#Connection between the reader and writer

[slowtumbling]

Are We Connected?

Connected? Musings on #Technology

In the air around me buzzes the information that inundates my world. Is that a word from you whom I love passing by like some invisible insect? Or is the hum from something more sinister? Am I being subtly changed, gradually disappearing into the wireless void? Here, while I write, a million transparent vapor trails extend out in all directions. We are indeed connected, but is it enough to…

[penn-dragon]

Hiya! I saw your post about unfinished works and never posting them. And as an avid fanfic reader (its really bad, i read more fanfic then I do actual novels. The stacks of unread books on my bookshelves are judging me), it never matters to me whether a fic is finished or not. Especially when its tagged as incomplete so i know going in. I understand the plight of those who dislike unfinished works but there is a sort of beauty to it. The knowledge that someone out there loves their work enough to share it, despite not having the motivation, or time, or energy to finish it. I saw that someone else also responded but i just wanted to reinforce that everything they said applies to others aswell. And they are right! Fandom is such a cool phenomenon. Its a space where people can come together and share their work, and even if a piece remains unfinished it can still hold so much meaning to another. There is never any harm in sharing your work, and it can inspire others, and even help you curate connections and make friends. So please. If you feel comfortable. Share your work, unfinished or not, because chances are someone will love it.

I forgot I never finished responding to this ask when I got it but thank you!! I loved reading your perspective on it. It really is a beautiful thing to get to experience someone’s labor of love. I’m always a big fan of commenting on chapters as a story comes out because I LOVE letting authors know that I see the work they put into their writing and appreciate it

[allwaswell16]

I just want to talk about the power of commenting on fics for a minute.

I have my main fandom, but when I read in other fandoms, I don't know many of the writers. So I usually just find fics by looking through the tag I want. And if it's a tag I'm really interested in, I'll read every fic in the tag. And if there's a fic I really liked in there, I'll start reading everything by that writer.

So what this means is I'm sometimes reading fics or writers that don't have tons of hits/kudos/comments on their fics, but I found them through some obscure tag I wanted to read. And so I'll get back some really incredibly sweet replies to my comments.

But then, something even more incredible started happening. I'd be reading WIPs by some of these writers and they'd literally start writing the rest of the fic for me. They started asking me what I hoped to see happen or if I had any requests. And when the fic was finished, one of them said the only reason they kept writing the fic was for me.

Sometimes there can be such a lovely connection between the writer and the reader just because you decided to leave a comment. And sometimes you as the commenting reader can become the lone reason why a fic makes its way into the world for all the other readers who come after you.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Beginners Guide to Descriptive Sentences

Hi writers.

I’m Rin T, and in this post I’m excited to share with you a detailed guide on how to craft vivid descriptions and descriptive sentences for your writing. I’ve long believed that descriptive writing is the magic that turns ordinary text into an immersive experience. When done well, every sentence acts like a brushstroke that paints a scene in the reader’s mind.

──────────────────────────── Why Descriptive Writing Matters ────────────────────────────

I have seen how powerful descriptions can engage readers and establish a strong connection with the narrative. Descriptive writing is not simply about decorating your work; it is about building an atmosphere that transports your reader to a world. your world.

When you write descriptions, remember:

You are setting the tone.

You are building a world.

You are evoking emotions.

You are inviting your readers to experience your story with all their senses.

──────────────────────────── Step-by-Step: Crafting Vivid Descriptions ────────────────────────────

Below are my personal tips and tricks to help you build detailed and captivating descriptions:

Begin With the Senses

Description does not solely depend on what the eyes can see. Consider sound, smell, taste, and touch. For instance, instead of writing “The witch’s hut was eerie,” try elaborating: “The witch’s hut exuded an eerie aura. The creaking timber and distant echoes of whispering winds mingled with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and mysterious herbs.” In this way, you help the reader not only see the scene but also feel it.

Choose Precise and Evocative Language

Precision in language is vital. Replace generic adjectives with specific details to boost clarity and imagery. Rather than “The forest was dark,” consider: “The forest was a labyrinth of shadowed boughs and muted undergrowth, where the light barely touched the spindly branches, and every step unveiled whispers of ancient spells.” Specific details create tangible images that stay with readers.

Show, Don’t Just Tell

A common mistake is to “tell” the reader how to feel, rather than “showing” it through context and detail. Instead of writing “It was a spooky night,” immerse your reader: “Under a pallid crescent moon, the night unfurled like a canvas of foreboding whispers; broken branches and rustling leaves narrated the secrets of a long-forgotten curse.” By showing the elements, you invite the reader to experience the fear and mystery firsthand. (You don't need to be as dramatic as my examples, but this is simply for inspiration)

Use Figurative Language Thoughtfully

Metaphors, similes, and other figures of speech lend an artistic flair to your descriptions. When writing about a scene in a magical world, you might say: “Her eyes shone like twin beacons of moonlit silver, cutting through the gloom as if to part the veil of night itself.” Such comparisons evoke emotions and deepen the reader’s connection with the scene. However, be cautious not to overdo it; a little figurative language can go a long way.

Strike a Balance Between Details and Pacing

While elaborate descriptions are alluring, too many details can weigh down your narrative. Consider introducing the broader scene first and then focusing on key elements that define the mood. For instance, start with an overview: “The village lay nestled between ancient stone arches and mist-covered hills.” Then, zoom into details: “A solitary, ivy-clad tower sent spiraling tendrils of mist into the twilight, as if guarding secrets of a long-lost incantation.” This technique creates a rhythm, drawing readers in gradually.

──────────────────────────── Practical Exercises to Enhance Your Descriptive Writing ────────────────────────────

To help you practice these techniques, try the following exercises:

Sensory Detail Drill: Select a familiar scene from your fantasy world (for example, a witch’s secluded garden). Write a short paragraph focusing on each of the five senses. What do you taste as you bite into a magical fruit? What sounds resonate in the quiet of the enchanted night? This drill helps you to avoid flat descriptions and encourages you to integrate sensory experiences.

Revision and Refinement: Take a simple sentence like “The night was cold,” and transform it using the advice above. Rework it into something like, “The night was a canvas of shimmering frost and darkness, where every breath of the wind carried a hint of winter’s sorrow.” Compare the two, and notice how minor adjustments can dramatically heighten the mood.

Peer Review Sessions: Sharing your work can offer invaluable insights. Exchange your descriptions with fellow writers and ask for focused feedback, Does the description evoke the intended emotion? Does it deliver a clear image? Use these sessions as opportunities to improve and refine your craft.

──────────────────────────── Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them ────────────────────────────

Through my years of writing, I've learned that even the most passionate writers can stumble. Here are some pitfalls to watch out for:

Overloading With Adjectives: While it’s tempting to create elaborate descriptions, too many adjectives and adverbs can distract rather than enhance. Aim for clarity and purpose in every word. Instead of “a very dark, spooky, frightening forest filled with creepy sounds,” try “a forest shrouded in ominous silence, where every rustle hinted at unseen mysteries.”

Falling Into Clichés: Familiar images can sometimes render your work predictable. Try to avoid worn phrases. Instead of “as dark as night,” imagine “as impenetrable as the void that separates worlds.” Unique expressions capture attention and create lasting impressions.

Neglecting the Flow: Descriptions are vital, but the narrative must continue to drive forward. Check that your detailed passages serve to enhance the storyline rather than bog it down. Ask yourself: Does this description bring the reader closer to the action, or does it detract from the momentum of the narrative?

──────────────────────────── Advanced Techniques for the Aspiring Writer ────────────────────────────

Once you’re comfortable with the basics, consider these advanced methods to elevate your descriptions into artful prose:

Integrate Descriptions Seamlessly: Instead of isolating your descriptions, weave them into dialogue and action. For example, as a witch brews her potion, you might describe the bubbling cauldron and swirling mists as part of her incantation, not just as a standalone scene. “As she whispered the ancient words, the cauldron responded, its surface rippling like a dark mirror reflecting centuries of secrets.”

Reflect Character Perspectives: Let your characters’ emotions color the scene. If a character fears a looming threat, their perception will add a layer of tension to the environment. “I entered the dim corridor with trepidation, my heart pounding as the flickering torchlight revealed spectral figures dancing along the walls.” This technique makes the description both situational and personal.

Use Rhythm: The cadence of your sentences can mirror the pace of your narrative. In high-tension moments, short, abrupt sentences heighten the urgency. Conversely, in serene scenes, longer, flowing sentences can create a tranquil atmosphere. Experiment with sentence structure until you find a balance that suits both your style and the mood you wish to convey.

──────────────────────────── Final Thoughts and Encouragement ────────────────────────────

your narrative is your unique creation. you too will find your distinctive voice. I encourage you to keep experimenting with different techniques until your descriptions feel both natural and mesmerizing. Write freely, revise diligently, and most importantly, let your creative spirit shine through every line.

Thank you for joining me. I hope these tips can help you.

[gyuuberryy]

pushing on my buttons!

pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, tension

synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you can’t seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.

warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing

note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!

word count 5.8k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the heavy oak doors of your father’s office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didn’t need but absolutely wanted. 

the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: “my office. now.” 

you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse ready—charity auction, obviously. he’d buy it. he always did.

with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. “you rang?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.

your father didn’t look up from his desk. “sit,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.

you blinked. okay. not a good sign.

it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black—black tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like he’d already dissected every inch of it—and you along with it.

you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. “who’s this?” you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.

your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. “this is jay. your new bodyguard.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “you’re joking.”

your father didn’t laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didn’t so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. “this isn’t necessary. i’m not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. it’s been weeks and nothing’s happened.”

your father’s jaw tightened. “which is exactly why you need protection. we’re not taking any chances.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. “i’m not here to be liked, just to do my job.”

your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?

he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didn’t care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.

“congratulations on the worst job in existence,” you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. “because i’m not some damsel in distress.”

jay didn’t blink. “right. you handled the last situation so well.”

your jaw dropped. the audacity. “excuse you—”

“enough,” your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “jay will be with you at all times. this isn’t up for discussion.”

you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. “try and keep up.”

his lips twitched—just barely—but it wasn’t a smile. more like a challenge accepted. “i don’t plan on falling behind.”

oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by you.

your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. “jay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.”

you didn’t respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jay’s eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.

as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldn’t help but smirk. this was going to be fun.

the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasn’t just his constant presence—it’s the way he moves like he knows what you’re about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.

you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.

you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. “do you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?”

jay doesn’t react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.

he didn’t react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.

“good morning,” he said, his tone flat.

you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.

when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?

you forced a smile. “he’s harmless,” you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didn’t so much as blink.

you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.

in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he was—standing against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.

you had to get rid of him immediately.

attempt #1: the emergency exit 

it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. “no—no, stay right there, i’ll be there in five minutes,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.

you couldn’t help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, some—

jay was already there.

leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like he’d been waiting for hours. like he’d known exactly where you’d go.

you froze, your smile slipping. “how the hell—”

he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.

attempt #2: the disappearing act

you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.

you were almost there. almost free. and then—

“leaving so soon?”

you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didn’t even look winded.

“how do you keep doing that?” you demanded, your voice rising.

he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. “it’s my job.”

“your job is to annoy me to death?”

“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.

attempt #3: sensory overload

the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.

you rolled your eyes. “relax, rambo. it’s a mall, not a war zone.”

he didn’t respond. of course he didn’t. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadn’t somehow vanished into thin air.

you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldn’t shake.

you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, you’d have to get creative.

spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.

“why are we here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“to test some new scents,” you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. “you wouldn’t understand.”

jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.

“hold out your arm.”

jay blinked. “what?”

“you’re supposed to test it on skin,” you said, your tone overly patient. “and i’m out of space. come on.”

reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.

jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didn’t comment.

“it’s not bad,” you said, tilting your head. “but maybe something lighter.”

you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didn’t stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.

jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.

“just testing!” you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. “you’re being dramatic.”

jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.

your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.

you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard it—the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.

the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

“you’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his voice low and rough.

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “and you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “try me.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.

for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. “let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped.

you didn’t argue. for once, you didn’t have the words.

the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.

jay.

he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasn’t even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.

your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “he’s been looking at you all night.”

you shrugged, pretending not to care. “who? jay? he’s just doing his job.”

but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.

so you decided to push him.

you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didn’t exist.

but he did. he always did.

suddenly, a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin—stepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort. 

you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.

he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. “hands off.”

the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jay’s imposing figure. “whoa, man, i was just—”

“i don’t care what you were just doing,” jay said, his tone low and dangerous. “back off.”

the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.

when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re doing.”

your breath caught. “what are you talking about?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. “flirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i can take care of myself.”

“can you?” he asked, his tone challenging. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was close—too close—his body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.

as the night wore on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.

oh.

so he did care.

it happens slowly. or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.

you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like he’s mapping out every possible danger, but it’s never just that. there’s something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite name.

and worse? you start feeling it.

the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname he’s come up with that day.

this is a problem.

but you handle it the way you always do—by pushing him.

it’s late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. you’re sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didn’t really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like it’s a potential battlefield.

you roll your eyes. “relax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.”

he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.

you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. “you know, you don’t have to babysit me 24/7. i’m not a child.”

his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “could’ve fooled me.”

you glare at him. “excuse me?”

he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. “you act like rules don’t apply to you. like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

your jaw tightens. “and you act like you’re my dad. newsflash—you’re not.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.

“why do you even care so much?” you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.

jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t get it, do you?”

your heartbeat stutters. “then explain it to me.”

for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. he’s close now, closer than he’s ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

you don’t back away.

his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.

he leans in, his voice low and rough. “you have no idea what i’d do to keep you safe.”

your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.

but before anything can happen—

the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.

jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.

like nothing almost happened.

but you know better.

you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but it’s no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over again—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.

this is getting dangerous.

later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you can’t stop thinking about it. jay is in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.

you think about the way he’d stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way he’d leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

and you think about the way he’d pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything.

but it did. you know it did.

you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you can’t deny it anymore.

you like him.

and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

you don’t talk about it.

the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction now—it hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.

but you don’t talk about it.

instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, until—

one day it happens fast. too fast.

you’re walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. you’re arguing about something stupid—something meaningless—because that’s what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each other’s buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesn’t exist.

and then, out of nowhere, it happens.

you don’t even see it coming. one moment, you’re stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is moving—swift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.

there’s a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. “jay—”

he’s already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. “get in the car.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. “you’re bleeding. we need to go to the hospital—l”

“it’s nothing, just a scratch” he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didn’t just take a knife for you.

but it’s not nothing. it’s not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. “jay—”

“get in the car,” he repeats, his tone sharper this time. “now.”

you don’t argue. you can’t. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.

the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. fear. guilt. something else.

when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“let me see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. it’s not fatal, not even close, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist.

you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your voice breaking. “you shouldn’t have—”

“it’s my job,” he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.

but it doesn’t. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like it’s about to collapse under the weight of everything you’re feeling.

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “don’t do that again.”

he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see it—the crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.

“you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “i’d do it again. every time.”

your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. “why?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.

and that’s it. that’s the breaking point.

you don’t think. you don’t hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake.

but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and it’s like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.

the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jay’s hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s as affected by this as you are.

but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. “we shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and rough.

you blink, your chest tightening at his words. “why not?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. “because it complicates things.”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “complicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand.”

“then explain it to me,” you snap, your frustration bubbling over. “because i’m tired of pretending like this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”

he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you can’t quite name. “you think i don’t feel it too? you think i don’t want—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “it doesn’t matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. that’s it.”

you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “and what if i don’t want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?”

he doesn’t respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.

but then he steps back, his expression hardening. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “don’t i? because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re the one who’s scared.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right. i am scared. because if something happens to you—if i let myself care too much and i can’t protect you—” he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. “i can’t lose you.”

your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “jay—”

he doesn’t let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. “i can’t promise this will be easy,” he says, his voice low and rough. “but i can promise i’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

you don’t talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.

not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, there’s no going back. no pretending this isn’t real. no pretending you don’t feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?

now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, “you’re impossible,” before silencing you with a kiss.

now, every lingering stare actually leads to something—a brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.

and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.

it happens during a family dinner, of all things. you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.

you try to act normal. you really do. but when jay’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.

“so,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “when were you planning on telling me?”

you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. “telling you what?”

your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. “about this.”

you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. “i—what are you talking about?”

your father sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already done with this conversation. “at least it’s him.”

jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. “excuse me?”

your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “you were always a handful, but he can handle it.”

you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? it’s almost worse.

you turn to jay, still reeling. “is this really happening?”

jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your father’s gaze. “sir, i—”

your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. “don’t. just… keep her out of trouble. that’s all i ask.”

and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.

later, when you’re alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. “well,” he says, his voice dry, “that could’ve gone worse.”

you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. “worse? he basically gave us his blessing. that’s not worse. that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”

jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “guess you’re stuck with me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. “lucky me,” you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.

jay’s smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you don’t respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.

maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to pull away.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[luna-azzurra]

Romance List Prompts

Forced Proximity “Oops, There’s Only One Bed” & Other Nightmares (aka: trapped together, forced to talk, and now I’m noticing your eyelashes??)

✧ They hate each other. Of course they do. But now they’re snowed in at the same remote cabin. One bed. No signal. Nowhere to run from each other or their feelings. ✧ They barely know each other, just enough to be annoyed in passing. Then they get stuck between floors, in the dark, and suddenly all the things they don’t say become impossible to ignore. ✧ They agree to a long-haul drive for mutual convenience. Cue broken-down car, sketchy motel, and sharing snacks like it’s an act of war. By night two, they’re sleeping back-to-back and trying not to notice how quiet it gets when the other person isn’t talking. ✧ They’re both responsible for watching someone else's pet/kid/home. They bicker like divorced parents. They bond over chaos. And somewhere between late-night takeout and arguing over dishes, they accidentally become something like a couple.

Forbidden Romance “We Shouldn’t, But God We Want To” (aka: slow burn with a side of inner turmoil)

✧ They were raised to hate each other. But then they meet, outside the context, outside the war, and start to realize they’re not what they were taught. And it wrecks them both. ✧ They’re assigned to protect someone who is completely off limits. Flirting is forbidden. Feelings are dangerous. And yet? Every glance feels like a confession they can’t afford to say out loud. ✧ Teacher/Instructor x Student, but make it ethical and age-appropriate. It’s a short-term class, a writing retreat, a combat training course. The power dynamic is there, but so is the connection. They try to keep it professional. They fail. Beautifully. ✧ Best Friend’s Sibling... They’re off limits. Point blank. But the tension? The tension is screaming. Especially when the best friend keeps leaving them alone together, completely unaware.

 Grumpy x Sunshine “Why Are You Like This?” (aka: emotionally constipated x aggressively full of feelings)

✧ Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. ✧ Coffee Shop Owner x Frequent Customer... Grump runs the quiet, broody café. Sunshine comes in every morning with messy hair and too much enthusiasm. The barista rolls their eyes, but they always remember their order. Always. ✧ Hired for the Same Job. Grump is practical. Sunshine is chaotic. They’re forced to collaborate. The tension is delicious. Especially when the sunshine one starts to get under the grump’s skin and into their heart. ✧ They're on a team. The world is ending. The sunshine one makes jokes to stay sane. The grump one acts like they don’t care, until the sunshine one gets hurt. Then suddenly they’re soft, scared, and furious about it.

 Extra Angst & Emotional Damage For the Writers Who Like to Hurt (and Heal)

✧ “You Remembered?” They thought the other didn’t care. They’re used to being forgotten. But then, in the quiet, the other person says something, something small, something specific, and it hits like a train. ✧ “I Would’ve Picked You Every Time” They lost each other once. Circumstances. Timing. Fear. Years later, they meet again. And this time? This time the truth comes out. And it’s raw, and ugly, and healing. ✧ ���Don’t Look at Me Like That” They’re breaking. Mid-fight. Mid-confession. One of them cracks and says the thing they swore they wouldn’t say. The other just looks at them soft, wide-eyed and it’s too much. ✧ “I Never Stopped Loving You” Classic. Heart-shattering. Should only be used when you want your readers to cry at 2AM while whispering “why did you do this to me”.

[2hightocare]

APOCALYPSE!

“I could go a fair bit crazy over you.”

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend loves doing corny things with you… he also loves doing you.

Genre: established relationship.

Pairings: boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

warnings: smut.. car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up bro) creampie, praise, size kink, belly bulge, cussing, fluff at beginning and end, banter between couple, oral, overstimulation, squirting, making out, reader crying out of pleasure, choking, spanking, dirty talking, reader fucked ‘dumb’, mentions of ot7, they’re so corny it’s sickening.

author note 🗒️: wrote majority of this shit being faded as fuck so forgive me if it’s ass and ignore the mistakes (I’ll get to them eventually) js wanted to thank everyone for 3k🤍… writers block has been an thing these pasts months so sorry that I haven’t posted anything new. Here’s more of kuwtb oc and jk dating era 🤍

“I should’ve brought my glasses,” you whisper, a loud laugh ripping out of Jungkook's chest. “I can’t see anything, baby.” You turn to your side before swatting him on the chest— a pout displayed on your face, before going back to your original position, looking up at the dark milky way.

“We were having a cute moment, and you just blurt that out,” your boyfriend quips, his eyes focused on your side profile. A small smile tugs on his lips as he sees you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You’re so right, we are so corny.” You playfully stick your tongue out with a small “yuck,” before bursting into a giggle when Jungkook tickles your side.

“‘Can we lay on the grass and look at the stars?’” Jungkook mocks your voice, changing his tone into a much more high-pitched version to match yours.

“Stop! I wanted to have a moment like Noah and Allie,” you puff, a smile threatening to come out.

“Baby, you know they look at the traffic lights and not the stars, right?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you.

“Of course I know, but I feel like we would actually get run over. Plus, I like you too much to just let you get run over.” You shrug, your fingers pulling on the grass on the floor. Your eyes connect to the sky as Jungkook stares at your side profile— taking in every imperfection and turning it into another reason why he loves you.

“Like?” he asks, his thumb running over your bottom lip before tilting your head to the side by your chin, making you look at him.

Your heartbeat skyrockets as he stares into your eyes, the twinkle in them prettier than the stars you were just trying to see. Your stomach lights up as if millions of fireworks exploded in heart-shaped sparkles.

“Love.” You correct yourself, rolling your eyes playfully.

“That’s better.” Jungkook clicks his tongue, pursing his lips out. You let out a giggle, dropping a small chaste kiss on his lips before turning back to the sky with a goofy smile on your face.

“You believe in aliens?” you ask, cracking a smile from Jungkook's face— his dimple carving into his skin as he bites his bottom lip, trying to contain the biggest smile.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook nods excitedly.

“We are literally a rock when it comes to the whole universe. There’s gotta be something out there.” Jungkook explains, expanding his arms and pointing to the sky, as you nod happily beside him.

“I agree, my mom said she saw one of those spaceships or whatever they’re called,” you pipe in, turning to your side to face your boyfriend.

“You mean a UFO, baby?” Jungkook's face scrunches in adoration.

“UFO?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Unidentified flying object,” he explains, scooting closer to you— dropping his head to your bare stomach.

“I like spaceships better.” You shrug, and he laughs, adjusting himself slightly. Your fingers find their way into his fluffy hair, combing through it. He moans slightly, melting into your touch, closing his eyes, and dropping a gentle kiss on your abdomen.

“What would you do if an alien kidnapped you?” Jungkook asks, his voice muffled.

“Funny for you to think I would allow it,” you say nonchalantly.

You both could hear a hairpin drop from how quiet you both went before breaking out into a fit of laughter. “Smartass.” Jungkook laughs, jokingly biting your stomach and earning a small squeal from you.

Your laughs die down after a while, replaced by silence, the only sounds being your guys breathing. Your eyes flutter shut with a smile, small goosebumps raising on your arms as Jungkook runs his fingertips on your belly— outlining ‘mine’.

“Tell me about your books,” Jungkook murmurs against your bare skin.

“Wanna know about my current read?” you ask, your fingers tugging softly on his hair, making him look up at you.

“I wanna know everything about you, baby,” Jungkook coos.

“Corny.” You scrunch your nose, placing a palm over his face and pushing softly backward, making him laugh. “Tell me about the thick-ass book I bought you two days ago.” Your boyfriend drops kisses all over your stomach.

“The dragon one?” you poke his cheek, before letting your finger play with his lip ring.

“There’s dragons?” Jungkook gasps, looking up at you.

“Yeah, and they have sex,” you say with a smothering giggle, whispering the last words in a hushed tone, making Jungkook's eyes widen.

“That’s enough, baby.” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow before shaking his head, changing the topic to the latest drama, including Eunbi and Yoongi.

“Lora and I saw them coming out of the guest room while you were doing cartwheels with Taehyung,” Jungkook chuckles, the amusement on his face rubbing off on you.

“You’re lying,” you gasp, your jaw dropping open.

“I honestly didn’t see it coming.” Jungkook bites his lip, containing a smile. “Do you think Yoongi is the sub?” he continues before bursting out in a laugh, you following along.

"It's going to rain," you observe after a while, noticing a lightning strike in the dark sky. Jungkook hums in agreement before sitting up. He holds out his palm for you to take, which you do, and pulls you up onto his lap in a quick, soft motion.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, adjusting on his lap and straddling him. His thumbs rub circles on your bare thighs.

"I want another tattoo," Jungkook murmurs, his lips pressing kisses along your collarbone and neck. You nod slightly, enjoying the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"Where?" you ask, holding his head in place with your palms. He bites his bottom lip, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

"My forehead, and it'll be your name," Jungkook says with a grin, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"You're annoying," you retort, pushing his head backwards, making him gasp dramatically.

"I think it'll look good, you know? Just got to pick a cool font," Jungkook jokes, poking your side, sending you squirming on his lap.

"You're never ever getting my name tattooed on you," you shoot him a glare, which he only responds to by sucking in his lips and widening his eyes before shrugging.

"I think your lips tattooed on my hip bone would be hot," Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're crazy," you pout, scrunching your nose as he gives your cheek a kiss.

"Yeah?" Your boyfriend smirks, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, squeezing softly, pulling you closer to him.

"I could go a fair bit crazy over you, baby." His lips brush against yours.

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of your lungs when his lips crash against yours. It doesn't matter how many times he has kissed you; you just can't control the utter madness of butterflies swarming your stomach. The fuzzy feeling fills your senses with every touch of his fingertips on your hot skin. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, all conspire to make your heart flutter with the same giddy excitement as the very first time.

His touch is electric, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw, his hand gently cradling your face. With a tender yet insistent pressure, he deepens the kiss, his lips parting yours in a silent invitation.

You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours as you move your hips against his. A soft moan slips past your lips into Jungkook's mouth as he guides your hips on his hardened length.

Jungkook's hand travels up, tangling in your hair, small, light rain drops start to fall down from the dark sky.

"Car?" he says in between kisses. You nod, moaning at the sensation of his lips on your collarbone, leaving purple, reddish marks.

You could never get tired of the way Jungkook looked at you, his eyes shimmery with a mix of love, need, and adoration. It was intoxicating, making you forget all your problems. The universe could have collapsed around you, and you would only care about his mouth on yours.

Everything about him was perfect, his scent, his touch, his voice, those beautiful lips, the way he looked at you, as if you were the only one that mattered in his world.

"Yes, car," you agree, breathy and disheveled.

In a swift motion, Jungkook stood and lifted you, carrying you to the car as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't until you reached the car that he broke the intense kiss, leaving your lips tingling with desire.

With a wicked grin, Jungkook, laid you on the backseat of his car. Jungkook’s fingers found the hem of your crop top, lifting it up, and you helped by throwing your hands over your head- revealing your lacy black bra.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he freed your breasts from the lace, by tugging downwards.

Your soft moans echoed within the car when your boyfriend cups your tits, massaging and kneading, your nipples hardening.

His lips found your jaw, kissing your neck— his eyes darted up to meet yours before his lips met the peak of your nipple, hot breath, then suckling gently, keeping his gaze locked before shifting his attention to the other breast.

Moaning, you bit your lip, head falling back from the sensation. Jungkook loved how responsive you are, the way your nails dig into his upper back.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Jungkook moans, his calloused hands grip your waist in place to stop you from squirming on the leather seat.

He leaned in close, planting a trail of soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. “Mine.” Your boyfriend whispered into your skin.

You licked your lips, not able to find the words to say what you wanted, as all your thoughts were consumed by lust. Your back arched, encouraging the caresses he was giving. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deep and hungry, claiming your mouth as his. You let out a soft moan, your hands finding their way to his face.

“Spread your legs princess.” Jungkook says, his voice deep and gentle— he taps on your inner thigh.

You hum softly, watching your boyfriend work on the zipper and buttons from your denim shorts. Jungkook pulls down your shorts down your legs— your panties following quick after.

“Look how pretty this pussy is,” Jungkook chuckled, his eyes making contact with yours raising an eyebrow. He runs a finger down your slit making you choke out a desperate whine.

“Feels good baby?” He says, he adjusts himself— pushing your legs back, giving him more space to be face to face with your dripping core. You only moan in response when he drops a soft kiss on your clit.

You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips, He smiled against your heat, He licked his lips as he slowly parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing your glistening clit. He took it into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You let out a desperate moan, your hips bucking in desperation.

He started flicking his tongue against your clit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your back arched, grinding your pussy against his tongue, feeling it flick deep inside your folds.

“Ngh, right there,” You dug your nails into his hair, your toes curling.

“Right here baby?” Jungkook smirked, inserting two fingers into your sopping hole. You couldn't help but moan and nod, as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Ass up, princess.” he ordered. Without needing to be told twice, you did as you were told, with wobbly legs you flip around. He roughly grabbed one cheek, squeezing it and spreading you, giving him a view of your tight, puckered hole.

Jungkooks cock twitches in his pants as he watches your holes clench over nothing. “Feeling empty?” He chuckles, a rough hand makes contact with your ass with a hard smack— your back arches. You let out a loud squeal, pleasure and pain mixing together.

He lets out a low growl, his cock straining against his pants, Jungkook moans as he watches your wetness begin to drip down your thighs onto his seats.

“Actually, do you want to tell me about the dragons you were reading about?” Jungkook jokes behind you making you snap your head backwards with a glare.

“You’re annoying.” You pout, Jungkook eyes twinkle with amusement— he bites down on his bottom lip containing the smile that is threatening to spill out. “Annoying? I have you spread out in front of me baby… your pussy is literally dripping.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side cheekily.

Your boyfriend taps on your ass for you to turn around.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you flip around, before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down on the waistband, alongside his boxers. His cock springs out, the head red and aching.

Jungkook watches you wrap your hand over his thick length, giving a slow pump causing him to blow out a sigh. Jungkook stops you before you connect your lips with his cock.

“As much as I want you to give me the head of my life, I fucking need to be inside your pretty pussy right now baby.” Jungkook rushes out, tugging on your loose hair backwards.

You pout at him. “Let me fuck you.” Jungkook whispers, the grip on your hair tighten pulling you upwards— his lips milliliters away from your face.

“Fuck me.” You whimper.

The moment the words left your mouth jungkook is picking you up and placing you on top of his lap. You’re leaning your back against Jungkook's chest, your legs spread open on each side of his big thighs. His arm is snaked around your waist pulling you closer into him.

“Cramps?” Jungkook whispers into your neck, “not yet.” You joke, he shakes his head with a small laugh before you wrap your hand around his cock aligning it to your entrance.

“Going to take my cock like a good girl?” He guided your hand, aligning it to your dripping entrance. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your pussy before pushing his cock inside you. You feel the familiar pressure as he slowly slid his length inside you, your pussy sucking him in.

“So big.. fuck.” You moan, your pussy clenching around him making him moan against your ear. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He chuckled.

You dipped down onto his cock, his cock hitting your cervix when you completely sat down on it. Your legs shake beside you, his hands fastly grip underneath your thighs.

“All up my belly.” You moan, arching your back against him.

The sight of his cock inside you, buried up to the hilt, made him moan. "You're so tight," he half-whispered, half-growled against the shell of your ear, the roughness of his voice only fueling the intense passion that already burned through your veins.

He wove his fingers into your hair, guiding your head with an almost possessive need as he tilted you to give him better access to your lips. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading, claiming. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the sensation of your wet, tight pussy engulfing him completely.

He groaned as you lifted yourself, his cock popping out momentarily before sliding back in when you slammed down on it, your cervix meeting his tip with each movement. It was a merciless, primal form of pleasure, your wetness coating his length with every thrust.

His eyes remained locked on you as you got lost in the sensation of his thick length filling you up, throaty moans leaving your lips as you moved on top of him, grinding down onto his cock, your hips moving in a circular motion. Jungkook couldn't help the low growl that left his throat

He pulled you back up, forcing you to bounce on his rigid cock, watching as your full lips parted in an ecstatic moan. The sway of your hips in time with the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you was so fucking erotic it was almost a crime.

You gasped, leaning back just enough to give Jungkook better access to your exposed neck. His cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly which each bounce.

Jungkook's hips bucked up, meeting your bounces, desperate to get as deep as he could, to fill you up completely. The sensation was almost overpowering. A familiar heat was building inside you, a sweet ache that craved release.

Your eyes rolled back, waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

His hips pumped faster, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most exquisite way. Jungkook took your lips in another deep, greedy kiss, muffling the sounds of your cries as you rocked your hips wildly, trying to take him as deep as you could, desperate to reach that peak that felt so tantalizingly close.

“I can’t.” You cry, "That's it, baby, feel every inch." He urged you on.

The thrusts grew rougher, deafening the world around you except for the sound of your moans, his grunts, the soft squelching of your bodies coming together and the rain pouring outside.

The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer contain it. Your entire body trembled as you came undone, shattering the quiet of the car with a lustful cry. Your pussy clamped down around Jungkook's cock,

"Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust.

You let out a loud whine as his cock slipped out of you. Your body continued to rock back and forth, the ache of denial from not having his cock buried inside you being too much to bear. You glanced down between your legs, flushed when you noticed the stickiness that coated your inner thighs.

Jungkook picked up your trembling body and placed your back onto the leather seat. “Gon’ fuck you missionary so I can see your pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” Your boyfriend growls.

Jungkook wasted no time, returning home, his cock sliding inside you once more as you let out a needy moan.

His thrusts were relentless, deep, and hard, driving himself into you. The way your pussy immediately clenched around him, took him in so greedily, made him groan, his eyes locked on yours.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you eager for air. “H-harder,” you pant, your voice growing hoarse as his grip tightened.

The car rocked beneath the force of his thrusts, the sounds of wet slaps echoed, mixed with your cries of pleasure, your head tossing back, your eyes rolling back at the ferocity of his thrusts, the sensations building once more, the climax burning beneath your skin.

"Harder...fuck, harder," you cried out, your voice high-pitched and desperate. Jungkook chuckled, releasing his hold on your throat, you gasp as you inhale deeply for air.

Jungkook fingers find their way to your clit once more, his thumb rubbing it in circles while he continues to thrust into your soaked cunt.

The mix of the insistent pressure on your clit and the rough thrusts was too much, a wave of pure pleasure crashing over you, your pussy gripping his cock, your body pulsing around him. Jungkook pulled out, watching with a devilish grin as your pussy squirted all over the two of you.

Jungkook slapped his cock on your swollen clit— watching your pussy spasm with spurts of juices, before pushing his cock back into you.

The sensation of being filled once more, the echo of your screams, bouncing off the car roof, and the overwhelming orgasm had left you lightheaded. You clung to Jungkook, panting, drool sliding down your chin.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me..." He groaned in pleasure, the sensation of your slick walls gripping him, almost drowning him.

"You... fuck me so good, baby," you panted, the words slurred, your voice bordering on sounding completely fucked-dumb. Your body shuddering, your pussy spasming around his cock, your orgasm brewing fast. Jungkook's hips sped up, his cock pulsing inside you.

Suddenly, your back arched, your vision filled with a white haze as another orgasm crashed over you. The delicious agony coursed through your body, your pussy clenching down on his cock, Jungkook grunted, feeling you contract around him, the sensation sending him over the edge. His cock pumped inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you up completely. He moaned against your neck, his heart pounding, lost in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his jaw clenching, his eyes closed as he rode out the intense wave of ecstasy. His breath hitched, his hips jerking, before he collapsed against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, spent.

Your body continued to tremble, the aftershocks of the powerful climax lingering. Your heart raced, your breaths coming in ragged pants, sweat beading on your forehead.

With a low growl, Jungkook slowly pulled out of you leaving you feeling impossibly empty. The slick sound of his withdrawal accompanied by a heated chuckle of his.

Jungkook looked down, the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum— your wet pussy gaping, waiting for him to fill you once again.

Jungkook watched, captivated by the scene, as you reached down to collect his cum, watching as you pushed it back inside.

“Fuck.. that was hot.” Jungkook groaned, his lips landed on your face, trails of wet kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally landing on your lips. The storm outside, the rain and thunder providing the soundtrack to your post-coital bliss.

Your limp, spent body sprawled over his car seats, your heart still racing, your breaths coming in shallow pants. You gazed up at him, the sweat on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks, the lust still in his eyes, his breathing heavy. A hand cupped your cheek, his fingers gently stroking your jawline as his lips moved against yours in a tender kiss.

Jungkook traced his fingers along your jawline, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You good, baby?" He asked, the tenderness in his voice, an unexpected warmth to the intensity of what had just happened.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him and giving a slow, lazy smile. "Yeah, just a bit sore," you responded, blatantly referring to the aching between your legs.

"You're cute, baby," Jungkook whispered into your lips, the simple remark warming you, leaving your heart fluttering. You hummed in content.

The two of you lay there, naked, your skin still glistening from sweat, the weight of the storm outside more comforting than daunting. Your breaths slowly returning to normal.

A beat of silence permeated the car until Jungkook finally broke it, his voice brimming with mirth. "So... do you think we fucked better than the dragons from your book?"

[myjungkookthighs]

MY FAVORITE JUNGKOOK FANFICS & RECOMMENDATIONS PART1 ✮⋆˙────────୨ৎ───────˙⋆✮

My first lists! These from my favorites JJK fics writers and how amazing their works and most of the fics are top-notch and i really recommend y'all to read it and show some love to their works!! 💗 ( Most of the fics are 🔞+ ) @myjungkookthighs

♥︎— NEEDY | Part 1, Part 2 by @girlygguk ( I'm going to say i love all of my baby lyssa's works she's an amazing writer that i adored so much. All her fics like a drugs to me , top-notch! lol)

nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

♥︎—FIRST CLASS | Part 1 by @girlygguk ( chef kiss🤌)

rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

♥︎—CRAZY | Part 1, Part2 by @girlygguk (addicted like a mad person)

ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

♥︎—HABITS (STAY HIGH) | Part1 by @girlygguk

student plug!jk x rich girl!reader

You9:06 PM do you be 🙄’ing other bitches yes or no

♥︎—BAD THINGS | Part 1 by @girlygguk

jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

♥︎—DENIAL | Part1, Part2 by @girlygguk

idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's ma

♥︎— BETWEEN THE RIDE AND THE ROSES (series) by @focusonkayjay

biker!Jk x flower shop owner!Reader

There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

♥︎— FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE (series)by @dailynnt (Shout out to my love, her fic so amazing !!)

Best friend!Jungkook x Fem!Reader fwb!

What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

♥︎—OLDER by @lovieku

dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader (i'm sucker for older or dilf jk!😭)

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

♥︎—HANDS ON ME by @lovieku

nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

♥︎—OBVIOUS by @lovieku

bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

♥︎— GUYS MY AGE (one-shot) Drabble 1, Drabble 2 ,by @kooktrash

dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her] ( i had read 3 times cuz i'm sucker of it bcs IT'S CHEF KISS🤌)

a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.

♥︎— INFRUNAMI by @kooktrash

friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

♥︎— DEPEND ON ME by @kooktrash

Hybridbunnygirl!reader x human!jungkook

you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind

♥︎— NEVER AGAIN by @kooktrash

neighbor!jk x Reader

jeon jungkook is just your nosy neighbor who can’t seem to be anything less than a selfish, heart breaking, prick in your eyes. yet somehow he manages to wiggle his way into your life but is it enough for him to change your mind or will he prove your judgements right?

♥︎—MY DEAR FRIEND by @kooktrash

friends!jk x experienced!reader, f2l ( about a few day need to moved on from this fic)

just friends? keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

♥︎— BUNNY ADVENTURES by @kooktrash

hybrid!Jungkook x human!reader

you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

♥︎— RISQUE (series) by @mercurygguk

older!jk x reader age gap au (my all time favorite 😭)

in which jungkook struggles to keep his relationship with you strictly appropriate and it’s not like you’re making it easy for him.

♥︎— THE DILF INSTALLMENTS (series) by @mercurygguk

dad!jungkook x f. reader

this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

♥︎— THE ART OF (DILF JK SERIES) by @venusiangguk

 dilf jk x grocery store clerk reader ( never over this bcs it's cute 🤧)

you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you

♥︎— ONLY WHEN IT'S US (series) by @luvismenu

Uni! Jungkook x Fem Reader Strangers to??

you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

♥︎— STARBOY (series)by @luvismenu

popular classmate!jungkook x class president!reader

everyone assumes you two can't stand each other, but is that really true?

♥︎—BED CHEM (Mini Series) by @muniimyg

Uni student!Jungkook x uni Student! Reader Frenemies to lovers!

after overhearing jungkook fuck someone else; you can’t help but want out of being his frenemy

♥︎— BABYDADDY!JK (series) by @muniimyg

ex!au jungkook x ex!reader

Co- parenting

♥︎—ITBOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) by @muniimyg

ITbf!Jk x Fem Reader

♥︎—JUST TAKE IT (series) by @ahgasegotarmy116

Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) dilf! jk

A turn of events has the people you thought you trusted stabbing you in the back and leaving you broken hearted and betrayed. Who knew though that sometimes things just happen for a reason

♥︎—BANG-ABLE (mini one-shot/drabble) by @ahgasegotarmy116

f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook (I'm obsessed!! 😭)

You've been single for way too long and you're done with causal sex and all the drama that comes along with it...so why not try something new?

♥︎— DEEP SIX (mini series) by @bratkook but i read on AO3

biker!jk x reader

It’s like a stranger had a key, came inside of my mind and moved all my things around. He didn’t know snakes can hear the prey, can’t try to break the psyche down.

♥︎— CHAMPANGE CONFFETI by @margotw10bis

boyfriend!Jungkook x camgirl!reader

Your boyfriend loves watching you on live but his whole mood changes when he reads one specific comment from one of your fans

♥︎— PARADISE (series) by @minisugakoobies i read on AO3

 Stripper!Jungkook x Reader (my absolute favorite!😭)

That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

♥︎— THE PINK PILL -"3 DAYS" by @dollfaceksj

best friend!jungkook x fem!reader (top-notch!i read twice😭)

In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

♥︎— THE WEEKEND by @chryblossomjjk

dilf!jk x babysitter reader ( the best thing ever! 😭)

every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

♥︎—SUGARPLUM ELERGY by @bymoonchild

College!Jungkook x Reader , fwb (i can't let go of this story top-notch)

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

♥︎— MICROWAVE (MIS)ADVENTURE by @bymoonchild

housemate!Jungkook x Reader

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

♥︎— COLD NIGHTS AND BLURRED LINES| WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES| cnbldrabbles by @awrkive

basketball!jungkook x nerdy!(fem) reader,fwb (i'm crazy over this 😭)

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

♥︎—CAN'T LET IT GO (part 1)| PHYSICALLY OBSESSED(part2) by @chunghasweetie

dom!oc x nerdysub!jjk

loser nerd jk has crushed on her for years and is assigned to be her college tutor for her calculus class. studying doesn’t go exactly as planned and he ends up losing his virginity in the best way possible.

oc finally cuffs jk and they celebrate

♥︎— HE GIVE IT TO ME (Part1) | WONT TOUCH YOU LIKE ME (Part2)by @chunghasweetie

fem!oc x dealer!jjk

always giving out free shit to his favorite customer.

after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist.

♥︎— MERAKI by @taegularities

grumpy!Jk x sunshine!reader

Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

♥︎—NO NUT NOVEMBER by @2hightocare

dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

♥︎— FOR ME (DILF!JK DRABBLES COLLECTION ) by @personasintro

dilf!jungkook x reader

A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

♥︎— BURNING HOUR by @jungqkook

Richbf!jk x gf!reader (you gonna need holy water later lmao!)

there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.

♥︎—BETTER BOYFRIEND THAN HIM by @jungqkook

friend!Jk x reader

jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

♥︎— FIGHT FOR YOU (series) by @ahundredtimesover

bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader

Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

♥︎— GUARDED by @junghelioseok

bodyguard!Jk x Reader

❛❛ good girl. ❜❜ ❛❛ don’t get shy on me now. ❜❜

♥︎—BODYGUARD by @sxtaep

bodyguard!jk, idol!reader

when you’re stuck in a near-death situation, your high school crush, now your bodyguard, begins to regret ever rejecting you 5 years ago.

♥︎—STRIKE THREE by @avveh (ao3)

Bodyguark!jk x Bratty!Reader ( i'm obsessed!)

When discipline and chaos meet, one will always rise to the top.

♥︎— EVERYTHING IN YOU |Part1, Part2 , DRABBLE1, DRABBLE 2, DRABBLE 3 by @jjungkookislife

roommate!sperm donor Jk x pregnant! Reader (my favorite iso cute)

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help

♥︎— BABYMAKER by @badbtssmut

bestfriend!Jk x Reader

You want a baby, but you just broke up with your boyfriend but your best friend Jungkook offers you the solution to your heart break, he’ll give you your baby, no strings attached.

♥︎— SPECIAL PREPARATION by @badbtssmut

Piercer!Jungkook x Reader

You go to a piercing shop to get a clit piercing but your piercer Jungkook has an interesting way of prepping his clients.

─────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

Actually i like all Miss Cherry @redcherrykook fics and i read them all and her works always the bomb never disappointed me and here i will share my most favorites from her🤪💗

♥︎— SAFEWORD

daddy!jungkook and sub oc

♥︎—SPOT ME INSTEAD

gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader

♥︎—MIDNIGHT SNACK

idol!Jk x gf!Reader

♥︎—MILK AND CREAM

sub!JKx noona!Reader

♥︎—BAD BOY,GOOD GIRL/HIGHSCHOOL SWEET

highschool sweethearts!jk x Reader

♥︎— (TENT)ATIVE ENEMIES

friendnemie!Jk x Reader

♥︎— Kinktober D1-SOMNOPHILLIA

needy JK x reader

♥︎—Kinktober D8- OFFICER PLAYS & CUFFS

roleplay!!JKx bad girl oc

♥︎—Kinktober D10- SPANKING & PUNISHING

DADDY KINK JK! x sub oc

♥︎—Kinktober D12- MIRROR SEX

idol bf! Jk x gf! Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D16- MARKING

possessive bf! JK x Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D19- DACRYPHILLIA (crying kink)

Daddy! Jk x Crybaby! reader

♥︎—Kinktober D22- EXHIBITIONISM

bf!jk x gf reader

by @redcherrykook

That's it for part1 !

[honeyhotteoks]

in bloom - part one (j.yh + j.wy); section one

summary: one night, you and your boyfriend and your best friend are watching a movie, only you didn’t realize this movie would have a sex scene this long. or that they would notice how uncomfortable it made you. when you finally confess to them why, they take their time guiding you through every life experience you’ve always felt too late for, one kiss at a time. part one; section one | part one; section two | part two masterlist

note: this was inspired by my 🪻 anon who sent a suggestion about a yunwoo fic centered on loss of virginity. what was supposed to be an ask reply became a full fic. see under the cut for more detailed notes and disclaimers. part two coming soon.

warnings: virginity, late bloomer reader (she’s 26), demisexual!reader, complex relationships to sex, sexuality, and pleasure. fluff, angst, and emotional hurt/comfort, frank conversations about sexual experiences and norms including body hair and preferences, references to disassociation during sex but in the past, brief mention/question about sexual trauma (there is none), bisexual!wooyoung, bicurious!yunho, nervous / inexperienced reader, shy reader, embarrassed reader, slow and i mean SLOW sexual acts, lots of consent, kissing galore, nipple play, body worship, masturbation (f), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), hand jobs, yunwoo teaching how to and reader learning for basically ever sex act….. lots of soft pet names y'all know me, an extremely earned 'good girl'

pairings: boyfriend!yunho x best friend!wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: smut and more smut

word count: 18.9k

note! this post was too long for tumblr, be sure to read section two here! or check it out on ao3

disclaimer:

this fic deals with complex feelings around loss of virginity, the "right age" to lose your virginity, as well as exploring different kids of sexualities, specifically demisexuality though it is not named as such in the fic. I want to emphasize that there is no "right age" to lose your virginity, and virginity itself is a social construct, but our reader here is 26 and feels late and has a lot of shame around her relationship to sex and arousal. this is not to say that 26 is "late" or there's anything wrong with it, but there are moments in the fic that she is very unkind to herself and it's because she needs to unpack these feelings not because I believe them to be true. regarding demisexuality, I did my best to use my research and understanding of demisexuality to offer a different understanding of arousal for my character here. for her, she is awkward and uncomfortable with sex to the point that it feels foreign to her, and the way she experiences sexual desires or arousal is different to any characters i’ve written or what she sees in media. for her, she needs a romantic or emotional connection with someone to feel that desire, so of course enter our boys and some classic quiet yearning. if you are more educated on demisexuality than I am, and feel that this tag is misplaced on this fic, please let me know. I always seek to be a responsible writer, and want to be sure this is a safe and inclusive space for all. thank you, happy reading!

You’ve never understood sex in movies. It’s always full of heavy breathing, frantic pawing at each other, and the sounds. The sounds. There’s no way people in real life actually sound like that if they’re not acting, you can’t imagine it. The few times you’ve tried to watch porn made you feel the same way, uncomfortable and anxious.

So it doesn’t help that this action movie has an unexpected sex scene and it definitely doesn’t help that you're sandwiched on the couch between your boyfriend and your best friend. 

The throwaway female character moans on screen, her head thrown back with a grimace of pleasure on her face and your hands tighten, your eyes looking down to avoid it completely. 

At twenty-six years old, watching a sex scene in a movie shouldn’t make you want to curl up in your own body and die, but here you are. The scene is long, full of heated tension and steamy camera angles even before the couple on screen starts to hastily undress and moan together in the sheets, and it makes your whole body vibrate with uncomfortable energy. 

Yunho is relaxed in the corner of your couch, legs spread out on the chaise, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you nestle into his side. He’s sweet, your boyfriend of three going on four months, and he seems completely unfazed by the scene on screen. 

Wooyoung is lounging on your opposite side, his legs cutting a diagonal line across you so he can rest his feet on part of the chaise too, all three of you tucked up under blankets. 

You probably wouldn’t be so unable to process your discomfort had you not gone out with them earlier in the night, a few happy hour drinks and back to your place with takeout and some more beer to keep the good vibes going. If you were stone cold sober you would probably be fine, but you had a buzz earlier, and a buzz always makes you more emotional. 

“Damn,” Wooyoung huffs a laugh at the screen and takes a long swig of his beer, “get it,” 

Yunho exhales a laugh softly through his nose but doesn’t comment. 

You can’t even bring yourself to say a word. The idea of sex alone doesn’t always make you uncomfortable, but more often than not it does. It’s worse right now though, the number of times you had thought about sex while simultaneously not having it with Yunho these past few months makes you feel like this movie is just shoving your own anxiety and embarrassment in your face. 

“Holy shit is that position even possible?” Wooyoung says, but you keep your eyes downcast, the sounds of the tv telling you all you need to know.

Your stomach clenches when Yunho responds, “Possible? Yeah. Comfortable, not so much,” 

Heat rises in your cheeks. 

He’s your boyfriend, that should turn you on, make you flirty and funny like other girls your age, but all you feel is a stark reminder of your own inadequacy. 

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung takes another drink and glances towards you and Yunho, and it’s just like your best friend to say the thing no one else will, when he laughs and nudges your knee, “y/n, what’s got you all embarrassed?” 

Yunho looks down at that. 

“Hmm?” You try to play it off, looking back up towards the screen as the scene finally fades to black, “What do you mean? I’m fine,” 

Wooyoung snorts a little, “Yeah? Did the movie get you all flustered? Cute,” 

��Shut up,” You cross your arms, rolling your eyes and trying to look back to the screen, “you’re missing the movie,” 

Yunho’s hand slips from the back of the couch to your arm. 

“Thinking about trying all that out when I leave?” Wooyoung gives you a cheeky eyebrow. 

Heat pricks behind your eyes. 

“That’s ambitious,” Wooyoung continues, oblivious to his word’s effects, but Yunho’s picked up on your tension. 

“Hey,” Yunho says sharply, “leave her alone,” 

“Oof,” Wooyoung holds up a hand in surrender, “sorry, sorry, she knows I’m just teasing,” 

You look to the side, turning your head away from him to try to collect yourself, but there’s no stopping the conversation now. 

“It doesn't matter,” Yunho strokes your arm, “she’s uncomfortable, lay off.” 

“Fine,” Wooyoung sighs, “damn, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” 

He more than hit a nerve. In true Wooyoung fashion as only he can do, he reached right in, exposed the nerve, and squeezed. You nod, swallowing tightly, and your plan is to tell him it’s no big deal and go back to pretending this never happened, but when you take in a breath it comes sharply and tears slip down over your cheeks. 

Yunho tenses, leaning forward to see you, “Baby?” 

“Fuck, are you crying?” Wooyoung sobers, sitting up and reaching for you, “I’m so sorry, I’m… I don’t know what I said, but don’t cry,” 

“I’m fine,” You suck in a breath and scrub your hands under your eyes, “I’m drunk, it’s fine,” 

“It’s not fine,” Yunho brushes your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung wraps his arm around your back and gives your thigh a squeeze with his opposite hand as he leans into you, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” 

“It’s not you,” You sigh, dropping your teary face into your hands, “it’s stupid,”

“It’s not,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you keep going. 

  “Yunho,” Your breath hitches, remembering how only two nights ago you had backed away from sex with him, leaving his apartment early again, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” 

Both men still, but then Yunho sighs, “I told you, it’s okay,” 

“It’s not,” Your breath hitches again, and maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s just the final tipping point of how angry you’ve been at yourself for months, years, but you say it, “it’s not okay that your girlfriend is fucking defective,” 

Wooyoung’s hand tightens on your knee, and Yunho sucks in a sharp breath, “Hey,” he says, “baby, what,” 

Something clicks in place, “You guys haven’t had sex,” Wooyoung blurts out.

“That’s not really any of your-,” Yunho starts to say, but you cut him off. 

“No,” 

“We’re just taking it slow,” Yunho shifts, drawing you closer, “and there is nothing wrong with that,” 

You shake your head, and suddenly the sound of the television cuts. 

“Yunho’s right,” Wooyoung rubs your back, “and I wouldn’t have teased you like that if I knew. I wasn’t trying to be mean, you know that, I just assumed we weren’t talking about stuff like that since we’re all friends, so it didn’t get weird,” 

Nervousness bubbles through you, and you push their hands away, “I should go,” 

“What?” Yunho says, confusion all over his face as you stand up. 

“Go? This is your apartment,” Wooyoung follows you, the blankets discarded on the floor. 

“To bed,” You manage, trying to recover as you try to physically remove yourself from the most uncomfortable conversation of your life, “I should go to bed.” 

“It’s eight o’clock,” Wooyoung reaches for you, “what is going on?” 

“Well, I’m tired,” Your legs are moving, heart pounding, but as you walk past the couch towards the hall Yunho’s hand closes around your wrist and pulls you to a stop.

“What did you mean, ‘my girlfriend's defective’?” Yunho asks softly, pulling you back to the couch, his voice gravelly with tension and concern. 

“Yunho,” You sigh. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “you’re running away,” 

“Yun-,” 

“I’ve been patient,” He insists, “I haven’t pushed, but what does that mean? What the hell would make you think there’s something wrong with you?” 

You rest a hand over your eyes, taking a shaky breath. 

“You can talk to us,” Wooyoung murmurs. 

“It’s embarrassing,” You manage.

Yunho’s thumb softly strokes over the veins in your wrist, but he stays quiet. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Wooyoung says warmly, “you know all my embarrassing secrets,” 

You pull your arm out of Yunho’s grip and shake your head, “Fuck,” 

“Baby,” Yunho murmurs. 

“Fine, fuck it,” After years of biting your tongue, you’re not sure here in this moment you can do it anymore, and the truth all but bursts out of your chest, “I’m a virgin.” 

You watch Yunho’s eyes grow wide with surprise. 

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you take a step back, “It’s really fucking embarrassing, okay? So there, that’s it.” 

Yunho’s still for a moment, and then he pushes off the couch, stepping over the chaise to get to you. Your stomach feels like it’s dropped out under you, and for once Wooyoung is absolutely silent, watching your boyfriend to see exactly how he’ll respond. 

Yunho settles in front of you, sitting on the arm of the couch so that you’re eye to eye and then he gently touches your arms, “Sweetheart,” he says softly, “you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

His hands run up and down your upper arms slowly and you soften, “But,” 

He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make you defective,” he squeezes you, “I don’t want to ever hear you say that about yourself again,” 

You sigh, “It’s not just that,” 

“Then what?” He soothes you, pulling you a little closer until you’re standing between his open legs, “Talk to me,” 

“I’ve tried,” You explain quietly, “but I just can’t, and it’s not fair to you,” 

“You’ve tried,” Wooyoung processes those words clearly, and you finally glance at your best friend. 

You can only manage a nod. 

“To have sex?” Yunho infers. 

“In school,” Your cheeks heat and you try to pull away but Yunho keeps you in his hands. 

“That night at Yonsei,” Wooyoung blurts out as the puzzle pieces of his memory align and slot together. 

You grimace. That was the night you figured out how mismatched you and sex were, the night in college you decided to throw caution and fear aside and get a little drunk and just get it over with. Only it didn’t matter how hot your almost-hookup was, or how charming, the minute he had his hands on you everything changed in your brain. It was like you were disappearing inside yourself, feeling bleeding out of you until you were just a body you didn’t recognize. It had spun you right into a panic attack that left you running out of his apartment and straight to your best friend’s arms. 

“What happened at Yonsei?” Yunho tenses, looking between you both. 

Wooyoung looks at you for a long moment, “She met a guy at a party, and two hours later she was crying on my doorstep. You said nothing happened, you said he was just a jerk,” 

“He was fine, it was me,” You murmur, “I couldn’t do it,” 

“That was years ago though,” Wooyoung offers. 

You feel your cheeks heat up again, “I’ve tried to hook up with other people,” 

“Oh,” Wooyoung’s shoulders drop, his eyes going tender, “babe, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It’s just so uncomfortable, I’m so mortified by the whole thing,” You rub your hands over your eyes, sighing into your palms. 

Yunho’s watching you carefully, but you can see him thinking and finally he says, “Were you ever planning on telling me?” 

Your stomach clenches and you can’t come up with anything to say. 

“Oh god,” His eyes widen, “you weren’t going to tell me, were you?” 

“I thought it might be different with you,” You murmur, “once I got up the nerve,” 

Yunho stands, running a hand through his hair, “Baby,” he steps away, pacing the length of the couch, “you can’t be serious,”

You expected him to be upset, but confusion at why he’s angry fills you, “What?” 

“I could tell you were a little inexperienced, that’s fine, but never? I could have hurt you, or gone too fast, y/n,” Yunho finally faces you, “we’re in a partnership, sex should be about both of us, and losing your virginity isn’t something to just get over with,” 

“I know,” You tell him, even though you really don’t have a good grasp on that at all, “I’m sorry, please don’t be upset,” 

“I’m not upset,” He sighs, “I’m… I don’t know,”

You’re quiet, panic curling in your gut that your worst fear of losing him was happening right in front of your eyes, but then Wooyoung interjects and the night seems to take the strangest turn with one sentence.

  “If it helps,” He says, “I’m also a virgin,” 

You and Yunho both swing around to look at him and you let out a startled laugh, “What? No you’re not, I literally know people you’ve hooked up with,” 

“I mean,” He nods, “okay, not a total virgin, in terms of percentages I think you win,” 

You laugh again at the absurdity of his words, clapping a hand over your lips. 

“I’ve done pretty much everything except had my dick in someone,” He says earnestly, “it’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure it’ll happen at some point with the right person,” 

“But,” You blink,  “you’ve dated so many people,” 

“Right, well,” He clears his throat, throwing a quick look at Yunho, “with girls it’s mostly just getting each other off and with guys, I’m uh, not exactly topping,” 

“Oh,” You manage. 

“My point is,” He steps towards you and cups your cheeks, “your very sweet boyfriend is right, there is nothing wrong with you. And if something is making you uncomfortable you’re not going to get over that by ignoring it or lying to people who care about you and want to take care of you.” 

There’s nothing to say to that. 

“Virginity is bullshit anyways,” He says firmly, “it doesn’t mean anything real, so if you’re a virgin so am I.” 

“Woo,” You sigh. 

“Yunho,” Wooyoung looks to the side, “come hug your girlfriend,” 

You smile, and in a second Yunho’s arms are around you, pulling you up and into his embrace. 

“This makes so much sense,” Yunho sighs, a little relieved as he rubs your back. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” You ask into his chest, “I think most guys think,” 

“Fuck most guys,” Yunho shakes his head, “you’re not dating most guys.” 

“But,” 

“Woo,” He says, “back me up here,” 

Wooyoung laughs, “He’s right, most guys wouldn’t care,” he says, “but we definitely would want to know,” 

“You would?” You untangle yourself from Yunho to look at your best friend, “I mean, isn’t it all the same for you?” 

You know the question is naive the second it leaves your lips. Yunho’s hand stills on your upper arm, and Wooyoung cocks his head to the side before answering, “No, not really,” 

“At all,” Yunho adds, “there’s a lot I would do differently knowing that,” 

Wooyoung nods, “Same,” 

You run a hand through your hair, “I just feel like… I don’t know that’s not what it seemed like when I… or, fuck, this is so embarrassing,” 

“Come here,” Wooyoung pulls you into his chest and gives you a solid hug, “stop worrying what we think, we’re not judging you,” 

“Woo,” You murmur into his shoulder, “you don’t know, I think my brain is broken,” 

“No,” He soothes you, “come on, let’s all sit back down, we can talk,” 

You swallow tightly, but nod. 

Wooyoung pulls you gently back to your original position on the couch and Yunho follows, sliding into his spot and pulling the blankets up over all three of you as you settle in. 

“You can tell us,” Wooyoung says, tucking the blanket under your feet. 

Yunho nods before brushing his fingers along your cheekbone and tucking your hair behind your ear, “You okay?” 

You shrug a little, “I guess,” 

“You can tell me anything,” Yunho squeezes your hand, “I really care about you, y/n, I promise you can trust me,” 

You nod, and then you brace yourself for the questions, for the way you’re about to be more honest with these two men than you’ve been with yourself. 

“When you say you can’t,” Yunho brushes his thumb over your knuckles, “what do you mean?” 

You let out a slow breath, “I’ve never told anyone this,” 

Wooyoung smooths a hand over your knee under the blanket, a comforting rub of his skin on yours. 

“Um,” You don’t know where to start. 

“Does it hurt?” Wooyoung prompts you softly, “I know for some girls that’s a thing, right?” 

Yunho’s thumb stops moving, and he squeezes your hand again. 

“It’s not that,” You shake your head. 

“Okay,” Wooyoung murmurs, soft like he’s coaxing it out of you. 

“It’s,” You search for the right way to explain, “I don’t know why, but whenever I’m, um, intimate with someone it’s like I’m not there,” 

Yunho’s brow furrows as he studies your face. 

“It feels like I’m, I don’t know, not in my body anymore?” You try to explain, “Like I’m watching everything happen from the outside, like i’m stuck like that, and then I just panic,” 

Your words sit for a moment and then Wooyoung says, “That sounds really scary,” 

The tension left in your chest snaps and you suck in a sharp breath, “It is,” 

Yunho separates your hands and shifts closer to you on the couch, his body close and angled towards you, his hand cupping the back of your head, “You’re dissociating,” 

“Yeah,” 

He nods, “How many times has this happened?” 

“Um,” You look up, flicking through your memory, “a few times, three times,” 

“Was it always the same?” He asks. 

“Mostly,” You nod. 

“What really happened, then?” Wooyoung asks quietly, “At Yonsei,” 

“I told you most of it,” You say honestly, “he and I went upstairs at the party to his room, we you know, made out a bit which was okay. He didn’t mind that I was a virgin, and everything was okay, but then he started touching me and I just… yeah, I shut down, and then I started to hate it, and then I freaked out on him and ran off,” 

“And the other times?” Yunho’s hand slips down to settle on your neck.

  “Pretty much the same,” You tell them, “the second guy was someone from a class at this party, and then I swore sex off for a while, but tried again a couple of years ago with a guy at a bar. I thought a few drinks would help me relax, but getting more drunk just made it worse. I stopped trying after that,” 

Yunho’s hand tightens on your neck, “Jesus,” 

“It’s bad, I know,” 

He shakes his head, waving his other hand to dispel your assumption, “No, but I don’t like the idea of you in that situation at all.” 

“It was fine,” You sigh, “I definitely freaked that guy out though, I started crying the minute he took my shirt off. He got me cup of tea and put me in a cab home after that,” 

Wooyoung squeezes your leg and you turn to him, “Can I ask you something that’s a little… I don’t want to upset you, but,” 

“Ask,” You nod. 

“Did something happen when we were kids, or in school?” His eyes are soft, tender as he asks his careful question. 

Yunho stiffens but you quickly shake your head, “Nothing like that,” 

Wooyoung lets out a relieved breath. 

“I know it’s awful to say this,” You admit quietly, resting your hand on Wooyoung’s, “but sometimes I wish it were that clear, at least then I’d have a reason, something to make sense of it, but I’m just… like this.” 

Wooyoung nods, but doesn’t have anything to say to that. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you figure you might as well keep confessing, “I thought about asking you, actually,” 

“Me?” Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise. 

“Yeah,” You laugh, “after the second time, I figured it was a mental block about losing my virginity or something, so I thought about telling you and asking for your help since we’ve been friends so long, but you were dating guys by then, so I figured, you know,” 

“I still like girls,” 

“I know!” You rush to correct yourself, “I just saw how good things were for you, I didn’t want to, I don’t know, be a charity case,” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, “you’ve been my best friend since we were six, I love you, you could never be a charity case to me. I would have helped you then, I would, well yeah,” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes flicking to Yunho, “Not in a weird way, I’m not trying to,” 

“Relax,” Yunho says, “I know you’re not.” 

You sink deeper into the back of the couch, leaning into Yunho’s warm touch still anchored on your neck. 

“Baby,” Yunho murmurs, “how has it been with me?” 

“Oh,” You straighten up, turning towards him. 

“Honestly,” He adds. 

You think about all the ways Yunho upended you. Friends first, flirtations second, touches coming so much later. There’s heat with him, nervous bubbles in your belly, and you swear sometimes when he kisses you, you can feel the vibrating frequency of it on your lips for days. 

“It’s different,” You tell him, “really different,” 

He nods, encouraging you more. 

“That’s why I thought maybe this would work out,” You confess, “I want more with you, but I also… if it is me, and I can’t do it, I don’t want to ruin this. I’m really scared of fucking this up,” 

“You’re not going to,” 

“Yunho,” 

“You’re not.” He says firmly. 

“Babe,” Wooyoung gives you another squeeze, “I think I know what’s going on,” 

You and Yunho both turn to look, “What do you mean?” 

“Those guys,” He smiles a little, “they were random hookups at parties, they were probably drunk and definitely not treating you right, but did you even like them? Were you even into them when you went upstairs?” 

You blink, “Into them?” 

“Yeah,” He nods, “like did you get hot and heavy on the dance floor and want to rip each other’s clothes off, or did you just… pick a guy to lose it to,” 

“Woo,” The question alone embarrasses you. 

“I don’t think you can just hook up with anyone,” He explains softly, “I think you don’t want to, or maybe, I’m not sure, but maybe you don’t feel arousal unless you care about the person.” 

You sit silently in that knowledge for a moment. It’s something you thought about, the idea of needing the romance element. It’s not like you lacked a sex drive, it just never felt like other people’s. You weren’t a porn watcher, you didn’t think about sex or sexual things when you saw someone hot. Growing up people would always make comments about people’s bodies, the way it made them feel, the things they wanted to do, but you always just felt hollow. The only times in your life you’ve felt those deep in your gut stirrings was reading one of your romance novels, or from the two men on either side of you now. 

“It would make sense why intimacy feels different with Yunho,” He sums up softly, “and why you would have felt safe enough with me to ask.” 

Your mind is still turning that over when Yunho softly interjects, “With me,” he asks gently, “when we’re kissing, you seem to like it, to be there. Right?” 

You nod immediately, “Definitely,” 

“And have you thought about us doing more than that?” Yunho’s fingers gently card through your hair. 

“A lot,” You admit, your cheeks heating up again, “I just… I was afraid it would happen again.” 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, his fingers soft against your scalp. 

“I’ve only ever felt that for you,” You confess, and at that you feel Wooyoung’s hand slip off your knee and you turn sharply, grabbing his hand to keep him from pulling away from you, “and you, I’ve also, I used to, yeah,” 

It’s Wooyoung’s turn to soften, his eyes flicking nervously from yours to Yunho’s and back, “You’re uh,” he stumbles over his words, “you’re saying Yunho and I are the only guys who have ever made you, uh,” 

“Horny?” You supply with a smile, “and I thought I was the embarrassed virgin,” 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “you know what I mean,” 

“Yeah,” You laugh, “but yeah, I guess… what you said makes sense, sex has never clicked with me, I don’t really feel that kind of attraction at first, but you’re my best friend.” 

Wooyoung swallows nervously. 

Turning back to Yunho you cup his cheek, holding his gaze, “And I feel more connected to you than anyone,” you tell him honestly, “we were friends for a little while before you ever asked me out and things have been… the way I feel is so,” 

You can’t quite get the words out, but he nods, “Me too,” 

Yunho shifts forwards and places a single, soft kiss on your lips before leaning back and clearing his throat. He squeezes your hand again, his thumb still working an unconsciously comforting pattern on the back of your hand, and you wonder if he realizes just how at ease he puts you. 

Wooyoung shifts next to you, “Can I ask something else?” 

“Hmm?” You turn to him, pulling your gaze from Yunho’s, “Sure,” 

“The movie,” He nods to the blank TV screen, “that kind of thing, were you just embarrassed because we’re both here, or do you not watch stuff like that at all?” 

Your nose crinkles, “Are you asking me if I watch porn?” 

Wooyoung laughs sharply, “I mean that was hardly porn, but yeah, I guess I’m curious,” 

“Uh,” You shrug, “I mean, no? I don’t, no,” 

“Why?” Yunho asks, and then clarifies, “It’s fine that you don’t, I guess I’m curious too,” 

“It just seems so fake,” You admit, “all the moaning and the screaming, I mean I’ve never,” 

Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise. 

You clap a hand over your lips and shake your head, “Nevermind,” 

Yunho looks positively amused, leaning his head onto his hand, elbow propped up on the couch arm, “Go on,” 

You shake your head, hiding your own smile behind your fingers. 

“When you jack off?” Wooyoung supplies with a grin. 

“Woo!” You slap his arm and feel your face heating back up. 

“Sorry,” He says, but he’s not, and he doesn’t lose the smile, “when you masturbate, you do masturbate don’t you?” 

“Yes, I masturbate,” Your voice drops to a hushed, almost scandalized whisper. 

Yunho’s hand brushes over the back of your head and settles on your neck, “Baby,” he says, “you’re fine, you don’t have to be shy.” 

“Jesus,” Your eyes shut and you shake your head. 

Yunho shifts back towards you, “We can stop talking about this though, if you’re actually uncomfortable we can be done.” 

“I’m fine,” You manage, “I just… I don’t talk about this kind of thing regularly,” 

He nods. 

With a sigh you run a hand through your hair, “Yeah, so I don’t know, when I… well, you know, it’s just different than…. yeah, you know,” 

Wooyoung snorts a laugh and Yunho grins at your word salad. 

They wait for you to say more, but finally Yunho translates, “You’re saying when you touch yourself, it doesn’t feel like what porn looks like, like what the women in porn are experiencing?” 

“Basically,” You let out a tense breath. 

“Have you actually orgasmed before?” Yunho asks. 

You separate your hands from the boys, and rest the back of your cool fingers on your cheeks, “Yeah, I mean, yes,” 

“Listen,” Yunho smooths his hand over your thigh, “I’m not saying porn is realistic, a lot of it isn’t, but with the right person it can definitely make you feel a lot better than I think you realize.” 

“Sometimes it’s pretty loud,” Wooyoung adds, leaning back against the couch cushions. 

“Fuck,” You hide your face in your hands, “this is crazy, what am I like fifteen? You must think I’m such a baby,” 

“No,” Yunho soothes you, “I think you needed to find the right guy, and if Woo’s right and you need the romantic part before the rest, I mean, it would make sense why porn isn’t your thing.” 

Your mind flicks back to all the guys you’ve tried to lose it to in the past. The three you made it far enough with that it left a lasting impression, but also every other guy you considered. 

“I’m just so behind now,” You admit your fears quietly, “if we can even have sex, I’m so… I’m just so late,” 

“Learning’s half the fun,” Wooyoung says plainly. 

Yunho’s hand slides over your back, “Mhm,” he murmurs, “and if I am the right guy, then, baby, I’d be more than happy to teach you,” 

“Cute,” Wooyoung comments. 

Something warm and tight solidifies in your gut at his words. 

You don’t realize you haven’t responded until Yunho gently pulls your hands away from your face, “You okay? Jagi?” 

You nod, “I’m good, just, thinking, I guess,” 

He looks nervous, you realize. 

“You’re definitely the right guy,” You take his hands in yours, “I’m sorry, I’m a little overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed isn’t exactly the right word for it. 

You’re starting to notice all the little ways he’s touching you, and then you start to realize all the little ways Wooyoung is touching you too. With other people, this kind of intimate touch would twist your stomach in the wrong way, but with them it’s a pleasant kind of warmth, syrupy and soft, and it makes you want to kick off the blankets and drink a cold glass of water. 

Wooyoung’s hand brushes over your hair, “What are you thinking?” 

“I don’t know,” You breathe, “I’m just glad I told you both.”

He nods, “I’m glad you told us too,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “and whenever you’re ready we’ll,” 

The words spill out of you, “I’ve been ready,” 

Yunho’s eyebrows raise, his lips quirked up on one side into a smile. Now that the dam is broken, it seems all your thoughts and secrets just keep flooding out. 

“Sorry,” You huff a soft laugh. 

“Don’t be,” Yunho replies, “I like you more comfortable, you’re allowed to tell me stuff like that,” 

You nod. 

Wooyoung’s hand slips off your leg and you feel your stomach twist. He’s pulling back, putting distance between your bodies, and something deep down feels wrong. 

“Well, I should probably get out of here,” He says, taking that as his cue to leave. 

You can’t help the way your face falls at the idea, and Yunho’s eyes flick over your expression. 

Wooyoung cleans up his little space on the table, walking into your kitchen, and something deeply unspoken passes between you and Yunho.

You hear the bottles clink in the recycling, and the sound of running water as Wooyoung washes his hands and cleans off his dish. 

“y/n,” Yunho murmurs, “are you sobered up?” 

You blink, but nod. He knows as well as you do that you’ve only had one slow beer since getting back from the happy hour several hours ago, but he’s giving you the chance to pull the emergency brake on the rest of the night if you need it.

Wooyoung walks out, finding his jacket and pulling it on, “Text me later, and uh, thanks for drinks earlier,” 

Your best friend isn’t meeting your eyes. 

“Wooyoung,” Yunho interrupts, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees, “I think you should stay.” 

His head snaps up, “What?” 

“I think you should stay,” He reiterates, “I think y/n wants you here, but is too scared to ask for that.” 

The curling, heavy warmth returns in your belly. 

”But,” Wooyoung blinks. 

”I’m not sure what we’ll do tonight,” Yunho offers, “but if y/n is comfortable enough to be this honest, and if we’re the only two guys that have ever made her feel the right way about sex, then I think you should stay.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen and flash to yours. 

Smoothly, Yunho turns to you, “If you want that,” he murmurs, “all of us figuring this out together, I want you to know that I’m good with it.” 

“All of us as in all three of us?” You manage, surprise coursing through you. 

Yunho stays the calm center between you and your best friend, and looks to Wooyoung, “Woo?” 

A silent conversation passes between them, you can tell that much from watching their every micro expression, but then Wooyoung nods, “But it’s up to y/n,” 

Yunho turns his focus back to you, “Only if you want it,” he says, “but you’d be safe with us, and you know us, and now that we know where you’re at we can take it slow and make sure you’re connected the whole time.” 

A light bulb turns on for Wooyoung and he nods, “We also definitely don’t have to have sex if you’re not ready for that, we could just mess around,” 

Yunho nods. 

This is probably going to be something that you’ll regret, but you hope not. If nothing else, the feeling in your body now isn’t anxiety or fear or numbness, it’s want. 

You want it. 

And you’ve been trying to figure out a way to want this for as long as you can remember. 

“Let’s do it,” You exhale, nodding, “let’s try,” 

Yunho smiles. 

“Shit,” Wooyoung laughs, “are you sure? We’re doing this?” 

“I mean,” You pick up on the infectiousness of his laugh, “who knows maybe this ends in twenty minutes with a panic attack, but, fuck it,” 

Yunho shakes his head, cupping your cheek, “We’re stopping before it gets that far,” 

You nod, pushing down the litter flutter of nervousness in your gut, “S-so how do we start?” 

“Let’s go to bed,” Yunho offers softly, “no rush, just to get comfortable.” 

“Okay,” Your voice is soft. 

Wooyoung reaches out to you and you slot your hand in his as he says, “Damn, who would have thought we’d be losing our virginity together,” 

Yunho snorts a laugh behind you and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you let him pull you to your feet, “you’re loving this, I see,” 

Wooyoung shrugs. 

Yunho stands and slides behind you, his hands softly gripping your waist, “Still good?” 

“Mhm,” You nod, and honestly Wooyoung’s teasing has you more relaxed then before, “good,” 

Wooyoung leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, walking back towards your bedroom like it’s his own, “Come on,” he calls back over his shoulder, “let’s go pop some cherries,” 

You fall apart into hysterical laughter, stumbling forwards with Yunho still close at your back, the three of you collapsing into bed together with an ease you’ve never experienced in your entire life. 

Once the laughing starts to fade though, you’re acutely aware that you’re in the center of the bed and they are snuggled close on either side of you, just under the duvet and nestled close. 

“This is nice,” Wooyoung breaks the ice softly. 

“Mhm,” Yunho smiles, “I kind of thought this might happen someday.” 

“A threesome?” You laugh. 

“I mean,” Yunho shrugs, his hand brushing up and down your bare arm, “you two are kind of a package deal,” 

Wooyoung snorts a laugh, “I’ve heard that one before,” 

“I don’t mind,” Yunho smiles, “I like you around,” 

He smiles back, rolling closer into you and propping his head up on a hand, “Dude,” he laughs, “do you even like dick?” 

To your absolute surprise, Yunho smirks, “I dabbled in college,” 

“You did?” Your eyes widen.

Yunho shrugs again, “Some,” 

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “this is going to be fun,” 

“Slow down,” Yunho rolls his eyes and nods to you, “we’ve got a million things to get through first,” 

A nervous knot starts to form in your gut at their attention, but you take a slow, steady breath. 

“Sweetheart,” Yunho catches your attention, his fingers gentle on your jaw, “how are you feeling?” 

“Good,” You murmur, “mostly,” 

“What’s the not good part?” He asks. 

You sigh, “I’m just nervous,” 

“Me too,” He admits, his fingers sliding up and down your jaw, “Wooyoung, are you nervous?” 

“Definitely,” 

“Nervous is normal,” Yunho smiles a little, “and we’re going to take our time. There’s no rush, we have nowhere to be, and there’s no wrong way to do this,” 

Your shoulders soften. 

“If you start to feel scared or like you’re out of your body,” Yunho cups your cheek properly, “I want you to say ‘red’, okay?” 

You’ve read enough romance novels to know exactly what the color system is and when to use it, but coming from your sweet, patient boyfriend, you’re a little surprised. 

Your brow furrows, “Why not stop?” 

He smiles wider, “Because,” he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips before continuing, “if we do this right, you might start saying things like ‘don’t stop’, and I don’t want any of us confused about what we are hearing,” 

Something inside you flutters and you nod. 

Wooyoung smiles, an eyebrow raised, “Colors?” 

“You’re familiar?” Yunho smirks. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughs, “a little surprised that you are, but what do I know,” 

Yunho ignores that comment, and you try not to fixate on the fact that if Yunho is that experienced, it might mean something about his relationship to sex that you’re not ready for. 

“Now, nice and slow,” Yunho’s voice is warmer, deeper in his chest and that pulls you right out of your thought spiral. 

“We’ll get comfortable,” Wooyoung kisses your shoulder gently. 

“Yeah,” You breathe. 

“You like kissing me, right?” Yunho shifts closer, his fingers gentle on your jaw.

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, but you nod, “Uh huh,” 

He smiles a little, his pretty mouth parting as he leans towards you, “Just let yourself feel me,” 

“Kay,” You breathe.

  His lips connect to yours. 

Warm, soft, and slow, just the press of his mouth. He’s gentler than before, now that he knows your secret, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you just feel safe. He nuzzles you with his nose, taking a little breath as your mouths part, but then he kisses you again, not an ounce of urgency in his touch. 

With gentle reverence, he lets you warm to being touched, he lets you adjust. 

Yunho brushes his thumb back and forth over your jaw, and you feel your shoulders soften, physically relaxing into the bedding. 

Your fingers grip down on his shirt, fabric bunching as the mere weight of your hand strains the soft cotton against the buttons. He’s warm, his skin, his breath. You can feel the thump of his steady heart against your fingers, and when he sighs against your lips you feel like his warmth has seeped right from his skin to yours. 

You shiver, some knot of tension inside you starting to unspool. 

Slowly, Yunho pulls back just enough to catch your eyes, “You okay?” 

There’s no pressure in his eyes, no push for more or irritation under the surface. Nothing like what you’ve seen with any partner before this. 

All you see in Yunho’s eyes is patience. 

“Yeah,” You nod, “I think so,” 

Yunho smiles a little. 

“It’s nice,” You murmur, “you feel nice,” 

“Nice is good,” Yunho smiles wider. 

Wooyoung’s fingers brushing along your hip bring you back to reality, and you turn your head just slightly, catching sight of your best friend. 

He’s watching you both with such affection it nearly bowls you over. You expected heat in his eyes; hunger, lust, uncontrollable desire, all the things you’ve seen a million times before in movies. You’ve heard plenty about Wooyoung’s nights out too, his stories of hookup after hookup leave little to the imagination, but here in bed all you see when you look at him is your best friend. 

“Hey,” You murmur a little lamely. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung smiles, adjusting his position on his side, propping his head up on his hand. 

For a second, you look at him, really look at him. 

His skin is tanned from the summer sun, making his brown eyes a richer, deeper tone with warm flecks of amber. His dark black hair has gotten longer too, just starting to brush the top of his shoulders with a natural soft wave, making him habitually brush his hand through his locks. His straight brow, the distinct cut of his nose, the lovely crooked curve of his lips, one dark mole under his left eye. 

“You’re staring, cutie,” Wooyoung wags an eyebrow to tease you, but keeps his tone kind. 

“Sorry,” You feel your cheeks heat. 

“You’re okay,” He assures you, “what are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing really,” You fib. 

He bites his lip to keep from shooting back a playful retort, and then he sighs, glancing between you and Yunho before ripping off the proverbial band-aid, “y/n,” he murmurs, “do you want to try kissing me too?” 

Your stomach bubbles with something new. 

Reflexively, you look to your boyfriend, surely if he’s not comfortable he would say something, but Yunho only nods. 

“It’s okay,” Yunho promises, “I want you to,” 

You nod, back to Wooyoung, and slowly you both shift towards one another. 

“I got you, babe,” Wooyoung assures gently as he gets closer, the heat of his body resonating through his clothes and yours. 

You take in a quiet breath, and then you feel his lips. 

His kiss is different, lighter at first. Hesitant like he’s coaxing out a secret from inside you, letting you come to him. You think faintly in the back of your mind it’s the first time Wooyoung’s ever eased you into anything, you’ve been dragged along behind him in his chaotic orbit since you were kids, but this time he moves so slowly and so gingerly you can’t help but smile against his lips. 

You exhale a little laugh, and you feel his lips curve upwards, his hand sliding forwards to find your hand, thumb gentle against the center of your palm. 

With a breath his eyes flick over you, “Still okay?” 

You nod again, and that bubbling strangeness in your belly returns, not nerves, but something else entirely. 

Yunho shifts his body next to you, both of your boys now properly leaning on their sides on either side of you, before he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. 

Wooyoung grins, dropping his face to rest his forehead against your shoulder and he exhales a sigh of relief, “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” 

Your chest tightens, “Why?” 

“You’re my best friend,” He kisses your shoulder twice over the two freckles that stand out on your skin, “but I’ve wanted to do this for years,” 

“We kissed before,” You lean into Yunho’s heat as you look down at him. 

“We were eleven,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. 

“Cute,” Yunho smiles. 

Wooyoung presses his lips to your shoulder again but stays still, just resting his mouth on your skin, before sucking in a breath and looking up at you, “Can I kiss you again?” 

“Yeah,” You can barely breathe. 

This time, he reaches up and cups your cheek, drawing your jaw towards him so he can lock your lips together properly. 

“I promise,” He says between kisses, “we’ll take such good care of you,” 

Your chest warms. 

“Won’t we?” Wooyoung throws a look to your boyfriend. 

“Mhm,” Yunho’s voice is rich and warm in his throat, “you’re safe with us.” 

Your chest tightens and then loosens pleasantly, nervous jitters starting to fade. 

  Wooyoung leans back, and they adjust their bodies once again so that you’re cradled between them. 

The quiet between you is soft, full of warmth. Not silence exactly, just no one rushing to fill the air. 

You don’t need to say anything, or do anything, you just rest here in the moment with their hands anchoring your body and your chests rising and falling in time with each other. 

Yunho finally nuzzles your hair gently with his nose, “Sweetheart,” he says softly in your ear, “can I touch you a little more?” 

You can feel your heartbeat pick up, but you nod. 

Yunho’s hand slides over the curve of your shoulder, fingertips gently skating over the swell of your chest, down your stomach until he rests there lightly at your waist. He doesn’t push or guide his hand anywhere else, he just waits, his palm a warm weight as he lets you get used to his hands searching your body. 

“You’re trembling,” Wooyoung murmurs. 

You hadn’t even realized, but you are. Just enough that they can see it, feel it, and your hand twitches in Wooyoung’s loose hold. 

“Is it okay?” Yunho asks, so quiet it’s barely a breath. 

You nod, turning your head to find his eyes, searching inside yourself for the right way to say what you’re feeling, “It’s not the bad kind,” 

“Yeah?” His eyes, deep brown and round, search yours. 

“I’m not scared,” You manage. 

“Does it feel good?” He checks softly. 

“Yeah,” You breathe. 

Yunho leans in, kissing you once more, “Thank you for telling me,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, emotion striking you deep in the center of your chest, and all you can manage back is a nod. 

With deliberate slowness, their eyes steady on you, their hands start to move. They smooth over your body slowly, mapping your skin, your curves, but with a featherlight touch. They don’t take anything you aren’t willing to give or ask your body for any answers it doesn’t have yet, they just feel. Letting you get accustomed to them, the way Yunho’s long fingers tickle as they glide over your pulse points, and how warm Wooyoung’s rough palms are as he brushes your skin. 

Wooyoung’s palm settles over the blanket on your thigh and rests steadily as Yunho cups your face and draws you into another kiss. You shift up into it, pressing towards him for a little more sensation, a little more pressure, and the blanket that was up around your shoulders sinks down to your waist. 

Yunho glances down, fingers gentle on your shoulder, “How’s this?” 

“Good,” You reply, a little breathless from the kiss. 

Wooyoung squeezes your thigh and you let out a heavy exhale, feeling warmth spreading through your body slowly like molasses. 

“More?” Wooyoung murmurs. 

You nod. 

Yunho’s fingers hook under the straps of your top and he gingerly slides his fingers up and down, knuckles brushing your skin as he nods towards your shirt, “Can we take this off?” 

You hesitate, just for a split second. He hasn’t seen you like that before, neither of them have. Everytime you and Yunho had kissed, even made out, and gotten close to anything more the second his hand slipped under your shirt you had stumbled off his lap with an excuse to leave. 

This was uncharted territory with them. 

Wooyoung’s voice grounds you though, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he offers, “it’s just a shirt,” 

“No,” You gather yourself, “I want to,” 

With shaking fingers you reach for the hem of your tank top, shifting in the bedding to try and pull it up. 

“Can I help?” Yunho says, hand hovering near yours, ready to touch you at the first breath of permission. 

“Please,” You let your hands fall away. 

He swallows tightly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and you feel something tighten inside you as you watch him. He draws your shirt up as you sit up a bit to make it a bit easier, and Wooyoung reaches up to help with the other side. Both of them tug your shirt free over your head as you sink back against the pillows. 

A little chill runs through you, and you find yourself pulling up the blanket a little. 

Yunho sighs though, his expression softening as his eyes skate over your full breasts, only the thin fabric of your black bra standing between you. 

Your fingers nervously curl into the blanket. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” Yunho murmurs. 

Wooyoung nods, “God,” he says, shaking his head with a soft laugh, “sorry, it’s just, you’re so-,”

“Beautiful,” Yunho amends his words, “you’re beautiful,” 

When he says it like that, it doesn’t sound like a question, or even an opinion, he says it like it’s a fact. An obvious, knowable truth just by looking at you. 

No one’s ever looked at you like that or called you beautiful like that in your life.

Your eyes glance down, hands fluttering nervously on the blanket, but Wooyoung reaches down and slips his hand in yours, lacing his fingers with yours again like he always has. 

“I-,” You smile, exhaling nervously, “I’m not sure what to say,”

“That’s okay,” Wooyoung murmurs. 

“And I don’t know what to do with my hands,” You admit, tightening your grip on Wooyoung. 

It’s embarrassing, nerve-wracking, to be this inexperienced and fearful at your age, tucked between two men who have probably lost count at the number of times they’ve had sex or perhaps even the number of partners. 

“Put them wherever you want,” Yunho says, “or just let them be. You don’t have to worry about what to do, or if it’s what we want. Just let us take care of everything,” 

Emotion tugs again at your chest, and you nod, biting your lip to keep from spilling out every thought in your mind, every worry and fear that you’re not worth this. 

Your hand settles over Yunho’s chest though, and something in you eases at the steady thump of his heart against your hand. 

Yunho looks momentarily shaken by your touch, something sparking in his eyes, but he recovers with a soft clear of his throat and covers your hand with his own, “That’s good,” 

You manage another nod. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung leans in again, brushing his lips over your shoulder and stroking your side, “You’re still with us?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Still good?” He checks. 

“I’m good,” 

“Keep going?” 

“Keep going,” 

Yunho presses your hand down just a little, a tender response to let you know he’s listening still. 

You’re not sure when the fear in your belly started to shift, but the heavy stone in your gut has faded away into something warmer, something new, something far from the panic you were used to. 

You feel Yunho’s hand brush over your legs, coaxing you to stretch out in the bed and get a little more comfortable, and they follow you lower into the sheets. 

Wooyoung curls into you, brushing his nose against your cheek, familiar and soft in a way that makes you smile. 

No one’s rushing you, no one’s trying to get anywhere. 

You realize all at once that this is what you needed, not a hurried hookup to get through the discomfort you felt before. Just time, space, everything taken at your pace, with people you trust. 

This time, you hardly notice when the blanket slides down further until it’s properly pooled over your hips. Yunho’s palm rests warm and steady on your stomach, and Wooyoung’s hand curls over your ribs, resting just under your breast without taking it any further. 

It’s then that Yunho finally speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper, “Can I kiss you here, jagiya?” 

Your stomach flutters as his breath drifts over your chest. 

You nod. 

He dips his head and presses his lips to your chest, this time letting his lips drag against your skin as he presses another over your heart, and then another over your breast, and then another. 

Your eyes flutter shut. 

Gentle fingers, Wooyoung’s, brush against your scalp. 

Yunho’s lips brush over the swell of your breasts, your chest, your collarbones. 

You take a shuddering breath, and for the first time in your life you don’t feel like you’re disappearing. 

“Okay?” Yunho checks, lifting his lips for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Your voice cracks a little, “yes, keep going,” 

Wooyoung kisses your hair, “Feels good?” 

“Yes,” You sigh, a smile blooming on your lips. 

Yunho’s hand wanders, from its warm home on your belly he searches your waist, brushing against Wooyoung’s fingers, and then drifts lower and lower still. He kisses your chest all the while, his lips dangerously close to the edge of your top. 

You make a noise you don’t think you’ve ever made before, a gentle catch of air, a little whine, and your hand curls into the fabric of Yunho’s shirt. 

“You’re right here,” Wooyoung assures you, not sure if the sound was in pleasure or fear. 

You shake your head, “I know,” you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, “don’t stop,” 

Yunho hums pleasantly against your skin, and then you feel his fingers at the knot of your pants, “How about these?” He murmurs, “Can we take these off?” 

You pause, breath stuttering, and your eyes open. 

Your pants are soft cotton, comfortable, familiar, but suddenly with his hand on your waist they feel like a second skin. The idea of pulling these away makes your chest tight and your heart hammer in your chest. 

Your eyes flick down to your legs. 

“We’re not in a rush,” Yunho reminds you softly, “this is about you,” 

“I want to,” The words slip out of you, “it’s just, I don’t-,” 

“What?” Wooyoung prompts you softly when your words die on your lips. 

“What happens after that?” You manage. 

“Just this,” Yunho promises. 

“Just kisses,” Wooyoung nods, “until you feel ready for more,” 

“What if I don’t feel ready for more?” You search his eyes. 

“Then we stop,” Wooyoung reminds you, “we go get food, we watch a different movie, whatever we were going to do tonight anyways,” 

His words ease you immediately and you nod. 

“You’re in control,” Yunho kisses your temple, “the whole time,” 

You nod. 

His fingers linger over the knot at the front of your pants. 

You nod again, holding his eyes. 

He tugs and the tie falls open. 

“Here,” Yunho murmurs, “let’s help you sit up a second,” 

They move like they’ve done this together before, not this, not you, but like they’ve cared for someone together. Their hands stay steady, smooth, never grabbing and never rushed. You rise slowly, the blanket falling away. 

Yunho reaches for your waistband first, slipping under the edge and then glancing back up, “Still okay?” 

“Mhm,” 

He pulls the fabric down just a little, just enough to show you that he’ll take it as slow as you need him too, and Wooyoung moves beside him to slide his hand up and down your calf to steady you. 

“Lift your hips, sweetheart,” Yunho murmurs. 

You lift up, and both of them strip the pants down your thighs, past your knees, over your ankles until they’re tossed somewhere off to the side and you’re left in your bra and underwear. 

The air on your skin makes you inhale, but you’re not cold, you’re just bare. 

Somehow you’re okay with that. 

Yunho’s eyes skate over you, his teeth brushing against his bottom lip, but he smooths his expression and looks back up. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Wooyoung breathes, unapologetically staring at you. 

You glance down, and immediately clap a hand to your lips. You had forgotten what pair of underwear you were wearing, not something sexy and lacy that would match, or even a simple black thong. You sink back into the bedding with an embarrassed groan at the blue cotton underwear, adorned with tiny rainbows and clouds. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” Yunho presses a firm kiss to your forehead, sighing as he smiles, “you have no idea,” 

“No, this is so lame,” You whine, hiding your face, “I’m not supposed to be cute, I’m supposed to be sexy, we’re about to have sex,” 

Yunho snorts a laugh against your hair, but Wooyoung lets out a proper laugh, “That’s bullshit,” 

“Woo,” 

“I like cute,” Wooyoung draws your hands away from your face and kisses your cheek, “so does Yunho, obviously,” 

Yunho nods, “But you’re still sexy,” 

“Please,” 

“Baby,” Yunho draws your eyes up with a crooked finger under your chin, “I am doing my best to be extremely respectful and trying not to overwhelm you, but don’t for one second think that I’m not in love with every part of you right now. You’re driving me insane,” 

“O-oh,” You smile, your heart tumbling over the word ‘love’ on his lips. 

“Exactly,” Wooyoung nods, his hand finding a home against your waist once more, “exactly what he said,” 

“Now,” Yunho murmurs, gently returning his hand to your belly, “where were we?” 

“Kissing,” You sigh. 

“Perfect,” Yunho slides a little lower in the bed and this time his lips travel further. 

Wooyoung trades places with him and cuddles into your side, pulling your face towards his so he can kiss you properly this time. 

Sensation blooms through your body as Wooyoung deepens the kiss, your mouths parting, and his tongue ever so gently flicking against yours. Yunho hums again, kissing over your breasts and down the center of your chest, lower still until he’s pressed against your abdomen. 

You take in a sharp breath, your body twitching under them. 

“More?” Yunho asks, lips brushing against the skin just above your navel. 

“Yeah,” Your breath tangles with Wooyoung’s. 

They keep close, their hands exploring your body with new purpose, still soft but you feel their boldness growing. You stay relaxed in their arms as they touch you, your stomach, your sides, drifting over your trembling thighs. 

They touch you, kiss you, until it feels like no patch of skin has been rushed over, no bit of you ignored. 

“Still with us?” Wooyoung presses soft pecks over your jaw, down your throat. 

“Here,” Your voice is just a whisper. 

“Good,” Yunho sighs, warm air spreading over your skin as he travels back up your body. 

You can feel your body responding, not in the way it usually does with a partner, but in the ways it does when you’re alone. Your muscles are starting to clench, core fluttering, and you’re sure that if you checked you’d find yourself starting to get wet. Something deep in your center aches, and your hips jerk again, just a little as they kiss you. 

“Baby,” Yunho coaxes you away from Wooyoung’s lips so can look at you, “how are you feeling?” 

“Good,” You nod, “it’s, I’m feeling good,” 

“Do you want to try something more than kissing?” Yunho asks gently, “Or not yet?” 

Heat crackles under your skin in an unfamiliar way, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips, “I think, yes,” 

“We’ll go slow?” Yunho checks. 

“Slow is good,” 

Wooyoung finds your hand again and squeezes it gently. 

“How about,” Yunho clears his throat softly, his hand skating over your skin, “why don’t you show us?” 

“Show you?” You search his face. 

“Mhm,” Yunho’s nails gently rake up and down your thigh, “show us what you like,” 

“How I masturbate?” You blink, looking between them. 

Wooyoung smirks a little at the directness of your words, but Yunho nods, “Teach us how you like to be touched,” 

“O-oh,” You shiver a little. 

“Then I’ll show you my favorite way to make girls come,” Wooyoung slides down in the sheets, kissing over your bare arms, the exposed skin of your abdomen. 

You don’t realize where he’s going until he starts to shimmy himself between your thighs. 

You take in a sharp breath, your hand flying down to cover yourself even though you’re still wearing your underwear, “You don’t have to do that,” 

“I know I don’t have to,” He smiles, kissing your knee, “I want to, I like it,” 

You swallow tightly, your hand finding Yunho’s chest again. 

“Pause,” Yunho instructs, and Wooyoung stills, “baby, what’s going through your head?” 

“This is embarrassing,” You murmur.

  “No one’s ever gone down on you, right?” Wooyoung checks. 

“Well, no,” You let your head fall back against the pillows, “but I also haven’t shaved,” 

The words run together, but they hear you. 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Wooyoung says and you can hear the smile in his voice, “so what?” 

Yunho’s fingers skate softly over your belly, edging close to the seam of your underwear. 

“I mean,” Your breath hitches as his hand circles again, “if I knew we were doing this I would have prepared better,” 

“I couldn’t care less,” Wooyoung says, “don’t worry about that,” 

Your fingers close onto Yunho’s shirt, and he gets your eyes back on his with a soft sound, “Hey,” he murmurs, “relax, focus on me for a second,” 

You nod. 

“Can I feel?” He murmurs, his fingertips ghosting under the edge of your underwear, “Is that okay?” 

“Yes,” Your throat feels dry, but arousal stays pooled in your gut. 

His fingers slide under your panties, over your mound to the top of your cunt, slow massaging circles as he explores without ever dropping his hand lower to find more. He groans pleasantly as he touches you, eyes heavy with desire. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re so soft,” 

Your breath catches and you can feel your body starting to heat up and respond, sensation sparking through your every nerve ending. It’s strange how good it feels to be seen like this, and stranger still that the rising pleasure in your body doesn’t come with numbness, panic, or outright fear. 

All you feel is want. 

“I-it’s okay?” You check. 

Yunho’s brow creases a little, his eyes flicking over your face, and you watch as he realizes what you’re unsure of, what you’re stumbling over. Your only context with sex was probably porn and college guys with very different expectations than two grown men. 

His fingers smooth over the patch of soft hair on your vulva, neatly trimmed but present all the same. With a sigh, he grows a little bolder, cupping your cunt fully in his palm, his fingers resting over the seam of your folds, underwear straining over his knuckles. 

Your breath comes quicker and you dry swallow. 

“It’s not okay,” He murmurs, voice full of heat, “it’s good.” 

You stop breathing entirely. 

“Seriously,” Yunho says, “hair, no hair, we don’t care.” 

“Not at all,” Wooyoung adds quietly, a little squeeze to your thighs. 

“You’re letting us touch you,” Yunho’s hand slides up, returning to the top of your mound, fingertips ever so gently brushing along your lower lips, “whatever you think you know about sex, what men like, put it out of your mind.” 

You gasp at his touch, hand fisting in the blankets at the unfamiliar jolt. 

Breathless, you smile, “Porn’s unrealistic,” you manage, “isn’t that what you said?” 

His gaze warms, “Mhm,” he notes, “and it’s your body, so you do whatever you want, but personally I like it,” 

“Same,” Wooyoung nods, this time kissing your inner thigh. 

“You d-don’t have to make me feel better,” You brush your hand over Wooyoung’s hair to get him to ease up a little and he smiles up at you, leaning into your touch. 

Yunho grins, an amused expression on his face, “I’m not,” his fingers gently stroke the soft curls on your mound, sucking in a slow breath, “you’re a woman, I like that you look like one. I’d want you however, but I won’t lie to you about what I like or the things that get me hard.” 

Stunned silent, all you can manage to do is nod, your hands falling slack at your sides as you surrender again to their touch. 

They give you a second, just one, watching to see if that was the moment that pushed things too far, but when you don’t say anything Wooyoung nuzzles your inner thigh. 

His hands smooth slowly up and down your legs, “Keep going?” He nips gently at the sensitive flesh there 

Your breath is thready, and you nod. 

“Words, baby,” Yunho prompts you gently. 

“Y-yes,” You manage, “I’m okay,” 

“Can we take these off?” Yunho asks, voice low and close, his thumb rubbing against the band of your underwear. 

It’s your last layer, and you’re not afraid, but you feel everything. Every breath of air against your skin, every sliding touch, the way their hands press and hold, the heat of their lips. You can’t imagine what it will feel like for them to touch you there. 

Yunho’s words echo in your mind - It’s not okay. It’s good. 

You know he meant it. 

“I’m ready,” You nod, your hands trembling at your sides. 

They move as a pair again, Yunho slipping his hand under one side while Wooyoung reaches up to hook his thumb in the other. Slowly, they pull down your last layer, and Wooyoung drops them off the side of the bed to land somewhere near your pants. 

“T-this too?” You reach for the clasp at the front of your bra. 

Yunho sucks in a sharp breath, “Only if you want to,” 

“I mean,” You unclip the connection and let the fabric part, “I’m already half naked,” 

You push the bra off your arms and toss it aside. 

“Jesus,” Yunho’s lips part, his eyes full of heat as he looks over you, “I can’t believe you’re ours tonight,”

You feel a kiss against your inner thigh, but your eyes are locked on Yunho, “Am I,” you swallow back the question, biting your tongue. 

“You’re more than good,” He sighs, “you’re a fucking dream,” 

You shudder a nervous exhale, smiling now, forehead pressed against his, “S-so are you,” 

His lips turn up in a small smile, and he kisses your lips softly before easing you back down into the pillows. 

A kiss to your thigh brings your eyes back down, and you feel your cheeks heat as you catch sight of Wooyoung. He’s resting between your open legs, lying on his stomach, one hand on your knee and the other gripping the sheets as if he’s doing his best not to touch you too fast. 

His eyes are glued to your sex, an unabashed expression of need all over his face now, his teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. 

“Woo,” You murmur. 

He blinks fast, clearing his throat and looking up at you, expression smoothing, “Yeah, baby?” 

“You’re staring,” You turn his words from earlier back around on him, giving him a soft smile. 

“You’re wet,” Wooyoung says, exhaling shakily, “like really, really wet.” 

You feel Yunho’s hand tighten just a little on your hip. 

“I feel good,” You verbalize it. 

Wooyoung nods, and then gingerly he reaches for your hand. 

**reminder to go read section two, already posted!

[crescenthistory]

while we're both here; part two

Synopsis: Your chronic illness makes you a frequenter in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary – at some point you're bound to make a connection with her other favourite patient. Said patient is currently lingering around the infirmary, hoping to see you once more, even if that is to support you through an episode or two.

Words: 3.4k

Tags: fem!reader, undisclosed chronic illness that makes you hurt and faint (writer has hEDS and POTS), remus' pov with all its typical warnings, 'on-screen' syncope/fainting, flirting, physical affection, fluffy hurt/comfort, maternal madam pomfrey, remus is taller than you but you're not necessarily short, you have enough hair to fall into your face.

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Remus had been hoping he would see you again soon after that. It was odd to, for once in his life, want to go to the infirmary; it was even more odd to hope the girl that had caught his eye would end up there as well.

His frequent visits to the infirmary once felt like a massive obstruction in the little life he had miraculously managed to create at Hogwarts. It was the one place that had to be just his, somewhere his friends would rarely go. Part of Remus was well aware that if he asked any of his mates to accompany him on his visits, they would drop everything to do so. Most of him, though, felt like that would only be salt in the wound, would only highlight his difference.

It was easier to slip in and out alone.

To have somewhere that was just his would in many ways be Remus’ introverted dream, but with his tragicomical context, it was far from it. He resented having to spend so much time there, only finding solace in Madam Pomfrey’s kindness.

And then, in you.

Over the encounters, each one fertilising the bloom of whatever was growing between you, Remus found that he didn’t mind that this was where he met you. That he got to have you in this place that was just his, with none of his mates’ prying eyes or prior knowledge. 

You don’t have her, you twat, he would scold himself at that line of thinking. She’s not yours to have.

Remus was really good at reminding himself that he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Following through was an entirely different story.

He wouldn’t admit it when his mates began to hound him for the reason why he was spending so long in the infirmary for just small things, but he had begun to drag his feet every visit. Lingering by his bedside cabinet, slyly looking around, hoping to suddenly catch your eye and – wow, dove, I had not at all expected to see you here while I’ve spent 20 minutes picking up bandages!

There was a small war going on in his mind, waged between the dizzying pull you had on him and his better senses. He could hear Lyall speaking to him in his mind, “Son, it’s best you walk this life alone.”

Yet, here Remus – stupid, dreamy Remus – was hoping he might walk into you.

It was while caught up in this mental tirade that he did exactly that. 

He had begun to walk out of the long-term wing, heading for the exit, gaze focussed on his feet and mind elsewhere, when another set of feet emerged into his view seconds before the collision. Remus stiffened when a body bumped against his, hands shooting out to grab the poor sod by the elbows and stabilise them. “I am so sorry–” 

He looked up and cut himself off when his eyes landed on you.

It was not within his power to withhold the wide smile that blossomed on his face. “Oh, hey dove,” he breathed out, approximately two seconds before remembering himself. Remus cleared his throat and took a step back, squeezing your elbows reassuringly before hastily letting you go, though not without noticing how you leaned into his touch. His gaze was still on yours, but more reserved now, head tilted down. 

You looked equally perplexed, despite the oncoming tradition, but were quick to ease his thoughts with a small smile. “Well, if it isn’t Poppy’s golden boy.”

“Had to complete her set now that you’re here, yeah?” The words seemed to slip effortlessly off his tongue when he was around you, in sharp contrast to his inner turmoil. Remus dared hope that meant you didn’t pick up on it. “What brings you in today, love?”

He wondered if the way your cheeks appled at that perhaps meant he wasn’t the only one flustered in the other’s company. 

You recovered enough to roll your eyes heartily. “Professor Binns has requested I get the matron to write a note to excuse why I couldn’t make his lecture last week.”

Remus’ eyebrows lifted, though he wasn’t necessarily surprised at the professor’s audacity. “I hope he knows she’ll kill him for wasting her time with that.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe he’s a bit too dead to care.”

You began inching around him, head perked up to presumably spot Madam Pomfrey, and for a second Remus’ chest panged with the realisation that you probably didn’t share his recent desire to linger in the infirmary. You probably wanted to be rid of him. Shame wrapped hotly around his veins as his eyes flickered over you, searching for a sign in your body language that you truly wanted him gone.

That was how he noticed the way you swayed as you stood on your tiptoes to scan for Pomfrey, looking worse for wear with every passing second, and he understood the actual reason for your urgency.

“Hey, why don’t you come sit down with me in the waiting room, and I’ll grab a hold of her when I spot her?” he offered, nerves sneaking into his voice despite his best efforts. “Would probably be easier for me, given my vertical gifts.”

You had called his ridiculously tall stature a vertical gift a few days ago when you saw each other last and it came up that he could see the birds sitting by the top windows of the infirmary. It was something he had hardly considered worth mentioning, but it seemed to amaze and please you greatly, so he couldn’t help but feel quite chuffed after the interaction. 

If your snort was anything to go by, you remembered your comment. You smiled at him and Remus tried not to feel like an arse for how quickly relief bloomed in his chest at the sight.

“You know what, that sounds like a much better idea than me straining myself like this.” You began to move towards the cushioned maroon chairs in the wide hall that just barely classified as a waiting room. “If Binns is strict enough about me not missing lectures to send me on an errand during his lesson, it serves him right if I miss the whole thing.”

Remus followed dutifully behind you, letting you choose a seat before sitting down beside you, knees angled in your direction. They were starting to preemptively ache as the full moon edged closer, so maybe it was good for him anyway to forgo the walk up to the common room and instead dwell here a bit longer.

“You’re supposed to be in his lecture right now?” Remus asked, frowning. At your emphatic nodding, he murmured an added, “What a twat.”

Your giggle made a smile grow on his face, like a flower seedling in the sun’s presence. 

“What, aren’t you skipping a lesson right now yourself?” You curled up in your chair like a perfect cat, legs crossed beneath you and propping your chin up on your hand.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve got a free period luckily.”

“And you decided that the best way to spend said free period was, naturally, hanging out in the infirmary?” 

There was nothing but goodhearted humour in your tone, but Remus’ face still felt warm and he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Had to pick up some bandages. Now was as good a time as any, no?”

You eyed him curiously. “Are you planning on needing bandages in the near future?”

Usually, Remus’ cover-up lies rolled naturally off his tongue – he had had a lifetime to practice, after all. It didn’t even really feel like lying anymore, but suddenly, with you, that changed. Now it felt like pulling teeth. 

Remus was luckily accustomed to pain enough to push through. “They’re not for me this time, actually. James and Sirius are playing in the match against Slytherin tomorrow, so you can infer why we prefer to keep the dorm stocked beforehand.”

Your smile was genuine, even as your eyes seemed to grow more tired by the second. “You’re a good friend, Remus.”

He did not have it in him to unpack how that made him feel. Terrible and wonderful. He gave you a lopsided smile. “If you say so, dove. Are you going to the match?”

He had never seen you there before, but until your encounters began picking up in frequency a few weeks back, he hadn’t necessarily known to. These days he felt like a scout on a rogue mission to find you everywhere. 

There was a slight twitch in your face, an emotion that flickered briefly before burying itself. One Remus wanted to catch and interrogate – it didn’t seem like hurt per say, but it wasn’t a nice one either. You looked down at the armrest as you said, “No, my body doesn’t really agree with quidditch matches anymore. You know, stairs and hard planes and all.”

Remus kept his eyes trained on yours until you looked back up, so that he could gift you with a small, knowing smile. “Yeah, I understand that, dove. I’m the same way on bad days. Lily always says I’m not missing much when I can’t go, but it’s still not a great feeling.”

He decided to interpret the look in your eyes as grateful. Rather than dwelling on the issue, he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. “What, uh, are you doing after this?”

It was the first question he could think of, escaping him before he could consider the implications more closely. His veins froze as he realised how you might receive it.

However, you didn’t seem too caught up in what he was saying. There was a certain haziness swimming in your irises and your eyelids were moving both too frequently and too slowly. Remus could somehow tell you weren’t completely yourself.

He reached a hand out tentatively, placing it on your shoulder closest to him. “Love?” His tone of voice was soft, albeit slightly nervous.

“Sorry…” you mumbled, trailing off. Your eyebrows furrowed. “I think I… I will…”

In this moment, he was grateful that he had gone to the library to do some reading on your conditions after you shared them with him in passing. He had felt like a total creep for it at the time, but now it eased his panic a little as he could see you starting to slip away.

With a swift, almost instinctual movement, Remus’ hand moved up from your shoulder to cup the side of your face securely, seconds before you lost consciousness. Instead of falling face-first onto the infirmary floor, you fell into Remus’ hand as he supported your head and kept you up.

“You’re good, dovey, you’re alright,” Remus murmured gently, getting out of his seat to kneel before you. His other hand came up to help lean your limp body lean further back into your seat, stabilising your neck.

He tucked some of your hair that had fallen in your face back behind your ear, large hands surprisingly delicate and careful. This was not something he wanted to mess up. His breathing was laboured – ironically matching yours – but he didn’t have time to analyse whether it was from nerves or proximity.

Remus looked down the hallway, trying to spot the matron with more motivation than earlier. “Poppy?” he called, quietly enough to hopefully not disturb patients in nearby rooms, but loudly enough that she might hear.

There’s only two students to his knowledge that call her by her first name, and right now both needed her help.

For a moment, he was met with silence and Remus was about to turn his focus back to you when he heard. “Mr. Lupin?” Her voice was inquisitive, confusion mixing with mirth, likely as she would have thought he had left ages ago.

“Could I get a hand? Quickly?”

There was no hesitation as he could hear her dropping whatever she was holding in favour of coming to his aid, the sound of her footsteps soft in the quiet infirmary. No questions asked – her steady presence made a warmth spread in Remus’ chest. She made him miss his Mam while also soothing the ache of his loss.

Remus looked back at you, still unconscious but with your eyelids fluttering slightly. His thumbs brushed back and forth over your cheeks, as if to calm you down. It was while cradling you on his knees before your chair, with his eyes trained on you, that Madam Pomfrey found you both.

She huffed in the doorway, making Remus look up at her like what he could only presume a small puppy would. Her hand was at her hip as she took in the scene.

“I– uh, she fainted,” Remus rambled, looking back at you. “I know it’s normal, but I figured we could use some help?”

“I can see that, Remus.” Her voice was once more laced with the mirth from earlier as she gave him a funny look. It didn’t deter her from hurrying forward though, sitting in the chair Remus had previously occupied as she studied you. He remained dutifully on the floor. 

“She’s alright,” Pomfrey concluded quickly after sneaking her hand between Remus’ still supporting your head to check your pulse. “She’ll come to shortly, we should just cool her down.”

Remus knew what fainting would look like in general, but less so for you. He had read up on it and he had listened to what Pomfrey said to you when you were coming to from a syncope while he was in the room – which was not the same as eavesdropping, he told himself. Still, he didn’t really know how to help, and found himself desperately wanting to.

So he followed Pomfrey’s every movement with rapt attention. She pulled out her wand and cast a wind spell, directing a cold breeze in the direction of your face. “If you can support her with just one hand, that would be best, Remus dear. Less skin on skin contact will help make her less warm.”

He couldn’t help but feel like she was indirectly poking fun at him with her tone as he quickly dropped his other hand. “What else will help?” he asked to distract from his flush.

“Laying down is best, usually, but right now it would likely be more uncomfortable to jostle her around to one of the infirmary beds. We really should get one in this waiting room, if only Helena and Godrick hadn’t thought that Hogwarts’ thousand students only needed the tiniest of infirmaries–” 

This was a rant both you and Remus had heard many a time before. She cut herself off and looked away from you to meet his eye. “Anyway. Usually a supine position is best, but leaning her back the way you have is great. Good job, Remus.”

That comment brought a smile to his face, but he didn’t feel like he could thank her for it either. “Alright, that’s good. Anything else?”

“Studious, are we?” Pomfrey’s look was knowing as she turned back to you, moving her wand slightly to improve the airflow in your face. “The recipe is to check her breathing and pulse to be safe, bring down both position and temperature, and sprinkle in some kindness and patience. Oh, and talk. She might be able to hear you at various points.”

Remus had read that, actually. He looked back to you as your eyelids fluttered again, but seemingly more purposefully this time as opposed to the almost jerking motion from earlier. He whispered your name, squeezing your cheek a little. "Hey dove, you're alright. It's just Poppy and I. The I in question is Remus."

Just to be safe.

“Atta girl,” smiled Pomfrey, keeping her wand pointed against you for a little while longer still, as you blinked your eyes open. “Keep supporting her for a bit longer, dear.” That last instruction was to Remus and he nodded and mentally thanked her for helping him save face as you came to. He didn't want you to wonder why his hand was on your cheek.

You looked at Remus first, bleary-eyed with furrowed brows. He smiled encouragingly at you. “What boring company must I be to have you faint on me like this.” 

The laugh that escaped you was confused but a laugh nonetheless. Remus hoped he wasn’t insane to think you were choosing to lean into his hold on you, as you looked towards Pomfrey. “Oh, there you are. Binns needs me to get a note from you.” Your voice was hoarse but still quintessential you.

Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up into her greying hairline. “Now, dear, why would he think I care what he needs from me? Forget all that nonsense until we get you back on your feet.”

“See, that’s what I told him!” You were still somewhat drowsy, but clearly coming to. Your tone softened a little as you added, “Thank you for helping, Poppy.”

Pomfrey pinched the cheek Remus wasn’t cradling, smiling maternally at you. “It’s my job, child. One I carry out happily.”

Remus thought him and Pomfrey provided a good emotional support team for you, considering you were smiling and laughing within the first minute of being conscious.

Somehow, an apologetic tone still managed to seep into your expression as you looked back at him, as if remembering. “I’m sorry for fainting on you. It was a long trek down, I didn’t realise–”

“Shhh, don't be silly dove, you’re alright.” Usually Remus was adamant about not interrupting women, but he felt this was a worthy exception. “You’re just giving me a good excuse to skip out on Herbology.”

Pomfrey’s head whipped around to look at him. “Are you supposed to be in a lesson right now, Mr. Lupin?”

He grew a bit smaller, yet somehow managed to shrug nonchalantly. “Not yet, I don't think. Either way, I was simply helping a friend who fainted, matron.” At her still pointed look, he also gestured to his crouched position. “Not to mention, I now need some ointment for my knees.”

Usually, Remus held out on pain medication for as long as possible, but anything for a good excuse, apparently.

Pomfrey shook her head, waving a finger at you two as she got out of her seat, pocketing her wand. “You bairns are lucky I like you. Remus, help her lay down in the infirmary wing for a while and help yourself to your usual remedies. And then I expect you to head to your lessons at the soonest possible moment.”

Even with her hands on her hips and strict tone, you could see the affection in her eyes, exemplified by the quick wink she shot the both of you, effectively diminishing any threat she pretended to uphold. 

“Yes, ma’am!” He nodded abidingly at her, smile subdued.

Maybe he was abusing her favouritism, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty for that, at least not at this very minute.

“Thank you, Poppy!” Both of you chorused after her as she turned to head out, smoothing down her white apron, muttering something about “those kids”. 

As Remus turned back to look at you, he realised neither of you had moved from your positions. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb occasionally brushing over it instinctually. Your hand had come to fist a handful of his jumper's sleeve, as if grounding yourself.

You met his gaze, and he found a depth in them that enraptured him. With the last of Pomfrey’s presence melting away around you, Remus remained on his knees before you, and could not deny that he both looked and felt reverent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from yours, his hand away from your cheek.

He tried to clear his throat to clear the trance, but you both remained caught up in each other. “A– are you good to walk to our wing?” he whispered. The term our formed itself on his tongue without his explicit involvement.

You blinked. Then, abruptly, as if remembering yourself, you nodded and sat up in your seat a little. “Yeah– yes, of course.”

Even as you agreed, Remus could practically see the wall of dizziness hit you as you sat up. He doubled down with his hand cupping your face and brought the other up to squeeze your elbow. “Alright there, racer. Slow and steady, yeah?”

You nodded again, slower this time. The smile being born on your face appeared in a similar fashion. “You’ve got enough time for that?” The teasing tone was back and Remus relished in it.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Remus stage-whispered, allowing himself to flirt openly with the confidence of your touch. “I have no intention of making it to Herbology.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He tried to gauge your reactions in real time as he spoke. “Found something a lot more interesting.”

You grinned at him, a laziness sweetening its edges in the best way, as if you were comfortable with him. “And that would be the aftermath of a syncope?”

He hummed in agreement. “You’d be surprised what the right person can make fun.”

“Alright then, right person. Want to help me up?”

By Godrick, that he did.

part three

[anarchist-rat-swarm]

Got an interesting take on eldritch horror for all you writers out there. It's a bit of a roundabout schlep to reach the actual idea, but writers tend to be readers so I hold you'll stick with me til we get there.

So, consider a 2D creature. Little flat dude, living on the ground. No concept of "up" or "down." He's 2D, he just doesn't parse the concepts and can't perceive them anyways.

He sees you. What he actually sees is just the 2D cross section of you where you intersect with his 2D world, which is probably your footprints. So, as far as he can tell, you are a pair of footprints that are.... apparently one being? He doesn't get how it works exactly, but it's not too far out there, so he just kind of accepts that, yes, humans are The Two That Are One. Spooky. They always seem to use the singular to refer to the pair of themselves, and only differentiate between themselves as Left or Right. But other paired instances of The Two That Are One are, in fact, separate entities. So they're only in sets of two, unless accompanied by a companion called "Cane," which they are sometimes, or even a pair of companions called "Crutches." When Crutches are present, sometimes one of The Two That Are One will be missing entirely. It's a little confusing.

But wait, what now? They disappear and reappear in sequence, teleporting in turns. He never sees them just move like a 2D being, always the stop-start teleporting. Apparently this strange power is called "walking," and its accomplished by The Two That Are One moving through an unseen dimension called "Up," through a process called "lifting" themselves and re-entering the real world farther away in the direction they wanted to go. He can accept the idea of unseen dimensions, and he vaguely gets the idea that one of The Two That Are One must remain anchored in the real world to prevent something called "falling," which is some kind of uncontrolled movement through the unperceivable dimension of "Down." Which is the same dimension as "Up," but...... backwards? Reversed? He's not really clear, but "Falling Down" is presumably bad, so The Two That Are One keep one of themselves here in the real world to prevent it.

Except if they do something called "jumping." Which consists of gathering up their power to hurl themselves through the Up dimension together to reappear together somewhere else in the real world. He isn't sure why they Walk instead of Jump, since it seems better to take both of The Two That Are One together at the same time, but okay.

Okay, what the hell, they can Walk through impenetrable barriers like the great wall of Sidewalk Chalk? How do they go through that? What? They went "Over?" The hell is "Over?" Like 'around' but through the unseen dimension of Up? But they couldn't Walk through the barrier of Wall. Why could they go "Over" Sidewalk Chalk but not Wall?

And they can't go between the four small obstacles of Refrigerator Feet. The area between them is safe from The Two That Are One, for the four Refrigerator Feet are connected to each other in the strange and eldritch dimension of Up. The barriers are too powerful to be moved by The Two That Are One, and it (they?) cannot enter the real world where it is blocked by such powerful forces.

Got all that?

Okay, now consider a 4 dimensional elder god and how we 3D entities would perceive them.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

summary: some lycaon dating headcanons

pairing: von lycaon x gn! reader

warnings: just fluff (and floof :D); not proofread, just a small set of hcs to kick writer’s block to the curb; also my first time writing for lycaon/zzz, so i still have to get a feel for the characters

a/n: writer’s block loophole: pick one of your friends to target and lock in (this one’s for you, @zhongrin dearest ^^)

general masterlist

You had recently noticed that Lycaon sometimes switched sides when you walked through New Eridu together. Still continuing your conversation, he elegantly let you pass by him, only to rejoin you at your other side, the motion so practised it almost looked like a dance.

For some time, you’ve wondered why he did it and why he only did it sometimes, until you overheard some girls in a café discussing an old drama, swooning over how the male lead always walked on the side of the road. And sure enough, Lycaon only ever traded places with you when you were the one walking closest to traffic.

However, despite being enamoured by his thoughtfulness, you also couldn’t help but notice how your lover seemed to hesitate a little on some occasions. At first you thought it was your imagination but you could clearly see an internal struggle going on behind the crimson of his eye before he moved towards the side of the road nonetheless, your window into his thoughts gone as his gaze was shielded from you by his eyepatch.

That was when you connected the dots.

Lycaon didn’t like not being able to easily see you. Sure, he could still turn his head to look at you but just being able to glance at you from the corner of his eye was clearly the favourable option to him. Not only did it facilitate checking up on you, he was also simply charmed by you. Whether it was you savouring a drink or treat on your way through the city or the way your eyes would light up when you saw something in the shop windows that intrigued you, Lycaon didn’t want to miss it. Yet, your safety was still of the utmost importance to him, so in the end he’d always move to the side of traffic for you.

Well, at least you had finally figured out why your boyfriend always occupied the right side of the couch and the bed, leaving you to snuggle up on his left…

Speaking of bed time, after a long day at work, Lycaon gladly left brushing his fur to you. The feeling of the brush in combination with your fingers raking through his coat, untangling all the knots he so carefully tried to avoid and diligently ridding it of whatever was clinging to it after his duties were done, was deeply soothing. Honestly, the first few times you offered to help him, he had almost been embarrassed by how quickly the sensation dissolved all the tension from his shoulders. 

But, at this point, he gladly welcomed your gentle touch, even if it weighed down his eyelid and made it increasingly more difficult to stifle a yawn. Especially the attention you paid to smoothing out the areas that had been pressed down by his uniform all day had his eye soften with affection for you. As someone who looked after others day in and day out, it was nice being taken care of like this.

Although, to say this was any less relaxing for you, would be a lie. Lycaon took great care of his fur, so it was always soft to the touch and you never had any real troubles running the comb and brush through it. The only “problem” you sometimes encountered was his tail twitching between your hands as you tried to tend to it, the end tickling you in return for all the attention you were giving it. When you first met Lycaon, never in a million years would you have imagined he’d ever trust you enough to let you see this side of him, but now that he did, you couldn't help but smile fondly to yourself.

It was a rare luxury that you got to wake up in your lover’s arms after a good night’s sleep, reserved for the few precious days where Lycaon wasn’t working. Yet, that only made the mornings on which you could cuddle up to him further to shut out the day for a few more minutes even more cherished. An early riser by habit, there was a big chance the thiren was already awake before you, content to simply hold you for a little longer as you clung to sleep, soothingly running his hands over your back.

When you finally decided it was time to get out of bed, by the time you finished washing up and made your way to the kitchen, the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee/tea already wafted over to you. Naturally, your lover had very quickly picked up on your preferences and would be damned if he couldn’t put his skills to use at home too. Handing you a warm mug, you soaked in the tranquility of the moment as you leant side by side against the kitchen counter, discussing breakfast options.

Yet, even on the days where he had to leave early for work, Lycaon still made you feel his love for you, even if he couldn’t be there when you got ready for the day. Be it your favourite bread in the basket on the counter or your lunch already prepped in the fridge, he always showed you that you were a priority to him, even after his day had barely started. These small affections were always accompanied by little notes, reminding you to eat, wishing you luck at work or simply telling you that he loved you, spelling out was he already conveyed so clearly.

If it wasn’t clear already, Lycaon would be nothing short of a true gentleman with you, always conscious of your presence and preferences. Be it opening doors for you, pulling out a chair or fixing your clothes, he was always the definition of attentive. And yes, the argument could be made that he was like this at work as well, however the guests of Victoria Housekeeping were never privy to that same affectionate glint in his eyes as he carefully fixed your necklace or even knelt down to fix your shoelace that had come undone. That was reserved for you and you only.

One thing he would not stand for, would be you being demeaned in one form or another. Of course, if you wanted to handle the situation yourself, he always let you, but reminded you he’d support you. If it was an accident, like a waiter bringing you the wrong order, he would very politely point it out. However, if someone deliberately mistreated you without showing any intention to change or apologise, he’d make it very clear that such behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated. He was well aware that you could handle yourself, but not every situation was easy to navigate and Lycaon would do everything in his power to protect you from harm; the last thing he’d want was to see you hurt.

If you were under the impression, however, Lycaon would never use his skills to tease you, you would be sorely mistaken. Really, he couldn’t help himself, your reactions were just too cute, so he’d rather not pass it up when the opportunity presented itself.

Seriously, with how often you’d already told your lover not to keep certain items on the top shelves, you’d think he’d already have remedied the problem. Yet, this particular complaint seemed to keep falling on deaf ears. Instead, when you were stretching to reach something once more, you’d suddenly find yourself trapped between the counter and the thiren that had appeared behind you, effortlessly reaching for whatever it was you needed. All the while, the nails of his hand resting comfortably on your hip dimpled the fabric of your clothes and his palm spread heat all the way up to your ears, especially when Lycaon leant just a bit more of his weight into you.

When he handed the item to you, he’d take one look at you and ask if there was something wrong. Perhaps if you didn’t know him well enough, you’d assume the question was truly innocent, that he just wasn’t aware of what he was doing to you. You, however, could very clearly identify the mischievous glint in his eye and the wolfish grin tugging at his lips.

Lycaon might be the death of you. But would you have it any other way?

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

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TAKE THIS, WRITER'S BLOCK, YOU BITCH

[thebluester2020]

ok but reading your latest sdv headcanons has given me an idea. You wrote Sam being horns for farmer in a sundress and it's has unlocked in me the feminine urge to be railed in a sundress. I'd love to see your take on it with the sdv bachelors.

SDV Bachelors x Fucking Farmer In A Sundress Summary: Bachelors to you looking too pretty in a sundress. [Includes; Elliot, Sebastion and Lance (From SDV Expanded)] Warning(s): No established relationships (I'm in a mood for FWB relationships + unrequited love what can I say?), Elliot low-key sluts out the reader, Elliot and the reader are kinda tipsy in his part but the sex is consensual dw, Sebastion is kinda a needy hopeless romantic and jerks off to the thought of the farmer, Alex and the farmer have sex outdoors like true outdoorsy people do 💪. Side notes: I only included three bachelors because- lol I gotta put all my focus on this other SDV fic. It's a bit longer so I need more time on that.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

The man nearly keels over when he sees you in a sundress. It was when you first introduced yourself to him actually! After that though? He was hooked on you like a drug.

Not necessarily in a perv way but more so in an "I definitely have a crush on them" type of way.

But he more or less keeps it in his pants until he spots you again but this time? It was at the Stardrop Saloon and both you and him were tipsy after sharing a beer.

Tensions were flying and after you placed a hand on his thigh? Y'all were fucking in one of the more secluded rooms in the saloon because y'all didn't have a chance in hell of making it home.

♡ - "Oh Yoba...Fuck—" A choked up uncharacteristically needy whine escaped the lips of the writer as he fucked you on the wooden floors of the Stardrop Saloon.

Despite the tipsy haze his vision had however, no amount of beer could dampen your beauty and the fact that you were the most captivating person in this entire tavern. From the first day he met you to now, those were his thoughts but tonight? Oh, they increased tenfold when you waltzed through the doors, unaware of how you stole his very breath with your outfit.

A simple brown sundress that was mid-thigh length and only had thin spaghetti straps to keep your outfit up upon your shoulders. The deep v-neck of your dress barely leaving your dress to the imagination as small beads of sweet dripped down your skin and between the valley of your chest. Combined with the scent of your perfume, how you looked at him when you sat beside him and the light application of your make-up.

All of it served to make him absolutely dizzy.

To the point where the quickly growing tension between the two of you, fueled by your brief touches and your conversations growing more and more naughty.

There was no way that the two of you could wait to get home to either of your houses.

No, it needed to be handled now.

"Y-You must've wanted this to happen, my dear...didn't you?" He moaned in your ear as his chest was pressed against your back. His thrusts sloppy and rough as he hugged you so tightly you had a mind to think he was trying to bury himself into your skin. "Yoba your sooooooo pretty." He continued to pant into your ear like a dog in heat.

You responded with a breathy moan, your head turning briefly to slot your lips against Elliot's. Quickly, Elliot lightly bit at your lower lip, prompting a gasp from you that allowed his tongue to slip in. His tongue tasting every area inside your mouth before you two parted with a single string of spit still connecting the two of you.

When Elliot's eyes refocused on yours, however, his moans began to increase in volume as his thrusts started to pick up pace in lieu of his impending orgasm. He swore he was falling deeper and deeper into the pit of his crush that he had on you, to the point where he dared to say that he was falling in love with you.

"Y/N...Oh fuck..." Elliot continued to moan your name as he grew closer to his orgasm, his moans getting higher and higher as he struggled to hold onto his sense of self and not spill out the fact he had a bigger crush on you than this moment could portray.

But, you beat him to it. "Elliot...I-I love you, s-so m-much." You said.

Another choked-up grunt spilled from Eliot's lips at the confession before you felt your insides being flooded with a searing heat, his own orgasm pushing you over the edge as you shuddered at the force of your climax. Your vision temporarily went black before you slowly returned back to Earth. Your skin was sticky with sweat whilst your slick drenched the back of your thighs and Elliot's cock.

"So..." Elliot spoke, breaking the post-climax silence. "You love me, hm?"

Sebastion

I'm going to spoil myself a little and imagine he saw you in a sundress once and practically never again.

However, that didn't mean he didn't stop thinking about it.

After seeing you, he developed a crush on you that he was too shy to really do anything about (completely ignoring the way you visited his room constantly to deliver frozen tears to him).

So to satiate his lust for you?

Masturbate ofc, with you being front and center in his mind.

♡ - He's tried so hard to avoid doing this.

But, he feels like a little self-credit is due here. It wasn't like he wanted to be in this position right now! Where he was left alone in the middle of the day due to his family apparently wanting to go to a town event that didn't interest him in the slightest. And although he was currently lying in bed, trying to doze off, his mind wouldn't leave a particular thought of you.

It was around the time when you came to visit his mother for some supplies he believes. The smell of perfume that smelled like lavender and cherries brought him out of his room he admits, Sebastion never smelled anything like it and it was as intoxicating as wine...and like a dog expecting a treat, he followed it out of his room and up the short case of stairs before he peeked around the corner and saw you.

A simple black sundress with a skull plastered on the front where the top of your breasts threatened to spill out.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his cock was hard.

Now he was here, in his bed, and hornier than he'd ever been before, and you were the cause. But Sebastion couldn't bring himself to feel too bad afterward when he began to palm himself over his pants, sucking in a sharp breath in-between his teeth as the image of your started to appear in his mind like someone had cast a spell on him.

It was as if you were really there. The smell of your perfume from that day, the sundress, your soft skin and kind smile...everything. And when the vision of you started to trail kisses down his neck and down his front...lifting up the front of his hoodie and everything until you finally reached the place he wanted you to touch most when you wrapped your pretty pink-tinted lips around his leaky cock.

He could've sworn you were really there.

Looking up at him through your long lashes as if he were the most important person in the world, the only one in the world deserving of your time and attention. No matter how unrealistic it may have been, a shut-in like himself? Dating the prettiest person in the valley?

A laugh almost slipped from behind his hand as he covered his lips, his free hand desperately tugging at his dick to the vision of you. Soft pants escaped his lips as he honed in on the image of your head bobbing up and down on his cock, lewd sucking and slurping leaving your lips.

He was so close...sososososo close...until you stopped.

You moved to sit up, winking his way before you lifted up your dress a little and moved to straddle him, pulling your panties to the side before you slipped down onto him.

He nearly came in his pants at the thought of how your wet walls would feel around him. How soft and warm they would be as they hugged his dick so tightly that he feared the air inside his lungs would all but be choked out, his moans increasing in volume and growing increasingly needier and needier as he imagined your soft touches. Your nails raking down his sides and leaving delectable goosebumps in their wake as you moved your hips up and down.

"Y/N...Oh fuck...! Y-Y/N..." Sebastion moaned as you began to quicken your pace, the sound of his name from your lips getting him off more than he was prepared to admit to himself before...there was suddenly a knock at his door. The way the vision in his head slipped away so fast, it nearly made him want to cuss out the person who dared to knock as well as cry at the same time.

Until he heard a familiar "Sebastion? Are you awake? I have a gift for you!" Immediately, his cock twitched at your voice, his brain's imaginations started to conjure back up again as the slightest feeling of...hope, perhaps started to dot his mind.

It seemed he had a bigger crush on you than he thought.

And he prayed that one day, his imagination would come true that you liked him just as much.

Alex

He's bold when he sees you in a sundress. He first sees you in one when he's visiting your farm (Evelyn wanted him to deliver some home-baked cookies to the farmer, how sweet of her)

So check this out, you're doing your farming work and you drop something.

You thinking that no one's around, you get on your hands and knees to fully pick the item up and this steals Alex's breath to the max because he gets a perfect view of your underwear.

A lacy blue thong that, in his mind, couldn't even be considered underwear!

Right then and there, he wants to fuck you.

Luckily, you've been wanting to fuck him as well!

♡ - An unabashed moan left your lips as your hands slightly slipped on the dirt beneath you, the sounds of grunting and slapping from behind you nearly drowning out the sounds of the cicadas from the summer heat.

You'd been attracted to Alex for a while, a simple and sweet-hearted crush that stemmed from the fact that he more or less made his attraction clear to you.

From the way he'd call out your name and invite you to hang out with him, to how he'd initiate close contact with you whenever the both of you were around each other to even now! Even as he pistoned into your needy pussy, your slick dripping down onto the dirt below as he pressed his hand down into the dip in your back to force you into an arch, your heart still got a fuzzy feeling out of your crush for him!

Though...you suspected that, at this moment, calling your attraction a mere "crush" wasn't exactly correct.

"F-Fuck—" Your breath caught in your throat when Alex leaned some of his weight down onto your back, his fingers moving to circle and pinch at your clit.

"Ssshhiiittt." He moaned hotly into your ear, a cocky chuckle following suit choked up aht-aht-ahts left your lips as he sped up his thrusts, a boiling coil beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. "You must've really wanted this to happen, huh farmer? Do you even hear yourself?" Alex said, your cheeks burning even more as Alex suddenly slowed his thrusts to grind his hips into you, the sound of your sticky slick sticking to the front of Alex's thighs making you both want to burst into flames out of sheer embarrassment as well as dig a hole to hide away in.

Of course, however, your newfound lover wasn't going to allow that to happen. Not after he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this to happen since the moment the two of you had met! The sound of your moans slipping from your pretty lips, wet and glistening from your heavy make-out session minutes earlier, the way your breasts bounced underneath you, flushed as pink as your face whilst your hard nipples were practically begging to be played with!

The sheer orgasmic rush that Alex felt...figuring out that the pretty farmer was a whore just waiting to be broken in by the right man. His cock twitched inside of your cunt at the mere thought, his thrusts resuming their original speed as more thoughts of you flashed through his mind.

Maybe a different position, on the bed perhaps? Your fingers dipping into your pussy as you moaned out his name and begged for him to take you against the wall?

Or even him fucking you on a table? In his room?

"A-Alex...~!" You cried out as your pussy began to twitch, a familiar burn beginning to tighten within the pit of your stomach.

"Dirty farmer, don't you dare cum without me." Alex hissed into your ear, a moan escaping his lips afterward. "Y-You need to have some energy to go a few more rounds...I-I'm breaking this pussy in."

At the thought and the act of Alex dragging your further on his cock, his cock pressed up against a spot deep inside of you that made stars appear in your vision. Your body convulsed from the sheer force of your orgasm as your thighs twitched whilst the energy drained from your arms. You would've plopped onto the ground had Alex not held up for your torso, his heavy panting and the warm full feeling inside of you a sign of his orgasm.

"You came a little earlier than me..." He clicked his tongue in false annoyance.

"Guess we have to go again, huh? Let's hope no one comes along farmer girl~"

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Prime’s enshittified advertising

Prime's gonna add more ads. They brought in ads in January, and people didn't cancel their Prime subscriptions, so Amazon figures that they can make Prime even worse and make more money:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/10/amazon-prime-video-is-getting-more-ads-next-year/

The cruelty isn't the point. Money is the point. Every ad that Amazon shows you shifts value away from you – your time, your attention – to the company's shareholders.

That's the crux of enshittification. Companies don't enshittify – making their once-useful products monotonically worse – because it amuses them to erode the quality of their offerings. They enshittify them because their products are zero-sum: the things that make them valuable to you (watching videos without ads) make things less valuable to them (because they can't monetize your attention).

This isn't new. The internet has always been dominated by intermediaries – platforms – because there are lots more people who want to use the internet than are capable of building the internet. There's more people who want to write blogs than can make a blogging app. There's more people who want to play and listen to music than can host a music streaming service. There's more people who want to write and read ebooks than want to operate an ebook store or sell an ebooks reader.

Despite all the early internet rhetoric about the glories of disintermediation, intermediaries are good, actually:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

The problem isn't with intermediaries per se. The problem arises when intermediaries grow so powerful that they usurp the relationship between the parties they connect. The problem with Uber isn't the use of mobile phones to tell taxis that you're standing on a street somewhere and would like a cab, please. The problem is rampant worker misclassification, regulatory arbitrage, starvation wages, and price-gouging:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

There's no problem with publishers, distributors, retailers, printers, and all the other parts of the bookselling ecosystem. While there are a few, rare authors who are capable of performing all of these functions – basically gnawing their books out of whole logs with their teeth – most writers can't, and even the ones who can, don't want to:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

When early internet boosters spoke of disintermediation, what they mostly meant was that it would be harder for intermediaries to capture those relationships – between sellers and buyers, creators and audiences, workers and customers. As Rebecca Giblin and I wrote in our 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism, intermediaries in every sector rely on chokepoints, narrows where they can erect tollbooths:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

When chokepoints exist, they multiply up and down the supply chain. In the golden age of physical, recorded music, you had several chokepoints that reinforced one another. Limited radio airwaves gave radio stations power over record labels, who had to secretly, illegally bid for prime airspace ("payola"). Retail consolidation – the growth of big record chains – drove consolidation in the distributors who sold to the chains, and the more concentrated distributors became, the more they could squeeze retailers, which drove even more consolidation in record stores. The bigger a label was, the more power it had to shove back against the muscle of the stores and the distributors (and the pressing plants, etc). Consolidation in labels also drove consolidation in talent agencies, whose large client rosters gave them power to resist the squeeze from the labels. Consolidation in venues drives consolidation in ticketing and promotion – and vice-versa.

But there's two parties to this supply chain who can't consolidate: musicians and their fans. With limits on "sectoral bargaining" (where unions can represent workers against all the companies in a sector), musicians' unions were limited in their power against key parts of the supply chain, so the creative workers who made the music were easy pickings for labels, talent reps, promoters, ticketers, venues, retailers, etc. Music fans are diffused and dispersed, and organized fan clubs were usually run by the labels, who weren't about to allow those clubs to be used against the labels.

This is a perfect case-study in the problems of powerful intermediaries, who move from facilitator to parasite, paying workers less while degrading their products, and then charge customers more for those enshittified products.

The excitement about "disintermediation" wasn't so much about eliminating intermediaries as it was about disciplining them. If there were lots of ways to market a product or service, sell it, collect payment for it, and deliver it, then the natural inclination of intermediaries to turn predator would be curbed by the difficulty of corralling their prey into chokepoints.

Now that we're a quarter century on from the Napster Wars, we can see how that worked out. Decades of failure to enforce antitrust law allowed a few companies to effectively capture the internet, buying out rivals who were willing to sell, and bankrupting those who wouldn't with illegal tactics like predatory pricing (think of Uber losing $31 billion by subsidizing $0.41 out of every dollar they charged for taxi rides for more than a decade).

The market power that platforms gained through consolidation translated into political power. When a few companies dominate a sector, they're able to come to agreement on common strategies for dealing with their regulators, and they've got plenty of excess profits to spend on those strategies. First and foremost, platforms used their power to get more power, lobbying for even less antitrust enforcement. Additionally, platforms mobilized gigantic sums to secure the right to screw customers (for example, by making binding arbitration clauses in terms of service enforceable) and workers (think of the $225m Uber and Lyft spent on California's Prop 22, which formalized their worker misclassification swindle).

So big platforms were able to insulate themselves from the risk of competition ("five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" – Tom Eastman), and from regulation. They were also able to expand and mobilize IP law to prevent anyone from breaking their chokepoints or undoing the abuses that these enabled. This is a good place to get specific about how Prime Video works.

There's two ways to get Prime videos: over an app, or in your browser. Both of these streams are encrypted, and that's really important here, because of a law – Section 1201 of the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act – which makes it really illegal to break this kind of encryption (commonly called "Digital Rights Management" or "DRM"). Practically speaking, that means that if a company encrypts its videos, no one is allowed to do anything to those videos, even things that are legal, without the company's permission, because doing all those legal things requires breaking the DRM, and breaking the DRM is a felony (five years in prison, $500k fine, for a first offense).

Copyright law actually gives subscribers to services like Prime a lot of rights, and it empowers businesses that offer tools to exercise those rights. Back in 1976, Sony rolled out the Betamax, the first major home video recorder. After an eight-year court battle, the Supreme Court weighed in on VCRs and ruled that it was legal for all of us to record videos at home, both to watch them later, and to build a library of our favorite shows. They also ruled that it was legal for Sony – and by that time, every other electronics company – to make VHS systems, even if those systems could be used in ways that violated copyright because they were "capable of sustaining a substantial non-infringing use" (letting you tape shows off your TV).

Now, this was more than a decade before the DMCA – and its prohibition on breaking DRM – passed, but even after the DMCA came into effect, there was a lot of media that didn't have DRM, so a new generation of tech companies were able to make tools that were "capable of sustaining a substantial non-infringing use" and that didn't have to break any DRM to do it.

Think of the Ipod and Itunes, which, together, were sold as a way to rip CDs (which weren't encrypted), and play them back from both your desktop computer and a wildly successful pocket-sized portable device. Itunes even let you stream from one computer to another. The record industry hated this, but they couldn't do anything about it, thanks to the Supreme Court's Betamax ruling.

Indeed, they eventually swallowed their bile and started selling their products through the Itunes Music Store. These tracks had DRM and were thus permanently locked to Apple's ecosystem, and Apple immediately used that power to squeeze the labels, who decided they didn't like DRM after all, and licensed all those same tracks to Amazon's DRM-free MP3 store, whose slogan was "DRM: Don't Restrict Me":

https://memex.craphound.com/2008/02/01/amazons-anti-drm-tee/

Apple played a funny double role here. In marketing Itunes/Ipods ("Rip, Mix, Burn"), they were the world's biggest cheerleaders for all the things you were allowed to do with copyrighted works, even when the copyright holder objected. But with the Itunes Music Store and its mandatory DRM, the company was also one of the world's biggest cheerleaders for wrapping copyrighted works in a thin skin of IP that would allow copyright holders to shut down products like the Ipod and Itunes.

Microsoft, predictably enough, focused on the "lock everything to our platform" strategy. Then-CEO Steve Ballmer went on record calling every Ipod owner a "thief" and arguing that every record company should wrap music in Microsoft's Zune DRM, which would allow them to restrict anything they didn't like, even if copyright allowed it (and would also give Microsoft the same abusive leverage over labels that they famously exercised over Windows software companies):

https://web.archive.org/web/20050113051129/http://management.silicon.com/itpro/0,39024675,39124642,00.htm

In the end, Amazon's approach won. Apple dropped DRM, and Microsoft retired the Zune and shut down its DRM servers, screwing anyone who'd ever bought a Zune track by rendering that music permanently unplayable.

Around the same time as all this was going on, another company was making history by making uses of copyrighted works that the law allowed, but which the copyright holders hated. That company was Tivo, who products did for personal video recorders (PVRs) what Apple's Ipod did for digital portable music players. With a Tivo, you could record any show over cable (which was too expensive and complicated to encrypt) and terrestrial broadcast (which is illegal to encrypt, since those are the public's airwaves, on loan to the TV stations).

That meant that you could record any show, and keep it forever. What's more, you could very easily skip through ads (and rival players quickly emerged that did automatic ad-skipping). All of this was legal, but of course the cable companies and broadcasters hated it. Like Ballmer, TV execs called Tivo owners "thieves."

But Tivo didn't usher in the ad-supported TV apocalypse that furious, spittle-flecked industry reps insisted it would. Rather, it disciplined the TV and cable operators. Tivo owners actually sought out ads that were funny and well-made enough to go viral. Meanwhile, every time the industry decided to increase the amount of advertising in a show, they also increased the likelihood that their viewers would seek out a Tivo, or worse, one of those auto-ad-skipping PVRs.

Given all the stink that TV execs raised over PVRs, you'd think that these represented a novel threat. But in fact, the TV industry's appetite for ads had been disciplined by viewers' access to new technology since 1956, when the first TV remotes appeared on the market (executives declared that anyone who changed the channel during an ad-break was a thief). Then came the mute button. Then the wireless remote. Meanwhile, a common VCR use-case – raised in the Supreme Court case – was fast-forwarding ads.

At each stage, TV adapted. Ads in TV shows represented a kind of offer: "Will you watch this many of these ads in return for a free TV show?" And the remote, the mute button, the wireless remote, the VCR, the PVR, and the ad-skipping PVR all represented a counter-offer. As economists would put it, the ability of viewers to make these counteroffers "shifted the equilibrium." If viewers had no defensive technology, they might tolerate more ads, but once they were able to enforce their preferences with technology, the industry couldn't enshittify its product to the liminal cusp of "so many ads that the viewer is right on the brink of turning off the TV (but not quite)."

This is the same equilibrium-shifting dynamic that we see on the open web, where more than 50% of users have installed an ad-blocker. The industry says, "Will you allow this many 'sign up to our mailing list' interrupters, pop ups, pop unders, autoplaying videos and other stuff that users hate but shareholders benefit from" and the ad-blocker makes a counteroffer: "How about 'nah?'":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

TV remotes, PVRs and ad-blockers are all examples of "adversarial interoperability" – a new product that plugs into an existing one, extending or modifying its functions without permission from (or even over the objections of) the original manufacturer:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Adversarial interop creates a powerful disciplining force on platform owners. Once a user grows so frustrated with a product's enshittification that they research, seek out, acquire and learn to use an adversarial interop tool, it's really game over. The printer owner who figures out where to get third-party ink is gone forever. Every time a company like HP raises its prices, they have to account for the number of customers who will finally figure out how to use generic ink and never, ever send another cent to HP.

This is where DMCA 1201 comes into play. Once a product is skinned with DRM, its manufacturers gain the right to prevent you from doing legal things, and can use the public's courts and law-enforcement apparatus to punish you for trying. Take HP: as soon as they started adding DRM to their cartridges, they gained the legal power to shut down companies that cloned, refilled or remanufactured their cartridges, and started raising the price of ink – which today sits at more than $10,000/gallon:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

Using third party ink in your printer isn't illegal (it's your printer, right?). But making third party ink for your printer becomes illegal once you have to break DRM to do so, and so HP gets to transform tinted water into literally the most expensive fluid on Earth. The ink you use to print your kid's homework costs more than vintage Veuve Cliquot or sperm from a Kentucky Derby-winning thoroughbred.

Adversarial interoperability is a powerful tool for shifting the equilibrium between producers, intermediaries and buyers. DRM is an even more powerful way of wrenching that equilibrium back towards the intermediary, reducing the share that buyers and sellers are able to eke out of the transaction.

Prime Video, of course, is delivered via an app, which means it has DRM. That means that subscribers don't get to exercise the rights afforded to them by copyright – only the rights that Amazon permits them to have. There's no Tivo for Prime, because it would have to break the DRM to record the shows you stream from Prime. That allows Prime to pull all kinds of shady shit. For example, every year around this time, Amazon pulls popular Christmas movies from its free-to-watch tier and moves them into pay-per-view, only restoring them in the spring:

https://www.reddit.com/r/vudu/comments/1bpzanx/looks_like_amazon_removed_the_free_titles_from/

And of course, Prime sticks ads in its videos. You can't skip these ads – not because it's technically challenging to make a 30-second advance button for a video stream, and doing so wouldn't violate anyone's copyright – but because Amazon doesn't permit you to do so, and the fact that the video is wrapped in DRM makes it a felony to even try.

This means that Amazon gets to seek a different equilibrium than TV companies have had to accept since 1956 and the invention of the TV remote. Amazon doesn't have to limit the quantity, volume, and invasiveness of its ads to "less the amount that would drive our subscribers to install and use an ad-skipping plugin." Instead, they can shoot for the much more lucrative equilibrium of "so obnoxious that the viewer is almost ready to cancel their subscription (but not quite)."

That's pretty much exactly how Kelly Day, the Amazon exec in charge of Prime Video, put it to the Financial Times: they're increasing the number of ads because "we haven’t really seen a groundswell of people churning out or cancelling":

https://www.ft.com/content/f8112991-820c-4e09-bcf4-23b5e0f190a5

At this point, attentive readers might be asking themselves, "Doesn't Amazon have to worry about Prime viewers who watch in their browsers?" After all browsers are built on open standards, and anyone can make one, so there should be browsers that can auto-skip Prime ads, right?

Wrong, alas. Back in 2017, the W3C – the organization that makes the most important browser standards – caved to pressure from the entertainment industry and the largest browser companies and created "Encrypted Media Extensions" (EME), a "standard" for video DRM that blocks all adversarial interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This had the almost immediate effect of making it impossible to create an independent browser without licensing proprietary tech from Google – now a convicted monopolist! – who won't give you a license if you implement recording, ad-skipping, or any other legal (but dispreferred) feature:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

This means that for Amazon, there's no way to shift value away from the platform to you. The company has locked you in, and has locked out anyone who might offer you a better deal. Companies that know you are technologically defenseless are endlessly inventive in finding ways to make things worse for you to make things better for them. Take Youtube, another DRM-video-serving platform that has jacked up the number of ads you have to sit through in order to watch a video – even as they slash payments to performers. They've got a new move: they're gonna start showing you ads while your video is paused:

https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2024/09/20/youtube-pause-ads-rollout/75306204007/

That is the kind of fuckery you only come up with when your victory condition is "a service that's almost so bad our customers quit (but not quite)."

In Amazon's case, the math is even worse. After all, Youtube may have near-total market dominance over a certain segment of the video market, but Prime Video is bundled with Prime Delivery, which the vast majority of US households subscribe to. You have to give up a lot to cancel your Prime subscription – especially since Amazon's predatory pricing devastated the rest of the retail sector:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

Amazon's founding principle was "customer obsession." Ex-Amazoners tell me that this was more than an empty platitude: arguments over product design were won or lost based on whether they could satisfy the "customer obsession" litmus test. Now, everyone falls short of their ideals, but sticking to your ideals isn't merely a matter of internal discipline, of willpower. Living up to your ideals is a matter of external discipline, too. When Amazon no longer had to contend with competitors or regulators, when it was able to use DRM to control its customers and use the law to prevent them from using its products in legal ways, it lost those external sources of discipline.

Amazon suppliers have long complained of the company's high-handed treatment of the vendors who supplied it with goods. Its workers have complained bitterly and loudly about the dangerous and oppressive conditions in its warehouses and delivery vans. But Amazon's customers have consistently given Amazon high marks on quality and trustworthiness.

The reason Amazon treated its workers and suppliers badly and its customers well wasn't that it liked customers and hated workers and suppliers. Amazon was engaged in a cold-blooded calculus: it understood that treating customers well would give it control over those customers, and that this would translate market power to retain suppliers even as it ripped them off and screwed them over.

But now, Amazon has clearly concluded that it no longer needs to keep customers happy in order to retain them. Instead, it's shooting for "keeping customers so angry that they're almost ready to take their business elsewhere (but not quite)." You see this in the steady decline of Amazon product search, which preferences the products that pay the biggest bribes for search placement over the best matches:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

And you see it in the steady enshittification of Prime Video. Amazon's character never changed. The company always had a predatory side. But now that monopoly and IP law have insulated it from consequences for its actions, there's no longer any reason to keep the predator in check.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/03/mother-may-i/#minmax

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

FIRST, SUGAR. 18+

pairing. raymond smith x fem!reader word count. 1932 summary. ray's mindless touches on your thigh while you read begin to catch up with you, though he's too busy working to realise. so he offers you a promise, "if you can give me twenty minutes. I'll fuck you for twice as long." warnings. 18+ only! general filth, little bit of fingering, pinv, horny writer's thought pls excuse me. mdni > I know this will not get read bc he's not popular anymore but I needed to get it out of my system (he's still not out my system btw, it’s a sickness. help!)

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It’s quiet, the evening calm. The only sounds coming from the crackle of the fireplace and soft, steady breaths. Both yours and Ray’s attention obtained by your individual papers in hand: yours, a book, and in Raymond’s, a stack of papers he’s been asked to look over. 

The feel of it all so comfortable, so familiar. 

The backs of your thighs horizontally rest over his, lounging across him with your back propped against the arm of the sofa — your new read held close to your face. Ray’s seated position remains close, tucked to you like you are to him. Nestled into one another casually.

His feet sit on the coffee table ahead, one hand clutching the pile of papers, his other resting over your thigh, touch mindless as he grazes your bare skin. The careful caress simply an absentminded act, an act of spontaneous, unprompted protection maybe. His focus fully engrossed in a page of nothing but information and numbers. 

Though to you, it wasn’t just nothing. Ray’s thoughtless touches act as a distraction to you, each stroke and brush and graze pulling your attention further and further away from your story until all that remains are muddled, merged sentences. The plot lost to you by now.

And so you peek at him over your book, gaze focused and almost delirious as you watch him, completely unaware of your lusty set of eyes. You observe him, vision fixed on his casual grip on you: ringed pinky and large, veiny hand perched upon your skin like it’s where it belonged. Everything about it so confident, so manly. Cardigan woven with wool and residual notes of whiskey and cigarettes — like it was a fortuitous, accidental representation as to who he is: gentle and virile.

You quietly pay attention to the way he works, his glasses resting atop his nose as he skims the page — his articulate, precise nature urging him to comprehend everything written. His heed to detail being one of the things most attractive about him. And yet, he had no idea what he was doing to you. Sat there, utterly unaware of his power.

Though that changes as your breathing grows inadvertently heavy, a sudden sharp inhale from you makes his neck snap to follow the sound. His eyes now focused on yours over your novel, a slight quirk in his brow as if to analyse you.

Your expression —or the top half, what he can see— is blissed, pained even. These last thirty-some minutes of gentle grazing begin to catch up with you.

He hums shortly, the noise an attempt to scope you out, though by now there’s no need for connecting dots or guessing — all evidence as clear as day. He looks down to his palm just above your knee, your thighs pressed tight together in an effort to alleviate some of the pressure you feel between them.

He uncrosses his ankles on the coffee table and leans forward, placing the stack of papers beside his whiskey tumbler. Ray clears his throat in his fist, a sly, faint smile forming behind his hand as if he’s debating with himself. His eyes drift down to the hand on your lower thigh, gaze following the ever so slow tail as he itches under your robe.

“You didn’t want to disturb me, did you?” Raymond questions, eyes pleased and proud as they flicker up to you.

“No,” you murmur with a faint shake of the head, voice catching in your throat as you watch. 

His fingers move inwards and under your nightdress, slotting between your thighs as if to separate them — his hand protruding through both thin layers of fabric. 

“So patient of you,” he teases, tilting his head forward, peering at you over the top of his glasses. “Must’ve been agony.”

It was. It really was.

With his spare hand, he reaches for your book and takes it from your hold — placing it open and faced down beside his papers to keep your space. He pulls back to sit in his original position, feet now planted on the floor, knees apart in a manspread. He taps at his thigh, running a hand down the beef of it like he was beckoning you, summoning you almost. 

“Come on,” he whispers, the instruction soft as he gestures you along. He taps at it again and rolls his hips underneath himself to reposition — preparing for you.

With an excited giggle, you do as asked, finally about to get what you want after all of his mindless teasing. You situate yourself over his lap, knees either side of his thighs as you use his shoulders for your support — keeping you up right. His eyes fix on you above, watching the antsy knitting and curving of your brows.

He spreads his arms either side along the back of the leather chesterfield, maintaining his dominance while he lets you take the lead. Or so he lets you think.

You reach between yourselves, your fingers hurriedly finicking with his belt, urging him out of his trousers. Your too quick movements stall your attempts, and you huff, the sound more similar to a whimper than anything else. 

His head cocks, amused, watching you fiddle with the buckle. Watching you fail with the buckle.

He lifts a hand from its spot behind the sofa, redirecting it to your cheek — palm large and warm as he cups the side of your face, making you look at him. Ray’s touch glides backwards to behind your neck, thumb resting over your ear as he urges you closer. Pulling you inwards. 

“Give me some sugar first.”

You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before moving away, trying to move away. Though he has other plans. His hold firm behind your neck to keep you there — bringing you back in so he could return the kiss. His beard skims at your chin as he deepens and roughens the kiss, intensifying the moment.

Though his dick is not yet hard, the presence of him is just as noticeable as if it were. The faint brushes of his big, thick cock through his trousers sends your mind into a tizzy. All your bodily responses become all the more evident, as if you’re betraying yourself. 

And with your attention consumed by the way he kisses you, he’s slipping his other hand between you both, reaching between your thighs. He itches a finger to skim down your cunt and you jolt, his touch catching you by surprise. You moan into his mouth, the sound stifled and muffled, before you pull away.

You look down to watch, but your view is obstructed by your fabric pooling around your thighs. And then he clicks his tongue, eyes still boring on your face. You follow the noise, looking back up and he nods slowly, wordlessly praising you for following along.

With your gaze fixed on his, he’s hooking his finger into the elastic of your underwear, parting it aside within his very skilled hand. He trails down your slit, all arousal noticeable when he’s met with no resistance, the slick of your cunt granting him easy access to toy with you.

He raises a brow, both satisfied and impressed. His touch remains light as he brushes the pad of his middle finger downwards, circling your entrance briefly before he’s slipping inside your cunt. 

It was something, but not enough. Nowhere close to being enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck, mouth grazing his with the closeness. 

“More,” you utter against his lips, a slight whine to your voice. “Another.”

Your hips wind involuntarily, like you’re preemptively chasing after something — anticipating it. The feel of a lone finger is far from what you needed to satiate the gaping want.

“Another what?” he speaks into your mouth, a twinge of whiskey being tasted on his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and he was abusing his power over you. “You’re a smart girl. Tell me.”

“Finger. Another finger,” you plead. Your answer is quick, like you thought the speed of your response will get you what you want faster.

He tuts quietly, lips brushing against yours as he shakes his head. 

All you can respond with is a whinge, a frustrated whinge at that and your hips still. The sensation of his finger being withdrawn from you. You mumble a faint, “What?” when you feel his hand part from behind your head, the one near your cunt too.

And then his hands drop to his lap, placing them between your thighs as he unfastens his belt — the jingling sound of the metal making your eyes widen, lighten almost. His hips raise underneath you as he tugs on the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down just enough to comfortably reach into his boxers.

He wraps a hand around himself and brings his cock out over the top, fisted grip tight as he gives it a few pumps — polishing his head as if to ready himself. With his other hand, he’s bunching the fabric of your garments, holding them up so he could guide himself closer to your cunt underneath. 

He knocks his head at your clit just to see and hear and feel you shudder, a response he often loved from you. And so with you right where he wants you, right at the edge, he’s lining up with you — his eyes fixed on yours like it's all coming from a place of muscle memory, not needing sight to know what he’s doing.

Ray presses the tip of his dick against your pussy, the shape of his head kissing at your entrance so perfectly. And when he feels like you’ve suffered enough, he’s feeding himself into you, filling you from underneath as you lower down — meeting him halfway.

Strength in your neck dissipates, your forehead collapsing against his as you inhale shakily, taking all of him until nothing remains. His balls pressing up against your cunt’s lips like you’re sitting on them. 

You lean in to kiss him while you give yourself a moment to reaccustom to him, familiarising with the thick feel of his cock. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel him bump up into you, a small jut upwards knocking the air out your lungs.

With himself wedged fully inside, he moves a hand to your throat, lightly holding under your jaw. There’s no pressure behind his touch, simply the presence there to guide you, to feel you. He keeps his mouth to yours, swallowing the little gasps you make and he tests the waters once more — adjusting his hips, pushing himself up into you entirely. The full weight of you perched upon his lap, sat on his dick.

“This what you wanted?” he murmurs, speaking against your lips.

You nod. Blissed, hazy eyes doing the talking for you as if you’ve suddenly become incapable of speaking. 

Ray runs his spare hand behind you and to the cheek of your ass, palm resting over the satin fabric as he guides you — ushering your hips forward to grind over him. Though the presence of his touch is short-lived as he reaches forward, collecting his papers from before.

With his hand on your jaw, he brings you inwards, tucking your face into his neck. He brings the papers in his view, holding the stack just to the side of you.

“If you can give me twenty minutes to finish this” he says, voice soft beside you. “I’ll fuck you for twice as long,” Ray whispers, his words a promise.

Raymond Smith is a man of his word.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[luna-azzurra]

Dialogue Strengthening Methods

Dialogue serves as the lifeblood of any narrative, offering readers a window into the minds, hearts, and souls of characters. When executed effectively, dialogue not only propels the plot forward but also deepens character development and fosters emotional engagement.

Authenticity through Observation

Authentic dialogue begins with keen observation of the world around us. As writers, we are avid listeners and astute observers, capturing the cadences, quirks, and real-life conversations. For example, in a bustling market scene, the rhythm of vendors haggling over prices or the melodic lilt of a street musician's banter adds depth and authenticity to the setting.

Character Voice

Just as no two individuals are alike, each character in a story possesses a unique voice that reflects their personality, background, and worldview. Crafting distinct voices involves delving deep into the psyche of each character, understanding their motivations, fears, and desires. Consider the contrast between a grizzled detective who speaks in terse, cynical phrases and a wide-eyed rookie whose speech is punctuated by eager enthusiasm. By infusing dialogue with these individual nuances, characters come alive, resonating with authenticity and depth.

Subtext

Beyond the surface level of spoken words lies a rich tapestry of subtext—unspoken thoughts, hidden agendas, and underlying emotions. Mastery of subtext allows writers to imbue dialogue with layers of meaning, inviting readers to decipher the unspoken truths that lie beneath. For instance, in a scene where a character offers a half-hearted apology, the tension between their words and body language hints at unresolved resentment or guilt. By harnessing the power of subtext, dialogue transcends mere communication, becoming a vehicle for nuanced storytelling and character development.

Showcasing Emotions

At its core, dialogue is a reflection of human emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, love. Capturing the emotional essence of a scene requires a delicate balance of words, tone, and context. Instead of explicitly stating characters' emotions, skilled writers show them through subtle cues—hesitant pauses, clenched fists, tearful eyes. Consider a scene where a parent confronts their child about a secret they've discovered; the trembling in their voice and the quiver of their lip betray a mixture of concern, disappointment, and love. By allowing emotions to permeate dialogue exchanges, writers forge a visceral connection with readers, eliciting empathy, laughter, and tears in equal measure.

Conflict and Tension

Dialogue thrives on conflict and tension, driving the narrative forward with relentless momentum. Whether it's a heated argument between lovers or a tense negotiation between rivals, conflict infuses dialogue with urgency and dynamism. Consider a scene where two political adversaries engage in a war of words, each vying for dominance and advantage. By pitting characters against each other, whether in overt clashes or subtle power struggles, writers create opportunities for growth and revelation.