#all the detail on that hair is probably what gave me fucking carpal tunnel

[dhmis-autism]

#dhmis #lets settle this once and for all #tbc the best and realest answer is my answer which is that #duck is the EASIEST to draw YG is relatively easy #and whenever i draw RG you will know bc i will make a post on this site abt how much i fucking hate art #and he makes me want to cut my hand off #my dhmis postings #if u say rg is the easiest ur a LIAR btw and i expect an essay in the replies explaining why ur right #like he has SO much hair and its so stringy #and hes so BIG #ITS INSANELY HARD TO DRAW #all the detail on that hair is probably what gave me fucking carpal tunnel

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

red+white, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: On Christmas Eve, you take Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook out on a date and they’re surprised to find out that... it’s actually a real date. At least, until you decide to pull up your dress right in front of them. You are a horny little seductress after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, semi-public sex in the back of a car; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, nipple play, fingering, vibrator use, f-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader gets all the attention this time, so sweet of them!

other parts of this series: just kidding + part ii, car ride.

--

You massaged the base of your right thumb, sucking in a tight breath at the pain.

You shouldn’t have played so many League of Legends games last night, but there was an event pass and you had to grind games. Well, you didn’t have to, but you wanted to. League of Legends was probably your longest commitment in your entire life. And it gave you carpal tunnel.

Like all your interests, it was making your life complicated.

You pulled the sleeve of your fur coat over your wrist brace. When you played a lot, you kept it on all the time. It wasn’t the sexiest thing, but you needed your hands after all. For various reasons.

“Excuse me?”

You grinned to yourself before turning around, waving at the smooth, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung.

“Hey, Taehyung!”

Taehyung made his way through the crowd in the busy outdoor mall to stop right in front of you. It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve, when everyone was getting off work, sunny but cold. He looked you up and down, narrowing his dark brown eyes. “What is this?”

White faux fur coat that barely covered your ass, black thigh-high heeled boots, and the outfit completed with a large red fabric bow tied around your neck. You had nabbed it from a package of Christmas cookies you received earlier in the day. Your hair was pinned up, leaving a few strands framing your face. In comparison, Taehyung was wearing a biscuit-brown corduroy jacket with a forest green sweater and white dress shirt underneath, collar poking out. Dark brown hair a bit pushed back, but with most of it falling onto his forehead. Coffee-colored slacks, pointed oxfords.

“But you haven’t seen the best part, Tae!” you quipped, far too cheerful for the suspicious eye Taehyung was giving you. You unsnapped the buttons of your fur coat, revealing the tight, slinky, red silk mini-dress underneath. It clung to your every curve, molding perfectly to your breasts and hips.

Taehyung’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He grabbed the sides of your coat and yanked them shut, breath frosting in your face.

“What the FUCK?” he hissed under his breath. “You can’t wear that!”

You blinked at him. “Why not?”

“That’s the kind of clothes you would wear to a club! Not a date!”

“But I don’t go to clubs anymore. I think it’s better to wear what you already own than to buy new ones.”

The look you were giving Taehyung was innocent, but he knew better.

“At least tell me you’re wearing underwear.”

You grinned. “Maaaaaaaybe…”

“Noona,” he growled low in his throat, making you wet already.

“Alright, alright, yes I am.”

Taehyung buttoned your coat, frowning. “Just wait until Jungkook sees you. He’ll be pissed.”

“Pissed about what?”

Jeon Jungkook’s bouncy, energetic voice popped up behind you. You turned around to see him in a big black parka and black jeans with chunky black boots. He grinned, waving a hand, his long black hair half-slicked back as usual. He was wearing leather fingerless gloves. You bit your lower lip, grinning back. Jungkook’s smile faltered, suddenly apprehensive once he saw your expression.

“What’d she do?” Jungkook asked, eyes flickering to Taehyung.

“She–”

“Jungkook,” you cut Taehyung off jovially. “I wore something nice for you two!”

And you popped your coat open once again, ruining Taehyung’s good work of trying to keep you covered. Taehyung threw up his hands as Jungkook’s eyes widened, jaw dropping at the sight of your sinful body wrapped in red silk.

“Noona!” Jungkook scolded, yanking the sides of your coat closed, pressing his body against you. “You can’t wear that!”

“Why not?” you purred, licking your lips. “It’s nearly Christmas.” You pointed to the large red bow on your neck. “I’m festive!”

Jungkook looked aghast, clenching his jaw. “T-That’s not…” He hurriedly re-snapped the buttons on your white fur coat. “You’re going to be cold.”

You shook your head. “This coat is super warm. Plus, I’m wearing panties!”

Jungkook shot Taehyung a pained look. “I’m proud of you…”

“We’re going to be late! Let’s go!”

You grabbed their hands as Taehyung and Jungkook sighed at each other, smiling despite knowing they were already in big trouble.

-

“A… mug café?”

You pointed to the menu. “Not just any mug café, Jungkook. See, you pick a style of mug and then you decorate it with paint. Once you’re done, they cure it for you and then you can eat some snacks as you wait for it to be finished.”

Taehyung tilted his head, reading the instructions. “Looks like you have to make an appointment.”

“I did. It’s almost time,” you said cheerfully. “Look at all these different ceramic colors and paints. I thought it would be fun to do together.”

Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a look. “You mean… this is an actual date, noona?”

You turned away from the window to frown at them. “Of course, it is. I booked a time and everything!”

Jungkook shifted his eyes. “Uh, well… usually you’re interested in doing other things with us…”

You blinked at them. “What?”

Taehyung clapped a hand over Jungkook’s mouth. “Never mind, never mind. Let’s go in.”

-

“Ah! I’m done!”

You turned your extra-large pale blue mug around, revealing the fluffy white Poro you painted, complete with a tasty cinnamon-bun-looking Poro-Snax biscuit in its mouth. Tiny white and yellow sparkles circled its head like a starry sky.

Taehyung smiled, shaking his head. “Your League of Legends obsession is a little extreme.”

“Oi, Poros are cute. I like cute things. That’s why I like you.”

Taehyung’s tan cheeks turned bright pink as you turned your attention to Jungkook’s masterpiece. He was painting a nighttime forest of evergreen trees on a black mug, with a small cabin and white dotted stars. He had three plates of different colored paints and at least ten small paintbrushes next to him. His pink tongue was in between his lips, holding his breath as he added small details to the trees in different shades of green.

“Wow, that’s intricate,” you admired, scooting your chair closer to him. Your sleeves were rolled up, but you were still bundled in your coat. Somehow, no paint got on the white fur. “You’re so talented, Jungkook.”

He finished the tree he was working on and pulled it back, frowning slightly. “Ah, I don’t know…”

“What are you talking about? That’s the coolest mug I’ve ever seen. I would totally buy that if I saw it at the store,” you protested.

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, picking up another paintbrush covered in white. “Really?”

“Of course. Especially since the artist is so handsome,” you added with a wink.

Jungkook’s ears turned red as you shuffled back to Taehyung to look at his mug. He was painting a small brown bear with a red Santa hat next to a wildly decorated Christmas tree on a light green mug.

“Should I add snow?” Taehyung wondered out loud.

“Maybe on the ground? But I think the tree should be the focus,” you mused. “Will the bear have a little coat?”

Taehyung puffed his cheeks. “Ah, I forgot!”

You scraped your chair back, holding your own Poro masterpiece. “I’m going to have them cure mine first. Be right back,” you chirped cheerfully, walking up to the counter where the jolly-looking man was waiting.

Jungkook watched you go, pursing his lips. “Kind of surprised she hasn’t tried to do anything crazy yet.”

Taehyung squirted out way too much red paint and made a disgruntled noise. “Well, she isn’t a horny seductress all the time. Just most of the time. Also, we’re in public.”

Jungkook went back to his mug as you chatted with the owner. 

“It’s nice, just like this.”

Taehyung paused mid-stroke of red. His eyes flickered to Jungkook’s lowered head, back to being focused and working carefully. Taehyung thought about adding to the conversation, but kept his mouth shut, rubbing his chin instead. Then he went back to the bear and adding the red Santa coat.

You came back with a muffin and hot chocolate.

“Ah, the owner was so nice. He gave me the last blackberry muffin. He said they’re really popular.”

“Oh, can I try some–” Jungkook raised his head as you turned around to place your white fur jacket on your chair. His eyes widened, voice turning into a tight hiss. “Noona!”

You settled back in your seat, facing him as you popped some more muffin in your mouth. “Mmm?”

“Your dress is backless!”

“IT’S WHAT?” Taehyung whispered shrilly, nearly dropping his work of art.

You chewed. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook jabbed his paintbrush in the air angrily. “So? SO?”

Taehyung craned his head and his jaw dropped. “That’s nearly to your ass!”

You took a sip of hot chocolate. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook got up suddenly. “I’m going to have my mug cured.”

You blinked at him. “Are you done?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “As done as I have focus for.” He walked stiffly to the counter.

You blinked. “What’s his problem?”

Taehyung scraped his chair back loudly, startling you. “I’m also finished.” He also began to shuffle awkwardly to the counter. You tilted your head and went back to your muffin, eating happily. Maybe a little too happily.

Well.

Definitely smugly, that’s for sure.

-

“Ah, should I just put them on the floor like this? Or like this?”

Jungkook and Taehyung were standing behind you as you struggled arranging the nicely wrapped, hand-painted mugs you all had made in the backseat of Taehyung’s car. Meaning that the backseat door was open and you were on your knees, bending down to the floor to arrange said boxes, your thigh-high black boots sticking out, white fur coat riding up your ass and your equally short red dress slowly hiking up your thighs.

Taehyung and Jungkook stood behind your legs, staring at your increasingly exposed butt in the parking lot and blocking the view from passersby.

“You are doing this on purpose,” Taehyung muttered.

“No, I’m not,” you shot back. “I don’t want someone to look in your car and want to steal your Christmas presents. I paid a lot for that appointment!”

You yelped and fell to your elbows, the hem of your dress shooting up your ass and popping against your waist, leaving your thin red thong out in the open. 

“What the fuck?” Taehyung grumbled indignantly, stomping around to the other side of the backseat.

Jungkook rubbed his temples, already expecting it, but still unprepared.

You grinned to yourself, unsurprised as Taehyung ripped the car door open.

“You,” he growled, sliding into the seat and shutting the door sharply. “Are a horny seductress.”

You smiled innocently at him. “Who, me?”

He took the three boxes from you and placed them in the front passenger seat firmly.

“Hey, be careful with those–”

Taehyung grabbed your face and kissed you, pressing his warm lips into yours, silencing your words. You sighed happily, opening your mouth and moaning, enticing him. You felt Jungkook’s fingers on your cold, exposed skin, snapping the string of your thong into your ass and making you whine against Taehyung’s lips. Jungkook grasped your panties and pulled up hard, burying them into your rapidly dripping slit. You bucked, wiggling your hips as Taehyung rubbed his tongue against yours.

“Fuck, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

He pushed your legs in, forcing you to sit in the center seat and slipped inside, shutting the door.

It was cold outside, but inside the car was so very hot now.

Taehyung broke the kiss, glaring at you. You loved how dark his eyes became, so demanding and lustful, annoyed but also amused with your antics.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he muttered. “But you make me want to fuck you anyway.”

He pushed you into Jungkook’s waiting arms, forcefully turning your head. Your stared into Jungkook’s piercing gaze, his long black hair covering his left eye. He smirked at you, bringing you close to his face as Taehyung unsnapped your coat.

“Can’t even wait until we’re home to cause trouble, can you?” he whispered against your lips.

You tried to kiss him, but Jungkook dodged you, roguish expression on his face. You frowned and grabbed his head, crashing your lips into his as he infuriatingly smiled against them, catching your lower lip in between his teeth and sucking on it. You moaned softly as Taehyung ran his large hands up your hips, all the way up to your breasts. Jungkook’s fingers tangled into your hair, pulling your head back as a needy whine escaped your lips. He shook a finger at you, scooting his body closer, pushing you into Taehyung.

“No, no,” he chided, shushing you. “You want to be so bad and get us into trouble, then you’ll have to face the consequences.”

He placed his leather-covered palm on your cheek, forcing you to face Taehyung as he lowered the shoulders of your coat, exposing the thin straps of your silk dress. Taehyung sucked in a breath, looking down at you hungrily.

“So jealous that someone must have taken you home in this,” he murmured.

You winced a little, biting you lip. “Um… maybe many someones?”

Taehyung’s eyes flickered up to you, dark and dangerous. “You’re insatiable.”

He took one strap and Jungkook took the other, sliding them down your shoulders. Your breasts swelled against the red silk before popping out, black x-shaped pasties covering your nipples. They didn’t need to help you take them off. You reached up with some difficulty and peeled them off yourself, nipples hardening in the cold air.

A part of you was aware that some bystander might witness this and the same part was quite satisfied about that.

Jungkook leaned forward to press his lips against your ear, right hand coming up to knead your right breast. He had removed his gloves, his bare palm rubbing against your hard nipple. Shivers ran through you at his touch.

“Someone’s going to see how naughty you are, noona,” he purred, licking your earlobe. “Someone’s going to watch you get toyed with by Taehyung and I and probably jack off to it tonight.”

You exhaled deeply, feeling Taehyung’s left hand on your left breast, pinching your nipple as he shifted a little to cover your body, leaning his forehead against your temple. You should have been cold, being mostly naked, but you were scorching hot with arousal and the bodies of the two men pressed against you.

“Let them watch,” was your reply, moaning against Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung scoffed. “Jungkook would probably fuck you out in the open like an animal.”

Jungkook grinned mischievously. “I would.” He sucked on your ear, flicking your nipple as you kissed Taehyung. “And she would be begging for it.”

You spread your legs, whimpering, but they ignored it, Taehyung working his free hand into your hair, ruining all the hairpins, kissing you hard and possessively. You inhaled his heavy, spiced cologne, intoxicated. He released your nipple and reached up to the one end of the red bow, Jungkook playing with the other end.

“I know you said the mug-painting class was our Christmas gift,” Jungkook began, twisting his fingers around the ribbon.

Taehyung broke the kiss, licking your lips lightly as he spoke into your panting mouth.

“But we would have been satisfied with unwrapping just this one.”

And then they both pulled on the red fabric ribbon, slowly untying it, ruining the perfect bow and your common sense, tipping your head as you arched your back. The ends brushed against your chest as Jungkook hooked a finger in the center, fully undoing the tie and exposing your neck. It fell against your elbows, your arms still trapped in your large fur coat.

“Fuck, noona,” Taehyung breathed against your skin. “You’re so pretty, just like this.”

He kissed down your neck, licking down your quivering throat. You had no time to watch though, because Jungkook immediately kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as Taehyung’s lips found your nipples, licking and sucking them while Jungkook sank his fingers into your thigh.

Your panties were drenched, sticking to your folds, leaking down, the strong scent of your arousal filling the car. You suddenly felt Taehyung’s long fingers grip the top of your thong and pull up. You gasped into Jungkook’s mouth and he grinned, fingers trailing up your thigh, so close but so far.

“You want to be touched?” Jungkook taunted, tapping your inner thigh.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He hummed cheerfully. “I will if hyung lets me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Jungkook grinned cheekily back, dark eyes flashing, black hair obscuring his left eye. It was clear that all he wanted to do was deny you, because Jeon Jungkook was a relentless tease.

Well, you had that in common.

Your conversation with Jungkook had distracted you from the fact that Taehyung had removed himself from your chest, reaching into his coat. You jumped as you felt something cold and hard press against your clothed, but still throbbing, wet clit. You whipped your head to Taehyung, who licked his lips, devilish spark in his brown eyes.

“Present for my good girl.”

And then he turned on the bullet vibrator, assaulting your clit.

Your cried out and Jungkook slapped a hand over your mouth, grunting as he held down one leg, preventing you from squirming away as Taehyung pinned the other to the seat, sending intense vibrations straight to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whined around Jungkook’s palm and he lowered his face to your right breast, taking your nipple into his mouth. Taehyung followed suit with the other.

It was a cramped space, and yet you were already in ecstasy, head forced back, both your nipples being licked and sucked as Taehyung coaxed you to orgasm. Your whole body jerked as you came quickly, unable to cope with the initial harsh, intense vibrations and the sensation of two tongues on you at the same time. Your clit flared with stimulation, thighs trembling. And still Taehyung held you there, barreling you through your first orgasm and pushing for the next, making you scream behind Jungkook’s strong hand, eyes squeezing shut as the wave crashed down again, hips shuddering and spasming with pleasure.

Taehyung removed the vibrator to press it against your wet nipple. You shuddered, clit aching, still wanting more. Jungkook removed his hand and Taehyung kissed you, breathing in your euphoric exhale. You moaned into his mouth, eyes half-lidded, staring into his beautiful lashes, his soft hair brushing against your forehead. You whined and Taehyung broke the kiss, your name floating from his lips, turning off the vibrator for a moment. You wanted to reach up and touch him, slip your hand under his sweater and shirt, but your hands were pinned in place from your jacket.

“Sorry, noona,” he purred in his soul-shakingly deep voice. “Only one of us is getting naked here, and it’s you.”

“B-but, Tae…”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “That’s what you get for teasing us with your sexy body.” He turned away from you, tapping Jungkook who was lazily pushing your nipple around in circles with his tongue, steady pleasure that graced you through your afterglow. Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

“Hm?”

Taehyung pointed to your thong. “Rip it off.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I still want those?” you interrupted, amused.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “I have to convince you to keep clothes on in general.”

You nodded knowingly as Jungkook’s fingers danced down your stomach. “You’re right.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

Jungkook made eye contact with you, lower lip trapped in his teeth. Your lips parted, feeling his fingers close in on the top of your panties. He was smirking playfully, aware of his power over you, watching your eyes tick between his face and his hands. His nail traced your slit, smirk widening as you moaned at his light touch.

“I would let you be naked as much as you want,” Jungkook drawled, slipping a finger under the soaked red fabric, prying it out of your folds. You whimpered softly, lost in his dark brown eyes and his sinful words, his knuckles brushing against your heat as he grasped your thong with his two hands.

“And that’s why I have to wrangle you two,” Taehyung muttered, eyes flickering to the outside world, hoping the owners of the two cars next to you were not going to come back anytime soon. “Otherwise, both of you would be arrested for indecent exposure.”

Jungkook grinned. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t you ‘hyung’ me.”

You gasped as Jungkook ripped your thong apart, turning it into useless scraps of wet red fabric. The strings on the sides snapped as well and it fell off your body. Jungkook swept the shreds from the seat onto the car floor.

Taehyung glared at him. “And I’m supposed to explain that to the car cleaners, how?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Tell them you had a very horny woman you needed to please.”

Taehyung looked up at the sky, exasperated, mouthing silent words before he addressed him again. “I’m first, then you. Then we’ll switch again.”

The younger man grinned. “Okay.”

You blinked as Taehyung handed Jungkook the silver bullet vibrator. “Excuse me,” you said quietly, “I would like to know exactly what you mean by–”

You were abruptly cut off by Taehyung shoving two fingers into you, your words turning into a sharp yelp as your drenched hole was suddenly filled, all the way up to his knuckles. Jungkook lifted you slightly, perching your leg on his so your hips were raised, giving Taehyung a better angle. You felt Taehyung’s lips against your ear as he slowly slid his fingers out, whispering your name.

“We’re going to make you cum so much you can’t stand,” he growled. “And then we’re going to take you home and stuff you so full of cock that you’ll think twice before teasing us like this again.”

Jungkook chuckled, appearing in your vision, speaking in Taehyung’s ear.

“She’s going to take it as encouragement to do more dangerous things.”

Taehyung sighed knowingly, forcefully jamming his fingers back into you. You gasped, pressing yourself against Jungkook’s hard body so you could raise your hips as Taehyung began to pump his fingers into your dripping pussy, wet sloppy squelches accompanying his movement. You could barely register the sound of the vibrator turning on again, but you felt it, sliding down your stomach, skin tingling as you panted.

“D-don’t…” you whimpered, already knowing it was falling onto deaf ears. You were clenching so tightly around Taehyung’s fingers that there was absolutely no way you meant it.

Taehyung smirked. “Jungkook’s allowed to do whatever he wants while I finger you.”

The pulsating vibrations attacked your clit, shooting bolts of pleasure up your torso, hips shaking as Taehyung’s fingers repeatedly rammed into you. Your eyes slid closed, a moan tearing from your lips, Jungkook’s snicker above you, his free hand pinching and rubbing your nipple as he massaged your clit with the bullet vibrator.

“Noona, you’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook praised, breath heavy against your skin. “The most perfectly fuckable body I’ve ever touched.”

You bit your lip hard, pleading noises in your throat, getting wetter at Jungkook’s words, one of your hands clutching Taehyung’s thigh, digging your nails into his pants, indicating you were close. Jungkook changed the setting, increasing the vibrations, and your hips bucked violently, burying your face into Taehyung’s shoulder as you came, screaming into his brown coat.

“A-ah, Taehyung, Jungkook!”

You gasped sharply as Taehyung removed his fingers, moaning as they touched his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

Jungkook’s lips pressed against your ear, teasing you. “My turn.”

And then his two fingers slid in, slightly different from Taehyung’s, but just as good, filling you up. He scissored them in you and you lifted your head from Taehyung’s shoulder, panting, watching Jungkook and his sharp jawline, pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. He seemed to feel your gaze and he turned his head to look at you, the tiny mole underneath his lips flashing as he grinned.

“Who’s a good girl?” Jungkook hummed, tilting his head, pink tongue darting out.

“I-I am…” you breathed, whimpering as you saw his tongue. “I am, Jungkook…”

He cocked his head as the vibrator sounded again, Taehyung pressing it against your swollen nipple, smearing your orgasm all over your tits. You moaned wantonly, leaning back into Taehyung as Jungkook began to finger you roughly, a bruising pace, sliding you up the seat a little with his force.

“What do you think, Taehyung?” Jungkook purred. “Do you agree with her?”

Taehyung chuckled into your hair. “Maybe if she cums for us a few more times, I’ll be convinced.”

He slid the vibrator down, down and you were there again, drowning in copious, sinful pleasure as Taehyung assaulted your sensitive bundle of nerves with relentless vibration and Jungkook fucked you hard and fast with his fingers, your juices sliding down his palm, probably sticking to the seat and your coat, but none of you cared, all three of you chasing your next orgasm, pushing you to the edge, going, going, gone.

It came fast and it came hard, ricocheting through you, so hot, so intense, clit and pussy throbbing together, sucking in Jungkook’s fingers, moaning their names deeply as you rocked your own hips through your orgasm, extending it. You shuddered when Jungkook pulled his fingers out, licking them off noisily as Taehyung pressed the bullet vibrator against your puffy, soaked pussy lips, watching your erotic expression, mouth open, tongue lolling.

“We’re not done, noona.”

Taehyung’s deep voice, warning you, but you couldn’t think, couldn’t believe there was more, more. He turned off the vibrator and switched it for his fingers again, dipping them in, the feeling of his joints and calluses rubbing against your walls, and then he added a third finger. You gasped, throat dry from all your noises as you opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s head lower, pushing your hips down so your knees hit the backs of the front seats, uncomfortably spread wide, ass half-hanging off but feeling so good that you didn’t notice. Didn’t notice until Jungkook’s tongue was on your swollen clit.

Your eyes rolled back into your head.

So fucking good.

Taehyung shoved his fingers into you, fucking you hard and deep as Jungkook lapped at your raw clit, teasing it, nipping at it. It throbbed against the tip of his soft tongue, so sensitive you were a whimpering, moaning mess, even more so as Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s free hands played with your nipples, pinching them as they drove you crazy, ruining you with fingers, lips, and tongue. Your name, coaxing you in heart-shaking baritone, telling you to come in Jungkook’s mouth and all over his hand.

“Aren’t you Taehyungie’s good girl?”

“F-fuck, yes, fuck, Tae, I’m your good girl, oh, fuck–”

Your words tumbled together in a hoarse hiss, hips rutting into Jungkook’s face as you came, liquid gushing everywhere, walls spasming and clamping around Taehyung’s fingers, one of your hands pulling out of your coat and grabbing Jungkook’s head, forcing him down as you rode your high into his mouth, messing up his long hair. Jungkook gave you a muffled groan, twisting your nipple slightly.

Your core was aching with pleasure and overstimulation, never before having been pushed this far, intoxicated by the feeling. You loved every second of Taehyung and Jungkook having their way with you, drunk on the feeling of back-to-back orgasms. Your hand slipped and Jungkook resurfaced, lips shiny with your juices, licking them off slowly as Taehyung sucked on his fingers.

Then Jungkook flexed his right hand at you, tattoos dancing as he did so.

“Round two.”

And then the positions changed, Taehyung’s lips on your inflamed clit, Jungkook’s three fingers knuckle-deep inside you, except Jungkook craned his body to place his lips on your abused right nipple, sucking on it as Taehyung pressed the slippery bullet vibrator against your other nipple, vibrations jarring you right to your heart. Taehyung’s tongue was gentle and firm, still too much as it was paired with Jungkook’s wet muscle teasing you as his fingers thrust into your pussy, slow, deep, hitting your favorite spot. You completely forgot you were in Taehyung’s car in some random parking lot, partly out in the open, lost in the ecstasy and elation.

It took them no time at all since you were already so sensitive that you were the one holding back, trying not to give in, trying to prolong the pleasure, but eventually you lost and the taut coil in your stomach snapped.

“O-oh, Jungkook, Taehyung…”

Your hips jerked into Taehyung’s face, your orgasm leaking onto the floor of his car, fingers curling into his hair, so lovely and soft, wild torrents of pleasure soaring through you. So very, very good. Dirty, deviant, and glorious. Taehyung removed the vibrator from your nipple, turning it off. You moaned softly, coming down from your high, clutching Taehyung’s head, your fingers massaging his scalp as he continued licking you gently. You gazed into Jungkook’s eyes as he slowly removed his lips from your nipple, glassy eyes locking with his.

“You taste so good,” Jungkook murmured, face centimeters from yours. “Smell so good, look so good, feel so good, sound so fucking sexy.” He kissed you, your taste still on his tongue, breathing your name like a caress.

Taehyung finally untangled his head from your hand, panting softly. He came up to your face too, and Jungkook moved to make space, tenderly kissing your cheek and ear.

“Noona,” Taehyung mumbled, smearing your own orgasm onto your chin as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your voice was raspy and gravelly from all your noises. “W-what?”

“You’re going to spend Christmas with us, right?”

Your lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Well, I was going to slide down your chimney and–”

Taehyung prodded you as Jungkook laughed heartily. “We don’t have a chimney.”

You shrugged. “Same idea, break in and fuck you both.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Santa doesn’t do that.”

“All I’m saying is that Mrs. Claus definitely gets some–”

Taehyung shut you up by kissing you once again.

-

part ii: gold light

--

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #kim taehyung x you #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

[reflectionsforalostsoul]

Time just slips away...

TRIGGER WARNING

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TW Suicide

I’m just not really sure sometimes. Some days I feel okay, and the others I get sad again. My memory loss has affected me greatly. 

I will find a note on my phone or something on a piece of paper that I had deemed important, maybe a moment of inspiration or a message to Ronnie and I no longer have any idea what I am talking about. I found some lovely story notes yesterday that I had written a couple of years ago. I only know the time frame because I like to send myself messages on Facebook so I don’t forget things and happily I stumbled across messages where the names matched up to some of the notes in the notebook. I had been fretting because at the time I wrote the stuff down I had used abbreviations instead of names at times. One I saw repeatedly was MC, which I assumed stood for main character. A logical assumption, right? Yet another I couldn’t figure out. Repeatedly I saw a ™ referenced. Docs keeps correcting this to a trademark symbol (facepalm). 

It has been bothering me a lot. I had done a lot of work and I obviously cared about this character, but couldn’t glean from the notebook what it stood for. I hate writing things by hand, and evidently thought it wasn’t necessary to fully write it out. If I focus really hard I can vaguely recall the inspiration. It is of course mine, there are usually recurring themes in stories that I plan to write. But what did it mean?

Then today in messenger I had typed it out. Swype keyboards are so much faster than writing in pencil, thank god!  Taxi Man. How did I forget that? You obviously don’t know what Taxi Man means, so let me explain it to you, as best my memory can allow. 

My childhood was kind of rough. 

My family was quite poor and my parents didn’t have what you would call a happy marriage. My Father was abusive to everyone in the household. Both mentally and physically. When he was home sometimes it felt like being in a literal nightmare. You know that prickle of terror you feel on the back of your neck in a nightmare sometimes? Or those moments where you were so terrified that when you tried to scream no sound could escape your lips? It was like that sometimes. My Father was prone to mood swings, drank, and abused drugs. He had a myriad of problems, and refused to work. Just to give you some background on my state of mind when I first encountered the Taxi Man. 

So, to say I suffered from depression would be too simple. I was 14 years old and also dealing with normal hormonal changes. Ah..puberty. It will wreck you emotionally. Compound that with irregular periods and you have a recipe for disaster. 

I often thought of suicide. I didn’t really want to die, but I wanted my life as it was currently to end. I was tired of my life. Tired of the abuse. Tired of feeling alone. I cried constantly and did anything I could to avoid going home. My Father and I butted heads frequently. I was the only one in the house who dared stand up to him. 

This wasn’t what you think normal teenage drama is like. I was not rebelling because I wanted a late curfew, this was literally, “How fucking dare you put your hands on my Mother!” I had been terrified of him as a child, but there are only so many times that you can be hurt and pain still work as a fear tactic or parental deterrent. It wasn’t always in defense of my Mother either. Sometimes it was for my little sisters’ sake. 

My Father had quit working when I was about six and a half years old. He was trying to get disability for carpal tunnel, so my Mother got a job full time. My sisters were 2 years and 6 months old, respectively. If you thought my Father was going to change diapers or maintain the house while my Mother worked you’d sadly be mistaken. 

I am not complaining. I was never resentful. I had always been what my Mom called a Mother Hen. I loved my little sisters. So, I changed diapers, gave baths, brushed their hair. I dressed them, tucked them in, and tried to teach them stuff. How many times did I work on ABCs or counting? The situation was a bit confusing for them though. My youngest sister called my Mom frequently, and even the other made that mistake at times. I know it broke my Mother’s heart. She had missed out on the most important time for development in my youngest sister’s life, but there wasn’t anything to do about it. She had no family close by and I think was still trying to maintain appearances about her relationship with my Father. 

My Mother broke my heart. To me she was the most magnificent woman. I knew that I had the prettiest Mom. She had a beautiful singing voice. She was smart. Well read. But so painfully shy. She was that kind of person who couldn’t ever speak up for themselves. I remember being frustrated going to stores with her when I was young because she was too shy to ask an employee for help if she couldn’t find something. We would instead wander for what felt like hours until she managed to find the item she was looking for, or something that would just have to do. I am a protective person, it is just my nature, hence why Mom called me Mother Hen. So eventually I would stop a store employee and ask for her. She never would have asked me to do such a thing, and maybe this embarrassed her at times too. But to watch your parent struggle over such a simple task is heartbreaking. I couldn’t fathom why she had such difficulty speaking. 

But I loved my Mother and would do anything for her, so I decided to be her voice. I was always a rather take charge kind of person. 

So, of course I argued for her sake. I argued for the sisters that I loved in a deeper motherly way. I couldn’t stand how he treated them. It is one thing to pick on someone who can defend themselves, but my Mother and little sisters could not. That was our life. I could go on and on, but it is enough to give you an idea of why I had suicidal ideation. 

So, let me tell you how I met the Taxi Man. It was in a dream. The dream started with me sitting in the front passenger seat of an old fashioned Taxi. From the 1940’s, with pronounced fender flares. 

It was nighttime and we were traveling down a winding road with open fields for as far as the eye could see on either side towards a forest. In the driver seat sat an ancient man wearing a top hat. His shoulder length wispy grey hair was disheveled. A tag hung from the band of his hat, though I don’t know if it said anything at all. It was probably too old to have anything legible on it. His suit was tweed with patches on the elbows. He had a dingy white cravat that I imagine would have fluttered hauntingly if the windows had been cracked. Definitely someone interesting that you would have tried to absorb every detail of, but I was beginning to panic at not knowing how I got there.

“Where are we?” I asked, panic rising in my throat.

That is when he turned and reached towards me. That is when I saw it.

He had no eyeballs. 

His eye sockets were empty aside from small flames. You know that prickle feeling I mentioned earlier? It was happening now. He did not answer me, nor did he touch me. He instead reached past me, opened the glove compartment, and returned his hand to the wheel. I turn from him and look inside and am surprised to see a small television screen. 

It clicks on, and I am unable to look away, for I see myself in my own bedroom. I am sitting on the floor with letters scattered all around me. Mascara courses down my cheeks as I sob uncontrollably. I am unsure. I don’t remember this ever happening. Then the screen darkens again. That is when the Taxi Man spoke. 

“You killed yourself. That is why you are here.”

I quickly glance around and see that we don’t seem to be any closer to the forest, though the car has never stopped moving. The small television blinks back on and I see a funeral. There is a church, my family, and even classmates standing in groups talking quietly. My Mother stands by my casket crying into a scarf. She looks devastated and broken. My sisters are holding her hands, but their heads hang down. They do not lift their gaze even when someone stops to offer condolences. 

Then I see my ex-boyfriend walk in by himself, carrying a white rose. He pauses at the back of the room, the prospect of my casket seeming too much for him to handle. 

“It has not been decided yet.”

“What hasn’t?” I gasped. 

“Where you are going. You’ve killed yourself. I cannot take you to Heaven. So you will have to wait while it is decided. It is going to feel like an eternity.”

Again I noted that the car was not any closer to the forest, though the car kept a steady place. It suddenly made sense.

“Is this purgatory?”

The Taxi Man just nodded, his lips curving slightly. Was it an attempt to smile? I didn’t sense any malice from him. Just eternalness, and maybe… Maybe this was his way of trying to comfort me. The thought of an eternal wait, with your very soul hanging in the balance is quite frightening. 

It was an important dream to me. It felt so real. Like I had been given a warning. I thought of the Taxi Man frequently throughout the years, even sketched him a couple times. I just cannot forget him. I even dreamt of him more recently, though the interaction was not always pleasant. So, how did I not realize what ™ stood for in my notes? It is a frustrating thing. Though I never stay sad for too long. I always forget and move on to some other train of thought. Thanks for listening.

#tw suicide memory loss existential dread abuse top hat man

[legalist217]

Do Voldemort/Snape/Umbridge lmao

I think you’re overestimating my ability to not be creative about the situation, as well as my self-preservation and my interest in women because that’s what makes Umbridge rank worst from an SO perspective. (she’s not even a pretty woman, she’s a super gross woman inside and out, so it does nothing for me on any level, meh, bleh, weh)

This got lengthy so it’s under a cut, you’re welcome, enjoy. And I bothered to put these into exactly no logical canon timeframe. 

Well get this out of the way, fake date umbridge. because I will find ways to mortify her. I will drag her to youmacon. I will point out a photograph taken of Nancy Pelosi in a pink suit with all the Senate pages and then assure her that, no, of course you’re just as pretty in your headmistress photo as that Muggle politician is. Why would there even be a comparison. dear. [this is a real photo that we saw being taken at the Capitol when we toured circa HBP’s film coming out; we had to stifle giggles] 

And then arrange a scenario where she’s jailed for tax evasion. I’m not marrying the toad; no fifth amendment protections for non-spouse SOs as I recall. I assume MACUSA can ensure she’s put somewhere good and tedious. 

(note: this is the only scenario where I envisioned it happening in america)

now, hm. I guess I would slow burn Voldemort because I reckon if you’re his stated enemy, that’s probably not a changeable status. He’s all emotionally stunted in that way. So enemies to lovers doesn’t seem plausible. So, then, I guess I’m some Bellatrix-esque tart, except, well, myself. So rather than wetting myself over THE DAHHK LAWD, I’m just mildly amused at his fascist goals. “That’s a way to do it, I suppose, but hate’s a pretty tedious method to carry on with the world, and let’s remember that you never actually held power long term *ducks AK* so maybe something less... Hitlery? Oh don’t look at me like that, you grew up in muggle-trash London, you know who Hitler is.” 

And it goes on and on and on and on and on and it is a slow burn because he’s incapable of love and I think the best we manage for much of the run before the author begins developing carpal tunnel is “I barely tolerate her because she has 0.01% of a point; I tell the others she is too amusing to kill.” At least now I have slytherin creds to brandish to get a foot in the door. 

And being endlessly at such a tenuous “I guess that was almost funny, so I won’t murder you?” stage, I don’t have to figure out how to kiss a noseless man or how to deal with a jealous pet snek. 

you’re going to regret this

Enemies to lovers is a very tolerable way to deal with Snape, given the options on this playing field. Professors who tell you that your answer is wrong only for the right answer to be “the same thing but because I said it, it’s right” are my least fuckin faves. Snape treads close to that territory. 

But again, I have slytherin creds now. I’m also quite impulsive, so I can see myself writing him an annoyed owl after a class detailing specific moments where his behavior decreased the educational advantage to Housemates and how this is him not being a benefit to team and should I go to Dumbledore about this; like give that one gryffindor kid double shit, dude might deserve it for all I know [I am bad at popular gossip when it comes to school IRL], but stop fuckin it up for us and maybe for other students who are genuinely trying, ya pissant. And while Snape is very much a pissant, I think he also cares a lot about the House. And to a degree, his job; he definitely gave a fuck when he was sixteen about teaching potions because he was rewriting the goddamned book. 

So, I dunno, maybe I can get through to him. I still get detention for unmitigated sass, but I knew that’d happen. Too bad he doesn’t realize how much I am wont to chat while working. And I have an IRL habit of roping even introverts into talking with me when I’m inclined to. What’s he gonna do, give me more detention? I don’t give a shit. I’ll clean this office and every office. Why the hell not. Castle’s an interesting place. How often do I get an elf’s eye view of the place? And anyway are there any good articles out on lacewing colony collapse disorder, because I hear that might screw over the polyjuice industry? Any good places to write? Lacewings are aptly named, you gotta admit. They need more words devoted to them. And then I force him to read my poetry because who the fuck else here knows about lacewings aside from maybe Hagrid who has automatic distrust of green robes? He tells me it sucks. I grin. (I cry later, but that’s not because he said it, just because no one wants to hear that their poem sucks in such flat words.)

In real life, I’m still in touch with some of my professors after graduation and some of them have outright said they think of me as a friend. I wouldn’t date them, because they are married and I am sensible and they are twice my age and the list goes on. But this is a forced narrative scenario, and given my dating history and its repeated Bad Calls, I can see me writing longer and more detailed letters than just “hey got a new job at Witch Weekly doing book reviews, it’s basically whatever’s on the Prophet’s best-seller list minus anything too difficult for a stay-at-home witch to bother with.” He writes back terse one-liners if I’m lucky. I still write a lot, because it makes me feel better about my sorta boring life. 

At some point, I dust off the old lacewing scroll and laugh at how bad it was. But the core idea of hiding oneself in another’s reflection has merit, so I rework it. Dredge up old textbooks to reference other ingredients of common potions, because Moste Potente Potions is still a restricted book so maybe not hinting at the recipe in a poem is a good call.  It’s eventually as done as this version’s going to be. I send it to him. 

It comes back around Christmas with the word “Better.” swirled in the corner. I tack it to the wall and write more. Sometimes they come back with tiny checkmarks by specific lines. I find myself quietly tallying those, like they’re gold stars and I’m back in primary school. And I have to stifle a gasp when one has a note saying he’d copied a version for himself. I can’t help imagining it pinned up on his fridge, him seeing it every day. That image is childish, but it gets me through bleak times. 

It’s a year before a poem I didn’t write comes back to me. It is so laughably bad that I’m in tears of laughter for half the night, but then, reading through it, they end up just tears. Who the fuck is this about, because none of the imagery fits me. It’s all flowers of the valley and gentle prey animals. Drawing from my name would be angels or wolves or birds of prey. Who the fuck, then, is this, and why am I sobbing. 

Printed at the bottom is a one-word question: Thoughts?

It’s all I can do not to crumple the stupid parchment and chuck it in the flames. Who is she. Who the hell would put up with such an obnoxious, icy, sneering, greasy, loser? I glance in the mirror. Who indeed. 

It’s a pathetic weekend spent balled up under a comforter trying to figure out how to rationally handle whatever the hell this is. But like I said, I’m impulsive. I have just enough Floo powder on hand, as well, and my head pokes out into a dingy flat. I think he nearly blacks out, he’s that startled. He does the many-blinking thing. 

I arrive swiftly at the point, which is to say that I sob inelegantly and the tears sizzle amid the flames. But I make my demands known through the mouthfuls of ash, both real and simply felt. Who is this other woman you’d write poetry to. 

Black eyes should be flat. His have too much depth at moments like these. There’s too much available to read. I don’t want to know that he knows I’m not crying on his behalf. He runs absent fingers through his hair as he looks at me, a gesture I’d forgotten to miss. Then he explains he wasn’t sure how to title it, which is why there wasn’t one. But it would have been an elegy. His way of burying the past.

I point out that repression isn’t healthy. At least, I think I do. Details are so hazy here in the fire. 

He kneels before me and says that is correct, if such be the case. But one must part with the past to allow for new beginnings. 

Lips brush there in the flames. And then I’m laughing. He pulls back, and I regret it just a little for how hurt those eyes are. Why do I laugh? “That poem sucked!” I shriek, before dragging myself back through the fires to my own hearth, where I lie laughing hysterically for quite some time. 

Years later, Elegy to the Valley is deemed complete. I walk with him as far as the gate, but let him enter the graveyard alone. It is summer, and I trace patterns in the warm metal, trying not to watch his shoulders shaking as he reads it to her. If he needs me, I can be there in a moment. But I would rather watch and mentally write my own poem of this moment instead. He will probably produce something about today as well. We will trade parchments and leave spare, biting comments. But our fingers will interlace at the end of the day. It suffices. 

The sky is tinged ruddy gold when he arrives back at the gate. We walk briskly to the end of the street. It’s not that we stand out; he still knows the Muggle ways. Still, this is a leonine place not meant for us. Time we made our excuses and left.

The corner is deserted. I see his eyes wander back over the church and the graves beside. I remind him he can always return. He shakes his head. “This is a parting of the ways.” He takes my hand, and we go twisting into the dark. 

so yeah, that’s what shipping me with snape looks like; any questions?

#tara what did you do to me #I don't even have strong feelings about snape #I just sat down and wrote it and now I'm sort of sad for it??? #fanfic #long post #alskaichou