny bit of praise.

You and Rhea were sat on the bed across from each other, she was sitting criss-cross while you were sitting on the side of your hip leaning on your hand. She was fiddling with your rings on your free hand while you listened to her talk.

“We can take it as slow as you need to,” she started.

You were…not sure how you felt but you stated earlier that you were ready to go for it. The two of you had been dating for a good few months now and she never pushed you to do anything you didn’t want to but she always made some silly jokes with sexual undertones.

“Whenever you want to stop, just say so. I won’t do anything too crazy…yet,” she chuckled.

You laughed with her. She is always so caring about every aspect of your relationship, making sure you were okay in her big social events, making sure you got to your destination safely, and other things like that. You had never experienced such love before.

“Do you want a run down of what I am going to do or do you just want to play it by ear?” she continued.

“Hmm,” you thought as your heart thumped, “maybe… both? I’m not sure.”

“Well,” she scooted closer to you, “We’re gonna kiss that’s for sure. Then I’ll undress you, if that’s okay, of course, then-”

“Actually, I changed my mind. I’ll just go with the flow,” you spewed out.

“Okay baby, whatever you want. This is all on your terms,” she cupped your face rubbing her thumb over your cheek. She gave you a soft smile before kissing you.

“That’s so much pressure,” you looked down picking at imaginary lint.

“I know but it’ll be okay, I promise. I will not be upset if you want to stop,” she lifted your chin, “think of it this way, I’m doing most of the work, you just have to relax and enjoy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you released a breath of relief remembering how good she was to you in everyday life, which made you feel better that it would be the same in this new situation.

“We’ll take it slow,” she kissed you again, “however slow you want,” kisses you again, “however long it takes,” she kissed your jaw, “this is just for you,” she continued to kiss down your neck as a shockwave sent through your body.

A small whimper escaped you but you stopped it immediately.

“No, don’t be shy, make all the noise you want, it’s more fun that way,” she said slyly. She kissed her way back up your neck to your lips.

You sat there a while, your lips dancing against hers. It wasn’t the first time you’ve made out, that’s happened a lot, but this time was different. It felt special, maybe because it was, but you knew that you had nothing to worry about.

“Lay down,” she whispered.

So you did and watched as she crawled on top of you, again this wasn’t the first time you were in this position but it felt like it was. Your hands roamed all over her back and muscular arms as one of her hands traced your body and sneaked its way under your shirt.

Slowly, she grazed her hand over your breast, “this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded as you held her face and began to kiss her again.

She smiled into the kiss as she gave a small squeeze and went back to tracing your body.

You stayed in this position for a while, her hands finding any skin she could get in contact with as you writhed under her.

The tattooed hand snuck its way to your waistband, “Can I take these off?” she breathed.

You hesitated a bit looking into her icy blue eyes, “yes.”

A devilish smirk grew on her face as she pulled your pants off of you, she didn’t go too far though and decided against taking off your underwear.

You shivered at the cool air but it quickly went away when she placed herself back on top of you. She rested on her elbow as she laid on her side with her leg over yours, pulling you in tightly with her free hand.

“Still okay?” she moved a strand of your hair out of your face.

“Mhmm,” you nodded with a smile.

“Do you want to go further or stay here a while?”

You thought about it for a minute, moving your hand over her thigh.

“You can go further,” you hesitated.

“Okay, baby. If you want to stop, just tell me. Again this is at your pace, I’m here to please you,” her voice was low and calm which calmed you in the process.

You nodded your head, biting your lip. Her free hand felt its way down your chest, to your stomach and down to your center. She gently slid her hand down making contact with your clit ever so slightly. Your hips jerked a little. She chuckled before going back to kissing you. The hand repeated this movement a few more times before adding more pressure. After a few moments of that, she changed her hand’s position and began to draw small circles over your sensitive bud.

“This okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you said with a little more confidence.

She smiled into the kiss in response.

It’s not like you haven’t orgasmed before, but this was the first time someone else was doing it. So it didn’t take long for you to realize that the familiar feeling in your stomach was starting to form. You didn’t want to seem too desperate so you tried to hold off as long as you could.

Your hips were moving against her hand perfectly though and your breathing was becoming heavier, you weren’t sure if you could hold it. Small moans and whines have been escaping this whole time but they’ve gotten louder within the past few minutes.

“I know you want to,” she cooed, “don’t be shy now, princess. You’ve done so well for me.”

You didn’t know you liked praise until this very moment. Thankfully, the knot in your stomach finally released, “oh fuck,” you whimpered quietly. Your back arched, pushing your ribs into her as your nails dig into her muscular arm.

She let you ride it out as long as it took, watching you squirm under her, smiling and thinking of all the ways she could make you do this over and over and over.

Once you finally relaxed, she rested her head on her fist and landed her free hand on her side. You lolled to your back with your eyes closed, after realizing you unknowingly turned yourself into her during the process.

“How are you feeling?” she asked calmly.

“Good,” you turned to look at her with a small smile.

“Oh… well, next time I’ll make you feel great,” she giggled.

“Can’t wait.”

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem! Reader

Warnings: second part of this writing is smut so beware, fluff, a bit of insecurities

A/n: I don’t write much about Theo but I’ve had a suffocating obsession with him for so fucking long!! I can’t bottle up those thoughts in my head anymore so I just have to share those with you guys

Theodore Nott dating headcanons

Okay, hear me out, Theo had the fattest crush on you for at least four months before he ever actually approached you! It’s most probable for you to share some of your classes and he happened to sit next to you or behind you, getting to hear your little chats with your friends or even having full conversations with you personally

He would def ogle you from across the great hall during all meals, and not gonna lie - it freaked the fuck out of you at first. Because Theodore doesn’t have this ‘I’m so painfully in love with you’ stare, but rather a ‘I wanna slit your throat with a salad knife’ kind of stare, yk? But once you’ve had a nice chat with him all your worries evaporated bc this boy is a total sweetheart, just a bit shy and introverted

Theo would be very clear with his intentions from the very beginning, so when he asked you out for the first time he added a timid “But I mean it as a date, if you don’t mind” at the end, his cheeks growing rosy and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at how adorable Theo looked

Mean to everyone but you trope!! It’s no secret that Theo is all grumpy and gloomy, no one gets surprised by his rather rash mood swings (which are usually bad mood changing to disastrously bad mood), but when he’s with you? Boy, that is a whole another person - he’s all smiley and flirty, joking around, trying to see that precious smile of yours he adores so much

He remembers everything, and I mean everything, about you. What your hobbies are, things that you are interested in, your favorite actors and singers, which flavors and fragrances you like and which you don’t etc. I swear, this man pays more attention to your little whims than to his classes

He loves snuggles so much🥺 His mother passed away shortly after giving birth to Theodore, and his father, being a strict and reserved person he is, wasn’t able to give that parenting love and tenderness to his son, so Theo is touch-starved for sure. He loves every kind of physical touch - handholding, hugging, cuddling, kissing, snuggling - bring it all in

So so devoted. He had been dying for being close to you for so long, and now that he finally has you - there’s no way he’s going to fuck everything up with some stupid flings. In fact, Theodore is all about long-term relationships, and I feel like even an idea of having a one-night stand deeply disgusts him

But Theodore is also very possessive. And it’s not like he doesn’t trust you enough, it’s all the people around you that cannot be trusted. But it’s also his insecurities talking in him - what if you find someone better? Someone smarter and more attractive and you’ll leave him, heartbroken and lonely. Theo is deeply attached to you, and even the thought of you breaking up with him hurts poor boy deeply

Theo has some anger management issues, so there are times when he asks you to leave him alone to cool down, so that he won’t say anything to you in a fit of fury that he’ll heavily regret afterwards

Random dances are really a thing in your relationship! Very often you find yourself waltzing with Theo to a non-existent tune in your head, spinning each other around and giggling like small kids. And if you don’t know how do waltz - don’t worry! Being a pure-blood automatically means being good at ball dances, Theo will teach you everything! And don’t worry about accidentally stomping on his shoes- he will never get mad or tell you off for that

Omg omg imagine being too careless and leaving blotches of your shiny microglitter lipgloss on his cheeks, chin and around his lips, not noticing them in a dim light. And Theo being absolutely clueless, walking around the castle all sparkly, not understanding why his slytherin pals are snickering and smiling slyly at him

I kinda have a feeling, that when you start dating Theo - you get Blaise Draco and Pansy as an additional gift. No matter what you two are doing or where you are - there will always be one or all of those around, teasing the shit out of both of you (mostly Theo)

Smokes like a fucking locomotive! But Theo will try his best to tame it if you chide him for that, leading to him being moodier due to lack of nicotine and untamed oral fixation. Or you’ll just start smoking as well, chain-smoking together and stealing each other’s lighters

NSFW

So as I already mentioned, Theodore is a long-term relationship kind of person, meaning that he needs a strong emotional connection with certain person to have sex with them. I strongly believe that he had every kind of first sexual experience with you - making out, grinding, mutual masturbation, oral and sex itself. To put it simply - Theo was a complete virgin

I think Theo would postpone any kind of sexual experience with you for as long as possible, too afraid to make you feel pressured or thinking that he’s with you only for sex. Actually, it’s more likely for you to initiate anything of that sort, and he still asks you “Are you sure that you want it?” every five minutes. Isn’t he adorable?🥺

But once you’ve actually had sex, Theodore can’t help but be desperate for more. He tries to suppress those distracting thoughts of doing oh so unholy things to your precious body as much as he can, but he crawls to you so needy and whiny just two days after, begging to be close to you again. And how can you say no when he stares down at you with those puppy eyes, whispering about how pretty you are and how horny he gets just from thinking about you

Omg he defo had wet dreams about you before you started dating. Imagine Theo trying his hardest to not think about you, annoyed by how hard he had fallen, and his subconscious playing evil jokes on poor boy, giving him some pretty livid pictures of you two together. Not so innocent pictures, I must note. Okay, not innocent at all. Dreams in which you were sat on top of him, looking down at Theo with those alluring beautiful eyes of yours, your breasts on full display right before his eyes. Or where he was laying in-between your legs, pleasuring you with all he had. The first time it ever happened Theo was shaken awake by Blaise who was mumbling something about oversleeping. Thanks Merlin Theo was laying on his side, so that his painful boner wasn’t poking so obviously through layers of his blankets. He was so embarrassed by himself he couldn’t even look at you for the next few days

He doesn’t make too much noise during sex. Theodore is a quiet person in general - he talks only when it’s necessary and prefers to listen to others instead. That be said - he loooves hearing you moan and whimper and plea and babble in pleasure, so don’t even try to hold all those sweet little noises in. He really feels awkward about making any noises himself, but he lets you know just how good you make him feel with his facial expressions, long sighs and countless praises muttered into your ears with his ‘sexy Theo voice’

Loves loves loves eating pussy. Oh, this man goes absolutely feral, working his mouth on you, tongue flicking over your clit in quick tight circles, giving an occasional suck. And this man has completely mastered (with your help, of course) the perfect combination of tongue and fingers, being able to give you a mind-blowing orgasm in just five minutes

Marking marking marking marking. Leaves marks everywhere he can - your neck, chest, shoulders, tummy, thighs- everywhere. And please, please leave marks on his as well - leave hickeys and bite-marks in the most obvious places - he’d never cover them in his life, wearing them as the most treasured jewelry - just let everyone know that he’s yours

One of Theodore’s biggest turn-ons is spitting in your mouth and making you swallow it. No I’m not sorry for that

His favorite position is definitely missionary, where Theo is half-lying on top of you, intense skin against skin contact, your legs draped around his hips, pounding deep and slow into your dripping pussy, all while gazing into your eyes lovingly

Omgomg imagine having passionate sex with Theo with lots of heavy touching and open-mouthed kisses all while songs from “Awaken, My Love!” album by Childish Gambino are blaring on the background *chokes on spit and tears*

And here’s a lil addition💖

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Give writers some love - feedback is the thing that inspires us on creating more new content💖

[kiwiana-writes]

The way we get into each other's bones [Angstapalooza RWRB Edition] bc the multiminute podcast i got from u isn’t enough apparently

and also the only fans one, u know, for balance

The way we get into each other’s bones [Angstapalooza RWRB edition]

Lmaoooo the TWELVE MINUTE VOICE NOTE I sent you already gave you more info about this than I think anyone other than @ships-to-sail @celeritas2997 and @rmd-writes is privy to. BUT.

For those of you who aren’t in the middle of the Venn diagram between RWRB and Schitt’s Creek, a few years back I wrote a 53k canon divergence breakup/reconciliation fic that was dubbed “angstapalooza” while I was writing it. And based on people’s reactions… it earned the moniker. (It’s also, despite my overall reputation in SC as a smut/kink peddler, become The Work people associate with me, apparently. Or as @indestructibleheart put it: “mj being seen as someone who only writes angst is like how nick is gonna go down in history for playing gay royals. it's not their fault their angst fics just happen to be very memorable, but they actually have a full imdb of other roles.“ 😂😂😂

SO. When, halfway through writing the actor AU, I had a sudden idea for a multi-chapter canon divergence breakup/reconciliation fic… well. The appellation seemed appropriate. It also immediately terrified the RWRB/SC Venn diagrammers 😂

I really do just need to sit down and, like, focus on this one, because it’s by far my longest-languishing WIP. But here’s the start of the pitch: canon divergent from Rio, they start hooking up much earlier, and break up—spectacularly and angrily—a couple of months before Philip’s wedding. Cakegate is no longer antagonism and UST, it’s two very recent very hurt exes having to play the diplomatic bullshit in the public eye while seeing each other for the first time since breaking up.

There’s a prologue in media res that covers cakegate, then we flash back to Rio and see the progression of their relationship (before and after cakegate) from there. Angst with a happy ending, and many delicious things on the way I won’t spoil right now.

As a little treat, have the (heartbreaking!!) end of the prologue:

Later, what Alex will hate himself for the most isn’t the absolute waste of $75,000 worth of dessert. It won’t be the heartbroken look on Martha’s face, or the disappointed expression on his mom’s when he gets home, or the diplomatic shitstorm the whole thing threatens to kick off.

No, what Alex will hate himself for the most is that when they fall to the floor, Henry’s hands find their way to Alex’s hips, gripping tight enough that his fingers will probably leave bruises later—and just for a moment, it feels like coming home.

Hold up, rewind, knock me off of my feet [OnlyFans/Roommates]

I talked about this one here but have a little snippet because I genuinely love this fic. I just keep getting distracted by ooh-shinies

“I think I’m into Henry.”

“Right, no, I got that part somewhere in between hearing how pretty he is when he cries and you waxing rhapsodic about how he has, and I quote, ‘thighs that could crush a watermelon or, like, hang off a pole or something’.”

Alex blinks at her, confused. “What? I didn’t say anything about his thighs.”

“Not today.”

Two words should not be able to be that damning. He does vaguely recall saying that, actually, a few weeks after they moved in together and Alex had come home to find Henry in shorts for the first time.

Which, okay. It’s possible Alex has been ignoring a few signs. Big signs. Twelve foot tall signs that are so neon you kind of have to wonder if they’re radioactive.

[WIP tag game]

[oddinary4bts]

CC ch 7 has to be my fave so far. I literally have no words yet I have so much to say. Girl first of all WHAT THE FUCK. You’re so talented it’s actually unbelievable. This was SUCH a good chapter filled with so many emotions. It truly was a rollercoaster but it ended on a better note than I could have imagined and as much as I’m aware that the upcoming angst is probably gonna sucker punch me in the gut, I’m just gonna enjoy their little bubble for now lmao. 😭 I LOVE how much of a simp Jungkook is for oc. He just wants to spend all his time with her and he tells her how much he enjoys her company and he doesn’t hide it, it’s SO DAMN CUTE 🥹 I love oc for keeping her doubts about Jk between the two of them, especially with the whole Colton situation. She’s protective of him no matter what and doesn’t just believe anything she gets told about him but gives him the time and place to explain himself, she forms her own opinion by her own experiences with him and I love that sm. AND THEN THE BEST PART 😭 Jk willing to risk everything and telling her how much he wants her and that he’ll tell Tae because he just wants to be with her so badly. The intimacy of them holding each other whilst he tells her he won’t hurt her even though she’s scared of that. 🥺 AND THEN HIM TELLING HER “you better not be fucking anyone else, your pussy is mine” 🥵💀😭🧎🏻‍♀️ yes. Yes it is. The smut you write is always good but this was beyond perfection. I actually genuinely had to take a breather, close my eyes and compose myself at certain parts because fuck me, insane. AND THE FLUFF don't even get me started 😩 him wanting to shower with her and sleep with her in the same bed especially the part where she asks him if he wants to sleep in his bed and he asks her "with you?" Just to clarify she means together before he gives her an answer because he'd rather sleep on her mattress if it means sleeping next to her, is soooooo fucking adorable I have no words.

I cannot wait for the next chapter and to see what happens on the New York trip. He's so whipped with her and switched up so fast on not dating anyone to wanting to be with her and dating her. When she asked him "does that mean you love me?" I just know mans was thinking "I'm getting there" 🤫🤭

I love them SO SO much.

You slayed once again miss girl. I can’t wait to see his pov of this chapter eventhough he told her exactly how he felt I want to see his convo with Colton, his reaction to oc kissing Jin, him deciding to tell oc how he feels and why, what he was thinking during the smut and asking her to go to New York with him.

Lots of loveeee 💗

AH THANK YOU SO MUCH🥹🥹 looking back I realize that I fully agree with everyone, ch 7 is probably the best (or one of the best) in the series bc of all the emotions that it holds, you know?? Like everything you pointed out I’m like HELL YEAH🥹

Jungkook switching up so fast is just a sign that he has been WAITING for this moment to happen for so so long bc he was into her from the very beginning🥰🥰 and he wants to prove it to her in every way bc he doesn’t want to lose her before he’s even had her🥹

I can’t wait for y’all to read the next chapter, it gives a lot more perspective about who Jungkook is as a person and why he is the way that he is and I just love him so so much😭

As fr his pov, I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s going to be good🤭

Thank you so much for reading✨

[slightecho]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

I got tagged by @daydreams-and-honeybees and @halcyonhue (it won’t let me tag you and idk why! 😭)

This is gonna be very interesting and silly bc I have written much and posted little!! 🤣

TAGGING: @silvvergears if you havent done this before and…… actually idk who among my fic writing friends has or hasn’t done this one bc I’ve seen it going around a few times, so if you are a fic writer and want to do it, i’m tagging you!! 😆

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

LMFAO only 4

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

481,043 words jfc 😨

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I used to dabble in writing voltron fic years ago, and that makes up the majority of works on my ao3 but currently writing for The Owl House and I’m hoping to outnumber the Voltron fics on my account with other fandoms 😎

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lmao uhhhh since I only have 4 published, I’m just gonna say the top two tbh 😅😅😅

Ashes takes the number one, with Crowd of Thousands as my second most kudos on a fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes!! I love responding to comments! I want to discuss things with people reading my fics and (especially in the case of Ashes), I wanna see what my readers theories are on what’s going to happen. It’s one of my favorite parts of having people who read what I write!!

If you’ve ever left me a comment and I haven’t responded, don’t be discouraged. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say beyond a giant thanks for reading. 😅 And sometimes I won’t reply if my last reply was a teaser

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhh so if I had finished it, it WOULD have been the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU fic I got like 75% of the way done writing and then abandoned.

But other than that I don’t have any with an angsty ending—oh wait no ¡Viva La Gloria! is technically a published fic in my ao3 isn’t it?

Yeah it’s ¡Viva La Gloria! then lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Crowd of Thousands currently.

Ashes by the time it’s done.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven’t yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pls don’t send me hate I’ll cry

Criticism and critique are fine. Just don’t be mean to meeeee pls 😊

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have.

Nothing published anywhere.

I’m not very good at it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really. I don’t really read them either tbh

I’m kind of the kid who doesn’t want their foods to touch on their plate when it comes to entire fandoms in fics it’s just not my thing

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not yet, or at least not to my knowledge.

Knocking on wood now

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Somewhat?

The planned Elowyn piece I have is something my girlfriend and I came up with together. So I have co-authored concepts

The first two or three chapter of Ashes, besides the prologue, there was a LOT taken from the discord RP that I’d originally come up with the plot of Ashes for. I had permission from that friend to use them. And I heavily, HEAVILY took out and then rewrote their portions (namely the Raine parts of the chapters “Moving Day” and “Hexside” bc the rest at the time were my characters). Their original writing has been scrubbed and a lot of Raine’s character and story arc has transformed into something else entirely. Pretty much all that remains is that they were the one who came up with the idea that Raine was Manny’s sibling. If they read it, they could probably still see the bones of what they wrote if they squint. But by the time Luz hits Eda with the door in “Hexside,” they’d already moved on from the rp. So it was very easy to rewrite around their parts and just reuse the posts I that I had written for those chapters.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

That’s too hard a question how dare you

I like too many ships

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh jeez.

Either the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU that was never posted anywhere, or The First Golden Guard.

Pretty much The First Golden Guard i have just notes scribbled out of the plot, what I think the first chapter is, and some various bits of dialogue from different moments in the fic. But then I started writing Ashes and that took over my life, and now I really want to write The Caleb Files, and the bonus stuff that got cut from Ashes. Plus the Elowyn fic. so I just don’t know if it will ever get written now

16. What are your writing strengths?

Description and voice.

I really love getting a little flowery when describing action or setting while writing. And in the case of setting in particular, I think I have a more natural ability.

I also really strive to make sure each character’s own unique way of talking comes through in their dialogue. Maybe not always when the narration makes the reader privy to their thoughts and emotions, but at the very least, their dialogue does.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Bro just cannot stop yapping!!

I actually genuinely do believe my greatest weakness is my inability to shut up sometimes. I’m sure if I go back and reread Ashes from the beginning, I’ve said the same shit multiple times.

Also sometimes I just get repetitive!! And I use certain colloquialisms like “just,” “after all,” and “as if” FAR too often.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

sigh.

I am a latinx person who lived through the VLD fandom… I have a LOT of opinions… and I have seen some bad Spanish dialogue written by non-Spanish speakers… the kind of shit that stands out to even me, when I have little verbal fluency.

Here’s the thing: I am not AGAINST anyone writing another language of dialogue into their fics. I actually do think it’s a good thing.

HOWEVER!!!

If you are a person who only speaks one language—if you’re a person who kind of doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I say ‘code switching’ or only understands the basic definition of code switching—I am BEGGING you to try and have someone with more experience in that language than you to proofread those dialogue sections.

The amount of times I’ve seen weird moments where the code switching didn’t make logical or emotional sense for the character beyond the author’s “I want to include Spanish here” is innumerable. And that’s not to say code switching needs to have a deep, profound reason all the time—sometimes code switching happens bc there’s no word or phrase in one language that directly translates from the concept or emotion you know how to describe in another! But from what I’ve found, there are a lot of people who understand code switching in concept (and that it’s important for representation) but not in practice bc they simply have no firsthand experience with it. I don’t blame them, though! It’s a hard thing to understand on description alone! Unless you’ve experienced it before, I don’t think it’s something you can fully comprehend. And it can stand out. You can even think you’ve done it right on technicality, but it falls flat.

A tiktok in how to spot AI images I once saw said “AI understands that a mirror, or stairs, or chair legs have to be there there, but it doesn’t understand why it functionally exists or what purpose it serves” and therefore it makes mistakes by adding twelve stairs on the right and fourteen on the left, or five legs on two chairs that are somehow sharing them, or mirrors won’t show the correct items reflected back. I’ve seen many well-meaning fic writers (and published authors!!!) do the exact same thing with language switching. They understand that it should be there, but not functionally why.

Also a basic “don’t rely on google translate” here….. but also a less basic one: different cultures of a shared language are gonna have different turns of phrase and different slang. I’ve also seen a lot of fics that have Lance (a Cuban character) using Mexican slang or words. That’s always awkward.

There’s just a lot. I could go on about this forever but I think I pretty much covered it all.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ever?! Lmfao Harry Potter when I was a young teen. I didn’t understand what I was doing at all and only did it because my older friend who knew I liked writing my original stories at the time said that I should try writing fic.

I didn’t even have a plot or anything. I just genuinely thiugh fanfic was writing your little self insert OCs and perpetually playing with them in a dollhouse made of your favorite thing 🤡🤡🤡

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Wholly and completely, without a shadow of a doubt

Ashes

It’s genuinely the first fic I’ve ever written where I have actually wondered if I was better off writing it as an original story and going the publishing route. Unfortunately for future me and fortunately for you all, I’m way too attached to the characters as their original names and incarnations to do that 🤣

It’s also the first fic I’ve ever written where I went into it already knowing every piece of the puzzle and having all the clues laid out to perfectly set them up ahead of time. I’m very proud of that and I long for the day where someone rereads Ashes after it’s over and discovers the tiny things in the extremely early chapters that were hints towards the end.

[itjazzbicch]

Just You

Pairing:  Angelo Parker x Fem Reader 

(First time writing Angelo so I hope I did well!)

Summary: Coming from NXT all alone, the reader is quickly reunited with her good friends Angelo and Matt, who have her tag along with them, and JAS, quickly fitting into the group, but the guys seem to like her a little too much, this catching Angelo's attention, the reader lets him know, he's the only one she likes...

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY!) (Swearing, drinking, daddy kink, thigh riding, fingering, unprotected sex)

Word Count: 1.8k 

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS ALL @legit9thlunaticwarrior FAULT! (hehehe)

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic  @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @melissahausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linzi-land @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @legit9thlunaticwarrior @seeingstarks @rubyred1980 @alexisquinnlee-bc 

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF:   

“Well, well, well. The new girl got signed!”

“And she’s on dynamite already?!”

My eyes rolled at Anna and Tay’s voices. First night on Dynamite and someone is trying shit on me. Coming from NXT, I was hoping for a new and fun experience, but it didn’t seem like that was gonna happen immediately.

“Hold on,” That voice was familiar, excited, “Is that Y/N?”

I was going to walk away till I finally remembered that voice, turning to see:

“Angelo?! I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight!”

Angelo was a great friend of mine since we met in NXT. Matt was right by his side and the rest of JAS, Anna, and Tay was the most surprised when we ran to each other for a hug.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here either,” He smiled, Matt saying next:

“Give ya man some love, girl!”

I made sure to give Matt a hug too, both of them on the same page when Angelo said:

“Stick with us, tonight! We can show you around and make sure no one picks a fight with you.”

“Hey, you know I can fight,” I giggled, but hugged happily, “But why not?”

Next, I made sure to introduce myself to the rest of JAS, even a salty Anna and Tay, but it amazed me how easily and quickly we all got along.

Angelo and I never left each other's sides, catching up and goofing off. I was booked for the night and he even offered to escort me out, but I thought it was a little too soon to align myself with a group. Besides, I really needed to establish my own dominance and make a good first impression, which he agreed with.

That’s exactly what happened, a smile on my face when I walked back into the guerrilla to see Angelo and Matt all dressed up, cheering:

“Now that’s how you make a debut!”

All I could do was show off, walking over with a smile, smiling more when Angelo wrapped his arm over my shoulder:

“I know you always pack something cute. Wanna get ready for a good night and come party with us?”

“Ya know we got the hookup!” Matt encouraged, making me shake my head with giggles:

“Why can I never tell you two no?”

“Because you love us,” Angelo teased, the smirk on his face as he blew a kiss making my cheeks heat up.

“Alright, alright,” I smirked back, heading to the locker room, “I won’t be too long.”

“Just meet us in the parking lot,” Matt called out before I left and I made sure to make good timing since the show was almost over.

Sure enough, Angelo and Matt were in the parking lot with the rest of JAS, the click of my heels grabbing all of their attention, pupils expanded, and in awe at my red mini dress.

“Who’s ready to party?!” I smiled and shimmied over, Jericho being the first to hop on my bandwagon:

“You know it’s us, girl! You fit right in.”

“Fit just right,” Daniel was the next to say, sending me a smirk that made me feel flustered, but all of our attention fixing on the limo that pulled up.

“Ooo, the special treatment, huh?” I giggled to distract myself, climbing in as Matt held the door for everyone.

Jericho sure was a party animal, already popped a bottle in the limo, but it was fun. Let alone when we made it to the club.

It had to have been the coolest one I’ve ever seen! All the drinks were free and they had good taste in music?

Better believe I made the best of it. I spent a lot of the time with Angelo and Matt, then when I got tipsy, I went out to dance and that’s when things started getting a little wild.

First, I was dancing with Angelo, then Matt took me, and Hager even tried. I just kept playing along and was a laughing mess when Matt and Garcia had me sandwiched, grinding and my eyes couldn’t help but fix on Angelo.

He was downing a huge drink and it seemed to be out of frustration.

“Sorry boys, I need water,” I made up while sliding out, meanwhile I had booze in my hand.

“Aww, come on! We’re having fun!” Matt had to complain, but I shooed him away:

“You’ll live!”

Angelo had his back turned, grabbing his gaze when I played with his suspender strap:

“Hey, you.”

“Hey,” He didn’t even sound like he was having fun anymore, so I tried helping:

“Wanna share a drink with me?”

Much like I could never tell him no, he could never tell me no, ordering my favorite drink and that started to make me feel better.

“I see you’re really getting along with the crew,” He pointed out, having me nod:

“I’m glad. Lord knows I don’t wanna make any enemies already.”

“They like you a little too much,” He mumbled under his breath while taking a drink, and it clicked in my head why he was alone and seemed upset.

“Hey,” I whispered softly, hugging his arm, stroking it softly, “It's not like that. If there’s any guy that I like? It’s you, daddy.”

“Wha-“ My words caught him off guard, his eyes quickly finding mine.

Angelo always had a spot in my heart, hand finding his thigh and squeezing softly while I whispered in his ear, “You’re the reason I’m here. You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you backstage.”

The alcohol had deeper thoughts leaking out of me, also making me a little nervous because of the big step I just took, but relaxing with a rush when his hand found my hip, pulling me closer and delivering back the same energy:

“Aww, my baby girl missed her daddy?”

“Soo much,” I was feeling confident now, placing a kiss on his cheek, smiling when his nose poked mine, wanting a real kiss that I surely gave.

Just a touch had his hand up my dress, squeezing my ass, my hand taking his suspender and pulling him closer, slipping my tongue into our kiss.

“The crew won’t mind if you and I slipped out of here, would they?” I gazed through my lashes, loving his response:

“Not at all.”

His hand was glued to my hip, getting us a ride out of there and the time was agonizing because of all the temptations.

Constantly palming him in the dark of the backseat, starting to kiss along the collar of his shirt, but squeezing my thighs together and listening to his whisper:

“Be a good girl for daddy, alright? We’re almost there.”

Laying my head against his chest, I was shaking from holding back, but I listened, holding his hand as he guided me out, to his room and the sight of him sitting back in the chair, shirt unbuttoned, seeing how hard his bulge was against his pants as he spread his legs and patted his thigh, finger motioning for me:

“Come here, baby girl.”

This time, I didn’t mind taking things slow, hand gliding across his warm chest, lips packing heat in a tongue-full kiss, grinding down slowly while taking a seat across his thigh.

I could’ve gotten off by the friction his thigh put against my clit, back and forth, nice and slow, but picking up my hips as I felt him tapping my ass upward.

“Good girl,” He hummed against my lips, fingers slipping into my panties to tease my clit and feel how soaked I was, not wasting any time to slip in a finger and pump softly, soon adding another.

“Damn it,” Whining and burying my face into his neck, I couldn’t help but rock back into the two fingers beginning to fuck me faster, needing more and ready when he whispered to me:

“Cum for daddy and you’ll get something better.”

“I am, daddy-“ I moaned into his neck, a hand full of his shirt, rocking even harder, feeling his fingertips nudging a sensitive bump, deep inside and instantly creaming his fingers.

“Bet that felt good, hm?” Chuckling and giving me a kiss, he helped fix my footing on the ground, tapping me to stand up, “Take your dress off.”

The dress was easy to slip off my shoulders, one little zipper down and letting it fall to the floor, panties following to leave me nude, a smile on his face, and getting a show of my own when his clothes started coming off.

Left in his unzipped pants, the magnetism couldn’t be helped, kissing me over to the bed, just a step closer to what I wanted when he instructed:

“On the bed. All fours.”

Crawling up slowly and on all fours, like I was told, I laid my head in a position to watch his pants and boxers fall, a smile on my face when learning he was just as impressive as he felt.

“I’m in for it, huh?” Picking myself up and perking my hips upward, I was still playful, but gosh was he a dream, positioning himself, hands finding my hips and pulling me back carefully, the best moan I ever felt spilling out while he gave his cock slow, inch by inch, leaning to kiss my cheek:

“You just tell me how you want it, baby.”

“Fuck,” I whined into the mattress, just that slow bit putting me into another world, rocking back to meet his hips, thrusts starting out slow, but growing quicker each time.

“Don’t hide that beautiful face from me,” With his chest against my back, fixing my face so it wasn’t buried in the mattress, he completely bottomed me out, purring with a nibble on my ear, “I wanna hear those beautiful moans too.”

“H-Harder,” The coil in my stomach started tightening, mouth speaking before I could think, but my body knew what it wanted, digging into the sheets when his hips smacked into my ass so hard that it blew my back out, still hammering my sweet spot even while burying my lower half into the mattress.

“Hard like that?” Interlocking hands and pushing his weight onto me to keep my squirms somewhat under control, I was becoming a mess, feeling how my walls only sucked him in deeper.

“Oh my god, yes!” Even with my mouth wide open, I couldn’t breathe right, eyes rolling at the sudden, jolting jerk of my hips, squelching around his cock hard, the thrusts he had left in him making my thighs burn so bad but deliciously.

“My fucking-“ I heard him groan under his chest, whining at the tight grip on my ass, how my walls were still squeezing his cock so hard as he began to pull back, “Really trying to make me a daddy hugging me like that.”

We both got a laugh out of that, squealing then gasping when he flipped me to my back, wanting to see the sight of my body covered with his seed, panting with a smile on his face:

“But that’s good enough for now.” 

[dystopiandramaqueen]

Tough one but… favorite line from any fic you’ve written 💅

*Seated in a leather armchair by a crackling fire, I flip to Chapter 10 of Undisclosed Desires*

"“You should spank me.”

My sexuality was a secret, hidden thing for most of my life. I picked up a copy of 50 shades of Grey to see what the fuss was about. It was my first experience with smut. With women talking about their sexual fantasies. I learned 50 Shades started as fanfic. That is how I got into writing. It was the most liberating, healing experience of my adult life.

THT is a very vanilla fandom bc the ship are rape victims.

It took me a very very long time to get those characters into a setting where June could ask Nick to spank her just because she wanted him to. Not because she was age regressed or confused or a masochist- but because being manhandled is fucking hot.

I beta'd this story with so many people, getting the vibes right.

But this line?

I got to the point in the story where the chessboard was set.

She had to just fucking say it.

It's the hardest thing I've ever written, and looking at it now it still feels like- I climbed Everest or something.

That's the delay with Indulgences too I have a literal mental block about finishing my fantasies and making them real.

And I'm just learning to proceed and ignore all the doubt.

My goal is to have written enough smut to keep myself entertained when I no longer want to write. I want to finish this shit. And thank you for this ask- bc its reminding me like- just fucking write it.

below is the scene in context! Enjoy!

June goes to leave but Nick blocks her. She’s caged between his arms, his palms flat on the wall next to her shoulders. She catches her breath and looks at him.

Something’s changed. His body language is primal. Possessive. Chest rising and falling quickly. He licks his lower lip. Voice a low growl.

“You’re getting fucked. Hard. But not until we discuss your behavior.”

June’s stomach twists with excitement and embarrassment.

Nick grabs her wrists and pins them to the wall above her head.

He kisses up her neck, mouthing over her ear. Voice low. Dominant. “You. Are in BIG trouble.”

June’s heart races. Oh my god, it’s happening.

“You have been very, very bad. Making me watch while other men touch you...Getting me so hard for you.” He moves her hand down, so she can feel his huge erection straining through his gym shorts. She gasps. It feels so good. Jesus.

He continues, dark eyes locked on hers. Expression humorless. “You did that. Wasn’t very nice was it?”

Her eyes squeeze closed and she shakes her head. It’s too good. Too hot.

“And worst of all. You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

June drags her dazed eyes to his.

Nick raises his eyebrows, nodding at the severity of this infracion. “Should you keep secrets from your husband?”

She shakes her head, eyes shimmering with mischief.

“No. You shouldn’t. How am I supposed to fuck you right if you won’t tell me everything you need. EVERYTHING you want me to do to you.”

Oh jesus, it’s happening.

“You’ve been dropping hints for weeks. But I want you to own it. You’d better fess up or you’re gonna be in worse trouble than you already are. You’re already getting punished for getting my cock so hard for you. Do we have to add secrets to the list?”

June’s breaths are coming hard now. Body on fire. Too turned on to move or respond. Heart beating entirely too fast. Everything hurts. Throbbing down there. Aching. She needs him so badly.

Nick’s lips ghost over her mouth, leaving sparks when they brush against hers. Whispering.

“You’ve... been... So...Fucking... Bad. What should I do about that?”

The words tumble out before she can stop them. A breathy whisper.

“You should spank me.”

“Fucking Christ.” Nick whispers under his breath. Eyes clenching shut. He swallows thickly. He presses his lips together for a few beats. He blows out a slow breath to center himself. She feels goosebumps rise on his arms. “Very good.” He whispers. “That was very good. I know that wasn’t easy.”

A smirk grows on his gorgeous mouth. He’s so fucking into it. Into her. She remembers what he said. That his ultimate kink is giving her what she wants. Her embarrassment vanishes.

She leans forward to kiss him. He moans into it.

Then suddenly he’s pulling her across the room. Sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. Pulling her across his lap, like he used to pull her into bed in his apartment.

Oh my god it’s happening.

Continue reading on A03

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Dark Frankie!! Tell me more about this wip!

Sitting at his desk in the security office, Frankie has google pulled up on his laptop. Scrolling through your social media pages, reading any article he can find about you. Not too long ago you had come to see about one of the houses for sale in the gated community he works security for. He had recognized your name, you’re the author of those romance books he loves to read. The very second your pretty eyes landed on his, he was hooked.

Rambling under the cut(:

Eee!! Okay I’ve been so excited about this one I just suck at writing lmao this is hugely inspired by @juletheghoul Dulcis. Backstory: I had a dream I was dropping my boys off at school and as I was walking down the stairs I passed an older guy (I assume was the principal) and he was on the phone, looked at me and goes “yea she’s here” and it creeped me out. It gave me the idea to write a single mom reader who’s stalked by Frankie. At first I thought Dave would be good for this but Frankie. We wanna feast on dark Frankie.

And now here we are with this story: Reader is a single mom to two boys (yes this is majorly self indulgent idc) and she moves to a new town. She also happens to be an author. She was able to get her and the boys a nice house in a gated community. She wanted/needed the safety bc her baby daddy was into drugs and now bad guys are after her and the boys. Frankie Morales, security guard at the gated community she just moved too. Also big fan of hers. He has a big heart. He loves too much too quick. He grows attached to her, wants to make her happy, be a father to the boys, give her everything.

They definitely flirt, she can admit he’s easy on the eyes and the attention is nice but she doesn’t want a relationship. Shes happy being single and just living her life. Only problem is Frankie won’t take no for an answer.

Not to give the whole thing away this will have: stalking, home invasion, noncon, he’s gonna have friends everywhere keep an eye on her bc she’s his and that’s what he tells everyone, def horror(frankie isn’t a good man 👀), maybe he chases her in her house and catches her and his dick slips in idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ tbh all I have written is mostly her backstory so the smut will probs change by the time I finish lol but expect creepy,obsessed stalker Frankie 🩷

[mebiselfandi]

i hope this is not gonna annoy you but i was reading your rant about your writing and i was like😔 because goddd i adore them so much the way you write them characters, dialogues or try to explain how they feel in such situations always make me😞 even when you write smut bc dang do you know how much i reread strawberries and cream (it should be illegal) it just the way you always portray them so beautifully it's crazy (like how did u make c*m eating so sweet i cried and horny everytime i remembered that) also i sent this ask bc i just remember your newest neymessi fic and I'm devastated thinking at the possibility of you deleting that work bc goddd i remember the first time i read it i was crying so hard literally need to weep the tears out so i can read the next paragraph and then after I'm done i was pacinf around my room thinking about the next chapter bc u tagged it as it will be sweeter and how i was just so excited to read that bc if i have to live with the possibility of them just ending like that and not talk it out and have a heavy makeout session after just throw me to the ponds full off crocodiles in florida it would hurts less, you make me so attached to these characters that the possibility of neymar hurting bc leo leaving him after the heart wrenching love confession makes me☹️☹️☹️

i hope you'll find your joy and to not feel pressured to writing again because you have such a talent and i will always be happy to read every works you put, finally just wanted to say so glad to have such a talented writer in this fandom🫶🏼

Hi nonnie👋💕

When I got your ask I was like hm what’s this? Only to be hit straight in the feels with a truckload of bricks. ‘Annoy’ me you say. Something like this could never annoy me. This was legit me reading your ask holding back tears:

Tbh I was in a massive writing slump since like end of April. Idk what happened. I got a lil sad, then sick, then even more sad, then my birthday came up, then I got burnt out, next thing I knew it was June and my writing skills just switched off. Nothing all of May(except that one fic I barely remember writing while sick and fueled purely by spite). So when I wrote the last Neymessi fic, I was like not doing great at all. But idk I felt like I had to write something and the idea had been swimming in my head. But writing too sad fics when you’re already sad just = feeling shit about your work. Plus I felt so bad about writing, I thought it would be my last fic ever.

But I mean now I’m no longer feeling weird about writing and I can see the fic from an objective pov. I made a ton of typos and used the same words like twice in one sentence and just cringe phrasings. I could’ve done it better. However, I managed to write 4000 words when I thought I couldn’t. So I won’t delete it cause I can be at least proud of that fact. Also I’m not a quitter, if I delete the fic, the knowledge will haunt me forever. But I will be writing the second chap and I have ideas.

Now I feel kinda bad about it cause I know I said chap 2 will be sweeter buuuut I think it might still be sad. But only because I wanna write a 3rd chapter which will be sweeter. However keyword is sweeter…not sweet. Uh it’ll be a bittersweet ending cause either way Leo’s still leaving but I could never bring my heart to be entirely miserable like that. So don’t worry, it’ll end wellness 😌 but chap 2 is mostly just gonna be Leo’s pov and thoughts then chap 3 will be them finally talking after we hear what Leo’s thinking.

Also…about strawberries and cream though I logged into my ao3 for the first time a couple weeks yesterday and I was so shocked? Last I checked it was at 400 now it’s almost doubled😭😭 I’m so shook. But I’m glad you liked strawberries and cream. It’s one of my fave fics I wrote too.

You’re so sweet anon🥹🥹 like not to be like annoying about comments or wtv. But it always helps to know there is someone who likes your story and you aren’t just writing to the air. And to know I made you react so strongly to it is insane to me. But seriously, thank you so much for this, I’m legit gonna think of this message whenever I feel like I can’t write🫶

[infisonicosm-moved]

i will say i do love some nice smut but thats all people ever write about now and it’s tiring seeing the same thing over and over. if you’re gonna write smut at least maybe try to bring something new to the table? or even a multi part fic that isn’t centered around smut but still has a tasteful amount ya know? all of it now is just straight up fucking and hardly even a plot with it. some of the stuff i see i start reading and back out bc its so unrealistic or just straight up (potential tw?) give off r*pe vibes bc its so aggressive and lowkey scary😬 (i get thats not for everyone but yall know which typa fics i mean)

i very much enjoyed reading ms honey and have gone back and read it a good number of times it’s genuinely one of my favorite fics. i also love the other stuff you have on your master list. i miss seeing the sweet and fun fics or even angst. like break my fucking heart please. i know that they don’t usually get as much attention but numbers shouldnt matter and ik its hard to not let it. i highly encourage you to keep writing the stuff that you write bc i eat it up everytime. i was so sad back when you got rid of your master list or whatever happened bc i love your writing and im so glad its back

I know exactly the type of fics you’re describing in the first paragraph. I love a good pwp fic but it does get boring after a while! I want lore to the relationship I’m reading about! Give me a nasty argument and ground breaking make up sex! Give me heartache that only one other person can comfort and fix! Give me sappy love at first sight fics! Theres so much you can build around smut if you give it a try!!!

Ms.Honey is one of my proudest works so I’m really happy you enjoyed it 💕I’ve cut back on my writing because of the response I wasn’t getting. I don’t write for numbers. But exposure is everything when it comes to your favorite authors being successful and a simple like won’t cut it. There’s been people who come to me privately and praise me for my work but I would have never known they like it cause they don’t interact with it. It’s hard to keep posting when you don’t know if people are even enjoying it. That’s why I always make sure to reblog and make a comment on anyone’s writing.

It doesn’t need to be this long extravagant written review but just let us know you liked it and maybe including your favorite part does wonders for us writers.

[hymnblood]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST.

name.  sage

pronouns.  she / they / he

preference  of  communication.  discord tbh, i don’t enjoy tumblr ims because i don’t get notifications or my messages just won’t go through and i don’t know if it does or doesn’t lmao

name  of  muse.  zagreus mf hades game babie

rp  experience  /  how  long.  i’ve been writing for a good .... 9 years on tumblr. 

best  experience.  uhm. teehee i dont know writing wise. i guess when i met my best friend @hubrisi​ ?? they really helped me grow as a person when we first met, i don’t think i would’ve been able to heal as i have without them in my life and i just ... genuinely don’t know where i’d be without them?? meeting them changed my life tbh, i would never give up our friendship for anything in the world they’re the sweetest, realest, most honest person i’ve ever met and every day i’m so thankful for their patience and kindness to me when i struggled and relapsed into horrible habits. rp  pet  peeves  /  dealbreakers.  passive aggressive behavior when i haven’t replied in a while lmao, or also showing possessiveness over my muse if i’m rping w a duplicate of their muse. or ppl getting petty vagues about other people writing with duplicates of their muse. it’s like the one way to get a hardblock from me. i don’t tolerate petty, childish behavior over pixels on a screen, grow up, janet. i also hate the “ no one writes with me “ spiel every day of the week bc it wrecks my mood to be around bc then, eventually it’s all i see on my dash from rbs about people doing better ( as if they don’t have real lives and themselves to put first ) and then dash drama over it. like ... i can’t say much bc i’m writing a male muse, but if in my case, if i’ve sent you numerous asks which is the most obvious sign of me being interested and you haven’t answered a lick of shit of such and you continued to cry no one interacts with you, then it’s just gonna make me give up on trying and just sb. this has happened to me so many times across almost all of my fandoms i’ve written in. it’s really not cool to pull that card on people. sometimes people send an ask first to test the chemistry of their muses before randomly jumping into that person’s dms bc your writing, your muse, your ask reply, gave them motivation / ideas / a starting point to discuss things. it takes two to tango, but don’t leave someone dancing alone when they try to dance with you. OR having people become mutuals with me and i ask them about their muse’s background / original character beause they didn’t have anything proper and i’m told : idk . like. instantly annoys me, i get annoyed very easily and typically when this happens i just don’t bother bc i don’t write your muse how tf am i supposed to plot with you if you can’t even remember the character you write no less your oc fluff,  angst,  or  smut.  i’m fine with any of it and darker themes ( not gross shit ) just gotta be close to me for the last one for me to fully write it in deep detail, and overall everything just gotta be plotted plots  or  memes.  i prefer memes to kickstart plots :) long  or  short  replies.  depends, you’ll notice if something is heavily plotted if i’m writing novella length paragraphs ( that or i’m just super excited to write w someone ), short ones are usually on more casual interactions, or i’m warming up on my writing skills before getting into the flow again are  you  like  your  muse.  uhm. i’m not trapped in the underworld so no - lmao jk, i’d say we both have similar insecurities, trying to do our best, eventually fed up with how they’re treated so ultimately saying fuck it and existing outside of those expectations. my life has been a lot better since i’ve made the decision.

tagged by: @shenzuns​, this was weeks ago but tysm tagging : anyone interested

[alpinewritings]

starry night [bucky barnes one shot]

summary: AU [year: 2019, sam and bucky are normal civilians]. it's a wedding and james, sam, your friends and you are invited… anything could happen, right?

pairing: (au) bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n)

word count: 4,019

warnings: smut [explicit sex] so minors do NOT interact with this post, public sex, fingering, hair grabbing, unprotected oral sex - fem/male receiving; swearing [language!], praise kink, alcohol, fluff maybe and pet names.

a/n: well, hello! this is my first one shot and i'm not sure if i'll ever write another one. i've always written for myself and never finished anything so let's see how this goes. Y/N calls bucky “james” bc that’s how he introduced himself to her. it's my first smut too so… don't judge! i hope you all like this, comment on it so i can read your thoughts!! Y/N's thoughts appear in cursive while bucky's are in bold cursive. this is what came out of a dream i had btw...

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You are standing alone just looking at them. Your friends are all dancing together having fun. You only stand there smiling, admiring the scene and wondering what you did to surround yourself which such amazing people.

The ceremony was beautiful, all of you shared tears. It was celebrated at the coast, above the small cliff that ends up at the tiny cove that most people call "lit cove". It really looks illuminated when the golden hour sun hits it. You and your friends were mesmerized by the scene of the couple pronouncing their vows with the sunset hitting at the west. However, the party was even better. A big country house destined to celebrations that you loved visiting when you were young only to hang out around the horses. The main ballroom has a bar at the end and tables at its sides where guests sat to have dinner.

That's how you met them. That's how you met him. James and Sam were placed on you and your friends table too, so you got to know them. They seemed to be fun so you all ended up hanging out together during the whole evening. James is a bit shy though. Shy? Or quiet? Yeah, maybe quiet is the word. When you and your friends decided it was time to go dancing, Sam and James stayed at the table just talking… Until Sam got infected by the music and joined you, so you looked at James. You wanted him dancing too, of course you wanted him to dance around you. But he didn't, he just stayed there glancing at you, an almost-empty glass of wine held with his left hand before he disappeared. It wasn't until you approached the table to hydrate yourself after a dance session when you saw him again.

Going back to the present moment, you are smiling. You smile until you see a figure moving by the corner of your left eye. So you turn your head that way. James is coming back with an empty glass of champagne and he is smiling too. And he is getting closer to you. Damn he looks fine. Of course, your alcohol is doing all the talking inside your head. Is it though? He nods when he stops next to you, and smiles more. He is already so close you can feel the fabric of his black suit jacket brushing against the bare skin of your arm. You go back to looking at your friends before he starts thinking it's weird. But you wanna look at him, you’d be admiring him for hours.

"How long do you think they'll be there dancing?" he asked leaning his side to you so you can hear him better.

"As long as there's music, I'm sure…" you drank what was left of your glass and put it back on the table. "What about your friend?"

"As long as he sees me," he replied.

"What do you mean?" you glanced at him, curious.

"He won't give me a break, especially when he's drunk," you both looked at Sam doing weird movements you're not sure you can consider that dancing. "Yeah… And I bet he is".

You laughed, but you got distracted by his cologne. It is orange blossom and… Something smokey maybe. It's strong, but soft at the same time. You wish you could smell his scent for a little bit longer.

"I'm gonna head out again," James said. "See you–"

"There are horses back there," you rushed onto talking. You desperately need to keep you by his company, you don't feel like dancing anymore but neither to sit at the table alone. And you don't feel like being away from him for some reason. "A few meters away from the pool, worth seeing."

"Do you wanna show me around, then?"

That gets you by surprise, because you thought you could keep making him talk to you for a couple of minutes more with that but never thought you'd get that proposal. You are happy to take that offer, for sure. So you nod.

It is a clear night, and the sky, full of stars. The fact that the moon isn't on it tonight makes the stars visible. It is like appreciating a Christmas tree: shiny and calming. Summer makes the air feel heavier, thicker and stickier. You are glad that you are wearing a sleeveless dress, a champagne-colored midi number made of silk. Your heels slenderize your figure, making you look taller, curvier and… juicy. And James noticed that. He noticed that damn well, because the fabric of your dress makes your body shine under the lights. He couldn't stop looking at you while you were dancing in the middle of the room. Sometimes the billowy dress would award the fortunate observer a glimpse of your upper thighs; someone who, by means of coincidence, was looking at the right place at the right time.

James appreciated your charisma and that dimple that would peek its way through the corner of your smile when he was sharing with you a funny anecdote. But he also appreciated your body moving like a hurricane in the middle of the turmoil and, at that sight, considering that your dress was revealing a little too much so soon, he felt his black suit pants were shrinking second by second around his cock. Fuck…, he thought, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand up without feeling the embarrassment. He had to leave the room for a few, served with another glass of champagne, to catch some fresh air and clear his head. Or… heads, both.

Your shoes echo through the silence of the night, only to be accompanied by James’. Not knowing why, you feel extremely nervous, scared of doing something weird that embarrassed yourself in front of this man. You get it together inside your head, but your body demonstrates otherwise.

You try to unlock the fence with your sweaty, flickering hands so that both of you can enter the stable, but without much success. James does the job for you, holding the fence up so you can get in, having to walk under his right arm. He sees you falter, and he smirks. You smile much more while showing James all of the horses, some of the names you still remember, deciding on which name the horses you don't know look like. There is something about the way both of you walk and talk quietly inside the stable, so the horses don't get agitated. It feels intimate, like you are telling each other secrets. You glance at him secretly while he pets one of the horses. His profile is something else, but when he looks back at you, there's something inside of you that is making your blood boil. Like the one heading to your inner thighs after he sends you a winning smile.

You both decide to leave the horses alone again, but stay outside next to a covered well full of flowerpots on it. James supports himself against the wall with his left forearm while folding his right knee in front of the other leg, adopting a really cheeky position (and attitude). He wouldn't stop looking at you standing in front of him, so you have to ask.

"What?" and you smile.

"Nothing," but he smirks. Oh, those lips...

You unconsciously bite your lower lip, trying to hold your nervous smile, so there's no other choice for James that looking straight at it. "Then, why are you looking at me like that?" you question again.

He laughs, leaning back his head, and it's like music to your ears. You feel your guts expanding inside your body like they were floating, and you feel that your stomach do flips too. Bucky keeps staring at you with a smirk on his face. You get closer.

"Seriously, what is it?” you say partly laughing, partly hiding the fact that he's killing you.

James laughs once again, "can't I look at you?" He caresses your arm from your shoulder down to your elbow, sending shivers down your spine. "You look amazing, Y/N".

He bites his lower lip, and glances at yours. You bite yours too, which makes James want to kiss you.

And he does. He grabs you by your waist to bring you dangerously closer to him. And he kisses you, towering over you, placing one of his hands at the side of your face to cup you, and leaving the other at your lower back. You are dumbfounded at first, but you quickly, effortlessly give in to his charms, placing your hands around the back of his neck. It's a rough kiss, giving both of you the sensation that you waited your whole lives to kiss each other.

James’ hands travel from your lower back down to your ass. You whimper at those big hands gripping your skin as if he wants to prevent you from escaping. The veins of his hands, clearly standing out of his skin. One of your hands grips his hair while the other travels down to his chest. It’s clear that you can’t get enough of him. Your body keeps heating up second by second, which will need to be cooled down sooner or later. James turns you over leaning your body against the well and grabs one of your thighs so hard you feel it’s gonna go numb. Your pussy feels his cock inside his pants rubbing against the fabric of your dress, and his hand squishing your leg even more. You gasp at the feeling of both, and that is a welcoming greet to James’ tongue, which enters into your mouth, touching your tongue. It makes you feel dizzy, and even more when he grabs your other leg and sits you on the well making a flowerpot fall to the floor, breaking into pieces.

You look down at the pot, feeling a bit of relief when you noticed it was empty. You are about to say something, but James positioning his finger on your chin to make you look at him again cut you off.

“Don’t worry about that, doll” James said. You hold your breath at that nickname. “Am I gonna have to do something else to make you pay attention to me, and only me?” he asks, lowering his body to the floor, kneeling in front of you.

You hold yourself on the well by putting both hands beside your body, noticing that you are still holding your breath.

James separates your legs while looking at you, knowing how bad you want it by watching your chest rise up and down even though he isn’t doing anything right now. He smirks. He feels like a champ because he knows what you have been missing all this time.

You feel his digits caressing your leg up until he reaches your burgundy panties which he doesn’t doubt even a bit to put to one side, so he has a better view of your cunt. He gives it a look only to connect his eyes to yours after. He kisses the inside of your thighs caringly. First the right one, and when you think he is about to press a kiss on your clit, he stops really close to it. You can feel his warm breath. So close, you think. You shut your eyes and wait for it to happen, dying inside, not being able to hold yourself together any longer. James smirks, and that’s when he knows you’re needy. He keeps moving his head towards your left thigh and press another soft kiss on your heated skin. What the... You open your eyes straightaway to look at him.

“So needy”, he keeps smirking. “Patience, sweetheart”, and he bites your inner thigh leaving a mark you never want to see disappear. You whimper at the feeling.

You can hear ‘Wild Side’ by Normani playing faraway in the background, inside the ballroom, just as James is making you go wild.

“Please…”, you beg. James gives you a glance while he caresses your body from your lower back and up. “Do it, please James…”

Such a good girl…, he says in his head. You see James’ eyes looking into yours more deeply than ever during that night. He gives you a piercing, fix stare, even when his tongue first touches your clit. He never stops looking at your expressions, your moans, the places where you put your hands. He is the most attentive guy you have been with. James closes his eyes to enjoy what he is doing to you: the way you taste, the sounds that leave your throat. He’s proud of how he’s making you feel.

He licks your folds up and down, slowly but passionately, until he stops on your clit to suck it. Your eyes roll back at the feeling. James continues licking your clit in every direction you love. You feel one of his fingers slipping inside, his digit pressing that spot that is making you lose it. The movements of his tongue around your clit intensifies and speeds up. Your body starts giving him signs that you are about to cum, so James puts his hand on your mouth. You slowly open it, and James doesn’t hesitate to insert two of his fingers inside which you take without hesitation, and that makes you moan.

However, right when you feel yourself finishing, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind.

“Hey, Buck–…”, screams Sam looking for both of you. “Oh, shit… Shhhhit”, he whispers when he realizes what James is doing when he peeks Sam from between your legs. Sam turns around even though he couldn’t see anything just to give both of you some privacy.

You freak out and close your legs as soon as James gets up and relocate your dress to cover up your thighs. You don’t even dare to look at Sam as the embarrassment makes you feel really uncomfortable. You feel how damp you are when you stand up, leaving your panties completely ruined. Your heart is pounding hard inside your chest and on your clit, but Sam’s annoying presence killed the mood completely. James stands in front of you to cover you, as he saw your face get chili red when you heard Sam.

“Sam, later.” James states authoritatively, so Sam walks towards the compound straightway. “Sorry about that,” you turn to him and melt at his face expression: guilty, embarrassed and apologetic eyes glancing at yours. “This guy, just… That’s what I meant when I told you he never leaves me alone,” he laughs.

“Don’t worry uh,… It’s not your fault.” You walked away towards the viewpoint not being able to hold his gaze for that long because you still remember how his tongue was moving around your slit. You lick your lips, disappointed because you miss his mouth already.

James ducks down, but he isn’t the kind of person that leave things unfinished. He walks towards you while you keep looking to the depth of the forest spreading in front of you, under the night sky. You feel his hands sliding around your waist, and his boner pressed against your butt. James hugs you from behind and kisses your neck, your shoulder and your collar bone, creating heated waves of pleasure like the ripples of water originated from just a single drop.

“James…” you moan, almost in a whisper.

He bites your earlobe, making your eyes roll back once again. You feel his stubble pleasantly scratching your neck while he's leaving warm kisses all over your skin. You hold onto his forearms, completely wrapped around you, and when your digits reach the veins of his hands you turn around, not being able to resist anymore. James moans when he meets your mouth, welcoming your passionate kiss as hungry as he is. He gets chills at the back of his neck when you reach for his dark hair.

“I need more...” you gasp completely out of breath as you push him to the closest wall you find.

You receive James' aroused sight as he looks at your mouth like a champion, glad that he feels just the same as you did when he was eating your pussy. You take slow steps towards him without breaking the eye contact and you feel his desperation to kiss you, touch you again. Until you both do, until his lips connect with yours one more time.

“God, you make me crazy” he whispers between breaths, which makes you giggle.

The whimper he lets out after you start touching his cock over his pants feels like music to your ears, a better melody than any artist could ever create. You take off his belt and glance down to it for a second. His bulge was significantly visible under his trousers, so you unzip them to free him from it. You take a second to admire his length and wrap your hand delicately around it. James sighs out of desperation.

“Sweet Jesus, doll...” he says while you spit on his dick and start rubbing it around it.

His penis feels so warm on your hand, and you look at him to remember how the pleasure you are giving him is making him feel. James rests his head on the wall breathing in deeply as he keeps forgetting to do so. You focus on his jaw muscles flexing, creating that sharp line that could cut your lips when you kiss it. He looks so well it excites you, so you lick his length from the base to the head. He moans a bit louder when you stop your tongue on his frenulum, making him roll his eyes. Flicking it up and down, and then you move again to his head to roll your tongue around it. You take it in.

James keeps moaning, groaning and pulling on your hair to have a better view of your face. You like it, and it turns you on even more (if that was even possible). One of your hands reach for his balls, stroking them gently.

“Oh my fucking... God, damn”, James whimpers. “I’m not gonna be able to hold it any longer, Y/N”

You take his dick out of your mouth, jerking it with your hand, to catch your breath. You open your eyes to look at him, “then don’t”, you reply. “Cum for me, James”.

You open your lips to suck on his cock again, taking it deep into your throat. James groans, and right after you pull him out again to breathe, he curses repetitively. You open your mouth widely, getting ready for him to cum on it while you jerk his length fast. “Oh, god...” he moans, and at that he creams your tongue and lips when he finishes. You smile taking it all in, licking and cleaning all of his cock, still stroking it to help him get the last of it.

“Shit, doll...”, he whispers while he combs your hair with his hands. “That’s it, take it all...”, and he sees you swallow. “Good girl”.

James zips his pants. He cups your face and lifts your chin so that you stand up in front of him. He kisses you, getting a taste of his own cum. He turns you around and pushes you against the wall, making you whimper. You never thought that this was gonna happen at the wedding, nor that he was gonna be the subject of your desires, but you greet the fact that he is even if you don’t know if you’ll be able to experience this again with a man like him.

You feel his hand touching your body, memorizing every single curve of it. He massages your breast and his other hand travels downwards. James reaches your thigh and holds it firmly to make you hug his hip with it. That’s how he gets a better access to your cunt again. You feel him touch you over your panties, until he stops the kiss to look at you, surprised.

“You’re so damn wet...”, he whispers.

“That’s how you make me feel,” you reply, grinding onto his fingers, desperate to feel them touch your clit.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, moving your aside so that he can directly touch your slit. “Grind on me”, he orders.

You start moving your hips back and forth slowly, pushing back the rush of having the orgasm that was taken from you before. However, it is such a hard task especially while you feel James’ serious eyes watching as you move even with your eyes closed. You feel his presence without looking at him, not even aware of how hard he can be when his partner starts getting more sexually comfortable around him. He doesn’t wanna go too far tonight, not sure if you can take it or not yet.

“Go faster”, he demands. His hoarse voice after cumming, making you vibrate inside.

You grind on his fingers as fast as you can. Feeling your clit pounding harder second by second, and at the verge of an orgasm. Your pussy, dripping already, signals you to hold the rhythm... and you do. “James, I... I’m gonna cum”, you moan, tattooing his name on your throat.

“Cum for me, Y/N”, he says. “Show me how good that feels”.

You let yourself go. James covers your mouth with his other hand to stop your scream. The fact that you could have been caught again by someone else was making this feel even more exciting. He watches you hold your breath, and then gasping for it while you keep moaning deeply. Your legs start shaking, so James helps you keep your balance by holding one of your legs. You sinked your claws on his arms, and feel guilty about it now. He doesn’t, though. He likes it very much.

“You’re such a good girl...”, he says before pecking your lips.

You start laughing out of pleasure, feeling your cum wet your underwear even more. “That was... amazing.”

He smiles, putting a lock of your hair behind your ear. “We’ll do this again.” You nod to that excited, making James not being able to hold his authoritative temper and laugh at it.

He helps you stand up. You relocate your dress again as if nothing had happened under that starry night sky. You look at him and smile. James kisses you once again, more gentle this time, and his hands placed on your cheeks. “We should go back”, you say.

“Oh yeah? Should we?”, he looks up, joking. “No, I don’t think so, doll”, he continues, softly roaring.

You laugh at him, letting his arms lift you up around in the air while he hugs you. He smiles fondly at you, deciding that this isn’t gonna be the last night you would see each other again. That tonight, something awoke in both of you after you first met at the table. There was a glimpse of light inside James’ eyes, and a bit of dark inside yours. As if both of you balanced your scales with each other. He lets you down on the floor, and you hold his hand while you walk towards the compound entrance.

“We should dance” he offers, making you twirl in front of him while you walk next to each other.

“Oh...”, you look at him playfully, noticing you aren’t gonna escape from the other for the rest of the night. “Now you wanna dance?”.

“Hell yeah I do”.

You both step into the dance room, rocking your bodies in harmony while everyone looks at you, wondering whatever happened. A secret you are determined to keep sharing with this man in front of you forever.

[bellatrixscurls]

“achy” ☁️ draco x reader x harry

warnings : smut, dom/sub, sub!reader, sub!harry, dom!draco, soft aftercare, praise kink.

summary : you feel needy so you make harry skip transfiguration, and draco finds out.

a/n : not me writing for drarry again bc i’m literally obsessed with this ship- chile 😳.

“but please, har! i really need you” you pouted at the bespectacled boy, staring up at him as your hands tugged at his scarlet and golden tie, “you’re so pretty. please, angel.”

harry only sighed, biting his lip at the sight of you. you needed him so much, and seeing you in that state made him want you too, more than anything, “okay” he agreed, feigning indifference but a smile crept onto his face as soon as strings of ‘thank you’s and ‘i love you’s left your mouth, along with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

you wasted no time in dragging him up the stairs to his dorm, knowing that draco wouldn’t be able to catch you there.

closing the door behind him, harry let you undress him. you began with his tie, that you’d been dying to get off him since that morning, then with his pants and briefs, and finally took off his shirt, leaving him bare in front of you. you smiled weakly at him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss on his chest, making him giggle at the action, “so fucking precious, ‘m love” you said as you got down on your knees, gripping his thighs for support as your lips lightly touched his red tip, causing him to shudder.

“so pretty” he whispered as he guided your head, your mouth taking all of him, making you gag at his impressive size, “f-fuck, y/n/n. taking all of me like such a good g-girl, fuck!” whined harry, pushing your head closer so you were forced to breathe through your nose, tears leaking out of your eyes at the roughness of his thrusts.

a few more thrusts along with your boyfriend’s praises and you couldn’t ignore your neediness, your hand immediately sliding down and playing with your clit. you hummed around his cock as he continued to fuck your mouth, and you heard harry chuckling from above you, “couldn’t take it anymore, could you, lovey ?” he questioned rhetorically, but you shook your head nevertheless, “stop that, angel.”

and although his tone was gentle, your hand immediately left your wet cunt, at the same time he cupped your face and eased himself out of your mouth, “lemme taste my sweet little girl” he said, earning a soft moan from you as you held two fingers up, close to his lips. harry’s tongue poked out as his mouth opened and he took your fingers between his upper lip and tongue, sucking and humming around them as his eyes closed.

the sight was pure sex. harry, with your fingers inside his mouth, tasting you and actually enjoying it. “d-daddy” you whispered, and harry’s eyes immediately snapped open, watching your glossy eyes and pouty lips, “wanna- wanna be fucked, please. wanna cum ‘round your cock, pretty please” and although a sub himself, harry couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying that — you calling him ‘daddy’, while begging for his cock.

“well, good girls get what they want, don’t they, sweetheart ?” he asked, brushing some strands of hair out of your face. “m-i’m a good girl ?” you asked hopefully, watching as he nodded, satisfied at how submissive you were for him, and only him, “a good girl that’s gonna receive exactly what she wants, hm ?”

so you didn’t even try to control yourself anymore, and got on your back on the floor, pulling harry on top of you as you kissed him passionately, running your hands up and down his chest. chuckling, he pulled away for a second, “easy- easy, my love” he pressed his forehead against yours, slowly pushing his cock inside of you, pulling breathless moans and whines from you as he couldn’t control the endless groans escaping his parted lips.

“just l-like that- so good! so fucking good.”

***

an hour later, after cumming three times each, you were finally done. laying on the floor, sweaty bodies pressed against each other as you tried to catch your breaths. “should we t-take a bath now ? use some lotion for s-sore muscles ?” you asked, remembering the usual things draco’d do after sex.

harry was aware about those things, but being a sub himself, he couldn’t do it properly so he just said “i- i think we should go to dinner first, you know- so draco won’t be suspicious” he offered and you agreed, feeling hungry yourself.

you put on one of harry’s tshirts and your shorts, while harry dressed himself as well, and you headed to the great hall. while walking, your legs were visibly trembling, and harry seemed tense and uncomfortable as well, but you just brushed it off and continues walking.

once there, you made your way to the slytherin table, where you and harry sat on either of draco’s sides. but then again, sitting down wasn’t comfortable either — your pussy was aching and you swore that you could hear harry hiss as well.

frowning, draco glanced at you, then at harry and back at you, eventually opening his mouth, “didn’t see you in transfiguration” he spoke matter of factly, turning back to his food as he waited for an answer.

“i-i forgot to do my essay a-and you know how minnie gets” you told him quietly, your cheeks burning in embarrassment at what happened just a few minutes before.

draco hummed, not really impressed as he turned his gaze to his boyfriend, “and you ?”

looking down shyly, harry stuttered, “i was h-helping her.”

“right, so who’s idea was it ?”

“what idea ?”

“skipping class to fuck. without me ? d’you think i’m stupid, potter ?”

“we didn’t-”

“oh yeah ? explain this, then” draco said arrogantly, sliding one of his hands inside your underwear and slapping your clit lightly as you cried out in pain, half of the table turning to look at you, but they instantly looked away when draco glared at them.

deep in thought, draco removed his hand from your underwear and brought it up to nose, inhaling the scent with closed eyes. inhaling deeply, his eyes snapped open and he groaned, gripping both yours and harry’s wrists and practically dragged you up to his dorm.

***

“did you apply lotion ? take a warm bath ? wash your hair ?” draco yelled at both you and harry, as the only thing you could do was shake your heads, waiting for the punishment he had in store for you, sooner or later.

groaning in frustration, draco disappeared behind the door of his spacious bathroom — as he was a prefect. you shot harry a look as well as he did you, tears leaking out of your eyes as you waited for your boyfriend to come back.

“in here, now” his cold voice instructed and both of you obliged instantly, your legs quivering as you entered the bathroom, trying to stand straight in front of the blond, “my poor little babies...” he spoke softly as his hands went to cup one of your cheeks and one of harry’s, pulling you closer to his chest and holding you there.

you sobbed against his pale skin, the achiness increasing as well as your guiltiness, “m s-sorry, dray...didn’t wanna- i knew you w-wouldn’t skip class with us and- and harry looked so pretty...i’m so so sorry” by the time you were done speaking, your tears were dripping down your chin and all the way down draco’s shirt.

but instead of yelling or punishing you like you thought he would, draco shushed you, depositing harry and then you into the spacious bathtub.

“next time don’t do these things without permission, bubs...see ? it hurts now, doesn’t it ?” he cooed when you and harry winced as the hot water came into contact with your sore muscles and your overused bodies.

you nodded shyly as harry laid his head upon your chest, closing his eyes, “m sorry too...” he whispered, too shy to even look at any of you as he buried his face into your chest, “for being a bad boy, i mean...wanna be good f-” but harry couldn’t get the last words out of his mouth as his adorable little snores filled the room, causing both you and draco to giggle quietly.

“he’s probably gonna do this again, isn’t he ?” draco sighed, squeezing some shampoo on his palm and rubbing his palms together.

“if this is what we get, i’m most likely gonna do this again as well.”

“wh- hey!”

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