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#that is so valid. you are fully within your right to think that

hoseoksluna · 27 days

Text

BLUR | myg ft. jjk

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

genre: smut

word count: 17k

summary: one encounter with both of the males heals you enough that you don't become anything but joy.

pinterest board: blur

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, marking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, cuckold kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, daddy kink, punishment, nipple play, oc gets triggered, face riding, ass play, male masturbation, multiple orgasms, use of butt plug, raw sex, cum eating, clit rubbing

note: i want to thank oc. i've always wanted to pinch jungkook's nose and i got to do that through her. LMFAOFSJLDKFS ANYWAYS—this is the LAST part of the steam series, whoop whoop. finally. this took me so fucking long to write and idk if it even makes sense, which is why i need you guys to let me know everything that you're thinking, feeling, hating, loving. I NEED IT. so pls, send me asks. spam me. thank you. ENJOY READINGGGGG. ₊˚⊹♡

A thin layer of sweat coats your hairline. And inside your skull, momentarily, there aren’t any thoughts—none, whatsoever. They have been swept aside as the feverish evening wind carries your boyfriend’s words through the aroused energy pulsating around your naked form. Around Jungkook’s, too.

Yoongi is still the only one fully dressed. And, adamantly, he’s taken the role of a watcher, shifting the dynamic in such a frantic way that the sole impulse that you find opening within you like buds of tree flowers is to obey. To submit to the role, externalize one that will fit it. To play along like he did, when he caught onto your scheme.

Even though you don’t know how to particularly go about it.

And when Yoongi walks over to the armchair in his living room, plops down on it, angles his head slightly to look at you and waves a hand towards the couch across from him, inviting you to sit, your nescience claws at you. Brutally.

You don’t know if there are any shadows thickening in his headspace because you deem there must be a reason behind his sudden decision to turn things around. He’s been okay with every practice done so far in the playtime—he validated all of them, was in charge the whole time until he gave that control over to Jungkook. You can’t help but worry if there perhaps isn’t a catch.

And the lower your disquiet sinks inside your gut, the higher your distrust of yourself springs, lodging in your throat. You’re not sure anymore if you’re right about anything. What if there is something you’ve done that you completely overlooked in the middle of your pleasure? In the middle of Jungkook’s pleasure?

Once you exchange a heavily-charged look with the puppy, you hope to find a hint in the tenderness of his eyes that would help you figure it out. Though, the more you deepen the scrutiny, the more you’re met with absolute blankness.

He’s as clueless as you.

Bewildered, mostly, that Yoongi let him have the upper hand.

Your finger itches to hook around his, but you only angle your head in the direction of the living room, dubious to listen to your body, intentionally wary. You make the first move and you don’t sit down on the couch like Yoongi motioned you. No, you sink your knees into the space beside his on the armchair, the leather creaking beneath you. Wrap your arms around his shoulders. Study the depth of his gaze as he focuses it on your face, looking for the hint, for anything that would lead you to it. Bury your fingers into his night-tinged hair the way he likes it, the way you like to do it, too. Pull it a little to make known to him that you’re bubbling with uncertainty.

Yoongi merely watches you, borrowing his friend’s stoicism.

You click your tongue, disliking it. “Yoongi,” you drawl out, cupping the sides of his neck, willing his attention to be more of an intimate sort. Just you and him. You need to talk to him about this. Need a peace of mind in order for you to enjoy this. In order to please him in the process as well.

He turns his head behind him, though. To check the whereabouts of his friend. And when you follow the same direction, you discover that his dining space is empty.

You don’t detect any panic in you. Perhaps it’s due to the fact Jungkook never abandoned you before. Or perhaps you’ve healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you anymore, no matter who does it. And what’s more, you think he probably went to pee.

With two fingers on his jaw, you turn his attention back to you. Leave them there. His lips curl up as he tries to purse them, his stoicism fragmenting. Eyes gentle, moonbeams swimming. The sight is so endearing to you that your own mouth mirrors his, butterflies awoken, fluttering their wings in your tummy. This is the man you love. This is the man that’s yours. Yours, only. And you’re alone, intimately, cordially. Just like before.

“Is something the matter, honey?” He tips his chin, irises dilated and looking up at you. Latches his hands onto the fleshiness of your thighs, just below your hip bones.

With your inhale of breath, you muster as much courage as you can. “Have I done something wrong?”

Perplexity writes itself on his softened face. Could it be—

“No, why do you think that, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you playfully, tapping his fingers on the side of your hips. You exhale a breath that loosens your worry a little bit and your mouth rounds. He leans in to peck it. “You’ve been perfect.”

Have you? You’re not so sure—on the contrary, what you’re sure of is the fact you can better yourself. You have to, in order to make your worries dissipate all the way.

And you can fulfill that if you know what role to play.

“Tell me what to do.”

One corner of his mouth tugs ever so slightly to the side and one brow quirks in confusion. “You’re about to get eaten up. Enjoy it—that’s what you are to do.”

You sigh, realizing you should’ve worded it better. That’s precisely what you want to do—enjoy it, but you can’t risk getting lost again. Can’t risk getting submerged. You need him to tell you who you are to be in this new dynamic he established and you don’t want to hear that you should be yourself. If you relax your boundaries, you’ll step into a dangerous territory—and you’ve been there before.

So has he.

“Yoongi, no, I meant—”

He squeezes your muscles. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, you hear me?” he murmurs, one hand coming up to your hair and curling it behind your ear. And it’s these words that unwittingly, little by little, drive you to drop your own hand, your guard and your worries. The fact that he doesn’t even want to hear your better wording, too, because he understood you the first time. It guides you to think it’s not worth speaking out, not when he evidently knows better.

And it feels nice. To have someone intelligent enough that they know. To have someone care enough that they don’t let you immerse yourself in doubts because they know the type of shit your thoughts consist of sometimes. He remembers everything you unraveled during the therapy sessions. And that feels nice. More than nice.

Your mouth rounds again and you repeat it after him. To acknowledge yourself with it. To swallow it so it streams down your body, where its meaning can unfurl. “You’re here.” Your voice is subdued, unsure, the words foreign on your tongue. You knit your brows while you taste them, unable to identify the flavor. That is until you realize it could offend him. You relax your features right away.

But Yoongi merely watches you with a sympathetic look, one that makes you feel terrible for reacting the way you did.

Not for long, though.

“I know I’ve made a mistake in the past, but that’s not happening again. I’m not leaving you on your own this time,” he says and you realize that is precisely what you needed to hear, what your body needed to consume first in order to recognize the flavor of his reassurance. You caress his face in deep emotion and you try again.

“You’re here.” It’s a mere silken sound for only the both of you to hear, but it matters—it’s enough, it’s perfect. In the distance, you hear a shuffling of feet in the kitchen, the song of the wind gaining momentum, inclining to listen to the expression of love between you—to be a witness of the right thing being done at last. And you can taste the sweetest wine of the ripest of grapes, spiced with the most vibrant of roses. You can taste home; his stability you can lean on.

Yoongi smiles in your grasp, noting the way the words sounded different—more secure. The moonbeams liquify in his waterline. “That’s right. And because I’m here, I’m not letting history repeat itself.” He pinches your cheek, knocking your head back and forth with the well-meaning, ferocious movement. Erases completely the lingering presence of the guard and fears you’ve dropped. You laugh, softly, relieved—so fucking relieved. Joy fills your empty body, energizing you, roses rising in you. Your roses, the ones you know, fraternizing with the unknown flowers that Jungkook planted in you. And you discern that it’s you who’s in your comfort zone, in your safety zone. The males have stepped inside theirs and now you have. You inhale fresh air in your new lungs, exhale your relief. “Say it. So I know you understand.”

“You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.” Beautiful, beautiful words—beautiful consolation and kindness. A pillar of the most exceptional magnificence. Mentally, you rest against it, rest your enfeebled, exhausted body of all your needless worries and false thoughts.

You didn’t do anything wrong. Didn’t make a mistake. Though, if it weren’t for the weak moment, you wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have gotten the comfort you didn’t know you needed.

So peculiar, the newness. It dawns on you that it should’ve been like this in the beginning. Healthy conversations, reassurance. Why hadn’t you done this? Why did you jump headlong, bringing along such darkness of—

You close your eyes fleetingly to shut down those thoughts. Forgetting is taking place. Newness is here. Old is gone. Like the verity that he’s here, you repeat it to yourself again and again in your heart. You can’t change what’s happened. You can only move on with the eternal perception that you’ve changed, that you’ve learned. And that’s enough.

You brush your thumb upon the column of his neck. Back and forth, like he did with your cheek. Thankful for him. “You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.”

Yoongi isn’t puzzled you whispered it to yourself again. In fact, he embraces it. Kisses you tenderly, deeply to seal those words. They spread roots in you. Rake through the earth so the roses, the flowers can grow healthily, happily, luminously. You feel them lean into the satin touch of the butterflies that elongate their dusty wings before they curl the membranes around their radiant petals, forming a protection circle. A dose of healing you didn’t expect to receive. Not from him, not now—not now when you’re about to be eaten out by his friend.

It’s so surreal to you. To feel protected like that. To feel safe. Safe to now roam freely in your undiscovered sexuality because you have someone to look out for you, to possibly guide you back if you lose your way. The stability that envelopes you—you can’t bear it; it’s too good to be true. And when you take a deep breath and those roses tremble with excitement in you, in the circle, there’s nothing left for you to do but to accept it because it’s so strong, because it’s unyielding. You couldn’t move it even if you tried. It won’t let you—it’s here to stay. Here to be alongside your boyfriend, protecting you as you venture out on your perverted adventure.

You’ve worked hard to get to this point. And now you get to reap what you’ve sown.

Yoongi grins after the long kiss, proudness emanating out of him and you feel like weeping. You’ve done the right thing, for the very first time. “That’s my good girl.”

The praise does something to you. Stirs you violently, magnifies the intensity of the flapping of the butterfly wings in you. Sends back feeling to the ache between your legs, propped against the linen of Yoongi’s pants. Throbbing, slapping, memories of what has been done to your pussy—you’re a meadow of wildflowers and you’re ready to be pleasured again, however you register a matter that pulls you away from this notion for a moment.

There’s no catch.

Because Yoongi created a new realm for both you and Jungkook with his sense of safety and comfort, there’s nothing for you to fret about. There’s no role for you to play. And, furthermore, who you are meant to be upon this ground is who you’ve been throughout the whole trajectory of your relationship.

A good girl.

Only this time it’s entirely different.

You didn’t want to be yourself because, if anything were to backfire, you thought you’d have the responsibility for it. In addition to that, you thought the normalcy of your sexual life was a no-gone zone for Jungkook, which is why you’ve been racking your brain, trying to come up with ways you could differ it, so Yoongi wouldn’t get jealous.

But things changed so drastically that because Yoongi took control, now you don’t have to be in charge of that. You’re not the artist, you’re not choosing colors for the palette. Yoongi is.

There’s still one more thing that doesn’t add up. And you voice it out. “If you’re not letting history repeat itself, though, why are you letting Jungkook be in control?”

Yoongi grabs your hands and holds them. “I’m letting him be in control of how he does what I tell him to do. I’m in control of the whole situation, honey.”

You suck in a breath. To protect himself, he won’t make the same mistake again; that’s just the person Yoongi is. He’s allowed Jungkook to have the freedom of a bird in the pleasure he wants you to receive from him, but he won’t hesitate to ensnare him if he runs up against something he doesn’t like.

You find that immensely, immensely attractive.

Hot.

The pillar of stability, the warmth of reassurance, the absolute fucking boss—that’s your man. You lid your eyes, swearing, leaning forward to suck onto his lip, kissing him with utter desperation and he lets you. Lets you kiss him. Lets you show him how much you liked that. Growls when your hand creeps to his neglected, clothed length and squeezes it. Hums when you feel him up until you find his tight balls. Responds to your touch—bucks his hips so you focus on them more and you go mad. Interminably, mad.

And when you swirl your tongue around his, you feel a cold, wet hand on your back.

The magnet to your madness. The healer stands by the side of the armchair with a dew-sprinkled face and there’s a feigned, playful jealousy that you feel when you regard him, for the only dew you want on his face is one that’s your own. He washed up in the bathroom—you reckon he did it to cool his desperation, to cool the sweat of arousal that lines his skin, much like yours. You note that it didn’t work, at least not fully, because when you roam your gaze down, you discover he’s still painfully hard. Much like your boyfriend.

You wrap your hand around him and the forbidden, exhilarating feeling of having two cocks in your grasp is too brief for your liking because Jungkook pulls your hand away again. Holds it and leads you towards the couch. You frown at him with a puckish smile, but while he tugs you away, you steal a kiss from Yoongi. A hard, quick kiss that makes him twitch—something that you get to feel before Jungkook grabs you by your pits and throws you on the couch.

You let out a string of giggles, loving the feeling of being manhandled; loving the feeling of Jungkook being in desperate need to eat you out. Your face heats up, your body following suit, the ache between your legs worsening. Yoongi smirks, validating your enjoyment and he adjusts in his seat, which you think is dismal. You don’t want him to be neglected. You want him to be pleasured, too.

The words tumble out of you before you can think them over. “Can you touch yourself for me, baby?”

Yoongi licks his lips. Pauses before he responds. Tortures you like he tortured Jungkook. You spread your legs to provoke him, giving him a show of the shine on your folds. It’s enough for him to palm himself briefly, as if he lost control for a split second. He takes his hand away and places it back on the armrest. “I’ll consider it.”

The boss at play. You swear, closing your legs to squeeze them, to give yourself some sort of relief from the ache you feel. Butterflies go rampant in your tummy, but despite the buzzing tension, you feel content, safe and utterly elated. Happy.

You expect Jungkook to say something, though he merely props a knee on the leather of the couch and spreads your legs how he wants them. He doesn’t lift them, only parts them as far as they can go. You go to grab his length again because you feel a certain magnetic pulling to it, but he catches your hand in time.

“Behave.” He presses your hand firmly to emphasize his scolding before he lets go. Such a stark contrast to the playtime of before. You remember how he wanted you to do the complete opposite. To misbehave. Your body heats up even more, the fire compulsing your hips to sway, asking for attention.

Another set of words tumble out of you unwittingly and you place your hands under your thighs. “I’m sorry.”

The surprise that floods Jungkook’s features is overwhelming to you and in response, you grin, coyly. He strokes the adorable fat of your cheek. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

You purse your lips and before the fire of that praise can lick your whole body, Yoongi speaks up, too. “Good job, honey. You learned your lesson so well.”

Shock comes first, then fire—vibrant blue fire that scorches you whole. You blush, deeply, squeezing the leather of the couch—the praise and the validation from both males so profuse, so profound that you can’t take it. You hide your widening grin beneath your palms. “Stop,” you drawl, the sound muffled and soft, even though you don’t want them to do anything of the sort.

Jungkook coos, pulls your wrist away, uncovering your rosy, glowy face. Then, he pets your head, fingers sinking into your hair. He forces you to look at him, to see the smile of endearment that bathes his face in light, but he does it so gently that you purr, his hold so stimulating, so titillating—his countenance so lovely, so darkly angelic. Eyes crinkled but still round, still so tender. “Who taught you to have such good manners, huh?”

You swipe your tongue along the top arc of your lip, his gaze flicks to it and and the answer thrums in your belly warmly like a sip of a good wine. It doesn’t unnerve you, doesn’t make you afraid. In fact, it’s so tranquil and so right that you relish every syllable. “Both of you did.”

The rays from the light side penetrate the dark one and healing takes place. Healing that you never thought you’d ever be a witness to. You know that the act of forgetting was supposed to fully sink in all three of you, but your words diverged its path. You swallow warmth and you swallow relief, watch as Yoongi gets up from his seat and mirrors Jungkook’s position, one knee on the leather, hand under your jaw. A soft set of tears rush in at the attention and the realization of what’s actually happening, and when the healer sees them, he lets go of your hair and brushes his thumb across your brow, hand spread across the side of your face. You lean into his palm, so terribly emotional, and when Yoongi plants a delicate kiss on your cheek, your chin begins to quiver. He felt it, too. Felt the gravity of those words that now dulcify his intention to make things right this time. And he kisses you again, prolongs the peck, as if to thank you for your goodness.

When Yoongi lifts his head and bores his mellow gaze into you, it is the same relief that you’ve swallowed that you see saturating his face in effulgence. At last, it has come for him, has come to live in him. At last, it’s here.

You’ve done it, all three of you. Healed from the pain.

Jungkook knits his brows at the sight of the first tear plopping down onto your skin as if it physically pained him to see you cry. And before you can register the movement, he swipes the liquid emotion away and kisses the residue of it, as if it were fate itself that wrote it was meant to pour down on the right side of your face—for Jungkook to collect, for it to seep into his fingerprint.

So much love. The air is thick with it. Your lungs tremble as you take a deep breath. The wind billows in and out, but doesn’t carry it off—intertwines its translucent body with it instead, bringing in a fresh gust of briskness into the atmosphere. No more tears stream down your cheeks; you smile at both of the males—the healer and the boss.

Yoongi remains standing beside you. Takes your hand in his. Says a myriad of silent words of great importance that you cannot decipher as he exchanges a look with Jungkook, who merely nods at them in plain understanding. You don’t have to wonder long what was behind it. Jungkook turns your jawline to him and kisses you softly. Doesn’t let go. Prolongs the kiss until he whimpers onto your mouth, softened, too, by the healing that occurred. No tongue, just the warmed silver of his lip ring, the smooth tenderness of his mouth and the most affectionate emotion exuded into the kiss.

The pop of the withdrawal is all you hear. You keep your eyes closed. Feel him take that kiss onto your neck, your collarbone, to your sternum. Feel the tightening of your boyfriend’s grip around your hand as Jungkook drags his lips down your tummy, where the healing vibrates and he says hello to it with his tongue, makes it feel safe. Feel the tightening compulsion to watch him as he does it and you obey your body.

Jungkook is kneeling before you. Brows furrowed, expression so terribly serious as he understands how significant this part of you is. Sinks his whimpers into your skin while he sucks it and it’s only when you run your fingers through his silky hair that he looks up at you. And the sight of his wet eyes breaks you.

He’s as emotional as you.

Your throat constricts. If it weren’t for him, none of this lively beauty would take place—and if it weren’t for Yoongi, too. It is their work of art and you’re the one doused in colors of most resplendence. And you tell them, your body urges you to, while you squeeze Yoongi’s hand and caress Jungkook’s hair. “I’m so grateful for you both.”

The healer whimpers again, letting go of your skin, leaving behind a purple memory of this heartfelt loveliness. His tears don’t escape the confinement of his waterline—he blinks them away. Blinks them even more rapidly when Yoongi places a hand on Jungkook’s bare shoulder and he gapes at him in disbelief—in disbelief that his closest friend is touching him with such gentleness after everything. You don’t allow yourself to think of the past, of the last violent touch that you saw, but you can’t help the emotion rushing in your eyes. You let go of Yoongi’s hand to clasp the one on Jungkook’s shoulder, deepening the love.

And you press a loud, exaggerated kiss on Jungkook’s forehead to make him laugh—like he did that one time by talking about his worm. To distract him, if there are perhaps any overbearing thoughts in his mind.

Now his disbelief is directed towards you. Mouth parted, wrinkles between his brows. You burst into laughter and it triggers his. Yoongi’s, too. It’s your breasts that bounce now and none of the pairs of eyes flick to it, fixed still on the glamorous gracefulness that blossoms out from your face. Jungkook shakes his head, cheeks awash with redness, irises glinting with a spark you’ve never seen before, and you consider your job done. He tells you to lay back down, but his grin lingers.

Yoongi takes your hand back in his and you perceive that he needs it, that he needs to hold you. You smile at him, fluttering your lashes, blowing him an air kiss, and he nudges his nose against yours to remind you to enjoy this. You begin to prepare yourself, taking a deep breath—

It hitches in your throat harshly. Jungkook kitten licks your clit with deep pressure, just once, lifting his head to watch your reaction. The reverberation of the pleasure causes you to moan and he smirks at you—what’s worse, he winks at you, so terribly smug that he coaxed such sound like that by one lick and it makes you tremble, needing more. He can see it, but he tortures you, keeping his hands on your thighs.

And when Yoongi reaches behind himself and sinks your headband with yellow kitty ears into Jungkook’s hair, you’re done for. You must’ve left it there when you were doing your makeup. Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge it, however. Too drunk by his first proper taste of you to do so, glossy eyes transfixed by that flesh of yours.

It suits him so well that you coo at him, grasping his neck to pull him back to your cunt, but he doesn’t let you. Your heart begins to thump with hard beats and you grow desperate, whining, looking at Yoongi to make him do something.

He merely smiles at you. “Be patient.”

At his words, Jungkook lifts your legs and begins to focus on the back of your thigh, marking it, groaning against your skin, inhaling your mango scent. He roams his tongue all over and you whine louder, finding it so unfair that you have to wait for it, that he reinforces your neediness by those hard kisses and sucks, by his sounds, breaths and control. You grind your hips, the ache between your legs made unbearable by your helplessness and Yoongi stops you by placing his hand on your lower belly.

“Did I not tell you to be patient? Be good,” Yoongi scolds, lowly, rubbing the place in slow circles. Your whine is bratty, but you nod your head, pouting, halting all your movements, becoming still like the wind that has come to stay and observe the unfolding of your daydream.

At your submission, Yoongi creeps a finger to your wet clit, testing you. Doesn’t do anything beyond that and once he sees you’re well-behaved, he plunges the same finger into your mouth, giving you a taste of Jungkook’s saliva. You mewl, sucking it. The healer watches the act in deep thought, your skin in his mouth, and you’re certain an idea flashes in his mind.

Jungkook straightens to his full height, proving you right and the feeling is utterly gratifying. Reaches behind him and grabs the tall glass filled with water that you never noticed he put on the coffee table. Yoongi withdraws his digit and inspects his friend’s doing with curiosity. Jungkook takes a small sip of it without taking his gaze off of you, tips it to your mouth right after and you realize he did it more so it wouldn’t overflow, as you take a well-needed sip of your own, rather than to refresh himself. That is until he does something that completely shocks you, ripping away your delightful proudness of being proven right.

It is something between a yelp and a moan when the coldness of the water drops onto the skin of your chest, scattering it with tiny, pellucid pearls that almost pool by your violent heart. The demo before the full game; your breathing gains as much speed as the throbbing in your clit. Jungkook inclines the glass again, holds it as a longer, thicker trail trickles down your body—from the middle of your breasts, across your tummy until it reaches your cunt. And the contact of the liquid with the hotness of your swollen seashell? You groan, rolling your body. So much that you slap your hands down on the leather, gripping it with all your might, needing something stable to hold onto, to release your pent-up desperation.

Amused, Jungkook sets the glass down and kneels back down. Licks a long, torturous stripe from your clit up to those pearls, following the path he mapped out while zeroing his stare into yours. You part your mouth, your madness closing around you again, puffing out short breaths and subdued, desperate moans and when Jungkook closes his lips over your neck and begins to suck, you turn your head towards Yoongi and roll your eyes back. Struggle to keep them open as you feel that muscle of his tracing patterns on the sensitive skin and Yoongi knows. He knows how good it is for you and he kisses you like he means it, mimicking what his friend is doing around your tongue.

Your sounds grow in volume. Your desperation, too, in intensity.

“Please.”

Jungkook emerges from your neck but wraps a hand around it, nonetheless. Is as close to you as your breath, his nose bumping into yours. He squeezes your column firmly before he curtly turns your jawline away from Yoongi. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat under his forearm, if he can feel how desperate she is for him, too—in a way you don’t understand. “Please what?”

He opens your mouth wider and spits.

Shock comes first like a thunderbolt, spreading across your veins, paralyzing your body. Then it blurs into a tumultuous arousal that seizes you whole, that makes you beg for more. No one has ever spat in your mouth, not even Yoongi. You’ve never liked it in porn, but experiencing it first-hand gives it another meaning. The dominance, the absolute film of lustfulness caking his face, the estimable seriousness that wafts off of him. He’s turned you into a boneless putty, his putty, and you want him to do it again.

“Spit in my mouth again, please—please.”

Jungkook grunts. Shadows surround your vision as you narrow your eyes in sheer pleasure at his sound, biting your lip to cage in your worsening desire for him—but he saves your lip, pulls it away from your teeth and opens your mouth wide. You ogle him as he sloshes his saliva in his mouth above you before he taps your tongue, signalizing you to stick it out for him. Once you listen, he spits hard onto the muscle that waited for it. You moan, satisfied, swallowing it right away and showing him.

He pokes his own tongue in his inner cheek, fire blazing in his as equally narrowed eyes, the act of spitting in your mouth making him beyond fucked out. You can sense it deep in your core and your obsession with it grows.

“You’re filthy, but so good. It’s making me lose my fucking mind,” he says, hazily, fingers squeezing your throat for a heartbeat. The momentary lack of oxygen gives you a perfect demonstration of his words and the moans you let out are so breathy, so choked out that he takes your madness and makes it his own—loosening his grip and kissing you nastily, licking into your mouth, both hands traveling south to your breasts and kneading them harshly, pressing your nipples between his fingers.

And when you utter the words rising vehemently in your throat, he takes the demonstration to otherworldly levels. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Jungkook cocks his head at you and drags his teeth painfully across his bottom lip, swearing. His eyes darken, at last. Thrill sizzles beneath your skin and you feel an upsurge of adrenaline, the aftertaste of the title so sweet, so delicious on your tongue. “As if you didn’t deserve it already, I’m gonna take you to heaven for that.”

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, anticipation joining the adrenaline. “You like me calling you that?”

He hums his agreement and you don’t feel Yoongi, you don’t even feel his hand; your vision, surroundings, persona blurring so rapidly. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. All you have to do is come for him as many times as you can. Thank him that way. Is that clear?”

You shiver at the use of third person. Never thought you’d find it as alluring as you do. Brush your thumb across his brow like he does it to you. He coos, kissing your hand, sinking his body lower. Touched by the gesture. “Yes, Daddy. That won’t be too difficult for me to do.”

Jungkook gives you a smile that envelops you in an aura, where it’s just you and him. You don’t have the brain cells, nor the will, the desire to stop it. “That’s a good girl. On her best behavior for us.”

It wakes you up and the feeling of Yoongi’s grip on your hand returns, the circle of the aura withering. Disappointment descends in your gut, one that is soon forgotten when Jungkook sucks your clit into his mouth.

The squeak you let out would be embarrassing if you weren’t so out of your mind, but the confidence it came out with, the seductiveness and beauty—Jungkook shows you how much he liked the sound by humming against your sensitivity, the appreciation smothering every fiber and nerve ending of your body, hoisting you up towards the canopy of clouds. He swirls his tongue around the flesh, sucking deeper before he opens his mouth wider and licks you all over, closing his eyes and moaning, reveling in the feeling of you, the scent of you and the warmth of you. He toys with your lips, chuckling in delight when he acknowledges himself with them, burying his mouth completely in them, kissing them, caressing them with the puffiness of his pillows.

He’s pussydrunk—and the sight of it intoxicates you just the same.

And then he pauses. Kisses your clit. The peck so ardently earnest that he sucks it in the process. Does it again and again until he tinges your femininity in the faintest, daintiest, most dreamiest tone of red, prettier than any flowers you’ve ever seen—so akin to the wash of color scattering along his cheekbones. Then, he rubs his face in you, vigorously, moaning against you so intensely that your sounds become one.

Raising his head, features drenched in your dew—just like you wanted it—his chain taps your cunt in long staccatos. The pleasure is so dizzying, along with his looks, that you feebly jump at every contact. It reminds you, vividly, of the spanks you like so much. “Pussy so fucking wet and pretty for me. I’m gonna destroy you.”

It’s only at this time that you hear Yoongi smug but quietly laugh. He draws close to your ear and his hardened breath steals your attention from his friend’s praise. “He makes me wanna taste you, too, and make you come repeatedly on my tongue. Fuck, honey. I want that so bad.”

You mewl, about to burst at the seams, unable to take the double relish given to you from both men. Yoongi latches his mouth onto your neck, causing your eyes to roll back, and it sparks up some kind of competition in Jungkook, for when he dives back in—you scream.

The flicks of his tongue are so brutal that your lungs heave. You take many breaths but you can’t catch them, the heat from Yoongi’s kisses and the rapidness of Jungkook’s movement numbing your body to the point that you’re rendered powerless.

Jungkook alternates between fast flicks and long swipes from your entrance to your bundle of nerves, parting your lips so he can have easy access. And being spread like that, attended to by two males that you have strong attachment to, the kitty ears bobbing up and down as Jungkook devours you—your orgasm chases you down, the knot in your lower belly pulled so taut that it takes a mere heartbeat for it to snap completely.

And when you come, Jungkook laps you up, grunting in insatiable need for more. Your body violently shudders, but he keeps going, widening his swirls of tongue around your clit before he rubs it with the tip of his nose and—

He begins to fuck you with his tongue.

You don’t feel anything. Not your heartbeat, not your struggling lungs—just the hard jabs of his tongue inside your hole, pushing you closer and closer to paradise. Not heaven, you’ve been there, but to something beyond. A paradise of the warmest color and sunlight, swaying trees and a pool of the most refreshing water.

And Yoongi’s noise of joy is the bird that flies past in that place, dipping to its reflection. “Daddy’s so good he’s giving it to you better than I ever did.”

It’s those words that make you come again.

He laughs, fondles your nipples, holds you steady as Jungkook prolongs your orgasm by strenuously sucking your clit and you sob hard, tingling all over, senses gone, everything gone. You feel so lightweight, so airy, dopamine and oxytocin making your head all fucked up. Happy, satisfied.

Jungkook withdraws, kissing your clit one last time, licking it slowly. “You came so hard for Daddy, well done,” he praises, mouth wet, face as colorful as the meadow of flowers in you, gleaming iridescently. “But I’m not done with you.”

You moan, wanting more, badly. Take him by the neck with both hands and draw him closer to you, the chain stimulating your breasts. You kiss him hungrily and the taste of your dew causes you to let out such obscene sound that Jungkook and Yoongi growl simultaneously. Dulciness, with a hint of piquancy that makes you even hornier—the slipperiness of his mouth making it worse. “I want to ride your face. Please, please, let me.”

Jungkook smiles at you, pecking your lips, faintly. Cocks his brow at Yoongi. “You’re gonna give the princess what she wants?”

Your eyes follow the sharp line of his jaw and you bite your lip. Don’t think twice about taking that skin into your mouth, licking it over, watching as Jungkook closes his eyes at the contact. Musk, the forest, wood—you carry your still lingering hunger and unravel it upon the spot beneath that strong jaw, devouring that scent of his, aware of how his breath lodges in his throat. You mimic what he did to your clit there, enjoying every second of it, enjoying his reaction as he hums and thumbs your clit, waiting for Yoongi’s approval.

And you quicken it by begging for it, squeaking little sounds, beckoned by that slow motion of his digit. “Please, Yoongi. I want it so bad.”

Badly enough that you force your head away and look at him. As much as you thought there would be puzzlement to his face, what you detect is far more sinister. His smirking mouth tells you that he is simply pleased with the way you’re begging, with the way he gets to torture you. And not just you, but Jungkook as well. Ego high—his control at full play. You don’t blame him, not at all. It must be delicious to him in the middle of all this healing.

“Ride him well, make me proud.”

The joy springs in you so fast, but you don’t have the time to take in it. Yoongi gets up from the couch and you apprehend that you were very, very wrong.

You haven’t healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you when Yoongi leaves.

Your panic is so enormous that you rise, your movement so rigid that Jungkook stumbles, his arm quick to wrap around your chest, pulling you back onto the leather beside him. And you don’t see the twist of his brows, the deep clefts of his dimples while he scowles. No, you watch your boyfriend’s back as he makes his way to the dining table, your heart expanding in your throat.

“Tell her at least where the fuck you’re going,” Jungkook grumbles, ever the healer who senses your emotions and the fact he stood up for you like this makes you mouth merely round, your otherwise triggered trauma unsettling the rest of your feelings.

Yoongi returns a moment later with the butt plug and lube in his hand and with a solemnly guilty face. Kisses the top of your head in apology, but it’s not enough. Not when you can’t hear your heartbeat. Not when you can’t swallow. Not when your mind is so numbed by the recurring panic that you cannot even hear your mind.

“Don’t do that to me,” you whisper, but the words are firm, piercingly sharp, important and gravely, so much that Jungkook, with sticky hands by his sides, stills next to you.

Yoongi cups your chin, a dominant gesture, but you glare at him—masculine strength being the last thing you need right now. You may have foolishly thought your healing was complete and as much as it knifes you to be proven wrong, it’s the fact you expected more from him that hurts the most, especially after he promised you he’d be here. But maybe it’s foolish altogether, to be in hidden demand of him to tell you of his whereabouts, notably when you never voiced it out for him, not once during the therapy sessions, not once during the course of this perverted adventure—the matter of the gravity of your abandonment issues.

You point your anger at yourself and fall to a dark, dark abyss.

And you pushed yourself there on your own because you were incapable of reminding yourself of Yoongi’s reassurance, mind too blurred, too fucked out to remember.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m still here. I never left you.”

You nod because he’s right. “I know now. I didn’t remind myself. It’s my fault.” It’s as much of a surprise to your ears as it is to Yoongi’s. He widens his eyes at your honesty before tenderness swims past. “I’m really sensitive right now.”

Jungkook rubs circles on your back with his thumb and you welcome his touch, his warm energy.

Yoongi caresses your face. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. What we’re doing here is pretty overwhelming. But I’m here. I got you.” His words hold the same firmness that yours did and it’s difficult for you to grasp how they’re mending you, how they’re swooping that darkness in their arms and flinging it away from your reach. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing. Let me make it better for you, hm? You want me to make you feel better?”

Emptiness plummets down your body, in place of the darkness and the anger, and the moonbeams in his eyes engulf it, filling it with its pale light. All you can do is nod, too weak to express any other form of affirmation.

Yoongi kisses the place on your cheek beside your ear, slipping inside his words. “Good girl. The best. I’ll make you feel better. I’ll make you happy again, my love.” You sob at the pet name, at the tenderness, at the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand on your arm, pulling you back so you lean against his chest, participating in your healing. The round valley of his tattooed bicep nudges you in your cheek as he cages you in and you nuzzle your face into it, hooking both of your hands on his forearm. Musk, forest and wood suffusing your senses, along with a strong dose of safety. “That’s it, lean against him like that. Daddy will help you forget, too. Spread your legs for us.”

You do as he says, needing what he’s promising you—needing it from them both. Maybe then, when it’s from such a vast source, will you get your full healing.

Yoongi squirts a good amount of lube on his fingers, smearing it on your pussy. The coldness of it enlivens you and you lean your head back against the hardness of Jungkook’s chest, pressing your lips against his bulging muscles. And when Yoongi begins to massage your clit in slow circles, the healer tightens his hold around you, hand gripping your shoulders, the other one gliding down your tummy and staying there. Nipples pebbled against his forearm, breasts full and squished, your form safe, tucked, pleasured in the whole enormity that he is—you relax, giving yourself over to the delight of your boyfriend’s fingers.

He sinks two of them inside you, stuffing you to the brim and pausing there. Jungkook sneaks his towards your bundle of nerves, resuming the circles, breaths hot against your scalp, gaining pleasure from pleasuring you, especially so when your healing is the primary goal behind it.

And when Yoongi begins to fuck you, his hand drops from your shoulder and settles over your tit, pinching your nipple between the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger. You cry out and it drives your boyfriend to pump his digits harder—to the point that you can’t see the in and out motion, the pace so fast it becomes a blur.

“Let go, honey, come on, let it go for us,” Yoongi murmurs, putting his whole body into his intention; you would move along with him, too, if Jungkook weren’t holding you so tightly. “You feel so good around my fingers. So tight, so wet. Such a good girl, getting what you deserve.”

Jungkook quickens his circles, gruff groans muffled against your scalp. “You can do it, sweetheart. I know it feels good when we touch you like this.”

Your body drips in sweat and only when Yoongi agrees, pistons his fingers faster into you do you fully let go. Your anger, your trauma, your darkness leaves you in the form of your dew and Yoongi collects it in his hand. Doesn’t stop fucking you, in fact encourages another one and you spill until your wetness overflows from his hand. Eyes rolling back, hips lifting, legs spreading even further apart. Both men praise you, but you can’t hear them—your senses silent.

They come back to you when Yoongi licks his digits clean, swallowing your pain. Doesn’t waste time and turns you around, your sore, sensitive body colliding into Jungkook’s. And like him, he dives into your pussy, licking you clean, not having enough of your darkened taste.

You’re so out of it that you can only focus on the brush of Jungkook’s hand down your hair and the overstimulation that seizes you, that you can’t do anything about other than take it. “Coming so well, so many times for us. You feel better?”

You can’t answer his question, not when Yoongi begins to trace your tiny, virgin hole with his tongue, giving you a new kind of pleasure that you’ve never felt before. Your eyes whisk to the back of your head and Jungkook cradles it, understanding whooshing past his eyes—understanding that you can’t speak, not when you’re experiencing something so extensive. He smiles down at you, squishing your cheeks. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck, you look so pretty.”

Your choked out moans are enough of an affirmation for him. He coos. Then, a squirt of lube. A finger slowly going in. A gasp, a warm breath that Jungkook inhales, feeling it with you. The uncertainty in your eyes that he instantly smooths out. “You can take it. You’re such a good girl, why wouldn’t you be able to take it? Just relax. I got you.” He kisses your nose and you want to weep in joy, so overcome with it all.

Per his reassurance, your round muscle relaxes and sucks him in. And when he begins to fuck you, you can’t contain your sounds. So lewd, so dirty, and Jungkook emboldens you by scrunching up his features, groaning with you, taking breaths with you. You give in, entirely, feel another orgasm coming, but Yoongi rips it away. Wants you to come around the thicker toy.

The coldness of it makes you tremble, although the hunger both of the males awakened in you for it drives you to move your hips back, helping Yoongi insert it in. It takes a few tries, a few ins and outs before you welcome in it, before the fullness enthralls you so much that you become even needier, even more confident and seductive.

Yoongi presents you to his friend, but each movement you make causes you to be more desperate than you’ve been the entire sultry night. Everything is heightened—every touch, every enjoyment of praise, every sliver of attention and all you want is to be fucked. Brutally, ravagedly fucked.

To absorb the sight of you as you’re positioned on your hands and knees, Jungkook begins to make love on the skin of your behind with his tongue. You feel every word of apology compressed into it. For every bruise, for every red splodge, for every acute pain caused, no matter how much you enjoyed it in the moment. It’s just between you and him, shielded by the premise of desire stirred by your adorned tiny hole. And you keep it that way, whimpering for him sweetly, validating it for him. Tucking it safely into every chamber of your heart.

Then, he strokes the flesh, replacing the bad memories with good ones—replacing the past with the present time. Lies down between your legs and pushes your hips down onto your face.

And you ride him. His tongue, his nose. Fondle the kitty ears askew on his head. Let his moans envelop around those chambers of your heart, protecting them. Let his eyes seal your scorching, enchanting femininity with all its spirited confidence. And once he pacifies the grinding movement of your hips and takes control, palming your breasts, lips sucking your clit, tongue toying with it, you come in seconds that are not pathetic in nature, but outright exhilarating.

You lean back against Yoongi, out of breath. He wraps his hand around your throat. “What do you want now, honey? You want to get fucked?”

You hum, the idea clutching your body in tight excitement. “Yes. Badly. Please.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to tug at his length and the needy movement reverberates throughout your entire body. You coo at him, enjoying the view and you get on your knees in front of the couch to watch him, inhaling his sounds like he did yours.

“You want us to take turns? He stops, as if he was seconds away from coming, and you wrap your lips around him, letting him know how much you like the idea—at which he trembles, pulling you away. You grin at him in pure joy. “Like the sound of that?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Both holes.”

Jungkook hisses, round, dark eyes rolling back for a split moment, losing himself—thumb swiping across your mouth once he comes back. “Daddy’s so fucking needy for you. Come here.”

He manhandles you. Like a child he carries you to the dining space and bends you over the table. You turn your head to see where Yoongi is and he slowly swaggers towards you and Jungkook, popping his button open and pulling out his length. Tip red and painfully swollen, length long and hard—longer than you’ve ever seen it—balls tight. And when Jungkook begins to fuck you sluggishly with the butt plug, you grip the wood of the table with all your strength, fingertips white, and watch as it drives Yoongi to fuck his fist.

The same fist he cups under your chin when he reaches you. “Spit.”

And you do—at the same time that Jungkook forces out the silver toy, tongue immediately coming to whirl around the stretched muscle. Like before, as Jungkook fucks you there, Yoongi fucks his fist. The sounds that spill out of all three mouths are simultaneous, creating a harmony fitting just right for the paradise you find yourself in. It’s such a vigor that he eats your ass with—he does it much differently than Yoongi. Hungry and feral, he again buries his face in your ass, squeezing the flesh, before he drills the muscle with fast, strong jabs. You can’t see anything, the pleasure so intense, so darkly intense and heavily pressured that your vision remains perpetually in the back of your head. Your orgasm closes down upon you swiftly, at once, when he rubs your clit with all four fingers, not expecting it at all as no flashes danced across that night-doused canopy of nothingness before your eyes, no body heat nor pressure rose. Jungkook secures your release by slipping the butt plug back in, smacking his mouth in delight. You slump against the table, boneless.

Jungkook takes your arms and pins them behind your back, angling the hot tip of his cock at your entrance. “You ready for this?”

Your yes is but a tweet.

Jungkook hums, breaths hard. “You want this cock?”

This time, your yes is a louder screech, vibrating through the whole apartment.

“Hm, I’m gonna stretch you out for him. Make your hole nice and big for all the cum we’ll dump you with. You’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are, aren’t you?”

Both of your holes, your muscles, your organs clench at his words and you can’t halt the litany of vulgar words and agreement from pouring out. His grip around your intertwined forearms is deathly and when he fills you to the brim, tip kissing your cervix, walls stretching around his thick girth little by little and gives you a singular, hard stroke that shakes the table, you scream so loud that the sound echoes around the room, carrying it out into the feverish night.

Your words are jumbled, a perfect mess, and it takes more than a few tries for you to get them out coherently. “You’re—you’re giving me all of it?” you ask, because if there’s more inches for you to take, you’ll die.

Jungkook chuckles, darkly, lips at your ear, his body heat enveloping yours like a chunky blanket. Sneaks a hand to your hip bone. Sinks a little deeper until his pelvis touches yours, his heat spreading into all of your pores. You gasp. “I’m giving you every.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Inch.” Thrust. “And it’s all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re breathless, weak, and it’s a slow crescendo, the way he begins to roll his hips, the way he straightens and the fresh wind goes for the imprint of sweat of your and his origin on your back, cooling it, though he rips the briskness away almost instantaneously, repeating his hard stroke, the table banging against the wall. Doesn’t give you the time to prepare.

“Can you take it?” he asks, along with that dark chuckle again. Your hands begins to tingle due to the way he’s gripping your wrists, your blood at a standstill. “Can you take us both, huh?”

Brutal thrust. Just what you wanted. He takes you by the throat and presses you against his chest, kissing you with such vulgarity that you moan into his mouth, the fullness you feel only heightening it. He grinds in response, hands descending to your breasts, kneading them, pinching both of your nipples between his knuckles and thumbs. “Pretty fucking girl.”

You whine.

He withdraws, then. Motions over to Yoongi. The loss disappoints you.

A man of his word, Jungkook stretched you enough for Yoongi to easily slip inside you to the hilt. You expect him to give you a few strokes before giving you over to his friend, and you prop your hands on the table to ready yourself for it, for Yoongi’s hunger as he’s the only one who hasn’t felt any pleasure over the course of the adventure.

But Yoongi only grips himself and pulls out.

A thicker length. To the brim. A slender one. And they repeat it until all you can hear is the madness of their aroused laughter, their grunts and their pants. Hands all over you. The feeling is so overwhelming that everything becomes a blur. You don’t know whose hand is touching you, whose mouth is kissing you, whose cock is drilling you, senses ascending to a place beyond the paradise—

And then you feel both of their tips toying with your abused hole, acting, feignedly—drawing in and out, never fully penetrating.

A short-lived moment that causes you to forget who you are.

“Oh, god,” you drawl, slumping against the wood, helpless. They continue to take turns in fucking you fluidly, the symphony of your slick so loud, so filthy to your ears. You’re numb to the point that you don’t peep a sound, disoriented and so adrift in the place beyond paradise that they took you to.

Jungkook takes control once he hears your call for help. Begins to piston his length inside you rapidly until stars take shape across your vision, wrapping a forearm around your neck similarly to the way he did in the middle of your healing, digging crescent moons into your shoulder. Stops your head from knocking back and forth furiously. You feel his sweat drip down his pelvis—and with each hard thrust, its pearls jump over to your skin, trickling down your trembling legs. The pressure in your core is but a heartbeat away from bursting. You sense it—and you sense it vehemently.

“Are you gonna come around my cock or around his, hm? Whose is it gonna be, sweetheart?”

Your body answers him for you, your walls tightening around him so resolutely that Jungkook stills, whimpering onto your neck. You come so hard that there is absolutely nothing else that you hear but that whiny sound—and all you can see is the stars gaining vibrant colors to their pointed shapes, various, various colors that blind you. Colors that, like you, get dumped with hot, ivory, thick cum.

Your orgasm triggered his.

You mewl like a little kitty cat, so pleased that he came in you, so pleased that you felt it, that you felt the twitching of his cock. Pleased that when you gape at him, you can see how spent he is, content and illuminated like those stars.

You want to lick him up. You want to taste that glow on your tongue.

His cum drips out of you when you turn around. Jungkook collects it with two of his fingers and pumps it back inside you. The look you give him is almost predatory, so awfully fierce that he grows faintly timid, post-nut clarity cocooning him in a soft aura, bringing his puppy nature back to him.

You sit back down on the table and spread your legs for your boyfriend, but your gaze remains fixed on him. Blindly, you reach for Yoongi’s hand, drawing him closer, and he happily obliges your silent command. Lines himself up at your entrance and pumps Jungkook’s cum deeper into you.

You let the puppy see the exhilaration springing up your body, tugging the corners of your mouth to each side. The glint in your eyes. The pure joy that you feel. Then, the falling of that expression as it blends into a depiction of your pleasure—furrowed brows, pout, narrowed lids. You don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even for a second.

In fact, you curl your fingers in beckoning. And when he comes to you, you lick a stripe of the sweat coating his defined abdomen, tongue rolling around the valley of his hard muscle. Kiss the skin before you suck it into your mouth, moaning when Yoongi goes all in—fucking you with all of his energy. The taste of his glow only betters the experience, but you don’t think you can come again. You enjoy it, nonetheless.

And when you turn your attention to your boyfriend, deeming he deserves it—Jungkook steals it in typical fashion. “Feels good?” Light, much bigger than yours, covering his eyes. You nod, humming, girlishly so—the sound pitched. “You’re gonna come again? For him?”

You consider it an impossible task, but for him you’ll do anything. “I’ll try.”

Jungkook makes a sound of approval, leans in and kisses you gently. Yoongi turns your chin to him and as soon as your lips touch his, you feel his cock twitch. Unlike Jungkook, he fucks you through his orgasm, groaning loudly into your mouth and you reach to the place, where you’re connected and squeeze his balls, wanting his cum, needing it.

And when Yoongi emerges from his bliss, he smiles at you, breathing out a soft laugh. Features relaxed, drowsy. You give him a smile, too, the same tiredness engulfing you.

Slinking out of you, you discover he came so vastly that his male essence trickles out of you. You graze a finger across your slit and you gather so much of it that as you take your hand towards your mouth, it plops onto your stomach. You giggle, high on the hormones released through your body, high on the happy males watching you, high on life—high on rightness. The joy doesn’t even let you wrap your lips around your finger, adamant on showing them how well they gratified you by keeping them stretched in a dopey grin.

They’re so endeared by you that the same expression graces their faces. Exchanging a single glance, they start at once—picking you up like a child. Yoongi by your legs, Jungkook by your pits and it’s him, the healer, who leads the way to the bathroom, walking backwards hurriedly.

Though promptly, when putting you down, your legs are so sore, so weakened that if it weren’t for their arms, you’d fall onto the tiles. Giggles and obscenities are swallowed by the crooning sound of the streaming hot water in the shower and you sigh so deeply once it touches your skin. It alleviates the ache of your muscles, alleviates the throbbing memory of the last time you were under that burning cascade—especially when Yoongi twists your body, making you face Jungkook; especially when he says the words that quicken your heartbeat.

“Wash her clean.”

Making things right. Erasing that afternoon that ended in blood and bruises.

The wet, puppy eyes you give to Jungkook are enough for him to do as Yoongi says, mirroring your mien, greatly affected by the permission, by the act of something so forbidden untangling its inextricable knot. It happened so suddenly that he doesn’t truly believe he’s allowed to do it, hands shaking by his sides, clenched into fists. It is only when Yoongi begins to shampoo your hair that he’s spurred to do something.

And you help him. With a thudding heart and tight emotion lodged in your throat, you hand him your favorite almond-scented body wash. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you when he spreads the aroma on your sternum. Doesn’t blink once, doesn’t let his eyes wander south to your body—as if it was sacred, as if it was not meant to be looked at with lust in this intimate scenario.

And you don’t feel fire when the heat of his hands glides down your neck, your shoulders and your arms. You feel something else entirely, something you can’t really pinpoint. Something holy, something so immensely heavenly. Maybe it’s brought about by the fact that he doesn’t touch your intimate parts—not your breasts, not your vulva. The only time he comes near to it is when he leads you into his chest and carefully, while peeking down, tries to pull out the forgotten toy. You sense Yoongi’s hands on your backside, watching over, and the feeling of being rid of it is so uncomfortable that you cringe against his pec, squeezing him hard, hugging him with everything in you. Jungkook makes gentle sounds for you, encouraging you and it relaxes your body enough that it lets go of the toy.

Grabbing your shoulders, he studies your emotions. Sees only your same old tiredness and he pecks you, descending onto the tiled floor to cleanse you of your stickiness. Isn’t grossed out by the male essence that isn’t his. Kisses your trembling muscles on the apex of your thigh. Cradles your foot, massages it. The other one, too.

And when Yoongi rinses out your shampoo and the bubbles of your almond body wash, Jungkook tells him, gravely, “Wash her where she needs it.”

You’re so touched by the fact he doesn’t dare to lay a hand there in a non-sexual environment that it doesn’t leave any space for shock to come through. Your finger itches to hook around his, but you take one step further—you slide your hand into his. And like a child, you let yourself be washed in between your legs as Jungkook, like a father, watches over it.

Once you’re clean, the males take their turns. You observe the bubbles, the white foam, their veined hands gliding along their glistening bodies and, alternating, you touch them, helping them in a way. Touch the love bruise upon Jungkook’s abdomen; touch the indistinct happy trail on Yoongi’s. Rinse them off.

Needing to be held, you guide Jungkook’s hands to your waist and fold your arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, but both males think differently. Squishing you in the middle of them, they hug each other, each head buried in each crook of your neck. You feel their hearts beat as one and it nearly lulls you to sleep, its healing beauty soothing you to the point that your lids become heavier. And the three of you stand there, in a cozy, homely embrace, until coldness wraps around you, too.

They let you do your thing on your own.

Once you come out of the shower, Yoongi kisses you and asks you if he should bring you any clothes. You merely shake your head and he leaves it at that, following Jungkook out of the bathroom.

You lather your body in your mango butter in your aloneness. Blowdry your hair. Do your skincare. Note that there aren’t any thoughts in your brain, just deep, content silence swimming around with happy hormones. You’re so grateful for it that you could weep.

To bed, you wear your newest purchase. A pink lacy camisole with matching bodycon shorts. You slide your feet into your fluffy slippers and as you make your way into the living room, you hope with all your heart that Jungkook hasn’t left. You haven’t exchanged many words after the sex and because of that, you knife yourself with the expectation to find only Yoongi lounging around in the sitting area.

Midwalk, you bind it all into a loose braid. Don’t use a tie to seal it. Merely flip your hair back—with the futile wish it would untangle.

And it does when you find the males smoking on the balcony with the door wide open. Jungkook, fully dressed in the outfit he came in. Yoongi, wearing his pants. You let out a quiet breath of relief, stooping to the ground to pick up your robe and the cheese ball, a dreadful twinge in your lower body alarming you. And then, you notice that someone folded your little sheer outfit neatly on the chair.

“I wasn’t able to touch her after you,” you hear Yoongi say, the wholeness of the starry night plating his low pitch. You still your breathing, the perplexity from his words forcing you to whisk your head in his direction. “All I saw was my shortcomings… and—and I didn’t know how to please her anymore because you showed her new things. I felt less than. Unable to be the right person for her sexually.”

Your heart shrinks so much it pains you. Yoongi never told you these things during the therapy sessions. He mainly spoke about the sexual moments at the cabin, but never about the ones after, never about what truly bothered him on his healing journey. He bottled it up. Your throat fills with bile.

“Has what we did tonight changed that?” Jungkook asks, shoulders tense. “We practically did the same things and she was more than pleased.”

Your heart grows back to its full size at the positive mention of you. You rise to your full form, flinging the cheese ball into its empty bowl before folding your robe. Your ears perk in waiting for his answer.

“I think so.” The bile sinks back down, along with the pain coated with sadness. “I also think we should do this again.”

Your mind doesn’t allow your body to exult, knowing the reason why he said it.

He wants to either finish the hidden healing or… check if it has come to an end.

The tension doesn’t ease in Jungkook’s shoulders. “Only if you work hard and focus on her. I’m not consenting to this if you only touch her with me being present.”

Silence in your heart—a skipped beat. You don’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You put away your robe and grab the dishes, washing them in the sink.

No matter how much dish soap you use, you can’t scrub away the healer’s magic off of your hands. It pelts under your skin, to and fro, over and over as you repeat his words in your mind. Gives strength to your fingers as you hold the unusually heavy plates and bowls, the tiredness a hefty burden on your shoulders, weighing you down.

Such a good man. You’re so grateful to know such an extraordinary being like him. A good friend, the best you could wish for Yoongi. A good lover, too—

“I think it’s way bigger and deeper, this relationship and how I feel about it. I can’t help it—” Jungkook’s voice no longer a far-off murmuring, he halts his words at the sight of you. Calls your name. “I thought you were asleep already.”

You turn off the tap water, ignoring the question in your body about the incomplete sentence he uttered while being under the impression you were beyond hearing distance. Think you’ve learned and come about plenty enough of things tonight. You want to go to bed. With both of them.

You don’t say your reasoning behind why you’re here. Deem it’s pointless. “Let’s go to bed.”

You reach out your hand for him, but it is only the wind that encases your palm. You drop it.

A chaos of shoulds and desires swarms in him. You can see it, vividly. “I should go home.”

You’re having your way, you don’t care. “No. Stay.”

Jungkook calls your name again. Yoongi licks his lips, smiling, fondly. Walks towards you and grabs your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The puppy stays fixed on his feet, not comprehending that you want him to sleep in Yoongi’s bed and not on the couch.

You raise your hand again for him. “Come, you’re sleeping with us.”

Jungkook has gone commando under his jeans. You eye the sliver of minimal hair on his pelvis and before you can ogle his worm, he cups himself.

Unabashedly, you click your tongue in disappointment, even though the recollection of your private decision to have his boxers as a keepsake, approved by him, suffuses your exhausted body in delight.

You get under the sheets, right in the middle, watching as Yoongi hands him his gray sweatpants to wear, holding your breath when Jungkook turns around and you gain a perfect view of his round, toned ass.

You’re certain that man will be the death of you.

Yoongi crawls into the bed, nuzzling into the crooks of your body that he knows well, cuddling to your arm. You hear him inhale the scent of your shampoo. “You smell so good.”

You stroke his forearm with your fingernails, transfixed by the way the waistband of the forbidden pants hangs low on Jungkook’s hips, by his slow, seductive walk that you don’t particularly think he’s doing on purpose. That’s just what makes him him, which worsens it all.

In similar fashion, he lays down beside you, but he doesn’t turn to his side as your boyfriend has done. No, like you, he rests on his back, hands by his body, touching you without meaning to. His warmth environs you, but you notice that a good half of his body isn’t covered by the sheets. You fix it right away, tucking him in—tucking the fabric right under his chin.

He gives you a strange look that makes you giggle. “You want me to burn?”

Oh, men and their body heat. You’ll never grow tired of it—it’ll forevermore fascinate you.

You shush him. “Sleep.” Pinch his nose, deepening his funny scowl. “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Yoongi begins to purr beside you and you know he’s halfway on his journey to dreamland. You lay back down, hip to hip with both males, hands on your tummy, your eyes languidly fluttering closed.

A hand on your thigh. You open them fleetingly, surprised at the contact, before they close on their own.

“I’ve missed his purring,” Jungkook whispers, thumb brushing across your smooth skin. Just once. “Haven’t heard it in a while. It’s better than brown noise.”

You laugh, softly, agreeing with him in your heart. Submit to the call of your own dreamland and you turn to your side, facing Yoongi, propping the back of your hand under your chin.

But then Jungkook folds into your form.

Mirrors your position. Arm around you, hand relaxed on the mattress an inch away from your tummy.

It makes you feel funny. It makes you wild, your body gaining the tiniest tendril of energy. You curse him, mentally, although you don’t mean a single word.

You feel his gentle breath fanning the nape of your neck. Along with it arrives the need for him to touch you. You purse your lips, burying your head deeper into the pillow in effort to shake that off and focus on relaxing your body—

“Hyung?”

He hums in response. You curse him, too.

“She didn’t come when you fucked her.”

Your eyes fly open. The audacity this man has—

Tense, tense nothingness. It thrums uncomfortably under your skin.

“Lemme make it right.”

Radio silence in your heart, its profound waves shaking through your entire body, tearing off its drowsiness.

“Okay, Jungkookie.”

Your gasp is so minimal, yet Jungkook feels it. He presses his palm against your stomach, pulling you closer to him. Yoongi turns to his other side, as if giving you the privacy for what Jungkook wants to do to you.

Reposing halfway on his back, halfway on his side, he maneuvers your form to mirror his position. And for the longest time, you both just lay there while Jungkook brushes his fingers along your clothed body. Back and forth, in circles, in peculiar patterns that soothe you. You thought you’d fall asleep this way, but the touches keep your body awake, promising it things in a silent language that it so evidently wants.

And it isn’t until Yoongi begins to snore that you perceive Jungkook waited until he entered his deep slumber. The breath you let out is loud, absorbed by your boyfriend’s much bigger ones, but it makes Jungkook hold your jaw steady as he draws his lips close to your ear.

“I didn’t like that he used you,” he whispers and his words fill your body with something foreign, something that drives your brows to knit, your muscles to clench, for butterflies to stir awake, although you disagree with him. Yoongi didn’t use you. You don’t really think he did. When you motioned him to take his turn, you expected to come again, but your body was so spent that it wasn’t able to do so, which is completely okay in your opinion. “If I fuck a girl and I come first before she does, I don’t stop until she creams all around me. Even if it hurts.”

You remember him pushing you away when you wanted to keep going after he orgasmed. “You don’t like to be overstimulated, though.”

He snickers again, softly and lowly. “And yet I don’t stop.” Both hands on your tummy, he glides them down, towards your hips, towards your thighs before he drags them back up. Lifts up your camisole this time around, getting a feel of your skin. Rubs circles. “I want to make you come like you deserved to. Can I?”

“I came a lot of times. I don’t know if I can.”

Jungkook caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, angling your jaw towards him. “We can try and see if you can.”

We. He kisses your cheek and you pout in his hand. Brain turned off, too numb by all the orgasms, the attention and the affection you’ve received, you take the other one and slide it beneath your shorts. Feel an onrush of freshness in your lungs when he whimpers at the contact of your lips with the pads of his fingers and you move your hips back against him, gaining another sound of similar nature that willingly tempts your madness to return to you.

He’s hard.

You grind your backside against his thick imprint, loving the feeling of it, loving the soft noises he makes as if he was trying to stifle them, but you were making it awfully difficult for him to do so.

“Don’t do that or I’ll cum in Yoongi’s pants.”

Your laugh is feral. Quiet, gentle. An oxymoron that could only belong to his name. To his art. The idea of him coming in your boyfriend’s pants drenches you and he gasps once he discovers it, teasing your entrance.

“You want me to come like this?” he asks and you hum your agreement, his fingers ascending to your clit, stroking it in slow, slow circles. His breath hardens in tandem with yours and he swears. “But I don’t and you will listen to me.”

He pulls out his hand and you whine, catching his wrist, bringing it back where it belongs. On your clothed, now swollen clit. You grind your hips with more fervor, just to work him up, just because you enjoy it and he fists the material of your shorts, stimulating you with the seam, dominating you through and through.

You merely beam at him, illuminating the room, fisting his cock. “Don’t stretch out my new shorts.”

“Don’t provoke me and we’ll reach an understanding,” he retorts, swirling his tongue around the bone of your jaw before he kisses it. Responding to it, you grind your pelvis back, angling your hips so his cock fits just right in between your cheeks. He tuts in disapproval, shifts a little bit more to his side nonetheless, pulling you flush to his body. “No, other way sweetheart. Grind your pussy against it.” You try it, placing your hand on top of his, unsure and he helps you, guiding your hips with his, grinding upwards, as if he was fucking you. You mewl at the pleasure permeating your veins and with his free hand, he clamps your mouth shut. “Yes, that’s it.” He tightens his hold on your shorts, hoisting it higher. “Feels so good like this, doesn’t it?” You nod, your noises loud, only slightly muffled by his clammy hand. He shushes you, breath hot against your ear. “You gotta be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Yoongi up, do we?” You shake your head ‘no’, squeezing your hold on his hand. Jungkook lets go of your shorts and slides beneath them again, fingers spreading your new arousal on your clit. You squeak again, terribly sensitive and turned on, bound in his arms. “I told you to be quiet. Do you know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You’re glad to hear he didn’t add “to me”, for some deranged reason and for that, you don’t peep a sound.

“They get punished,” he answers for you and you can’t stop the moan from escaping your throat, the idea of getting punished by him again making you utterly, utterly delirious.

He strains his fingers around your mouth until it hurts, but that’s not the reason why you draw it away. You do it so you can speak. “Teach me a lesson, please. I need it.”

You wish you could see his reaction, but the darkness keeps it to itself. You can only hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes—and you can feel the twitch of his cock against you that divulges to you that he’s gone mad just the same.

While silence takes place, he drags your shorts down to your thighs, the tight cotton preventing you from spreading your legs. He moves you so you lay on your back and from this position, you sense Yoongi’s body heat and the lift and fall of his chest, though he still remains facing you with his back. Jungkook lifts your camisole until your breasts are exposed. And then, he props the back of your head on his bicep, clamping your mouth back shut. He looks down at you and you can only slightly make out his features. The glint of his lip ring irradiates him. Mercifully.

You want to kiss him so bad.

“How does Yoongi punish you, hm?”

The question shocks you, coaxes out a string of your arousal to drop down your clenched thighs. Whilst he waits for your answer, he grazes his palm down your sternum, your stomach, your mound. Leaves it there.

It’s your body that responds out of its own will, not your brain. You can’t, for the life of you, think. He allows you to speak. “With his words. His cock. And… with pussy spanks.”

Jungkook hums. Puts the covers out, revealing you to himself. “Show me how he spanks you.” Your hand trembles as he lifts it. He brushes his thumb across your knuckles while he places it on your cunt, taking control of that expression of nerves. Wraps the other hand around your throat.

When your fingers collide with your clit, you hiss in sensitivity. Decide you will only show him this way. You can’t take any more. “Like this. Gently, but firmly. So it doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t like to cause me pain.”

He exchanges your hand with his and spanks you. With bigger firmness than Yoongi ever used. You arch your back, not expecting it with your dumb brain. He pinches your right nipple between his knuckle and thumb, making you moan softly, not having enough and enveloping it with his mouth, sucking briefly before he swirls his tongue around the nub. Your wetness rushes out, along with your noises that you’re just so incapable of stopping. You grip his hair on the back of his head and in response he flicks the muscle. Your hips buck, asking for attention.

Jungkook withdraws, stares you dead in the eye. “I’m punishing you for making a sound and yet you do as you please?”

You swear, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

He spanks your clit. “Sorry what?”

Remembrance flashes through your mind. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Hm, that’s right.” He rubs your clit rapidly. Spanks it again. Your moans come out in strained breaths. “That was for the curse word. Say you’re sorry.”

But then, you can’t help but mewl at his fatherliness. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He pecks you, deeply. For the title, for your good manners or perhaps to silence you—you don’t know. “How sorry?”

His fingers find your clit again, strumming it, lips moving against you in a passionate kiss. Your brain malfunctions. “So sorry,” you whisper onto his mouth, gripping his hair.

He spanks you, softly, for pleasure, then continues. “You won’t say it again?”

“No.”

A sound of approval. “Good girl.” He sinks his middle finger inside you as far as your restrain allows him, fucking you slowly. The pressure of delight begins to build in you. “One more?”

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

Ring finger joins in, instantly. “Such a good girl. I love hearing you say that.” He jackhammers into you a few times before he stills, thumbing your clit. The fullness, the stimulation on your most needy part—it’s enough to make you come and you feel it chasing you again, nearing and nearing. “I want to fuck you like this with my fingers and have that toy on your clit. The one we used the last time. Keep the setting low, so it wouldn’t wake him up.”

A curse word rises on your tongue, but with the last brain cell you have—you swallow it down. You’re tiptoeing before the edge, knot tight in your tummy, pressure so enormous, and you tell him. “I’m gonna come.”

He lifts his thumb. “Hold it.”

You panic, faintly, standing still before the edge, face to face with your orgasm, close, terribly close. “I can’t.”

Jungkook shifts. “You will.” Bends you in half while keeping his fingers inside you, mouth latching onto your soaked cunt.

Takes control of your orgasm as he begins to toy with it, building it little by little with sluggish circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Then, he wraps his lips around it, nibbling on it and resumes the movement of his fingers, fucking you steadily.

The pleasure is so new, so different that you feel as though you’re levitating in heavenly places. You grind your hips against him, meeting him, but briefly. When he sucks your clit, he stills your motions and spreads shakes across your entire body. “Come for Daddy, sweetheart.”

He flicks his tongue—and you do. You come so violently for him that you grip his hair with all your might, surprised that he isn’t wincing in pain. And he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going until all that’s left of you is nothing but the cordiality of your high and those shudders, licking you up, devouring all that you’re giving him, wet fingers spread on the back of your thighs.

Then, he sets your legs down, straddles you and kisses you nastily. Makes you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue and he enjoys the principle of it all. Enjoys giving back to you what you leaked for him. “I could have you come on my tongue all night.” He pecks you, swirls his tongue around yours. “You kept quiet through it all. Good girl. You learn so well.”

You’re speechless, satisfied, sensing something approaching you that you fail to understand. Something bigger than attachment, but smaller than feelings. Connected to his healing gift or perhaps invented from it. Something that’s smack dab in the middle, growing in you, and you submit to it, unafraid of it.

A certain desire fraternizes with it. You push at his shoulder, wanting him on his back. As if he senses what it is, he stays put. Solid as a rock. In both ways.

But you’ll have your own.

You tug the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats down his hips and grasp him in your hand, spreading his thick arousal down his length. Jungkook’s breath shakes, but his words don’t. “When did I tell you you could do that?”

You grab him with both hands, squeezing him. He hisses, muscles bulging along his arms on either side of you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Can I?”

He coos. “Only because you’re so well-mannered.” Nods at you. “Keep going. Make your Daddy feel good.” Your Daddy. The fire it sparks in you, you put its wholeness into your movement—jerking him off, twisting your wrists, using all of your strength. “Hands off.” He spits on his head, the trail long and delicious to your eyes and you’re quick, you’re desperate, to resume and make him come, ache pressing down on your pussy all over again.

The slickness, his stifled noises, the snug warmth—you understand all of a sudden how he’s able to feel your pleasure because you’re experiencing it. You are pleasured because you’re pleasuring him. But still, you want more. You press him against your clit. “Fuck my hands like this, please.”

He repositions your hands. Slides them lower on his length, so his tip can stimulate your bundle of nerves. And when he begins to thrust, you’re transfixed.

By the roll of his hips, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, the evident delight overwhelming his body. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Especially not when he lets his guttural vocality loose.

You smile. “You should be quiet.”

He laughs down at you, softly. It vibrates in your core. He kisses you, humming into your mouth. “You’re right, but it feels so good like this. Doesn’t it feel good on your pussy?”

You nod, biting his lip, angling your head and devouring his mouth, plagued by his arousal, by his pleasure, by his response to your little slyness. He fucks your hands faster, gliding across your clit, not lasting for a moment longer. He shoots out his hot cum onto your tummy, cock twitching in your hands, his noises muffled by your mouth.

And he remains there. Even as he fingers you so fast that you come in seconds. Even as he takes those drenched digits, collects his male essence and plunges them into your mouth. “‘Atta girl. So good for me.”

He cleans your folds and thighs with his tongue. Dresses you, like a child. Fixes your camisole. Puts the covers back on you and spoons you.

Yoongi remains soundly asleep. You succumb to slumber faster than you came but before you do, it’s Jungkook’s words that lead you to that dreamland. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

In the morning, you wake up first. And the sight you see is so profoundly beautiful that you take a moment to gape at it, folding it into your heart.

Jungkook drools in his sleep. Celestial countenance, tousled hair in all directions, broad chest lifting and falling in absolute tranquility. He twists his features for a split second, as if he was dreaming about something uncomfortable and you’re so affected by it that you look away.

Turn your gaze to your boyfriend instead.

Still snoring, mouth parted. Ebony hair brushed back, exposing his forehead. The corners of his lips tug up and stay and you think angels must be playing with him in his dreams. You kiss his arm, crawling back, painfully, until your feet hit the floor.

You take a long, long shower. Practice your gratitude, recollecting last night’s events and words spoken by Jungkook that weren’t as private as he thought. Hearing them, they were too fresh to be consumed, but now that you think about them—your own smile finds your lips and you agree with him in your heart. You can’t let him walk away after this. Can’t let him return to his normal life that exists without you, not when you’re something along the lines of attached to him. Hell, you can’t return to your own normal life without him. Without his touch, without his celestiality. Without his attentiveness and healing gift.

This has to be a continuous relationship.

Jungkook was the one who called it that way and it feels right. Even as you taste it on your tongue, it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever swallowed. It fills your body with verve, one that you deem is essential at this point. One that you will need every single day from now on.

You have to talk about this with Yoongi. The idea doesn’t scare you, despite the fact you can’t really picture his reaction. Can’t imagine which way it will gravitate towards—whether to light or to dark. You don’t mind at all, in fact you look forward to it and you wash your body with greater care than you ever handled it with before.

With a face mask on, you take your cosmetic bag and do your makeup in the living room. The sunlight spills in, kissing your ebullient mien, and you imprint its red marks with a touch of blush across your cheeks, its lovely color with glitter on your eyelids and you finish the job with a few brushes of mascara upon your lashes and a singular swipe of a glimmering lip gloss on your lips.

It is only then that Jungkook appears in front of you.

“He still sleeps like a bear.”

You’re so happy to see him that it manifests on your face.

“Don’t try to wake him up or you’ll get eaten.”

Placing your cosmetic bag on his lap, he sits beside you. “I wouldn’t dare.” Examines your face for a good moment. “Why are you putting this on? You don’t need it.”

“I enjoy it,” you say, watching fondly as he takes out each makeup product and scans them. Once he comes across your tiny tubes of glitter of various shades, light flickers in his eyes. Your heart does the same thing. And a somersault right after.

“You wear glitter?”

You nod, a precious, girlish smile stretching your glossy mouth. “I’m wearing it right now.” You close your eyes for him, letting him see the small sparkles, resplendent of the sun. He praises you, the word ‘pretty’ embracing you tightly in all its snug simplicity, forcing your eyes open. A brighter spark shines in his irises. You brim with the yearning to doll up his eyes to match it and, having your way as always, you steal the tubes from him. “Which one do you want?”

He doesn’t even fight you. As a matter of fact, he’s already decided. Doesn’t waste a second to reply. “The silver one.”

Excitedly, you quiver all over. Dab the applicator on the back of your hand and lift your sight to catch him smiling cutely at you like the puppy he is. Your hand itches to ruffle his hair. Grab his cheek and bite into it. Go for his nose next.

Whirling the pad of your finger on the splatter of glitter, you hover it above his lids. “Close your eyes.”

He listens, immediately. You pat the imitation of his glint across that soft skin, but you focus on that beautiful, pouty smile of his. Think you’ll save his lips for last and savor them as you eat them.

You swipe your finger for more and adorn his other eye. Take the rest and speckle it on the highest points of his cheekbones—this time with his attention all on you.

You lean back to observe your artwork and find that something is missing. You know right away what it is.

You dab the applicator on his cupid’s bow and drag it down his collarbones. Take care of that first before you move over to his lips. You blend it there with utmost care and he lets you, zeroining his gaze into yours. Deep, but gentle. Loving.

To finish it, you kiss him. And it’s not because you were driven by your emotions or by that stare of his. You do it because you want to. Kiss him again, so the highlight is perfectly blended.

He’s puzzled when you draw away, but you’re not unnerved by it. You’re firm and stable in your decisions, happy in the outcome, any hints of repercussions or doubts far, far away from you. In another world, in another galaxy. It has long forgotten your name and you’re glad for it.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

There he goes with ‘we’ again. It makes you weak.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you say, soothingness coating your voice, penetrating his negative emotion to the point that he relaxes. Before he can say anything, you continue. “I heard what you said last night. To Yoongi. That this relationship is way bigger and deeper.” Surprise and timidity bleeds into the glitter on his face and he’s unable to look you in the eye. You grab his palm, holding it with both of your hands in your lap. “I agree with you. I feel it, too. This wasn’t just a one time thing. I don’t think it was ever meant to be just for one night.”

There’s rawness to your words that make him reciprocate your eye contact. He gnaws at his lips, as if to eat away his nerves. You squeeze his hand harder and are about to continue, but the creak on the hardwood floors stops you.

Yoongi. With his wrinkled face and puffy, but awake eyes. In a pair of boxers and nothing else. You stand up to your feet, dropping Jungkook’s hand, and you go to meet him halfway, but you don’t make it far. The soreness between your legs won’t let you.

He grins at you, wrapping his arms around you. “Can’t walk?” His taunt is loving and scrunch your face at him. “Good morning, honey.”

You kiss his bare chest. “Good morning.”

Yoongi moves over to Jungkook and places a hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well?”

Wet softness in his eyes. “The best sleep of my life.”

“So, I want two boyfriends.”

While Yoongi made coffee for all three of you, you were more than happy to make breakfast. Scrambled eggs on avocado toast—one that Jungkook chokes on upon hearing your words and one that flings out of Yoongi’s mouth because he bursts into a violent laughter.

You laugh along with him—so hard that tears well in your eyes, slapping your palm down repeatedly on the round wooden table. Yoongi mirrors your movement on Jungkook’s back as he fights for his life, red in the face, eyes wide.

“What did you say?” the puppy croaks out, bewildered, letting go of his bread and you feel terribly bad for him, for shocking him so enormously.

The decision came upon you suddenly while you cooked. Easy, smooth. Appeared on your heart that sprang it up to your mind. Gave it pros and cons—good friendship, good sex, good time; Yoongi might get jealous and/or possessive, nothing else. It made sense to you, grazed your attachment ever so sweetly. How else would you keep last night continuous? Even Yoongi went around the matter when he talked Jungkook’s head off, asking him if he’d been with other people after you.

Boyfriend simply means that. No other people—just you and Yoongi.

You weren’t going to keep it to yourself. Even if there was a risk of it going downhill.

It’s not relief that you feel upon hearing Yoongi laugh—it’s a river of liberation, concocted with absolute joy, coursing in your bloodstream. He woke up in a good mood. Woke up happy. And you fold that fact into your heart, hoping it stays for a long time.

“Eat your toast, silly,” you say, smiling, eyes crinkled. Take a bite of your own. Happy that Yoongi is happy, happy that you’re eating your favorite fruit, sitting again at the table with your two favorite people. “You heard me.”

“Oh, fuck,” is all Jungkook says, whisking his eyes to Yoongi, who’s chuckling, bending down to pick up the piece of toast he was in the middle of chewing.

You look at him, too, waiting for his response.

Yoongi brushes his hair back, a lazy smile on his mouth. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

You grin so hard that your cheeks hurt. The river in you speeds its stream. “Thank you,” you exclaim, rubbing his arm, quivering with excitement. “I say we mess around and have a good time. We can go on dates.”

Jungkook relaxes a little bit, furrowing his brows as he chews on his toast.

“She wanted two cocks, don’t tell me you didn’t expect this,” Yoongi says to his friend, patting your thigh. “I did.”

Perhaps that’s why he had such a hard time in all of this. He knew it was inevitable—and he worked his way through it until he ended here. Fine with it. Healed.

“When did that happen?” you ask, sliding your hand down to his.

“When I decided the first time I was gonna give it to you. Then, again when I promised you we were gonna make this work,” he says and you pout at him, so grateful, so touched. He squeezes your thigh, looking at Jungkook. “I can see your questions all over your face. Out with them.”

Jungkook has finished his toast, brows still furrowed as he swallows. He leans back in his chair, manspreading, hands intertwining behind his head. Pokes a tongue in his cheek, smirking. “Don’t kill me for this, but,” he starts, showing his teeth. “Do I get to have her to myself? Without you? And vice versa?”

Your heart beats ferociously in your chest. Yoongi pauses for a moment, thinking about it. He let him do it last night, he let him have you to himself, though under different circumstances. You figure what Jungkook meant is whether he can fuck you without asking for permission and the idea exhilarates you.

And the vice versa part. Jungkook is one sly—

“It won’t be instant, but we’ll work hard. Work our way through it until we’re all comfortable and happy,” Yoongi finally says and you kiss his hand.

You’re so overwhelmed with joy that your blood buzzes.

Jungkook nods. “Of course, I understand.”

“Is this something you want?” Yoongi directs the question at you and you nod.

“Yes, once you’re ready.”

Silence settles like fine dust. You finish your toast quietly and as soon as you’re done, you deem Yoongi should know about what happened in the late hours. “We didn’t fuck last night. While you slept. It didn’t even cross my mind and I wouldn’t do it unless I had your… blessing.”

Yoongi cackles at your choice of word. “Good girl,” he praises. “You’ll get your blessing soon. I promise.”

You look at him for a long time and you wonder if there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, it’s settled, then,” Jungkook says and places a hand on the table, opens it for you. You grab it and he squeezes you. “Let’s celebrate.”

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two, READ part three

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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fairybaby777 · 1 year

Text

why do we seek validation from the 3d when everything comes from within?

something that’s becoming increasingly more apparent to me is the fact that i need to stop trying to change the 3d and just go within. I never fully understood this, after all, aren’t we manifesting with the purpose of changing our 3d and living with our desires? it made no sense to me.

after listening to edward art again & reading ‘at your command’ and ‘feeling is the secret’ by neville goddard, i realised that this inner man, my imagination, it truly IS the real reality. something edward art said that really stuck with me was “let your inner man experience it” (not sure that was the exact quote but along those lines).

why would i care what the 3d is showing me when i have it in my imagination right now ? why do we place such importance on the 3d and not within when we can experience our desires right now. am i after validation from others? what’s the difference between having it in my 4d as opposed to having it in my 3d?

i realised validation was the answer. i wanted my desires to be validated by people around me. i wanted others to notice the changes in my life and comment on them so i could feel successful and, well, validated. now i realise this is futile & pointless. the only validation i need is my own validation. if eiypo, then wouldn’t others opinions be me validating myself anyway? so why would i wait for that when I can have it now & feel whole and complete now? it makes no sense and I now think i understand that.

so i guess the point of this post is to tell you that you don’t need to wait for others to validate your desires or congratulate you, congratulate yourself now, compliment yourself now, after all, you have it already in imagination don’t you?

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meatonfork · 1 year

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i saw you wanted requests and i am in LOVEE with your writing!

maybe grim gifting the team things i.e like a crocheted balaclavas

grim does some sort of schooling/training and they graduate and the team are at the graduation ?

Graduation Day

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: none i believe!

summary: grim graduates college!

————————————————————————————————————————

as silly as it sounds, grim was taking classes in their down time.

the others could never fully understand why. to their knowledge, they were going to school for education.

grim had said, “what if, one day, i decide to leave and become a teacher. i think it would be fun! i love kids, and teaching them to be good, smart people is the best thing a person can do in my eyes.”

they were hellbent on finishing college and getting that degree.

so, they did.

four grueling years later, and they were walking the stage, getting a diploma, and getting back to work with their team.

the weeks leading up to graduation were stressful. grim was running about, practically bouncing off the walls with nerves and excitement.

the day of graduation, grim was having a breakdown because their favorite pair of civilian shoes got ruined. gaz ran around town looking for a new pair, and when he brought them to grim they geeked out and kissed his cheek before running back to get ready.

the stands were full and you were scared. what if you tripped while walking the stage? what if they forgot you?

you knew you were fine. you just couldn’t help it.

you couldn’t see any of your boys from where you sat with your class. but, the sooner this was over with, they sooner you could see them.

“call sign, grim.” you had asked they used your call sign for personal safety. your name was still confidential within your force, and you didn’t need to compromise that.

you shakily stood, and walked the path to the dean.

loud, deep, cheering came from your right side. you looked down to see your boys standing.

price had tears flowing from his eyes with the biggest smile you’d ever seen him sport. what a dad.

soap was clapping and cheering as loud as he possibly could, which was pretty damn loud.

ghost was standing while clapping. he wasn’t making any verbal sounds, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners from a large smile under his balaclava.

gaz was fist pumping the air and shouting “atta kid! lets go!”

upon seeing your biggest supporters, you put on a smile and accepted the diploma with a handshake.

the rest of the ceremony went by and the smile never left your features. your eyes were sparkling under the lights. you were glowing.

after you all threw your caps, you swiftly grabbed yours and rushed off to find your boys. they were stood near the back corner of the room, their backs to you as they talked.

you snuck up and jumped on soap’s back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i did it, guys! i did it!” you laughed out.

“hell yeah you did, kid!” gaz slapped a hand to your back.

“we’re proud of you kid.” if even possible, your smile grew at price’s words.

looking to ghost, he sent a wink and subtle thumbs up.

that’s all you needed. you had the full support of the most important people in your life.

“hey, can we go get some food? that ceremony took way too long.” soap bounced you up.

“yeah, i could go for some ice cream. but, it’ll only taste good if price pays.” a giggle bubbles from your throat.

price sighed, but beckoned you all out to the car.

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: okay! this was short, but i thought it was really cute haha. fun fact, grim worrying about being forgotten is totally valid BC I WAS FORGOTTEN AT MY GRADUATION AND IM STILL SALTY ABOUT IT. ITS BEEN TWO YEARS.

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frownyalfred · 9 months

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if you feel like it (and if this question even ends up making sense lol), would you mind talking about how you feel about bruce being jewish? not like the idea of jewish bruce wayne, i mean the fact that in 2011 or so he was retconned kind of accidentally into being jewish. i ask bc i, as a jewish person, have a lot of mixed to negative feelings about the whole thing, and you seem not to. i really hope this doesn't come out as like judgy. i don't think you should feel negatively about it. i'm genuinely just interested in your thoughts and feelings about this. two jews, three opinions, lol

It's not judgy! As you said, two Jews, three opinions -- there's no right answer here.

As I mentioned in my Jewish Bruce post, the likely accidental ret-con of Bruce to likely being Jewish is a tricky subject. It's simultaneously a good moment for Jews who want to feel represented, and a bad one for those who think Bruce's story is not an adequate or appropriate vehicle to convey Judaism.

The reality is, Bruce isn't visibly Jewish now, nor is he practicing or displaying overt cultural, ethnic, or religious influences. He's Jewish by halacha, which is its own mess of significance for Jews.

Personally, I feel that Bruce's emergence as a Jew by halacha, and not by practiced religion or culture, is an important discussion to be had in our modern, interfaith, assimilating culture.

Barring the Orthodox communities, the number of young observant Jews is dropping. Jews are increasingly marrying into other faiths, assimilating, and raising their children outside of the faith. When Jews do stay in their communities, they tend to stay in more "liberal" ones such as Reconstructionist or Reform congregations. You can read more about this at the Pew site.

There are, and will continue to be, many people who find themselves cut off from Judaism and either halachically or ethnically Jewish in the next few years, with little to no connection to the religion, ethnicity, or cultural traditions.

So in this respect, Bruce being cut off from Judaism by nature of his family structure and abridged childhood is good to see, because it's representative of a new generation of Jewish children or interfaith families. Or it will be?

But. There are many Jews who do not identify with this at all -- who grew up in the community with strong ethnic, religious, and cultural ties, who see Bruce's (accidental?) ret-con to Judaism as rushed, dissatisfying, half-hearted, a million other words.

I don't want to assume what you or other Jews are thinking about this, but I can guess. It's not fun to see your religious identity thrown around somewhat flimsily, especially when there remains such a deep and consistent Jewish influence throughout the DC comics.

Why Bruce? Why not Hal? Why hint at it, or make him somewhat Jewish? Why not have a fully-Jewish character? Why not have a character who embraces Judaism as a belief system?

I think the mixed feelings over Bruce's ret-con highlight the growing divide within the Jewish community over who is, and isn't Jewish, and by which standards we judge those who are peripheral to the community.

Having worked with many converts and patrilineal Jews, I have deep sympathy for those cut off from the Jewish community, especially when it is by halachic rule. How can someone who was raised by a Jewish father, who is 50% Ashkenazi, who had a Bar Mitzvah and attends shul regularly, not be as Jewish as someone who was born to a Jewish mother and rarely, if ever, practiced the religion?

We make conversion to Judaism a tricky, difficult, and conditional process. Reform marriages and conversions are questioned by Orthodox rabbis and not considered valid by others. Some people are Jewish in one synagogue and not Jewish enough in another. It's so hard.

So yeah, in my other post linked above I think I called this a happy accident, which is how I'm trying to view it. It makes me happy to have a character to push Jewish headcanons and fic ideas into to, and to tease out the themes of community and what it means to truly be Jewish from Bruce's story. But I don't expect that to be everyone's else's experience at all.

I'd be curious to hear your, and anyone else's, thoughts on this. Again, two Jews, three opinions -- nobody is right here, and we all change our minds a LOT.

#asks #jewish bruce wayne #jewish batman #jewish batfamily #dc #dc comics #bruce wayne #batman

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spreens · 2 months

Text

A couple of notes on 'Jay' (@/JayyBio on twt)'s reply on behalf of Quackity Studios, from a Public Relations and Crisis Management perspective.

Preface:

This analysis attempts to keep as neutral of a stance as I can on this. I will support any worker's right to fair pay, especially with the hours that the QSMP admins put into this project. That being said, we, the viewers, cannot fully understand everything that has gone one with regards to privacy and confidentiality within the project.

Delivery:

The source of this media release comes from Twitter account JayyBio, an account created within the last 24 hours for the purpose of posting this message. The verification for this account was a follow from the official Quackity Studios account. This is absolute bare minimum and really shouldn't be done for anything, ever. I understand that they may wish to reduce the impact on viewers following the Quackity Studios account that are unaware of the situation, but doing this (and attaching a seemingly personal account to it) significantly impacts both the credibility and visibility of the statement.

Removal of Lea from the team:

Immediately, the attacks on Lea attempt to put the admin on the defensive. The evidence regarding her removal (including the 'grooming' screenshots, which she refers to vaguely, and even calls the notion crazy) is designed to target a sore spot within the community, and further complicate the situation.

As a managing body, it is administration's responsibility to clarify things like pay, fair compensation, and work. The screenshots don't call it 'stuff to do' or anything that would imply casual activities. Lea calls it work. As Lea was in a paid position instead of a volunteer one, the responsibility falls on the Studio's head to clarify these things.

The only proof of unavailability is two screenshots, a month apart, with the responding manager enthusiastically giving confirmation with no warning or advice. The only thing this proves is that Lea was not scolded (in the images provided) for taking unavailability.

This whole unavailability thing is a huge, underlying managerial issue, because a discussion should be had if a paid employee is unable to make what the team believes is the minimum activity. Both extremes claimed by both parties, i.e a full on scolding OR complete blind support are not viable solutions.

In short, either they're still not releasing the full reason for release (due to privacy or confidentiality reasons), or someone is lying. Regardless, the whole situation is underpinned by a much larger issue for the managing team.

NDAs:

Honestly, the fact that they weren't using NDAs right off the bat shocked me. In business (and a lot more frequently than you think) NDAs are used to preserve confidentiality within an organisation for a variety of reasons that I don't have time to cover. Depending on your labour laws however, they cannot be used to hide information regarding employee wages.

Quackity Studio's NDA was valid for the use of:

Protecting Copywrited Assets

Minimising Security Breaches and/or Risks

Protecting Storylines and "Lore Leaking"

Protecting the Privacy of team members and CCs

The NDA was *not* valid for:

Penalizing the formation of personal relationships (yes, even parasocial ones)

Communicating with other members of the team, even regarding Wages and Working Conditions

That isn't to say that the cases not covered by the NDA can't be called unprofessional (especially in the case of parasocial relationships) but they are not grounds for being sued.

You know what is grounds for being sued?

DOING A Q&A REGARDING SENSITIVE INFORMATION ON TWITTER!

The threats from QStudios from Lea's initial posts, while deeply unprofessional and drawing a fairly worrying image of the working environment, were just empty threats. Now that Lea has well and truly broken an Actual Signed NDA, this gets real complicated.

I'm not in law, so I'll leave it up to the armchair law students, but this is just a summary of my thoughts while reading up on the reply PDF.

Items not Covered:

Pay for the overall position (I do not know enough about french labour laws)

Treatment of staff who spoke out prior to Lea's statement (too much back and forthing)

Further Action:

Quackity Studios, please set up an account for statements and releases. I cannot emphasise how D-tier this is reading it through a brand new unbranded account.

ALSO GET YOUR CEO'S APPROVAL BEFORE POSTING A STATEMENT?

#qsmp #discourse #qsmp studios #qsmp crit

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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Would LOVE that essay on combat in dnd because full agree. But not even just for people watching live play, like, combat is an essential feature of dnd as a game system and it endlessly frustrates me when i see dms be like “yeah combat is just too complicated and no fun so i dont do it in my game :)!” Like i guess thats your right, but any non-caster class is gonna be miserable in your game. I saw a video recently talking about how dnd has kind of become the default ttrpg and is marketed as the perfect system for everyone and any style of play which is just. So not true. Combat in dnd is equally as integral as roleplay is and theres really no argument otherwise. Very valid if you hate dnd combat, it sure isnt for everyone, but in that case maybe play a different ttrpg where the characters arent constructed around combat abilities, i promise you’ll have more fun.

So this is one of those things that touches on maybe 99% of my feelings on Experiencing Fiction in general and actual play in particular; I apologize in advance for the length and digressions within this response.

Here are the reasons I have seen or I surmise why people don’t like D&D combat, either in actual play or in home games:

It can get crunchy and involves a lot of rules

There are long stretches in which individuals do not necessarily act (not exclusive to combat but I think this is a factor)

It contains violence

There is a potential for character death

Now, it’s fine if you aren’t interested in D&D-style combat, for whatever reason, when you play ttrpgs. It’s just that this is a core feature of D&D. As you say, this is what the martial classes are structured around - and, frankly, no small number of casting classes/subclasses as well. By avoiding it when you play D&D, you’re avoiding the bulk of the game, and there are plenty of ttrpgs that permit open RP that aren’t combat focused that would probably fit your needs better (eg: PbtA and Savage Worlds are both generic systems that can support a heroic fantasy like D&D without the emphasis on combat skills). I happen to love and prefer D&D, but that is specifically because I love combat, and yeah, there are other games and people should seek out those games if they don’t like combat.

When it comes to D&D actual play though…skipping combat is just straight-up stupid. And to be clear I mean fully skipping it and not watching it at all; while this is piggybacking off my post about spoilers, it’s fine if you are the sort of person who needs to know how combat ends in order to enjoy it! That’s just a personal preference that I respect even if I don’t share it.

D&D combat isn’t just an inherent part of the game; it’s an inherent part of the story. The idea of D&D being split into combat and RP is a false dichotomy. There is RP and crucial story within combat scenes, and you simply do not achieve the same effects by reading an after-the-fact summary. To use examples from Critical Role, consider one of the most famous RP moments from Campaign 1, when Scanlan uses his 9th level counterspell in the Vecna fight. The weight of that moment derives from mechanics and from the fact that it is in the midst of combat and well into a climatic final battle. Or for lighter examples, there’s a ton of Beau/Yasha and Fjord/Jester mid-combat flirting running through much of Campaign 2 that informs those relationships. Molly’s death? Caleb going into a fugue state when he kills humanoids with fire? Yasha destroying Obann? Fjord dying mid-deep scion fight? Those are all moments that have deep character weight and meaning that are within the context of combat, and you cannot divorce them from that context and hope to retain the same effect.

This is what dovetails into a larger discussion of Experiencing Fiction which is a (in my opinion) worrying tendency among some people to truly believe that you can cut up media into the palatable bits and pieces and push all of what you see as icky vegetables to the side of your plate. I fucking hate this. I think it’s what drives a lot of things including a distaste for combat. This is how you get, for example, people who dislike combat because Violence And Death Bad, which, do I think that in the real world violence is most often a thing to be avoided? Do I think that in the real world death is heartbreaking? Yes, but this is fiction. There’s that great Brennan Lee Mulligan quote about how TTRPGs like D&D allow people who usually must be conflict-avoidant in real life to let out their anger and frustration in a place where it is safe and harmless, and I believe that whole-heartedly. I want stories about death because I want to know I'm not alone in how I feel about death. I want stories in which people can express their rage in ways both healthy and unhealthy, because big same. (I also think it’s absolutely not coincidental that people who believe they are ‘protecting’ people by circumscribing what is acceptable in fiction tend to be strongly associated with either bigoted, violent policies in real life, or harassment and doxxing online; maybe enjoy a fucked up movie, as John Waters once said, and you'll calm down.)

This idea that you can cut up media and only consume what you like is also what I think is behind some of the really ill-considered and overly granular timestamped content warnings I’ve mentioned previously. It is fine if there are things you don’t want to watch or which will be upsetting or even triggering to watch! It’s fine if you as an individual don’t like violence! But I think there’s a problem when people believe they are entitled to be able to watch whatever they want and have it mold to their exact wants and needs (and that it’s a failing if it doesn’t), rather than taking on the responsibility of seeking out media that already fits the bill. Actual Play D&D will nearly always have violent encounters. If this will be an issue this is not for you. It is not gatekeeping to say “you can come through this gate, but the gate is in fact here for your specifically requested protection"; and yet people think that instead, gates should be placed around everything else. So (to give an example) this is why the warnings for D20’s Neverafter strike me as a symptom of this larger problem - if you have discomfort with violence towards animals and children, that’s fine, but you are watching a D&D horror series in which over half the player characters are either animals or children. This is not something where you can skip a few seconds of a flashing gif that might be a migraine or seizure trigger, or a case where an exceptionally rough scene of gaslighting can be read instead of watched; this is inherent to the show, and if this is not for you, you need to go elsewhere.

To give one last example, I was looking for fanart for Worlds Beyond Number, and came across a picture of Suvi with a caption of “Suvi but without the imperialism” and like…Aabria has said in interviews that this engagement with the empire is extremely deliberate; that Suvi is intended to be tied into the political structures of this world as an intentional contrast with Eursulon’s status as an outsider and Ame’s role at the smaller, community level. Suvi without imperialism is not identifiable as the same character and it throws the entire story off-kilter; she is of this empire and that is the fucking point. Any story worth telling is not just items thrown haphazardly into a bowl; they are combined and mixed. Someone is giving you a plate of brownies and you are acting like it’s physically possible to take out the cocoa powder without fucking the end result, and buddy, it’s not.

(Truly, I was not joking when I said this is like, the load-bearing pillar of most of my complaints about fiction consumption patterns in general. This is about how people will deny the flaws in characters even though any reasonably intelligent ten-year-old, and I know because I fucking was one once, understands that person vs. themself is one of the core conflicts and overcoming one’s flaws is in many cases the entire story and if you start out perfect there is nothing to be said. Like…I think a lot of people genuinely just want to watch a nonstop Monterey Bay Otter Cam of their sufficiently sanitized, focus-group-tested blorbos baking cookies together, and are affronted when people with the tiniest sliver of empathy and/or curiosity want a story with plot and character growth, which in turn require conflict.)

Anyway. I think the takeaways here are that there’s this awful entitlement people have in which they think that they can simply consume anything and it is the failure of that media if it doesn’t cater specifically to them, rather than a failure of them to seek out that which they would enjoy (and I could go on this rant indefinitely; it is truly the most constant theme among Takes I Think Are Dumb); and also I really want to bake something right now, given my choices of metaphor. Combat is part of D&D as a game and as a storytelling medium, and it is incumbent upon people who do not like combat to find something that doesn’t have D&D combat, rather than try to pull out the vital organs of the story.

#answered #faltermoth #long post #to continue with food metaphors it's really like. you are going to an italian restaurant and being mad there are tomatoes there #girl why are you at the devil's sacrament and so forth #i was going to make a joke about bombing all your coffee shop aus but actually i read a coffee shop au that was like. dark. and good.#(it was also professionally published in a work specifically about retellings though)

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cerastes · 10 months

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Arknights God, how do I use Reed the Flame Shadow? I got her and I've leveled her but I think I'm missing something, because it doesn't seem like I'm doing the damage she's supposed to be doing.

So step one is that we need to stop with the Arknights God thing because I'm flattered that you and others have a high opinion of my gameplay advice but it also makes me look like a narcissistic jackass. I appreciate the compliment and I'm happy my advice helps, but to everyone not familiar with the whole "I like to play a heel clown character on my blog for funsies with my friends" will think I'm actually addicted to the scent of my flatulence and the rhythm of my own words. It makes answering these a tad awkward.

Step two is understanding that Reed' skill selection, and which skill is the correct answer to any given issue, has a lot of factors going for it, more than the majority of Operators. If you use Cantabile, for example, you know that both of her skills are bangers, and while they have their respective jobs, they are not hard-slotted into these. Reed's S2 and S3 are similar in this regard. You'll be ignoring S1.

Before we get into that, though, here's some fundamentals about the Flame Shadow: You position them differently from other Medics and most other units. A good Reed tile is one where she has both enemies and allies in her range, so, if you placing her at a front, you'll want her to be a bit behind, but not fully behind, your line of engagement. She needs to be able to attack in order to heal, and her allies need to be in her range in order to get healed. This may sound obvious, but it needs to be taken into account. She's not a Marksman or a Medic, she's her own beast. Another thing that needs to be taken into account is that her healing comes specifically from dealing HP damage to enemies, not barriers. Greytails and the Rat King, for example, have shields that must be broken with Arts damage before exposing the succulent flesh within, right? Well, until the shield breaks, Reed is not giving anyone any succor and they might in fact just explode because while she's dealing damage to their shields, it doesn't count as valid damage for her healing. Keep this in mind so you don't run out of sustain while fighting shielded enemies, since shielded enemies tend to also have high attack. The Final Reed Essential regards her Cinders (AKA Firebrand), which she always has a chance to apply with her attacks and skills (with S3 guaranteeing it): The way it works is that, if an attack would apply Cinder, it applies it before the attack resolves, meaning, the Arts Fragility will be in effect and that attack will already be dealing 30%(32% with Potentials) extra damage off rip. Or, in other words, you don't have to apply Cinder and then start capitalizing on it on the next attack. Arts Fragility, by the way, stacks multiplicatively with Fragile, and they count as different debuffs, despite the similarity in name.

You made it past the tutorial, now let's tackle 1-1:

S2, or as Harvard scholars call it, the Spitroast, is a damn strong skill. For the purposes of this post, I'll be using the M3 versions of the skills. Spitroast grants two allies, with Melee tile priority, 3 fireballs that'll deal 240% of Reed's Attack as damage to enemies they touch every 1.5 seconds, with this 1.5 second timer applying only for each unique target. The fireballs do in fact have a hitbox, so if there's enemies on either side of the fireball unit, you'll trigger two fireballs at once, one for the enemy on one side, and another for the other. Each fireball then takes 1.5 seconds to refresh (they'll look darkened around the Operator) and once they are a vibrant orange again, it means they are ready to explode again. Each time these fireballs deal damage, they'll heal their Operators as per Reed's trait (so 120% of her Attack), and each fireball has a chance to inflict Cinder as per any of Reed's attacks. You can test this yourself by putting fireballs on Operators so they hit enemies outside her attack range, and you'll see that they do in fact also have a chance to inflict Cinder. Be mindful that the fireball's instance of damage counts as a Reed instance of damage! This means that for the purposes of Counter effects, it is Reed that's the source of the damage, so for Spike Chests, Reed WILL receive the reflected damage, and for The Last Knight, Reed WILL freeze if the fireballs hit him, etc etc. The lane-holding application of this skill is that you can grant your cornerstone immense Arts damage and healing independent of everything else they have going for themselves, including through Status effects like Freeze or Stun, as the fireballs are independent entities separate from the Operator. So if Mudrock gets stunned by Nervous Impairment and has sweet dreams of beautiful rocks that go on adventures with her, she's not completely helpless, as the fireballs will keep shredding enemies while she's in dreamland. This actually leads us to the next point: Fireballs cannot be placed on Summons, so if you had dreams of making the sickest Stainless turret surrounded by industrial flames or picturesque mindblasts about Ling's Great Thunderer's surrounded by godly plumes of cleansing conflagration, well, stop being silly and come back to reality, also rent and student debts are due. Fireballs can be placed on 'Enmity' Operators, such as Musha (ie. Akafuyu) and Juggernauts (ie. Mudrock), but they won't receive the healing from each of their hits, as the healing is mechanically counted as direct healing, thus, they may not benefit from it. Well, at least they can always take a whiff of Lena's wonderful fragrances instead. With all this in mind, we get to the Spitroast part of the Spitroast: If you jail an enemy (sandwiching them between two Operators) and use Reed's S2 to give them her mighty balls, now that enemy is getting assblasted by both sets of balls, so a whooping 480% of Reed's attack as damage, which in turn is very likely to diagnose them with Cinder due to how many times they'll be taking Reed damage, so that final damage is now also increased by another fat 30%, in addition to being inflicted with Cinder's ATK -20%, so your engager is safer as well, on top of being healed a lot. So, in practice, let's say your trusted Specter the Unchained is currently blocking Yamcha Jesselton, and as they are engaged in mortal combat, you then deploy Skadi S2 on top of Jesselton as well. But this is all within Reed's range, so you use her S2 and now the shark and the orca also have fireballs around them that further obliterate Jesselton, and he can't even damage Specter in a way that matters because 1) she leveled HP and 2) she's getting an absolutely unholy amount of healing from Reed's hot balls, so, in short, he'll never have another birthday. This MELTS bosses, but obviously, it's a rather expensive endeavor, necessitating 3 deployment slots dedicated to the bit. But no one said being funny was cheap, and end of the day, it's funny seeing bosses melting down to nothing under what's practically two fire buzzsaws.

Ideal Operators for these strats involve your prim and proper engager, someone tough that can take a hit and also hit hard, like either Specter or Skadi S3, but you can also make this engager a dedicated tough slab of meat like Hoshiguma, and your drop-in assassin with huge damage, like Texas the Omertosa, Surtr S3 (two girls that will appreciate the Arts Fragility Reed can inflict!), Skadi S2, Nearl the Radiant Knight S2, et al. 'Enmity' Operators work as well but you'll not be received the healing, just keep that in mind, but they work splendid as well. Once again, Arts Fragility stacks multiplicatively with Fragile, so break out the ol' Suzuran S3 or, if the boss can be Frozen, Gnosis S3 for some more immensely violent peacekeeping.

That was a lot, but trust me, it becomes second nature once you see it in action once, it just clicks and now you know exactly how to roast that spit.

Woah, look at all the progress we made, it's time to start 8-12:

So, S3, the big flashy and fun explosions that scream "I'm a healer, but," in big red flaming text. This skill does a fair amount of things, actually! First of all, Reed will have multitarget attacks, two per attack, and her attacks during S3 will always 100% of the time inflict Cinder, so that +60% ATK buff she's getting is actually bigger than that, given that she'll always have her final damage increased by 30% Arts Fragility on top of that. What's more, Cinder's CANNOT expire for as long as the skill is active, and now have the additional effect of inflicting a Damage Over Time effect that deals 60% of Reed's Attack as Arts damage (so, again, amplified by Arts Fragility). And, of course, as we all know and love, if an enemy dies while having the Cinder's effect during the skill duration, they explode for 140% damage in a 1.7 tile radius, and enemies damaged by these explosions, you guessed it, also become inflicted with Cinder.

That's a lot going on, but it's also pretty self-explanatory once you lay it out like that. Ace detectives might have gleaned something from this river of letters: Cinder is a very strong effect. Cinder lets you deal more damage, take less damage, and receive more healing, since Reed's healing is based on damage dealt. S3 takes Cinder to the next level: Guaranteed proc, now with a DoT, and will never expire until the end of the skill. Not only that, but the multitarget makes it easier to inflict more and more enemies with Cinder, it's truly a fire gone out of control, for the enemy, anyways. S3 lends itself to mob control and killing large crowds of enemies with the power of friendship, but do not neglect its utility in engaging with troublesome elites and bosses! While S2 is her premiere boss-killing tool, it required set-up, deployment slots and tiles you might not necessarily have in high-end content, and in these situations where the boss isn't the only issue, but you also have to deal with an overall dangerous map that's threatening as a whole, S3 may just be the perfect tool to have a more balanced and yet still very potent approach.

This is what makes the Flame Shadow such a fun unit! Your skills are not really locked by circumstance, and they can be used with several different objectives and goals in mind, depending on what the rest of your team is and who your enemy or what the challenge of the map is. With her incredible adaptability and wide array of applications, Reed the Flame Shadow absolutely shines and can be a core part of any team.

#arknights #Reed the Flame Shadow #dreamknights

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luneariaa · 10 days

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ღ || faciens certus.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : { ps5 } harry osborn x reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 1k+

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : harry stays over your place for the night, and tries his best to convince you that he's alright.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : just pure fluff bc he deserves the world <33

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 🏹

"Just your luck."

You simply said at the auburn-haired male, who just arrived at your place. He settled himself comfortably by the couch of your home, as it started to rain quite heavily outside, hitting every part of the window that's present.

"Gotta admit that I missed the rain. It's been heating up so badly lately." You handed him the glass of hot chocolate with a small smile.

Harry thanked you while grabbing the drink that you gave him, keeping his eyes on you even after he does so.

"Yeah, it feels nice, doesn't it? I mean, the rain makes it colder than usual, but still nice in its' own way."

You nodded a bit as you returned his occasional brief gazes, before shifting your eyes at the TV, which has lost its' signal due to the harsh weather outside, which prompted you to switch it off for now.

Harry gradually puts the glass of his now finished drink down on the table nearby, before letting his eyes stayed upon your standing figure. "Mind if I stay over for the night?"

"You're always welcome to stay here, Har."

An appreciative smile is plastered across his handsome face, deciding to walk toward your direction after bringing a chair along with him, placing it just next to yours. All while his gaze never once averted elsewhere.

"Mhm, you kept staring at me for the past few minutes."

"Got something in your mind?"

The auburn-haired male elicited a chuckle, now managing to fully catch your attention.

"Honestly?"

"I was just thinking, like, you know-- those old times where we used to spend our time with each other here, watching movies till the early hours of dawn.."

By this point, his eyes are shifted elsewhere as he continued further. "My illness, my dad sort of.. kept me away from meeting you before. Surely, there are valid reasons, but still.."

"It's just nice being able to see you again like this with no one else around."

"Ah, I get that." You leaned your back against the chair you're sitting on comfortably. "I missed you for that too."

"But.."

"Nothing's gonna happen to you after this, right..?" You don't know what has driven you to ask such a question since he is, well, already there looking all healthy and fine. You couldn't help yourself-- the deep fear of potentially losing him in any time scares you so much.

His smile gradually falters upon hearing your words; simply because he wasn't expecting that type of response from you-- not in a bad way though.

"You don't have to worry about me. Nothing's going to happen anytime soon. I've taken care of everything."

Harry tried his best to reassure you, yet deep down, he hated himself for a bit due to how much he worried you.

Maintaining his cheery demeanor, he forces himself to bury the feelings of guilt deep within him, knowing quite well that you have every right to feel this concerned over his wellbeing.

He doesn't want to be a liar, but he had to, for your sake. He cared about you too much to see you in this state.

Harry just.. wanted to be normal again, and he missed how things were between you two.

"Nothing's gonna stop that now, right?"

You eventually nodded it off, processing his words within your mind. "Yeah, you got a point."

"I'm sorry, I just.."

Any other thoughts are being shut out for now, his focus-- full of pure tenderness, is now completely on you.

"Hey, you don't have to apologize."

"Just please.. Don't worry about it anymore, okay? It makes me all sad seeing you this way about me. I appreciate you for that, always."

You eventually nodded, albeit wordlessly; not knowing what to say as a reply. Sensing the sudden slight of change, Harry finally decided to stand in front of you-- placing a finger gently beneath your chin.

"I'm fine, see?" He then grabs ahold of one of your hands while squeezing it lightly, which made you stand with him as well. The shared gazes lasted longer than necessary, but none of you cared much.

Just by the way your eyes looked up into his own; it's enough to make his heart race and melt at the same time. Dare he say-- you're so precious to him. He would shamelessly show it through his actions, even after all these years.

Even words couldn't be described with the way you gazed at him like that-- it's too much, yet never enough.

Slowly, and delicately, he guides your hand towards where his heart is; allowing you to feel the beat of his heart, and how he's very much alive to you.

He wouldn't lie, but he smiles so fondly, noticing on how his heart picks up just by the mere touch of your palm against his chest.

"Feel it as much you want."

"Isn't this nice?"

The warmth radiates from your hand alone, but you thought the opposite-- thinking that his heart and body are the ones who provide the most warmth. You needed this.

He's standing in front of you and alive. That's what matters.

A warm chuckle escaped from your lips, trying your best to stay composed since you started to feel a little giddy and silly.

"You're right.. This feels comforting."

All while letting his soft grip upon your hand stays, he now moves your hand from his chest, and onto his forehead. "You can-- I mean, check for my temperature as well, just to try convince yourself further, yeah?"

In truth, he just wanted to feel your touch for much longer, especially right at this moment. The rain outside was almost being forgotten.

Harry smiled over his own words; partly joking about it, but at the same time, he wasn't. You returned his actions with such ease, simply letting your hand stay upon his forehead for a bit longer.

You were being cautious as ever, as if not wanting to accidentally hurt him or anything in that way.

"You don't have to be so careful, you know," he remarks, finding your actions quite amusing to behold, to which you simply laughed it off.

"But I wanted to."

You did something that could be considered as bold afterwards; where you actually gave his cheek a small, yet sweet kiss. It's quite new, as you never had the courage to do something as such despite being friends for years.

"That should take all the remaining sickness away, hopefully."

As much as a sap you're being right now, you couldn't help yourself, especially when he keeps his gaze at you like that. He's just so.. You can't even resist him; feeling the urge to squish him if he was a plushie or anything akin to it.

It's just a kiss on the cheek, but why would he freeze and appear to be surprised by the sudden gesture? You're scared if you might have gotten too far with your actions--

But then, his expression is failing him once the reddish hue starts to form upon his cheeks, sharing a sweet and heartwarming laugh along with you.

Harry knows how much you cared for him; on how gentle you are with him. Even if the whole ordeal turns out to be a platonic one, he wouldn't mind the slightest, as long as you are within it.

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katiifaetarot · 3 months

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Hello friends, beings, and starlights! Im new to the tarot community here on Tumblr and would like to help guide, give honest/TRUTHFUL advice, and be a safe space for anyone+everyone who feels safe here! 🧚🏽‍♀️✨️

My goals/intentions are always to help others through my experience, to teach/guide them to work on themselves, and encourage them to find the strength, courage, discipline, and honest wisdom within themselves, without looking for outside validation!

** I AM NOT A MEDICAL OR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL; PLEASE USE YOUR OWN JUDGEMENT AND DISCERNMENT TO DETERMINE IF YOU NEED OR WANT TO SEEK PROPER HELP OR TREATMENTS FOR YOURSELF OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR OR SOCIAL MEDIA!!

___________________________________________

The Reading of the Day is: Encouraging Words from Your Higher Self ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

There are 4 piles and you will be picking through angel #'s that are right below this text! Feel free to look at the specific photos for each pile if you feel called too!

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✨️🧚🏽‍♀️please choose your pile and may your intuition and inner knowing guide you to the pile with the energy most suited for you and most suited to help you along your path at this current point in time, no matter what that looks like right now🧚🏽‍♀️✨️

PILE 1- 999/10's

PILE 2- 555/666

PILE 3- 333/222

PILE 4- 777/888

** sometimes ( most of the time ) i will pick up on multiple energies that need attention or want to be expressed during the reading so i ASK YOU TO UNDERSTAND THIS DURING THESE TYPES OF READINGS:

depending on how the reader chooses to look at the situation or however the situation resonates for the reader and because this is a general reading;

⚠️you HAVE to be able to use your better discernment + better judgement skills to fully absorb the message and be able to do the necessary work to keep you on track for the future you WANT for yourself⚠️

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OKAY PILE 1:

You're closing out cycles LEFT and RIGHT! Which is causing you to see, feel, think, etc SOOO much more differently and with expanded perspectives and more emotional depths than you ever had before. This is a good thing....yet its also bittersweet, sad, and happening SO FAST! Almost causing this faint sense of whiplash. This is good....this means you're growing and that may be scary-- BUT DONT GET STUBBORN AND STAY STAGNANT! LEAVE THAT COMFORT ZONE AND START TRULY LIVING, BREATHING, AND GETTING EXCITED ABOUT LIFE AGAIN!

the encouraging words from your higher self are: DON'T STOP, KEEP GOING! NO MATTER WHAT CHANGES FOR YOU , NO MATTER WHO LEAVES YOUR LIFE, NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, DO NOT GIVE UP! YOU'RE NOT A QUITTER, YOU'RE A WARRIOR WITH A FIGHTING SPIRIT SO DONT GIVE IN AND DONT GIVE UP!!!

Find time for self reflection, self care, and self celebration to better hold on during this wild time in your life while you figure things out for yourself, balance out your priorities, and while you ALSO have some FUN!!

Hold yourself accountable for your mistakes, missteps, and anything that held you back in the past so you have a solid list of what to keep OUT of your life and what to DO differently in your life to keep feeling great and going after what you desire WITHOUT feeling held back by things or people!

Set aside time for paying attention to your body, mind, thoughts, feelings, emotions, ANYTHING you feel YOU NEED to be paying attention too, to feel better about yourself and your choices. DO NOT FORGET TO CELEBRATE HOW FAR YOU HAVE COME AND HOW BRILLIANT YOU ARE AND TREAT YOURSELF TO PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS THAT UPLIFT YOUR SPIRIT AND ENERGY!!

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OKAY PILE 2:

Right off the bat your higher self is STRAIGHT-FORWARD as he|| :

the encouraging words from your higher self are: IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP, CHANGE YOUR PERSPECTIVE TO A MORE POSITIVE ONE, AND LET GO OF STUBBORN ENERGY FROM YOUR PAST!!

It seems you recently suffered a set back, either of the emotional or financial kind and its messing with your flow and your head....and your confidence in yourself.

And that's okay....the clear message here is to change the way you view your situation, have compassion for yourself, and make sure you're being aware of other people's struggles too! It's not just you going through a tough situation!!

You're not alone pile2, you can get yourself warm and optimistic again! But you will have to make a plan first! Whether this was a financial, emotional, or etc-- kind of setback, you have to move on from this situation soon so you are able to see the light again! Dont stay stuck because of stubbornness, greed, or lack of awareness!

You have the ability to see what will help you gain more abundance.....you just have to be honest and truthful with yourself about what behaviors, people, patterns, habits, situations, routines, etc NEED TO STAY or NEED TO GO!!

encouraging ADVICE from your higher self: FOCUS ON WHATS IN YOUR POWER TO FIX, FOCUS ON BUILDING AND CULTIVATING STABILITY FOR YOURSELF--BY YOURSELF, DONT LET YOUR PAST HOLD YOU BACK!!

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OKAY PILE 3:

This is my pile of gentle giants, gentle hearts, gentle creatures.....just gentleness and kindness😭 ( im crying channeling & being in your energy because its so warm and inviting, thank you pile 3 for allowing me to be in this energy for a bit)

With all that being said pile 3, 😭😭😭 yall really need to protect your precious energy more. There might be things ( or people...👀 ) that are draining your energy and you dont even recognize it because you're so used to giving away your kindness and compassion to people, you dont even see or feel yourself being drained.

Its time to take a step back and give to yourself for a moment while also celebrating what YOU do bring to this world and how your lifes energy has the capability and capacity to heal others ( and it already has before🥺 ).

encouraging words from your higher self: YOU'RE DOING REALLY WELL AND IT IS OKAY TO SET AND MAINTAIN BOUNDARIES WITH OTHER PEOPLE WHILE FOCUSING ON BUILDING UP YOUR PERSONAL POWER TO CULTIVATE THIS NEW SENSE OF PURPOSE AND NEW SENSE OF SELF THAT IS HAPPENING INSIDE OF YOU!!

Look i dont know you guys at all, and i KNOW the correct people will see this, but all i can say is : Y'all are abundant with opportunities, self-awareness, goodness, light energy, positivity, luck, personal drive, compassion, kindness, love, confidence, warmth, gentleness, passion, determination, strength, E T C --

so please sit with yourself and integrate these inner qualities/skills into your personal belief system(s) so you NEVER forget who you are and no one can EVER shake you to your core;

Really take a look and make a list of people, places, things, etc that dont match up with the future plans you have for yourself! Friends and Family INCLUDED!!!!

Your Personal Belief System(s) is a trusted source of stability, confidence, and safe space for yourself to go back to when you are feeling low about your life or self esteem because YOOOU made it that way...so make sure you cultivate it to be a gentle, nurturing, and uplifting so you can handle the negativity in your brain and in the outside world around you.

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OKAY PILE 4:

This my pile of bad@&&'s, dreamers, lovers, lil weirdoooos(mean that so lovingly and endearingly), and creative peeps alike♡

Hiiii, helllooooo, y'all's energy speaks to me so vividly and dream like.....even though i feel and see the heartache, past indiscretions, inner turmoil + feelings of loneliness, missteps, dreadful childhoods, ETC-

y'all still are choosing to keep going and keep pursuing your dreams/goals! And for that i commend, honor, and find you so admirable and inspiring pile 4.

the encouraging words from your higher self: DONT GIVE UP, DONT BACK DOWN, DONT GET DISTRACTED, YOU WILL BE VICTORIOUS, YOU WILL GET WHAT YOU DESERVE AND WANT, YOU WILL BE OKAY!

you're doing such a great job keeping yourself up and on the path you see for yourself. Moderation is the name of your game and you're teaching yourself patience and discipline to FULLY grasp and integrate the concept of Temperance inside yourself.

and thats bad@&& ASF !!!! Your pile was staright forward and short, and i love that because that means you have solid plans, and ideas to go after what you want......the only thing holding you back is.....

JUST STARTING......

so.....just start!! dont be fearful of your own success and dont doubtful of yourself and abilities!!!

you got this pile 4!! I believe in you♡

___________________________________________

I sincerely hope you received what you needed and released what you don't !! See you again soon!! Take it easyyy and just breathe and fllooowwww!!! you got this! byyeee~🧚🏽‍♀️✨️

**please let me know how I'm doing in any way you can! that is the easiest way to support me and also a good way to signal to me to keep going + any helpful advice from the community would be welcomed and appreciated 🥺 🥹 🙏🏼

___________________________________________

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

**ONCE AGAIN, I AM NOT A MEDICAL OR HEALTH PROFESSIONAL; PLEASE USE YOUR OWN JUDGEMENT AND DISCERNMENT TO DETERMINE IF YOU NEED OR WANT TO SEEK PROPER HELP OR TREATMENTS FOR YOURSELF OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR OR SOCIAL MEDIA!!

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

#tarot blog #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarotonline #witch aesthetic #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot journal #pac #spirituality #higher self #wordsofencouragement

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charmedreincarnation · 11 months

Note

Hi Maya. I always adore the way you motivate and explain everything in detail about the law and manifestation. People like you are so generous and even though you have a life to have fun and live fully you've still chosen to help people like me to live life to the fullest. Thank you and every blogger who is doing this. All I wanted to ask is I know about law of assumption, void and other things. With loa I've somehow changed my life but not to the fullest. Not exactly the way I wanted. I haven't manifested anything BIG till now. I really really wanted to change this life. I have gone through so much till now I'm trying to come out of it but I don't know why? I'm still living my old life. 😔 I wanted to wake up in my dream reality because I definitely deserve it. What should I do? I have tried all the methods but how to know that one method is compatible for me? I am not lazy. I am consistently doing whatever I feel like to do everyday. But please help me what should I do so that even I can change my life like many people here.

First off, thank you for your kind words and reaching out. It's clear that you're dedicated to creating change in your life, i have no doubt that you’re ambitious nor do I think you’re lazy. There is not a single person in this community that is lazy. Finding the law and choosing to change your life is the most ambitious and loving thing you can do for yourself no matter how much you think you’re doing or not doing.

Just start by appreciating the progress you've already made. You've changed your life with the law of assumption, which is fantastic. But now, you're ready for more significant transformations, and that's completely okay and valid.

One thing I'd like to emphasize is that manifesting doesn't have to be hard. It's not about doing more, trying harder, or finding the perfect method. It's about allowing, accepting, and living in your imagination.Imagine your desired reality in as much detail as possible. What does it look like? What does it feel like? Who are you in this reality? The more vividly you can imagine it, the more real it becomes in your mind. And when it feels real in your mind, it begins to manifest in your physical reality.

But here's the “key:” You have to accept this imagined reality as yours. Not something you're striving for, not something you hope will happen someday, but something that is already yours. Live in that state of having already achieved what you desire.Don't worry about how it will happen. That's not your job. Your job is to live in the end, to embody the version of yourself who already has what you want. The universe, or your subconscious mind, (whatever you like to look up to) will take care of the rest.

it's not about the methods. Methods are just tools to help you focus your mind and align with your desired reality. They're not magic formulas that make things happen. The real power lies within you, in your beliefs and assumptions.So if a method doesn't feel right to you, let it go. Trust your intuition. Do what feels good to you, what makes you feel aligned with your desired reality. And most importantly, be patient with yourself.

You're on the right path, and you absolutely deserve the life you dream of. Believe in yourself, live in your imagination, and accept your desired reality as yours. The rest will follow. If it’s hard you’re doing something wrong. Don’t stress yourself let more and more go until it feels natural.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks

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frost-felon · 3 months

Text

I aim to accomplish three things in this post:

1. Make an argument for why I believe Gojo Satoru's death and afterlife scene don't give his character arc a satisfying resolution.

2. Argue why Tsumiki would be crucial for advancing Satoru's character and giving her more of a role than "Megumi's Motivation™", whilst working within the confines of what JJK has been written as, previously.

3. Give Yuji-lovers more hope that we'll see our little guy give an earnest smile again.

Because this post is pretty damn long, here are the effective starting and ending points of each argument. Please note that no words in this meta are meant to be extraneous, other than some light-hearted asides.

1. "Personally, I think that the airport scene only makes sense/can be consistent with Satoru's portrayals throughout the story (even right before the fight, in Chapters 222 & 223) if it's meant to highlight an internal struggle."/"While key characters like Geto and Nanami show up, with Amanai shown seated separately, there is one crucial absence:"

2. "Fushiguro Tsumiki."/"And I just...I want some real depth to Tsumiki, be it in service to another character for the 50th time or not."

3. "Because somehow, I don't think that what Yuji wants right now is for someone to take away all the boo-boos and make his situation better; I think he wants to go home and relax with the people he cares about, and he'll do anything--eat anything--to accomplish that."/"So depower Satoru, but let him live, so Yuji can finally get out of this misery porn and into his loved ones' arms."

So, without further ado!

248 really made a lot of people excited for the possibility of Gojo Satoru coming back, while making others groan. Why? That actually requires a nuanced answer--but the gist is that many people adore Satoru's character; some people think his character arc was abruptly ended (even spat-on, in some cases); the fallout of 236 left a lot of people angry and/or divided on the story's direction (for more than just Satoru's character, but in many cases, focally so); some fans got really annoying about it; and some people just don't want to hear about Satoru Discourse™, regardless of how they feel about his character. All of these are valid reasons for a cocktail of reactions to the knowledge that Ui Ui and co. have been snatching bodies from the field. If you think Satoru's story is over, then giving this hope to the people who wish to believe he's going to be alive can be quite irksome. And if you want Satoru to live, then the uneasiness of not knowing how Satoru living will affect the narrative may be eating at you, too.

Personally, I think that the airport scene only makes sense/can be consistent with Satoru's portrayals throughout the story (even right before the fight, in Chapters 222 & 223) if it's meant to highlight an internal struggle. Nanami's words are...suspect¹, let's say, in 236, but he discusses clinging to your past versus becoming anew, betting on the future. This, I think, is the main conflict of Satoru's character arc:

The struggle between keeping to what you're familiar with and remaining within expectations, in opposition to taking risks and trusting who you are and what you want to others around you, working with them. Effectively, shedding Satoru's superficiality and being fully open to new ideas.

Satoru's goading, jocular personality has been noted to be fake before, but the intensity he occasionally shows has never been doubted, even if what the intensity is for has. Like in 222 and 223, with Ijichi's long-running guilt and self-doubt. In 222, Satoru says, "Now it's just the three of us, huh?" when alone with Ieri and Ijichi. When he expresses his thought on Nanami's death, this exchange occurs:

SATORU: "I thought Nanami was the type to survive no matter what."

IJICHI: "I'm sorry."

SATORU: "What do you have to be sorry for, Ijichi?"

IJICHI: "I thought you were implying why did he die and not me?"

SATORU: "Is your opinion of me that low?!"

SATORU: "You still have a big job to do..."

SATORU: "...so stay sharp."

Notably, throughout this exchange, Satoru is first looking away at the ground from his elevated, but seated position, when commenting on Nanami's death. However, when Ijichi reveals that he thought Satoru was disappointed that Ijichi had lived 'in place' of Nanami (which is a false mutual-exclusion serving Ijichi's guilt complex), Satoru turns to Ijichi, looking directly at him. As he admonishes Ijichi, he raises his left hand to point at the man, with what looks to be an irritated expression of his own. It's pretty uncommon to see Satoru express any form of anger, severe or not, though we've seen him do so here, in Shibuya, in parts of Hidden Inventory, and most importantly to Satoru and Ijichi's relationship, when Satoru revealed his rage at Yuji's death in Ieri's morgue.

Before I go further, I'd like to acknowledge that Satoru's personality is significantly mellowed-out from his pre-unsealing demeanor, though he's still not emotionally-open, even if he isn't quite evasive in his answers. He's a lot more visibly serious, but his writing still suggests that he's keeping some of his thoughts and feelings close to his chest. If you know me, you know that I despise the timeskip for robbing us of several opportunities for character growth and exploration, including Satoru's change in mentality after being stuck in solitary isolation with a bunch of suicidal skeletons, in what he describes as,

"Like when work is insanely busy."

"A week would pass in a flash..."

"...but it's so draining that you'd never want to do it again."

"Like that."

However, I must ignore the majority of the 34-35 days that were skipped, harder than even Gege has, in order to stick to what JJK canon has given me. At the time of this writing, no further flashback sequences during the timeskip involving Satoru have been revealed. So pretty much all I have are from scenes in the chapter shortly before the battle, as the battle itself doesn't really give any indications on why Satoru is acting the way he is. Thus, I'm going to continue to look at some of these scenes, including the 223 conversation with Ijichi, the 223 confrontation by Gakuganji, and Ieri's words in 220.

First, with Gakuganji:

Here, Satoru expresses what appears to be relieved amusement at Gakuganji's change of heart. Interestingly, his behavior here does get evasive in his body language, and clipped in his dialogue; by turning away, he makes it harder for Gakuganji to judge his reaction to Yaga's last words. He also acknowledges his responsibility in having let down his allies by being sealed. To Satoru, fostering "strong and intelligent allies" has been his dream since well before we came to know him in JJK proper. Ieri's flashback in 220 shows him talking about his dream in an intense manner as he removes his JJK 0 blindfold; when we see him discuss this in Chapter 11: A Dream, he's shown with his eyes obscured, either by his then-current blindfold, or with his hand, as in the chapter cover. So it's pretty important to him, and this moment, along with his discussion with Ijichi before this scene and mere pages afterward in 223, suggest a regret for having been unable to support his allies, and a responsibility to those left in the wake of his presence or absence.

In the scene before, after Ijichi has received his answer for what it's like in the Prison Realm, Satoru asks,

"What happened to the people on Floor B5?"

Notably, he is looking forward while walking to their destination, instead of at Ijichi when he raises this question. Ijichi answers with,

"That was² the epicenter of the Shibuya Incident where the Cursed Spirits were released."

"Non-Sorcerers all over Tokyo were less likely to survive the closer they were to Shibuya."

"However, thanks to the remnants of Gojo-san's Cursed Energy³, the Spirits never came near B5."

The next lines come with Satoru striving forward on stairs and to Gakuganji and Utahime, still not slowing down to look at Ijichi, who is trailing behind Satoru.

SATORU: "Any after-effects of Unlimited Void?"

IJICHI: "No. Everyone's lives have returned to normal.⁴"

SATORU: "That's good to hear."

Here, Satoru stretches, before changing the subject.

SATORU: "Well, shall we do this?"

In the later scene with Ijichi, right before Satoru deploys on the field, we get these pages:

This scene is mostly focused on Ijichi's perspective of himself, while touching upon his relationship to Satoru. Satoru's assurance that Ijichi is necessary and someone that he trusts shakes Ijichi, who is plagued by self-doubt. Now, he's striving to "live up to [Satoru's] words", pushing past his own insecurities to aid Satoru in creating a safer world. Like with Gakuganji, Ijichi can't read Satoru well, which is a consistent pattern with other characters; largely through Satoru's own behaviors and cagey control over what he allows others to see, other members of the cast are kept at arm's length.

Enter Ieri Shoko, his longtime friend and classmate (who doesn't get nearly enough to do), and consider her words from 220:

"But you idiot, who's alone? I was there all along."

"There're a bunch of monsters now...awaiting your return. Come back, Gojo."

This scene, where she reflects on her relationship with Satoru, as well as her reminiscence on both of her classmates and Satoru's intensity with his dream ("I will foster...a strong and intelligent group. I won't leave anyone alone."), are pretty revealing. Both to Satoru's emotional distance from others driving his ambitions, as well as how he hurts his potential relationships with others. Ieri reflects on her presence and support going unappreciated (or simply underappreciated) by Satoru, since she can't reach through the walls he's built up over the years. Largely because she doesn't get to actually matter outside of her usefulness as a medkit in most scenes, sadly.

Then 236 comes along, and has Satoru just. Die, suddenly, and an afterlife scene that feels cheesy at best, and actively hampering the narrative, at worst. While key characters like Geto and Nanami show up, with Amanai shown seated separately, there is one crucial absence:

Fushiguro Tsumiki.

Tsumiki is more of a plot device and source of motivation for Megumi than a character. That's disappointing, but she's served her purpose in the narrative. Except...I can't remember ever seeing a scene where she talked to or interacted with Satoru, especially not as the focus. My understanding is that Satoru is her legal guardian/provides her with shelter, utilities, and likely food, with everything else being speculation, because...they've not been explored together. On the other hand, Tsumiki and Satoru are crucial to Megumi's character.

I have no illusions of Tsumiki being a vital character to Satoru's development, but damn, I wish she was. Or that she had a presence, an acknowledgement; and there's really only one last chance to do this, barring Megumi getting Mega Murdered.

Yet, she's missing from the airport. It could just be that even now, developing Tsumiki and her relation to Satoru (as his ward/former ward) is a cardinal sin that Jujutsu Kaisen cannot indulge. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that a woman character was treated poorly, and left on the wayside⁵, though Tsumiki has always blatantly been more of a tool for the narrative than a character to me. Which is why I think this may be her last real chance at having a character with fleshed-out relationships, and could also provide a satisfying ending to Satoru's character arc.

I'm angling for a scenario in which Satoru is pulled from the suffering of the past to the suffering of the present. In which Tsumiki coaxes Satoru out of his isolationist grip on his heart with hard-hitting questions. Finally, Satoru could let go of his failures, and the discord in his soul, to do what he does best: providing unexpected and vigorous support to the people he believes in. The next generation, the competent allies--be they ones he had already become attached to, or ones he'd in some way overlooked. If nothing else, I truly believe that Gege could pull off a scenario of Satoru overcoming his baggage, and renewing himself to turn intense, conflicted feelings and hard-to-read value in others into full-fledged devotion. Because she was there from the beginning, wasn't she? A teenager walked into her life and her brother's, and gave them the aid the children's parents would not or could not, and throughout it all, she's watched the people she loved grow, until she was robbed of years of her life to a coma.

She'd know so intimately, wouldn't she? Of never being enough, of losing time.

And even in her minimal character, she has never struck me as a character so chained to the past. But to expectations? Sure.

So. While I don't think that it's likely that Jujutsu Kaisen will prominently showcase a woman's inherent value, I do think that a woman's value being tied to the men in her life has a shot. Even if it's a dream, I don't think it's far-fetched, a mere fantasy, to have Tsumiki play a large role and help make this messy, jarring afterlife scene stand better with the rest of the work. And I just...I want some real depth to Tsumiki, be it in service to another character for the 50th time or not.

As for how Satoru's revival could not be an irritation? Have him sacrifice his Cursed Energy and Six-Eyes. To his students, and to those who trust him, his value can't be so simplified as "The Strongest". Geto asked him a silly question once, when struggling with his own demons. This time, ten years and at least twice as many bonds later, Satoru will finally have an answer.

He's not the Strongest. He is Gojo Satoru, and his loved ones need him, wholly and honestly. Whatever it takes.

Because somehow, I don't think that what Yuji wants right now is for someone to take away all the boo-boos and make his situation better; I think he wants to go home and relax with the people he cares about, and he'll do anything--eat anything--to accomplish that. But it wouldn't hurt to let him know that he isn't alone. That his loved ones aren't full of regrets bleeding from their hearts (but never their mouths, because "I can't say that to him"; "It wasn't so bad!"; "That's what you should do."⁶) as he watches them die, over and over again. So depower Satoru, but let him live, so Yuji can finally get out of this misery porn and into his loved ones' arms.

Really, I think we should come full circle. Sukuna self-admittedly doesn't have an ideal, or a higher purpose to pursue. A dream. Other than in 220's flashback, Satoru can't be seen with visible, open eyes when discussing his dream, and even then, he's looking up and away. I'd like to see Tsumiki help him achieve his dream with earnest, open eyes. To leave the airport a changed, fully-realized man, and with unseeing eyes wide open to a future of strong and intelligent allies achieving their own dreams.

↓ Notations and my closing paragraph/mid-leak edit, lmao.

¹They're not consistent with Nanami's portrayals as an adult, but are consistent with how Nanami thought of Satoru when enrolled in Jujutsu High. In general, the characters in the airport resemble the incarnations (largely teenagers, around 10-11 years in the past) they are shown as, but with the knowledge and some of the mentality of their older selves. Nanami most resembles his later self when discussing Mei Mei's advice. If this is going to connect with Satoru leaving the airport (and thus, his past) behind, then this can work. As it is, it's very jarring.

²For most of the analysis, I use the VIZ lines. However, this set of dialogue has a mistake, so here, I have switched to a scanlation group's work (if you know, you know). This is the only time I will be doing so. That said, I have tweaked the start of this line to say "That was...", as in the VIZ version, since the present tense used by the scanlation group feels off, given the context.

³"Residuals" in VIZ translation.

⁴We're back to the VIZ lines now, with this line and the preceding one.

⁵I don't like the direction of Maki's character at this point, and I think Hana's narrative role has probably been fulfilled, but I'd really like to see them get important scenes that flesh out their characters. Kirara (who I am assuming is a transwoman or she/they; my apologies if I'm wrong), Nishimiya, and Miwa are dying in the streets, though.

⁶I'm using the VIZ line, but this has wildly different translations, and seems to be...very left open to interpretation in the original wording. Alternatively, the "My role..." line could work here.

Edit: The fuck you mean we got 249 leaks early?! I was just finishing up after a bad week! Which explains part of why this post is disjointed--I may have to go into more detail on certain parts at another time. If 249 ends this meta and myself, so be it. Thank you for reading!

#Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK #Spoilers #Jujutsu Kaisen Spoilers #JJK Spoilers #JJK Manga Spoilers #I haven't read the new leaks yet. I will cry.#Gojo Satoru #Satoru Gojo #Fushiguro Tsumiki #Tsumiki Fushiguro #Itadori Yuji #Yuji Itadori #Meta #JJK Meta #< It's theorywork and narrative-analysis...so...#Analysis #JJK Analysis

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rinnelovebot · 1 year

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Yahoo!! Can we get headcanons about flustering Rei and Rinne (which acts confident most of the time)? Thank you !!

A/N: sobbing, screaming at the top of my lungs. I love these two soooooooo much,,, someone hold me right now

*ೃ༄ Flustering Rei Sakuma and Rinne Amagi

✦ — REI SAKUMA

⤷ Needless to say, Rei is seldom flustered. Teasing is a skill he has down pat, and no one can overwhelm your face with heat in the same way that he can. While he absolutely adores your affection, it isn’t really something that tends to fluster him, and he’ll usually find a way to flip the situation on its head and turn you into a flustered mess, as opposed to him. Your best bet would be to catch him off guard, and present him with tenderness when he least expects it.

⤷ Even in a flustered state, Rei manages to remain (mostly) suave, offering you a pleased smile, with his cheeks slowly beginning to match the rubies of his eyes. He gives you a tender pat on the head, and a silent kiss on the cheek, as if to say a small “thank you”. Even if being flustered by you had been fully unexpected, he still appreciates it as an act of your love, and a display of your affections. He can always count on you to surprise him in small ways like this.

⤷ Somehow, he finds your ability to fluster him endearing. Rei thinks it’s sweet — the feeling is new and exciting, and he adores the way you make his heart clench within his chest. He’s always been somewhat of an unusual man, and his reaction to your sugary words and actions can be considered just as unusual. You hadn’t expected to be able to catch him off guard at all, so you had to admit that you were mighty pleased with yourself.

⤷ Rei tends to fondly recall times in which you made him feel as though he were a young girl kicking her feet back in forth at the thought of her crush, blissfully raising his hand to his cheek and sharing just how wonderful you are to his unitmates, and to anyone else who’s willing to listen. He commonly jokes that if he could turn fawning over you into his profession, he’d absolutely leave his life as an idol behind at the drop of a pen.

⤷ As you can tell, there’s a compromise to be made. While yes, you can fluster him, it’ll mostly serve to make him fawn over and fluster you more than he already does, which is saying a lot. Not that you’d mind, given your relationship. Seeing him sort of vulnerable and flushed warms your heart, and you mentally note to figure out how else you could fluster him in the future. He thinks your efforts are remarkably praiseworthy and cute.

✦ — RINNE AMAGI

⤷ Contrary to popular belief, flustering Rinne is surprisingly easy if you play your cards right. A single comment, or a simple display of affection can quickly cause his brain to spin out of control until he’s nothing but moldable putty in your hands, desperately attempting to save face by laughing it off and pinching your cheek. But you know him well enough to recognize and understand. Of course, he knows you do — but he can’t help his pride, you know.

⤷ Giving affection comes easily to Rinne, but receiving it can cause him to short circuit at times. Although he enjoys your willingness to hug, kiss, and cuddle him, you always make his stomach tie into a million knots. Pleasant knots, but knots nonetheless. He isn’t sure how to handle the blooming warmth within his ribs that you bring upon him, but carefully, quietly, he knows that he’ll figure it out, with you by his side. He lets you hold him a little closer.

⤷ Praise is almost guaranteed to get him red in the face. Rinne gasses himself up quite a lot, but saying generous things about himself doesn’t even come close to comparing to how they sound from your lips. The first time you genuinely complimented him, he nearly panicked from the bashfulness that overtook him. He can really only half play it off, the other half of him always remains flustered and dumbfounded.

⤷ Despite how he comes across, he craves your validation and affection, the same kind that makes his face hot and his palms sweaty. He’ll shoot all the praise and love your way for hours and hours in the most natural way possible, but his walls come crashing down when you tell him that you love him, or tenderly cup his cheek. That unfamiliar feeling becomes somewhat addicting to Rinne, something he wants and needs more of. Surely, you’ll indulge him endlessly.

⤷ He’s said it countless times, and he’ll say it infinitely more — god, does he love you. Only you could ever make him experience joy like this, and only you could introduce him to new feelings that he thought he’d never be able to feel. Silently, he begs for your love, but you always make sure he knows that he never has to. It will always be you. He knows it, you know it, everyone knows it. Every time his heart leaps into his throat by your hand, he falls deeper in love.

#marchie scribbles #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #rinne amagi x reader #rinne amagi #rei sakuma #rei sakuma x reader

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heyheydidjaknow · 11 months

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Maybe it's just fuelled by bias, but I never interpreted L as a virgin or completely inept when it comes to physical affection. i mean i agree with the idea that he's not the most experienced, but idk i always held the notion that he would view sex, arousal, etc as [within the context of not having a partner] just an bodily inconvenience that could be ignored until it couldn't, or even just a way of stress relief that he'd either take care of himself, or resort to a one night stand (under a different alias, in an impersonal setting and most likely never contact them again).

i think in terms of physically affection he'd understand it phonetically - for lack of a better word; like when children are learning to talk, and instead of understanding the right pronunciation and meaning of words, they just know what it sounds like and know roughly how to use the word. L understands what affection looks like, he knows usually when it's expected and how to mimic and adapt to his partner's wants, etc. but he doesn't understand fully (either from his childhood, or his analytical nature) that physical affection is just a common thing that happens for the sake of it, and instead thinks it happens because x and happens in the context of y. if that makes any sense what so ever.

idk. this isn't a slight against you btw, i like the way you write him and i think you're the best person to dump interpretations of him if thats ok.

I agree with aspects of this but I’m still going to argue because it’s fun to do that. Obviously this is a perfectly valid way of interpreting the text but what’s the point of sharing opposing viewpoints if not to discuss and contrast them?

I’m going to mark his whole thing with Misa as one of my biggest points for L being somewhat into sex. We see him enjoying her hypersexual ads, he responds to her kiss on the cheek like someone who understands and is somewhat comfortable with physical contact and when he’s confronted about the obvious ickiness that is his restraining Misa he does seem genuinely off-put when Misa calls him a perv, which means he at the very least seems to understand how it could be construed that way. I agree with your point to an extent that in practical terms all things sexual would become something like a chore but I think that would just be the way that a lot of things would get if your mind is singularly focused on a task for extended periods. He just does not have a lot of time to take time to enjoy that sort of thing the same way he does not have time to enjoy eating a proper meal without working.

I agree with the general physical affection thing to an extent— that he would be naturally inclined to make it a bit more clinical and follow more linear reasoning— but I don’t imagine that a person whose job it is to watch and understand people would not also put together that physical affection is just a social need that people typically have. To not be able to understand that much— that touching someone can and is a mean in it of itself— seems like a huge oversight on his part if that is the case. And, again, he does respond positively to physical affection, so I don’t think he’s necessarily unfamiliar with it; even going beyond the cheek kiss, he has no issue holding hands with Light and Misa in their circle thing, and doesn’t react negatively or as if he’s startled when Aizawa grabs his shoulder during the whole Sakura TV incident. This leads me to believe that he has enough practical experience with being physically touched to not be weirded out by it or not know how to respond to it, which is why I’ve always hinted at the idea that his childhood did have a lot of normal person on person interaction in it to explain this discrepancy.

#death note #death note x reader #l lawliet #death note x you #death note lawliet #dn lawliet #death note x y/n #lawliet x reader #l x reader #ryuzaki lawliet #please send me headcanons you think I’d disagree with #I am very pro this sort of discussion

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wearywinchester · 2 years

Text

Unconventional

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a weekend away from hunting turns out to be the opposite, you make do.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, swearing, fluff, kissing

It was the weekend. That four, or even five day weekend that was reserved for no hunts. A little slot of time for you and the ones you kept closest to get together and act like you don’t hunt supernatural monsters for a living, to spend the summer season doing what most people do that are oblivious to what’s really out there.

It was supposed to be a little break.

You should’ve known better than to think that’d be one hundred percent true, you should’ve. But you still found yourself rolling your eyes at the simple fact that on the first day, the first day, those brothers caught wind of a case. Couldn’t even go a whole two days without them tracking the scent of another one.

Fortunately it was pretty straight forward, a nasty spirit to be salted and burned with practiced ease at this point. It was easy until there were those few mishaps, ones that were less than ideal.

So now, now instead of doing what you were supposed to do on this little hunter’s break, you were inside Bobby’s cabin with tempers flaring as you dropped your duffel bag on the floor. It was heavy, it’s thud heavier and it wasn’t hard to tell you were upset. Dean picked up on it back at that borderline ridiculous haunted house.

It was very clear to see it with the way you’d had that angry pout, one that you didn’t even know you had going on amongst the frustration brewing within you. Your brows were seemingly permanently furrowed, knit together in a display of your anger and irritation with the older Winchester. He knew he’d gone and pissed you off, that was inevitable with the stunt he pulled and now he’s got to deal with it. And he was fully prepared to.

“That was stupid, Dean,” you say, shrugging out of your dirtied shirt in exchange for a fresh one, a t shirt of Dean’s you snagged right out of his duffel without care that he’d had his hand on it first.

“Think I figured that out the first ten times you said it, sweetheart,” he said, amusement in his tone as he chuckled softly.

The look on your face has his smile disappearing just as quickly as it appeared, his mouth opening and closing as he clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. Now, he felt like an ass, like some jerk who’s poking the bear.

“I’m glad you think this is funny, Dean,” you say, your angered gaze leaving his as you tuck a corner of his shirt into the denim of your shorts.

Oh yeah, he felt that feeling big time now.

“Y/n—”

“You always do this, Dean!” You interject, his mouth closing as his brows furrow, gripping and fumbling with the shirt in his hand before dropping it completely. “You always throw yourself into whatever danger there is out there to try and be my hero. You get yourself all busted up and bruised just to protect me.”

He scoffs then, quiet as he looks away and shakes his head. “You think I like when you’re chargin’ in to go kick some monster’s ass just to protect me? Of all people, me. Be a little fair here.”

You swallowed thickly, anger mixed with a little pang in your heart that you couldn’t quite place. It was a valid point, one that was detrimental to your argument but that anger, that upset was still very much there. It was a good point but not good enough to make that frustration dissolve. Not as you stood there and looked at him, cut high up on his cheek and just above his eyebrow, blood still smeared just under his freckled nose and framing his top lip.

It wasn’t a solid enough point as you stood there unharmed while he was just the opposite.

“I’m not the one all busted up right now,” you counter, watching as his shoulders slump slightly, watching as his brows furrow deeper and he swallows thickly.

It was your turn to chuckle, humorless as you slipped on your shoes, bending down to zip up your duffel bag with enough force to break it, standing upright once more and you felt his gaze on you. You felt it and confirmed it with a glance in his direction.

He still held that same expression, still held that same stance as he twisted that silver ring around his finger out of absentminded habit. His gaze never left even as you turned away, turned away to leave the room you were sharing and disappear outside. It never left as he reached out and grabbed your hand, successful in keeping you from slipping through the doorway and out of sight.

You exhaled a sigh before you turned to face him after a moment, that look still on his face. He felt bad, he really did. It tore him up inside, tore him to pieces to see you get so upset when he’s hurt for jumping in like that. He hates it, hates to see that frown and that furrowed brow. He doesn’t understand why anyone would get so worked up, would get so wound up in turmoil over him. He doesn’t get it because he couldn’t give less of a crap about himself.

But you do. You do.

So he stands there, your hand still clasped in his calloused palm in the gentlest grip you’d ever seen. He stands there and he looks at you as you try your hardest to avoid his gaze but you just can’t.

You watch as that expression he’s got changes, as it softens to a hint of a smile, faint as ever till it grows. That smile that’s so Dean Winchester you can’t hardly stand it in the best possible way. It widens a fraction, a certain tenderness in his eyes that’s reserved for you, one that he doesn’t even know happens, it just does. Everyone else can see it but the two of you.

It sits pretty on his lips, tempting to get you to break your anger and let it melt away until you forget completely why it was there in the first place.

“What is it?”

You try to ignore those butterflies that look gives you, those stupid butterflies that have no business fluttering around the way they do. You try to ignore them as you just barely maintain your narrowed gaze.

His tongue swipes over his lips, those dimples by the corner of his mouth forming ever so slightly.

“Think you can forgive me just enough to patch me up, sweetheart?” He asks, amusement in his tone yet there’s still all of the sincerity in the world within it.

You look up at him, gaze narrowing just a little bit more. It’s a stare that lingers, flickering back and forth between green eyes, and you try to ignore the way his thumb brushes over your fingers in the looseness of his grip. You try to ignore it so much you pull your hand from his grasp in favor of crossing your arms over your chest briefly. But that smile of his never faltered.

It stayed, it lingered like your stare as he met it without hesitation, those lips of his pursing just enough for those dimples to accompany that grin he’s got going on and it was the most challenging damn thing you’ve ever done trying to keep from returning it with your own. He made you mad sometimes, he made you angry, but it was always unbelievably hard to stay as much for long.

You shook your head, heaving a sigh as you uncrossed your arms and brushed by him. “You’re an idiot, Winchester.”

“I heard that!” He called after you once the words hit him, spinning on his heel.

“Good,” you say, smiling to yourself as you walk towards the small bathroom.

You open the cabinet door under the sink, snagging the first aid kit that resided there before standing back up again and grabbing a washcloth, wetting it at the sink, another sigh leaving your lips when you do. When you came back in the room he’d since taken a seat on the edge of his side of the bed, hands loosely clasped on his lap.

You tossed it down on the bed next to him, opening it up and looking through its contents. You grabbed a few cotton pads and the small bottle of peroxide to start, setting them aside in favor of the dampened washcloth.

You pressed your fingers under his chin, tipping his head back a little bit before resting that hand to settle on his cheek. His stubble was prickly under your palm, the pad of your thumb brushing over the freckles on his cheek briefly.

With an exhale, you lifted the cloth to his face and swiped away the dirt and blood, partially dried and you scrubbed it away with a gentle hand, eyeing the way his brows furrow. You can feel the way his jaw tenses under your palm, his eyes falling closed and you could see the freckles on his eyelids.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said, bumping you with his knee.

He peeled open an eye to catch that eye roll he knew was bound to make an appearance and he was right. You most certainly rolled your eyes and it had the corners of his mouth quirking upwards, yours too and he knew you weren’t so mad at him at that point.

You turned the rag over to a fresh side, repeating your actions until the dirt had been washed away before tossing it in the hamper. You grabbed the cotton pads next, popping the cap on the peroxide before turning the bottle over and pouring some on to soak them. He wasn’t going to like this part, he hates it every time, you could tell by the way he’d been eying it but he hadn’t said anything.

You patted away at the cut in his cheek, more so a nasty scrape, watching the peroxide bubble over it but you’d seen worse. Your thumb brushed over his other cheek absentmindedly, something you didn’t notice but it was a gesture Dean most certainly did. Something that made him not give a crap about that sting on his face and the way it offered an annoying pain. He noticed.

He saw that furrow in your brows as you worked with gentle movements, careful not to apply too much pressure. He’d gone and made you mad with what he did that day, he’d gone and upset you, but you’d never have been able to tell with how carefully you’d tended to his wounds. You were always like that, always will be and he’s never had someone be so attentive with him in the twenty-six years he’s been alive and kicking.

He saw the way you were biting the inside of your cheek, tongue poking out ever so slightly in undoubted concentration.

You noticed.

You saw those green eyes looking at you, that gaze that’s unknowingly reserved for you. He was looking at you like you were the center of the freaking universe, but to him, you were.

Maybe he wasn’t even aware of it, maybe he was, but that gaze lingered and that smile accompanied it. One that was soft and every bit Dean Winchester. Flirty yet entirely filled with a love he can’t and has never been able to put into words. It may have been absent minded, having been sitting pretty on his lips without even knowing it. But you certainly knew and you saw every bit of it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, tone lightheartedly curious as you avert your gaze to look in the kit once more.

You snagged the small band aids you were looking for, hearing the softness of his scoff and returning your gaze to him. You raised your brow, amusement in the action.

“Am I not allowed to look at the prettiest person I’ve ever seen?” He asks, acting as if he were utterly shocked.

You rolled your eyes immediately, shaking your head as you purse your lips. “Not when you’re lying through your teeth, Winchester.”

“That just might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, and trust me, sweetheart, there’s a lot.”

You smack his shoulder lightly, that furrow between your brows returning as you huffed. You shook your head as you discarded the wrapper the bandaid had come in, fighting the smile threatening to appear on your lips and doing a horrible job at it.

“Oh shut it,” you say, stepping away from to put the kit back where it belonged.

The smell of the burgers Bobby’s been grilling outside with Sam and Jody had been wafting in through the open windows, the orange glow of the sunset seeping into the darkening cabin. It was a beautiful day when you stop and think about it, aside from the hunt that morning, aside from the flaring tempers that hadn’t lasted all that long. It was nice out, perfect weather for a little break from hunting.

When you closed the cabinet and headed back into the small bedroom, Dean had just been pulling a fresh shirt over his head, his gaze landing on you once more.

“Thought for sure you’d be scarfing down burgers by now,” you say, your smile in your words as you step closer to him.

That smile of his tugged at the corner of his mouth, soft and sweet, his chuckle falling from his lips.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he said, tugging you closer by the hand.

You bit the inside of your cheek, running your hands from his shoulders to his chest before settling them there briefly. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Oh shut it,” he says, dipping down and pressing his lips on yours.

It was soft and sweet, his lips warm and gentle, just the opposite of that stubble of his scratching softly against your chin and just under your nose. But it wasn’t enough to keep you from leaning into his kiss, his arm around your waist as his hand settled on your cheek. He paused briefly, eyes closed before he dipped down once more.

The very tip of his freckled nose bumped against yours, lips brushing over one another against the warmth of his breath fanned over your skin lightly. You hadn’t seen the smile adorning his lips, soft and faint, growing some. You hadn’t seen it but you felt it when he kissed you once, twice, three times more until—

A few crackles sounded, a higher pitched whistle next before some more pops came after it. You knew exactly what it’d been. Fireworks.

“Better head out there before Sammy accidentally sets the cabin on fire,” you say, grinning softly at the older Winchester.

“Mhm,” he hums, lips brushing over yours again. “In just a minute.”

His lips were on yours before you could argue it, something you couldn’t bring yourself to do as your laughter swept against his lips. It’d been an unconventional break from hunting, an unconventional way of spending a summer weekend compared to those who don’t hunt monsters for a living, but it was plenty good enough for you.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

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bcbdrums · 5 months

Note

Given the fact that we were talking about our perceptions of certain kinds of ships in regards to Stein and how they suit or do not suit his character, how do you feel about smut/the relationship dynamics within Stein x character smut fics?

All righty then...! Here comes a very long rambling of my headcanons about Stein, his two primary relationships, and his relationship with those deeper intimacies. This takes some turns before it gets to the main point but well, I love talking about this man. Extremely long post under the cut.

Also - there are two blogs I tag at the very end of this post - you two feel free to ignore all my ramblings, just know I praise you both at the end and I still re-read your Soul Eater stories VERY regularly.

I'm truthfully still trying to reorganize my thoughts on this specific topic because 1) I have listened to many a headcanon from others on the subject and I always try to give validity to their thoughts even when they differ from mine, and 2) I've also read tons of smut fic with Stein out of sheer desperation for...well, Stein fic. (Come on Stein fandom where you at? Write me some gen fic too, lol)

I have not read too many fics of him with Marie cuz those always contain manga spoilers so I'm skipping those for now until I finish reading (exactly halfway through!). So what I've read is mostly Stein/Spirit smuts and just a couple with Marie, and I want to say….almost zero?? I think zero of those fics (and boy I've read plenty) have "hit the spot" in terms of what I would want for a Stein smut. They're good stories, in some cases great stories, well-written and thoughtfully conceived, but they're not fitting my headcanons and interpretations of who I see onscreen (and who I see in the manga so far).

All that said now… Some of my own relevant headcanons for him, and then I'll get more into fic of others.

I go back and forth toying with the idea that Stein experimented with intimacy just a little as a teen. He's not immune to puberty and hormones; he's human whether he likes it or not, which isn't to say mind over matter doesn't work for him. (Clearly it does, in staving off madness among other things.) But he's a scientist. He's curious. And I can see him justifying an experiment or two in his teen years. But they would in fact be just that, experiments. It's still a big maybe. I can't say for certain he would, it's the sort of thing like…if all the dots line up just right, he'd attempt it. If not, he wouldn't. And it would only be with those two people: Marie and/or Spirit. He doesn't trust anyone else enough. (Yes, I'm on board with the popular fanon that Marie was one of his other weapon partners after Spirit.)

Another teen headcanon... I can also easily see a sort of angsty distraction possibility for him. When he loses Spirit to Kami, I can see him getting into a "romantic" relationship with Marie as sheer distraction, and even misguided retaliation. Spirit "cheated" on him with another meister and abandoned him, so why shouldn't he do the same with another weapon? Which sucks for Marie but well she's not healthy about relationships any more than Stein or Spirit are. But this is just another sort of maybe-thought; another situation where all the dots would have to line up just right for him to go for it. But I can see it, no question, just like the prior thought.

As for Stein as an adult, at the point we see him in the show… While I think relationally he and Spirit have the most interesting dynamic to explore, the one he shows more openness toward is Marie. It's clear that he cares for her. And he doesn't fully understand that either. Now I don't think he wants to get into bed with her, or marry her, or anything traditional to a romance. But I also don't think Marie is going anywhere. Thinking post-anime now…. Unless he gives her a sign that there is nothing between them, I think she's staying put. But sadly for her, I think there is something between them... Sadly because, Stein doesn't know what it is, and it's not "love" the way that Marie wants it. It's just something he's unfamiliar with. Meanwhile she's devoted to him, poor woman.

Now, end of the anime… Let's talk about this…. Marie helps him back to sanity with her healing wavelength. But…then he's just "okay"? No he isn't. Look at that man. His dark circles are darker, his eyes are more haunted. That man has been living off madness and cigarettes for weeks. When is the last time he ate anything? Showered? Legitimately got any sleep?? How he's even standing up let alone fighting Medusa is beyond me, and then he performs freaking major surgery and then waltzes into the death room afterward like he's fine. Because...that's who Stein is.

Stein will fight until he is incapable of fighting anymore, to serve those he loves. Yes I said loves. And it is agonizing how much he strives to show his love for others, and it's something he doesn't even realize he has within him. He thinks he can't understand love? It's because he feels it so deeply and passionately it's beyond definition. Part of this however I'm also certain is motivated from his deep desire for purpose as an adult. The manga shows that aspect of his character even more-so than the anime (in what I've read so far). That man is desperate for purpose and to belong somewhere, with someone. He can't escape his human nature even if he doesn't understand it, can't define it, and even though it drives him crazy all on its own…

So bringing this back to Marie… End of the anime. I don't think Marie is leaving. She's gonna stay, help nurse Stein back to health and sanity despite his pretending he's fine (or perhaps even sheer ignorance of his condition), and Stein…is gonna be confused the whole dang time about his feelings for Marie. He knows he feels something but he has no idea what it is or how to process it. But "love" in the romantic sense he doesn't possibly consider, because well...his conceptions of that sort of thing aren't based in anything healthy (see: Spirit's relationships).

So yeah… She's not leaving. He won't reject her attentions because he does care about her, just not in a way he understands and also not in the way she wants. And as she starts to realize that he has some kind of feeling for her, I think she'd turn up the romance and she'd make a move on him. OR…she'd play the extremely...long...patient game, and wait for him to make a move on her, when it's within his comfort zone. And let me be clear… This man still does not know what love is in this traditional sense, does not understand love. He knows what physical attraction and hormones are and darn him he can't shake those either, but as an adult he wouldn't act impulsively on them nor would he confuse them with love. Stein is the ultimate master of mind over matter. If he were to sleep with her, it would be a choice; a decision he makes consciously and deliberately. I see this within the realms of possibility. But if he chooses it himself, if he's the one who makes that decision simply out of his wanting to…it would be a long, long time that that woman is waiting for him. But I do think it possible. The question is simply, how long will she wait. And she's also the type to try to stir things up (see: her behavior toward Joe in the manga). So who knows when they may end up in bed together... These dots are more complicated to align than those of his teenage years. And if Marie made the move first...I think he'd accept it. Because, see again, his wanting to belong with someone, and he knows he feels something different with Marie.

As for Spirit, well... Stein sees that Spirit likes women. And Stein sees that Spirit can't commit. I think Stein "loves" Spirit more than he loves Marie. First love, young love... Spirit is the relationship of his life, even though that's yet another thing he cannot possibly understand. I think that while part of him, the mad obsessive part, and the curious part, does want to be close to Spirit in the intimate way…it's not out of a healthy desire or even typical motivations. It would come from a desire to possess, from his deeply human but inexplicable yearning to be closer to the one he loves even though it's not the right type of love for that type of intimacy. Not really sure Spirit would be all-in if Stein were to make the move... I think Spirit would take persuading. It's another circumstance where all the dots have to line up just right, and in this case probably more while caught up in madness than in sanity. Because as previously mentioned… In his right mind, Stein knows that Spirit likes women and more importantly that Spirit cannot commit. And he's ironically smart enough to know not to attempt a traditional human romance with someone who cannot commit. I don't think Stein would himself attempt intimacy with Spirit in his right mind at all, unless something happened to make him utterly desperate not to lose the man... Another instance of, all those dots have to connect.

But ugh, the angst. Spirit abandoned him after five years... Stein is not going to willingly subject himself to possible heartbreak again. Plus, he does not think Spirit has forgiven him for the "experiments." I think he thinks Spirit only hangs around him now as an adult as his handler, despite desperately wanting his friendship again. But I think he figures it's a lost cause so he just takes what is offered and never pursues more.

Okay but before I digress further into my endless thoughts about Stein's and Spirit's relationship (I'll do another post for that maybe), back to the point of your question.

I am really not one for labels, partially because I don't understand them but also because I think the spectrum is just so deep and too much defies definition. But if I were to label him, I guess I'd go with...gray ace with demi leanings…?

The man is driven only by curiosity, about anything and everything. But the level of intimacy we're talking about is more than he ever wants to trust anyone with. It's always gotta be on his terms, and more often than not…his terms would be unhealthy.

So let's talk about what shows up in fanfic, since that was what the original question was about. And once again, I like to lend validity to everyone's interpretation. Just because it isn't mine doesn't mean it's wrong or shouldn't exist. But you did ask about MY thoughts, so that's what I'm sharing here.

Once again, I've barely touched Stein/Marie fic because I'm avoiding manga spoilers. In the one or two I've seen, he comes across as not connecting emotionally in the typical way, but knowing that there is indeed something different about being with her. He knows she cares about him, and he cares in return. But it doesn't come across as anything intimate on his side of it. This isn't a characterization I particularly like, because Stein as an adult... As I said, I think he'd choose that intimacy if and when he wants it. In the stories, it comes across more as him just doing her a favor, just going along. It doesn't sit right. But like I said, that's only two stories. For other Stein/Marie, I reserve opinion for later.

Stein/Spirit... Okay. I've noticed a great many commonalities in the fics I've read. And this isn't a taste or preference thing; like I said I have devoured almost every smut fic just in desperation for any fanfic of them. Would prefer more gen fic less smut personally, but anyway.

Most fics have Stein in the dominant role, Spirit in the submissive role. I understand that interpretation but it's not how I see them. I see them as equals if they were to get into that type of intimacy. There is often a lot of bloodplay, frequently madness on Stein's part, major instances of non-con, pet play, BDSM, sometimes light cannibalism... It all suggests an impersonal and unhealthy relationship most of the time, which again...is not at all how I see them if they were to become a couple. Could such things come about? Unhealthily, possibly. But darn me and my desire for happy endings.

These two men are so broken, that if they were to become a healthy couple...I feel like it would be slow, cautious...extremely hesitant. There is extreme distrust on both sides, and also misconceptions about how the other feels. Which...I will save that analysis for later. Focusing back on smut fic.

I have seen only a few that touch on the give and take in a trusting relationship (all by the same author) that come closest to what I feel is accurate to the characters onscreen as I see them, but still the emphasis is too much on lust. It still isn't hitting the spot for me due to a lack of that relational development... Make no mistake, the stories are great, but I personally am hoping for something much deeper.

In my view, Stein just does not seek out physical intimacy in that way. I don't think he can fully escape the innate human need for touch, but in terms of a drive to get into bed with anyone... I think the occasional human desire for it crops up, and he easily ignores it/packs it away because it's not useful to him. It doesn't bother him. He doesn't think about it.

So this is where that...gray-ace, demi vibe comes into play for my view of him. Talking about Stein here as an adult and in control of himself, not consumed by madness... This is I supposed a bit of a summation of my thoughts.

If he did get into a relationship with anyone (and again I think his only choices are Spirit and Marie), it would not be based on the physical at all. I also don't think he would rush into any relationship. It would be a long process before he trusted the person enough to consider them a romantic partner. And really, we could get away from the word romance entirely... Life-partner is a better word, in Stein's case. If the person wanted physical intimacies, I think he would be responsive to that. The other person would be in the lead, but in no way dominating. It would have to be an equal trust thing or else Stein would nope out hard. Stein would gradually learn what it is he likes physically, and how to give his partner what they want. He can come to enjoy it because this is his life-partner, the one he belongs with, the one who needs him and is part of his purpose. But again...the physical is not something that drives him at all. Not in how I see him portrayed onscreen or in the manga.

So, overall, in my point of view nearly all smut fics miss the mark. Now...the stories I've seen where I think the physical intimacy is nailed don't even get to smut. Those are the stories by @asymmetryestablished (AO3 NothingSoDivine) and their characterizations of Stein and Spirit defy description in any words I have. The other author who nails it is @wispforever (same on AO3) and the closest to physical intimacy they get is dancing, but my gosh still the characterizations are utter perfection. I will be re-reading y'all's Stein/Spirit stories forever.

I hope I did in fact answer your question, but overall, I was delighted to just spill out so many of my thoughts about Stein even if in summary form. Yes this was a summary... Okay. I'm done. Thanks.

#soul eater #franken stein #spirit albarn #marie mjolnir #stein #spirit #death scythe #crossstitch #steinspirit #spiritstein #steinmarie #stein x marie #stein x spirit #spirit x stein #headcanons #ask answer

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