#I have the time….and the lack of internet to distract me….

[colourfulmes]

An animatic of Phantom with Memento Mori by will wood would go SO hard ngl

[420b1a2eit]

The Fall - Part 1

Jieun x Jongsuk x ???

11605 words

tags: porn, handjob, blowjob, unsatisactory sex, power bottom, threesome, double penetration

Jieun dragged herself through the front door, dropping her bags on the floor. The tour had been grueling—shows in different cities every night, endless crowds cheering her on, but it felt empty. Despite the flashing lights and adoring fans, she missed something grounded, something familiar, like home. Like Jongsuk.

They had been texting all through the tour, long strings of “I miss you” and “I can’t wait to see you again,” but now that she was standing in the hallway of their shared apartment, a strange emptiness curled in her chest. It wasn’t like her to feel this way, not when she’d been away so long, not when she should have been desperate to wrap her arms around him.

Jongsuk appeared in the doorway, his grin wide, welcoming, too eager. He embraced her, the scent of him familiar and warm, but as their lips met, Jieun felt... nothing. Just lips pressing together, like rehearsed movements without the emotion behind them.

They didn’t waste time that evening. After dinner, after talking about her tour and the things she’d seen, they were already heading to bed. Jongsuk undressed her slowly, hands running down her back, tugging at the thin fabric of her shirt. He whispered how much he had missed her, how he had thought of her every night.

She should have been swept up in the moment, but as he touched her, kissed her skin, she felt detached, like she was watching from a distance, observing a scene from someone else’s life. His hands roamed over her body, and her breath quickened, but not in anticipation. More in uncertainty.

When he finally pushed into her, there was no spark. No sudden rush of pleasure or excitement. It felt like he was moving inside her, going through the motions, but her body wasn't responding. His breath hitched, deepening as he thrust into her with more intensity. Jieun clenched her eyes shut, trying to focus, to feel something. This is what you wanted, right?

But there was nothing. No rush of euphoria, no connection. His grunts grew louder, and he was lost in his own rhythm, oblivious to the storm of dissatisfaction swirling inside her. She tried to find pleasure in his movements, grinding her hips in sync with his, but it felt mechanical, rehearsed, lacking fire. A dull ache built in her chest. What’s wrong with me? she wondered, biting her lip, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

When he finished, collapsing beside her, breathless and spent, Jieun lay still, her body tense. She felt empty in more ways than one. Her mind raced, trying to process the numbness. Jongsuk kissed her cheek, whispered that he loved her, and she forced a smile, though her heart wasn’t in it.

The next few nights followed the same rhythm—he’d reach for her, and she’d respond, trying to coax some kind of desire, some spark of arousal. But each time, it was the same. His hands felt heavy, his movements predictable. Sex had turned into a routine, like brushing her teeth or making the bed, just another thing to check off the list.

Days passed, and her frustration mounted. Was it him? Was he not enough anymore? Or was it her? Had she become too jaded, too caught up in her own head to enjoy something so simple? She found herself scrolling mindlessly through the internet one night, looking for answers, trying to distract herself from the growing pit in her stomach.

That’s when she stumbled upon a video. It wasn’t something she’d normally click on, but something about the thumbnail caught her eye—a woman, wild-eyed, moaning between two men. Curiosity pulled her in, and before she realized what was happening, she was watching the screen intently. The woman was lost in the heat of the moment, sandwiched between two black men who looked like they were in complete control, their hands rough, their bodies overwhelming. They dominated her, both taking her at the same time, filling her from every angle.

Jieun’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she watched the scene unfold. The woman looked so... free. So completely consumed by pleasure. The intensity of it sent a thrill down Jieun’s spine. For the first time in weeks, she felt something stir inside her, a hunger she hadn’t known was there. It wasn’t just the act itself, it was the power dynamics, the thrill of submission, the raw intensity of being utterly devoured by not one, but two men.

Was this what she was missing?

She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the way the woman writhed and moaned, completely at their mercy, and the way she begged for more, so desperate to be filled by them both. It was intoxicating. Jieun tried to push the thought away, but it clung to her mind, growing louder, more persistent.

She didn’t want to cheat. That wasn’t the answer. But what if...?

A week passed since Jieun had returned home, a dull haze lingering between her and Jongsuk. The nights they spent together had been filled with routine passion—his hands roamed her body, his lips found all the familiar places, but something was off. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how deep his thrusts or how desperate his words of desire, Jieun couldn't find the satisfaction she craved.

It wasn’t him—she told herself that over and over. Jongsuk loved her, he was attentive, always trying to make her feel good. But each time they finished, as he lay beside her, sweaty and sated, she felt nothing but an aching emptiness in her chest. Her thoughts would wander, her mind flicking through vague fantasies, and recently, one had been burning brighter than the others. That porn video.

She had tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the idea of something new, something different. But it wasn’t just the novelty. There was something about the power, the submission, the way the woman was overwhelmed by two men at once.

And now, the thought clung to her like a drug, seeping into her dreams, making her wet in the middle of the night when Jongsuk was fast asleep beside her.

Jieun hesitated for days, unsure how to bring it up to Jongsuk. She wondered if he would think she was crazy, or worse, be disgusted. But the idea had already taken root, blossoming into a full-blown fantasy that she couldn’t ignore. One night, as they were lying in bed after yet another unsatisfying round of sex, she finally gathered the courage. She rolled over, her hand sliding down Jongsuk’s chest, fingers tracing the faint line of hair leading lower.

"Baby..." Her voice was a whisper, sultry, laced with intent. Her fingers wrapped around his softening cock, stroking it lazily. "What if... we tried something different?"

His eyes flickered open, looking at her with curiosity but also a hint of confusion. "Different?" he murmured, his voice thick with post-coital drowsiness. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips, her fingers tightening slightly around his length, coaxing it back to life. "You know... I’ve been thinking. About how we could... spice things up."

Jongsuk let out a low groan as her hand began to move more purposefully, stroking him harder, faster, feeling him twitch under her touch. "Like what?" he asked, his voice now more awake, intrigued.

Jieun leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. "What if... there was another man with us?" Her words were deliberate, soft but heavy with meaning. She could feel him stiffen—not just his cock, but his entire body, tensing under her suggestion.

"Another... man?" he echoed, clearly surprised.

"Mm-hmm." Her fingers moved with more urgency now, her hand pumping his cock steadily, feeling him harden fully in her grip. "Just imagine it, baby. Me... between the two of you. Another man taking me, while you watch. Or maybe you both fuck me at the same time..."

She felt him inhale sharply, the tension in his body increasing as her words sank in. His cock throbbed in her hand, and she knew she was getting to him.

"Love... I…" His voice was hesitant, a mixture of disbelief and arousal, his thoughts clearly torn between the idea and the unfamiliar territory she was leading him into.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The idea had consumed her for days, and now she was planting it deep in his mind, making him see it, making him feel it. She shifted lower, her lips grazing his collarbone, then trailing down his chest, her breath hot against his skin.

"Can you picture it, baby?" she purred, her mouth now hovering over his cock. "Me... on my knees... two cocks in my mouth... or maybe one fucking me from behind, the other filling my mouth." She looked up at him, locking eyes as she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth slowly, deliberately.

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, his hips bucking up slightly as she enveloped him, her mouth wet, hot, and eager. His hand instinctively reached for her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she sucked him deeper, letting him feel the weight of her desire.

She pulled back just enough to speak, her voice muffled by his cock still grazing her lips. "You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Watching me take it from both of you... seeing me so full, so used."

Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing, as her hand continued stroking the base. "You’d fuck me harder than ever, just to show him that I’m yours. You’d get so turned on, knowing another man is inside me... knowing that I’m being shared."

Jongsuk groaned, his grip tightening in her hair, his body responding to every filthy word spilling from her lips. She bobbed her head, sucking him with more intensity now, her hand working in time with her mouth.

"Tell me, baby," she whispered as she pulled away for a breath, her hand still pumping him steadily. "Tell me you want to see it. Tell me you want to watch me... being fucked by another man while you fuck me too."

His eyes were dark now, filled with lust, confusion, and the undeniable arousal that her words had ignited. He moaned, head thrown back against the pillow, his body surrendering to the fantasy she was weaving, unable to resist the dirty images flooding his mind.

Jieun grinned, knowing she had him on the edge. She lowered her mouth to his cock again, this time taking him deeper, faster, her throat tightening around him as she pushed him closer to the edge.

"Think about it," she murmured between strokes, her hand slick with saliva and pre-cum. "Me... with both of you... your cock in my mouth, another inside me... filling me, stretching me. You’d love it, wouldn’t you?"

Jongsuk gasped, his hips jerking up, his cock twitching in her mouth. She could feel how close he was, how much he wanted to explode at the thought.

Jongsuk's body trembled as he spilled into Jieun's mouth, his cock pulsing with the intensity of his release. She didn't slow down, not even when he filled her throat, swallowing every last drop like the filthy dream she had painted for him. His grip loosened on her hair, the afterglow hitting him in waves, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Her words still echoed in his mind—his girlfriend, his sweet Jieun, begging for another man to join them. It was outrageous, insane even. But the way she had worked him, the way she had crafted that fantasy, he couldn't deny the pull.

She lifted her head, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "So... what do you think?" she asked, voice low and teasing, as though she hadn't just reduced him to a quivering mess with her mouth alone.

Jongsuk blinked, still caught between disbelief and the primal urge she had stirred within him. His cock twitched in her hand, though he was spent, and the truth slipped out before he had a chance to overthink it. "Okay," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "We can try it."

Jieun's smile widened, her hand giving him one last lazy stroke as she crawled up beside him. "You won’t regret it," she whispered into his ear, lips brushing his jaw. But she could see the hesitation lingering in his eyes, the subtle fear that maybe this would change everything, that maybe he wasn’t enough for her anymore.

To reassure him, Jieun slid a hand up his chest, her touch gentle now, comforting. "You get to decide," she whispered, her voice softer, less demanding now. "Whoever it is, you choose. I’m yours, Jongsuk. I don’t want anyone but who you trust. This isn’t about someone else. This is about us. I just... want something new with you."

That was all it took. His unease faded slightly at her words, realizing she hadn’t been planning on running off with some random guy, that this was something they could do together. That she wanted him in it completely. It made the idea less threatening and more... intriguing. The control rested in his hands now.

Days passed as Jongsuk mulled over her offer, each time feeling a strange mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The fantasy Jieun had painted played over and over in his mind. He finally decided on someone—Minho, a longtime friend, someone he trusted. They hadn’t been best friends, but Minho had always been respectful, someone Jongsuk could rely on, and most importantly, someone who could keep a secret.

When Jongsuk brought up the idea, Minho had hesitated at first, unsure if Jongsuk was joking, but when the seriousness became clear, his interest piqued. They talked about it, laying everything out in the open—boundaries, expectations.

To ease the awkwardness, they invited Minho out for dinner with Jieun. What started as a casual dinner soon turned into something that felt... surprisingly natural. Minho had always been good at making people feel comfortable, and before long, the evening felt more like a strange but thrilling trio date. Jieun laughed at his jokes, Jongsuk found himself loosening up, and by the end of the night, they were all smiling, slightly buzzed from the drinks and the weight of what they had agreed to do hanging in the air between them.

The night finally arrived.

Jieun had rented a suite at a luxurious hotel, wanting to create the perfect setting for what would be their first time together in such a way. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting the white lingerie she had picked out, something delicate and daring, something that made her look innocent and filthy at the same time.

The lacey pattern around the cups was semi-transparent, giving just enough of a peek at her breasts beneath, nipples hard from anticipation and the slight chill in the room. The thong barely covered anything at all, only a sliver of fabric shielding her pussy, with a tiny white ribbon at the top of her mound, making her look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Her long, wavy dark brown hair cascaded down her back, reaching the bottom of her spine, adding to the soft allure of her appearance.

When Jongsuk and Minho entered the room, she turned to face them, biting her lower lip, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Jongsuk’s eyes widened immediately, his breath catching in his throat as he took her in. The white lace clung to her body in all the right places, accentuating her slender frame, her perky breasts pressing against the thin fabric. His mouth went dry as he stared, his mind struggling to process how fucking perfect she looked, innocent and sinful all at once.

Minho’s reaction was just as visceral. His eyes raked over her body, lingering on the way the lace barely concealed her breasts, how her nipples pressed against the fabric, visible but teasing. His gaze dropped lower, tracing the delicate curve of her hips and the thong that disappeared between her thighs. He let out a soft, appreciative breath, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Wow,” Minho said, voice low, full of awe and hunger. “You look… incredible.”

Jieun smiled coyly, shifting her weight slightly, her body language deliberately sensual, her every movement calculated to draw their eyes to different parts of her. “You like it?” she asked, voice sweet but laced with seduction.

Jongsuk stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her body, his hand reaching out to brush against the delicate lace covering her breasts. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly. “You’re… perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Minho, still watching from a few steps away, nodded slowly, his eyes dark with lust. "Definitely more than I imagined," he added, voice rough with want. His gaze flicked between Jieun and Jongsuk, as if confirming this was real, that they were all really here, about to cross that line.

Jieun’s heart raced as she watched their reactions, feeling the heat rising between the three of them, the tension so thick it was nearly palpable. She could feel the slick wetness pooling between her thighs, the thought of what was about to happen sending jolts of excitement through her.

Slowly, she turned, giving them both a view of her back, her ass framed perfectly by the thong, the lace hugging the soft curve of her hips. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Jongsuk, then Minho, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice teasing. “Are you two just going to stand there... or are we going to start?”

The air in the suite was thick with tension, a palpable heat that seemed to settle in Jieun's chest, swirling through her veins and flooding her senses. She stood between Jongsuk and Minho, feeling their hungry eyes on her body, the white lingerie clinging to her in a way that made her feel both exposed and powerful. They were eager, she could feel it—their desire practically radiated off them in waves, and for a brief moment, Jieun relished the way she commanded their attention, how she was the center of this shared fantasy.

Jongsuk’s eyes were dark, locked onto hers, and Minho was no different, his lips slightly parted, gaze lingering on her breasts barely covered by the delicate lace. The two men had been so focused on her that it hadn’t even occurred to them that they were still fully dressed.

Jieun chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing as she tilted her head, looking between them. “Mm, you boys are still wearing too much,” she said, her voice dripping with seduction. She gave them both a playful smile, her fingers brushing over her own body for emphasis. “I don’t want either of you wearing anything tonight.” The idea of them stripping down, baring themselves for her, made her pulse quicken.

Jongsuk smirked, glancing at Minho before they both started to undress, peeling off their clothes piece by piece. Jieun watched with anticipation, biting her lower lip as they revealed themselves to her. It was strange, watching Minho undress, someone who wasn’t her boyfriend, but the excitement bubbling inside her was undeniable.

Once they were fully naked, Jieun’s eyes flicked between them, drinking in the sight of their bodies, her breath hitching slightly at how hard both of them already were. Two cocks, stiff and eager, ready for her. The sight sent a thrill down her spine, a mix of curiosity and satisfaction blooming in her chest. Was this what she needed? Was this the key to quenching that gnawing hunger inside her?

She didn’t have much time to linger on the thought as she reached out, taking both men by the forearms, guiding them closer to her. “Come here,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of command, pulling them in. When they were close enough, she took each of their hands and guided them to her body, encouraging them to touch her, feel her.

Their hands roamed over her curves, tentative at first but quickly becoming bolder as they explored the softness of her skin, the shape of her waist, the swell of her breasts beneath the lace. Jieun closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself get lost in their touch, feeling how their fingers gripped her, the mix of Jongsuk’s familiar touch and Minho’s new, electrifying presence setting her nerves on fire.

She opened her eyes, turning her gaze up to Jongsuk first, her lips curving into a smile before she leaned in and kissed him, their mouths meeting in a deep, needy kiss. His tongue slid against hers, a familiar heat, but the sensation of another man’s hands on her body while she kissed her boyfriend sent a fresh wave of excitement through her. Jongsuk’s hands squeezed her waist possessively, pulling her closer as they made out, but Jieun pulled away just enough to turn her head, catching Minho’s lips next.

Making out with Minho was a different kind of thrill—his kiss was rougher, more urgent, and his hands on her body felt almost foreign, in the best way. She moaned softly into his mouth, one of her hands slipping up into his hair, pulling him closer as Jongsuk’s hands continued to roam her body, sliding over her ass, gripping her thighs.

Both men were touching her now, groping her, hands moving over her breasts, her hips, her ass, exploring every inch they could reach. It was overwhelming in the most delicious way, their eager hands sending jolts of pleasure through her as they caressed and squeezed her, fingers brushing the lace of her thong, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.

Jieun pulled back, a playful smirk curling on her lips as she glanced down at their bodies, both of their cocks hard and throbbing, inches from her. “Looks like you’re both pretty worked up already,” she said, her voice low, teasing as she looked between them.

She reached down, her small hands wrapping around each of their cocks, feeling them twitch under her touch, hot and heavy in her palms. “Mm, I wonder which one of you is going to last the longest…” she mused, her voice a playful purr as she began to stroke them both, her hands moving slowly, deliberately, enjoying the way their bodies reacted to her touch.

Jongsuk groaned softly, his hips bucking slightly into her hand, while Minho let out a low growl, his grip on her waist tightening as he stared down at her, lust darkening his gaze. The weight of their cocks in her hands, the power she had over both of them in this moment, sent a thrill straight to her core, wetness already pooling between her legs, soaking the thin lace of her thong.

As she continued to jerk them off, she leaned in to kiss Jongsuk again, her tongue sliding against his, while her hand stroked his cock, slow and steady. After a moment, she pulled away from him, turning to Minho, kissing him with the same intensity, her other hand working his cock just as skillfully.

The whole time, their hands were on her, worshipping her body, squeezing, groping, sliding over her breasts, her ass, her thighs. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them wanting her so desperately, their bodies reacting to her touch, their cocks throbbing in her hands.

But as much as their eagerness excited her, there was a question lingering in the back of her mind—Is this it? Is this what I need to finally feel satisfied?

Her body was buzzing with anticipation, with lust, with the thrill of having two men at her mercy, but deep down, she still wondered if this was what would finally quench that nagging, unfulfilled desire that had been plaguing her for so long. Could this really be the answer?

Jieun's heart pounded in her chest, the thrill of what she was about to do overwhelming her senses. Her hands still wrapped around their cocks, she slowly sank down to her knees, the plush carpet soft beneath her as she came face-to-face with both men’s stiff lengths. Jongsuk's cock, familiar and loved, stood beside Minho's, another man’s erection staring back at her, making her pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and curiosity. The two cocks were of average size, nothing monstrous, but the act itself—the shared intimacy between them—made everything feel larger than life.

She glanced up at Jongsuk first, locking eyes with him, a playful glint in her gaze as she leaned in, her warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty drop of pre-cum that had already formed. He groaned, his hips twitching at her touch, and she smiled around his cock, savoring the control she had over him. This was her boyfriend, the man she loved, and here she was, kneeling before him, giving herself to this wild fantasy she had spun between them.

But she wasn’t done yet. Turning her head slightly, she shifted to Minho’s cock, giving him the same attention she had just given Jongsuk. Her tongue dragged along his length, starting from the base and moving slowly, deliberately, all the way to the tip. Minho’s breath hitched, his cock twitching in her hand as she reached the tip, giving it a soft, teasing kiss before pulling away. She could hear his low, guttural groan, and it sent a shiver of satisfaction through her.

She turned her attention back to Jongsuk, giving his cock another slow, deliberate swirl of her tongue around the head. This time, she kept her eyes locked on his, watching his reaction, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. “You like that, baby?” she purred softly, her voice teasing, dripping with seduction. “Does it feel good watching me like this... sharing me with him?”

Jongsuk let out a shaky breath, his hand instinctively moving to her hair, gripping it gently as he stared down at her. “Fuck, Jieun... yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. There was no hesitation in his answer now, no trace of doubt. He wanted this just as much as she did.

With that, Jieun took him fully into her mouth, her lips stretching around his length, sliding down until the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. She moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his shaft, sending another shiver down his spine. Her hand moved to Minho’s cock, pumping him slowly, steadily, as she sucked Jongsuk deeper into her wet, warm mouth.

Her mind buzzed with pleasure, the thrill of having both of them here, of tasting them both, overwhelming her. Maybe this really is what I needed, she thought as she moved her head up and down, sucking her boyfriend’s cock with practiced skill. She could feel her pussy throbbing, wetness pooling between her thighs, and the heat rising in her core. The excitement of having two men watching her, both of them hard and eager for her, was electric. Maybe this is what will finally satisfy me.

Once she had Jongsuk’s cock sufficiently slick with her saliva, she turned her attention back to Minho, switching effortlessly as she took him into her mouth next. Her hand returned to Jongsuk’s cock, stroking him with the same steady rhythm she had used on Minho before. Minho groaned deeply as her lips wrapped around him, her tongue swirling around his shaft just as she had done with Jongsuk. His fingers tangled in her hair, not rough but firm, guiding her just enough to let her know how much he wanted it.

She alternated between them, sucking one while jerking off the other, her movements fluid, confident, her body fully immersed in the pleasure of pleasing them both. Every time she switched, she could feel their reactions—Jongsuk’s sharp inhalations, Minho’s quiet growls—and it fueled her, pushing her deeper into the headspace she craved. Yes, this is what I needed. This is what I’ve been missing.

Her hands worked them both, her lips gliding over each cock, wet and eager, tasting them, savoring the way they responded to her touch. The room filled with the slick sounds of her mouth, the soft gasps and groans of the men as she worshipped their cocks, alternating between them as if she were trying to outdo herself with each turn.

At one point, Jieun got an idea, a flash of inspiration that made her heart race. She lowered her face just a little, placing herself beneath both of their cocks, letting their swollen heads rest just above her lips. She stuck her tongue out, letting it flicker between the two, teasing the sensitive tips of both cocks at once. Their reactions were immediate—Jongsuk let out a low moan, his grip tightening in her hair, while Minho groaned deeply, his fingers brushing the side of her cheek as he watched her with wide, lust-filled eyes.

She swirled her tongue between them, her eyes half-lidded, enjoying the way their cocks pulsed and twitched in response to her teasing. She kissed the head of Jongsuk’s cock, then Minho’s, her lips leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over both of them. The sight of her, on her knees, with two hard cocks hanging over her, her lips and tongue working both of them, was enough to send any man into a frenzy, and she could feel their restraint slipping, the way their hips moved involuntarily toward her, begging for more.

This is it, she thought again, a rush of heat coursing through her body as she continued her slutty display. This is what I needed all along. The power, the control, the attention of two men completely devoted to her pleasure—it was intoxicating. She could feel the satisfaction building, the knot of desire deep inside her starting to unravel. This is what will make me feel whole again.

Jieun’s moans became louder, more desperate as she continued to alternate between them, sucking one cock while stroking the other, then switching, her mouth wet and warm around them both. The way they responded to her, the way they moaned her name, only fueled her more. This was what she had been craving, this overwhelming sensation of being desired, of being shared, of having two men completely lost in her.

Jieun could feel the power thrumming through her body as she released their cocks with a loud, wet pop, their tips glistening from her mouth. She grinned, her eyes flicking up at the two men as she gave each of their throbbing heads a teasing kiss, her lips lingering just enough to drive them crazy. Jongsuk's cock twitched at her touch, and Minho groaned, his jaw clenched as he fought the urge to thrust into her mouth again. They were both on the verge of losing control, their bodies aching for release, but Jieun wasn’t done playing with them yet.

"Come here," she purred, rising gracefully to her feet, her hands immediately wrapping around their shafts again. She tugged them both toward the bed, leading them by their cocks as if they were nothing more than her obedient toys. The way their hips jerked in response to her every pull sent a thrill straight to her core, and she knew she had them exactly where she wanted them.

Once she reached the bed, Jieun let go of their cocks again, watching as they stood there, eyes glazed over with pure lust, waiting for her next move. She climbed onto the mattress slowly, deliberately, her every movement slow and sensual, giving them a perfect view of her body as she crawled to the center of the king-sized bed. Her ass swayed with every step, the thin strip of lace barely covering her as she got on all fours, her body stretched out like an offering.

She paused in the middle of the bed, arching her back, making sure her ass was fully on display for them. Jieun glanced back over her shoulder, her dark hair cascading over one side as she gave them a smoldering look, the fire in her eyes practically daring them to touch her. "Look at how hard you both are for me," she teased, her voice thick with arousal. "Stroke your cocks for me. I want to see you both jerk off while you watch me."

Jongsuk and Minho didn’t need to be told twice. Their hands wrapped around their cocks, stroking slowly at first, their eyes locked onto Jieun’s perfect ass as she wiggled it for them, the lace thong doing nothing to hide the curves of her body. The sound of their labored breathing filled the room, and Jieun smiled, biting her lower lip as she watched them struggle to contain themselves.

She lowered her upper body onto the bed, her chest pressing against the sheets, arching her back even more to push her ass higher into the air. Her hands slid back, caressing her own ass before smacking it lightly, the sound of her hand slapping her flesh making both men groan, their strokes quickening involuntarily. "Mm, you like that?" she cooed, her fingers playing with the waistband of her thong, tugging it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "I bet you want to fuck me so bad right now... but you have to be patient."

They groaned in unison, their eyes locked on her every movement, their hands jerking their cocks faster. But Jieun wasn’t done teasing them yet. She smacked her ass again, harder this time, making it jiggle just enough to drive them wild. "Slow down," she commanded softly, a playful edge in her voice. "You’ll do exactly what I say, or else you won’t get a taste of this tonight."

Jongsuk’s breath hitched, and Minho let out a frustrated grunt, but they both obeyed, slowing their hands despite the obvious struggle. Jieun smirked, pleased with their obedience, and finally slid her thong down, peeling the delicate fabric from her ass and thighs, revealing her bare skin. The tiny strip of lace slipped over her knees and onto the bed, leaving her completely exposed save for the garter and stockings still adorning her legs.

She tossed the thong toward them, and Minho caught it easily, immediately bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as the scent of her arousal filled his senses. His cock jerked in his hand, and without missing a beat, he wrapped the thong around his length, using it to jerk himself off as he stroked faster. "Fuck, Jieun," Minho growled, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on her dripping pussy.

Jieun grinned, loving how wild she was making them both. "You like that, don’t you? Fighting over me... stroking yourselves like you’re desperate for me." She glanced at Jongsuk, her boyfriend’s eyes dark with lust as his hand worked his cock faster, his gaze fixated on her bare ass, on her slick, wet pussy that glistened between her thighs. "You’ve both got me so wet," she moaned, spreading her ass cheeks wide with both hands, showing them everything—her tight, puckered asshole, her soaked cunt, all of it on display just for them.

The two men groaned loudly, their strokes becoming erratic as they watched her tease them, her fingers spreading herself open, her voice sweet and filthy as she told them how turned on they were making her. Minho was stroking his cock with her thong still wrapped around it, his face twisted in pleasure, while Jongsuk’s eyes were glued to the sight of her spread wide, his hand moving faster and faster.

Jieun could tell they were close, their bodies tensing, their breath coming in ragged gasps, and it made her pulse race even more. She decided to push them just a little further, to make this a game, something to heighten the intensity of the moment.

"Mm, you’re both about to cum, aren’t you?" she teased, her voice low and sultry. "But here’s the thing..." She flipped onto her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening and ready as she leaned back against a pillow, looking up at them with a wicked smile. "The last one to cum gets to fuck me first. So, if you want to be the one inside me... you better hold it in."

Jongsuk’s eyes widened, and Minho groaned, their hands hesitating for just a moment as they processed her words. But the sight of her, lying there with her legs spread, her fingers dipping down to rub her wet pussy right in front of them, was too much to handle. She started to play with herself, her fingers sliding over her swollen clit, her hips lifting off the bed as she moaned softly. "Come on, baby," she whispered, looking at Jongsuk, then Minho. "Who’s going to cum for me first? Don’t you want to fuck me? Don’t you want to be the one to feel how wet I am?"

Her dirty words, her slick fingers rubbing her pussy, the way her body writhed on the bed—it was pushing them both to the brink. Their hands were a blur, their cocks jerking furiously as they watched her play with herself, their eyes glued to the sight of her wetness, to the way she teased them with every moan, every soft gasp.

Minho’s hand tightened around his cock, the thong still wrapped around it as he stroked faster, his eyes locked on her pussy. He was close—so close he could feel the orgasm building in his core, ready to explode at any moment.

But Jongsuk wasn’t far behind, his body trembling as he fought to hold back, his eyes fixed on Jieun’s face, her lips parted in pleasure as she rubbed herself faster, teasing him, making him want to cum so badly but knowing he had to hold on if he wanted to be the first to fuck her.

"Who’s going to give in?" she purred, her voice a soft taunt as she arched her back, her fingers dipping lower, sliding over her slick folds as she moaned louder. "Come on, boys... I want to see you lose control for me."

Minho's body tensed, his strokes becoming erratic, and before he could stop himself, he came. Thick spurts of cum splattered across the carpet, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his body shuddered with release. He cursed under his breath, knowing he had lost, but the sight of Jieun still on her knees, watching him with that teasing smile on her lips, made it all the more frustrating.

“Aww, too bad, Minho,” Jieun cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, her finger playfully curling toward Jongsuk. “Looks like you’re not the lucky one tonight.” She bit her lip as she turned her attention fully to her boyfriend. “Come here, baby.”

Jongsuk stepped forward, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of finally being the one to take her. But Jieun had other plans. She got back on all fours, her body curving sensually as she wrapped her hand around Jongsuk’s cock. Slowly, she began stroking him, her grip firm and teasing as she gazed up at him with dark, hooded eyes.

“You've been so good, holding back for me,” she whispered before leaning in, her tongue flicking out to trace the head of his cock. Jongsuk groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, but Jieun was in full control now. She swirled her tongue around him, her lips wrapping around his swollen head before she took him deeper into her mouth.

Her tongue danced along his length, her hand stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. Jongsuk’s hand found her hair, his fingers tightening in her dark locks as he watched her worship his cock. Jieun’s wet, warm mouth moved over him, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him with fervor. She looked up at him the whole time, her eyes gleaming, filled with that insatiable hunger.

It didn’t take long for Jongsuk to reach the edge, his hips bucking into her mouth as his cock twitched violently. With a choked moan, he came, thick ropes of cum spilling into Jieun’s mouth. She moaned softly around him, taking every drop, her tongue swirling lazily around his cock as he came down from his high. She kissed the tip of his cock one last time, licking him clean, her lips and tongue savoring every inch of him before she pulled away, her smile mischievous as she looked up at him.

She kissed the head of his cock, leaving his shaft glistening and spotless. Jongsuk shuddered, collapsing onto the nearby chair, his chest heaving, but before he could recover fully, Jieun gave him a playful look.

“Do you want to fuck me right away, or would you like a little break?” she asked, voice still sweet, but there was a hint of challenge in it, a test.

Jongsuk, still catching his breath, felt a pang of guilt as he leaned back. “I think… I might need a moment,” he admitted. Disappointing, Jieun thought, though she kept her expression soft and understanding. She simply nodded and smiled, hiding the tiny flicker of frustration. She wanted more, needed more. But Jongsuk was always a little slower to catch up to her desires.

As he settled into the chair, Minho, not one to miss an opportunity, stepped forward. “I can help,” he said, his voice eager, his cock still half-hard despite his recent release. Jieun raised an eyebrow at him, thinking he might try to claim what he had lost by coming first. But she wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

“Help, huh?” Jieun smirked, glancing over at Jongsuk before turning back to Minho. “Alright... but you’re not fucking me yet. You’ll be eating me out while Jongsuk watches.” Her tone was authoritative, leaving no room for argument. Minho didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, already eager to please her.

Jieun positioned herself on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her pussy glistening with a mixture of her own arousal and anticipation. “Go ahead,” she purred, running her fingers lightly over her clit, teasing herself just enough to get him started. Minho leaned in, wasting no time, his mouth immediately latching onto her wet folds. His tongue was eager, swirling around her swollen clit, then dipping down to taste her slick entrance.

Minho’s mouth worked feverishly, licking, sucking, devouring her like he was starved for it. His tongue flicked against her clit with precision, then trailed down, plunging into her tight cunt, fucking her with his mouth in a desperate attempt to make her cum. Jieun threw her head back, her hands tangling in his hair as her hips bucked against his face. The pleasure was sharp, intense, and she could feel the knot in her core tightening with every stroke of his tongue.

She glanced over at Jongsuk, who was watching them from the chair, his cock already hardening again as he stroked himself slowly, eyes wide with fascination. Seeing him aroused by this only made Jieun’s pleasure climb higher, the idea of being watched as she was pleasured sending shivers down her spine. Minho wasn’t just preparing her for Jongsuk—he was trying to make her cum, trying to win her over completely.

And it worked.

Jieun’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling as Minho’s relentless tongue pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure crashed through her body. She let out a low, guttural moan, her hips jerking against Minho’s face as she rode the high of her release.

“Fuck,” she gasped, pushing Minho’s head away, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “That was... good.” She smiled, her body still tingling, but there was no time to rest. She needed more. Her body was burning for it.

Turning her gaze to Jongsuk, she crooked her finger, beckoning him over. “Come here,” she commanded softly, her voice thick with need. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Jongsuk stood, his cock fully hard again from watching them, his earlier hesitation melting away. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over Jieun, their bodies aligning in a familiar but now electrifying way. He settled between her legs, his cock pressing against her slick entrance, the wetness of her pussy mixed with Minho’s saliva making the glide easy.

Jieun wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep kiss, their tongues tangling as she ground her pussy against him, her slick folds coating his cock in her arousal. “Put it in,” she whispered against his lips, her voice heavy with desire. “I need you to fuck me, Jongsuk.”

He obliged, pushing into her slowly, but Jieun was impatient now. She needed to be fucked, needed to be filled, and the slow pace wasn’t cutting it. “Faster,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

Jongsuk’s pace quickened, his hips slamming into her as he fucked her harder, his cock filling her over and over again. But Jieun needed more, craved more, and no matter how fast he went, it wasn’t enough. “More,” she moaned, her voice needy, desperate. “Harder.”

The intensity of her need caught him off guard. Jongsuk had never seen her like this, so ravenous, so demanding. He tried to keep up, pounding into her, but he was already close, the overwhelming sensation of her wet pussy gripping him making it impossible to hold on. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his body tensing, hips losing rhythm.

“Stop,” Jieun commanded breathlessly, her voice sharp. She pushed him off, her hands firm against his chest. “I’m not done yet.”

Jongsuk blinked in surprise, but before he could protest, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. “Come here,” she ordered, her eyes blazing with lust. “You’re going to fuck me now... and you better not cum right away.”

Minho, still stroking his cock, stood immediately. His eyes flashed with excitement, eager to finally get his chance. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself behind Jieun as she arched her back, her ass lifting invitingly toward him. Jongsuk, still catching his breath, watched from the side, trying to make sense of his emotions. There was a part of him that stung with rejection, but another, deeper part of him... was fascinated. Turned on even, as he watched Minho grip Jieun’s hips and line himself up with her dripping wet pussy.

When Minho finally thrust into her, Jieun cried out, her voice high-pitched and raw with pleasure. “Yes!” she screamed, her body jolting forward as Minho buried himself inside her. He fucked her with a ferocity that Jongsuk hadn’t managed, his hips slamming into her harder and faster with every thrust, just like she had begged for.

Jongsuk watched, his eyes wide, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke his cock again. The sight of Minho drilling into Jieun, the way her body arched, the way she moaned and gasped, the sound of skin slapping against skin—it all fascinated him. What intrigued him even more was how hard he was getting just watching the two of them.

Minho’s thrusts became uneven, his hips faltering as he tried to keep up with Jieun’s increasingly desperate demands. Despite his best efforts, even his eager pace wasn’t enough for her, and Jieun could feel her dissatisfaction creeping back in, the same gnawing emptiness that had haunted her nights with Jongsuk. She needed more—something deeper, something wilder, something that would finally fill the void inside her.

It hit her then: she wanted both of them, inside her at the same time. That was the only way she could get closer to the satisfaction she was chasing. She had been on edge all night, but the idea of being fucked in both her pussy and ass at once sparked a new heat, a new kind of lust that she knew would finally push her closer to what she needed.

“Stop,” she gasped, pushing Minho off of her, her body shuddering from the effort of holding back her frustrations. “Get off, I want to change positions.”

Minho, panting and confused, immediately withdrew, his cock slick with her juices as he sat back on his heels. Jieun wasted no time, rolling over and getting onto all fours again, her eyes flashing with intensity as she pointed at Jongsuk, then gestured for him to take his place behind her. She was done playing. She wanted this—needed this.

“Jongsuk,” she breathed, her voice dripping with command, “I want you to fuck me from behind.” Then, she pointed at Minho, her lips curling into a sultry smile. “And you, come up here... I want your cock in my throat.”

Jongsuk’s eyes gleamed as he moved into position behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up with her dripping pussy. Without hesitation, he slid his cock back inside her, and she moaned softly, her body arching with the familiar sensation. But this time, it was different. This time, her mind was already locked onto what was coming next.

As Jongsuk began to thrust into her from behind, his hips slamming into her ass with the sound of skin smacking against skin, Jieun turned her head toward Minho. Her eyes were glazed over with lust, her lips parted as she watched him approach. He was already hard again, his cock twitching in his hand as he stood before her. With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened her mouth and guided him inside, her lips wrapping around his shaft with a practiced ease.

Jongsuk groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he pounded into her from behind, his cock driving into her slick pussy harder and faster. Her peachy ass bounced with each thrust, the impact sending ripples through her body. He smacked her ass once, twice, watching the way it jiggled under his hand before gripping it firmly, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust.

Meanwhile, Jieun’s lips were wrapped around Minho’s cock, her eyes locked onto his as she took him deeper into her throat. The sounds of her squelching throat filled the room, wet with drool as she worked him with her mouth. Impressively, she didn’t gag—there was no challenge for her, even as he pushed deeper into her throat. She could take him, and she did, her throat relaxing around his shaft as her head bobbed back and forth, keeping rhythm with Jongsuk’s thrusts from behind.

The two men were groaning, lost in the heat of the moment. Minho’s hands tangled in her hair as he gently guided her movements, his hips bucking slightly as he fucked her throat. Jongsuk was grunting, his cock slamming into her with reckless abandon, the wet sounds of her pussy filling the room. Jieun was aware of how turned on they were, how much they were enjoying themselves, and she kept up the act, moaning around Minho’s cock, her body writhing beneath Jongsuk’s hands as if she were getting closer to the edge.

But the truth was, she still wasn’t there. Not yet.

That gnawing hunger for more clawed at her, and she knew exactly what she needed now. She pulled back from Minho’s cock with a gasp, her lips wet with spit as she looked up at him, her eyes flashing with a new kind of intensity. “I want you both,” she said, her voice low, sultry. “I want you in my pussy and my ass at the same time.”

Minho groaned, looking down at her with wide eyes, clearly eager to fulfill her request. Jongsuk paused for a moment, his hands still gripping her hips as he processed what she was asking for. But he didn’t hesitate. “Alright,” Jongsuk said, breathless, pulling out of her slowly.

Jieun shifted, rolling onto her back for a moment before sliding onto Minho’s lap. She straddled him, positioning herself over his cock, her wet pussy already slick and ready as she lowered herself onto him. Minho groaned as she sank down onto him, his hands immediately moving to her hips as she began to ride him.

But Jieun wasn’t done yet. She glanced back at Jongsuk, who was already reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He spread the slippery gel over his cock, then lubed up his fingers, gently rubbing the slick substance around the tight entrance of her ass. Jieun shivered at the sensation, her breath hitching as she felt his fingers slip inside, preparing her for what was to come.

When she was ready, Jongsuk positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against the tight, lubed entrance of her ass. Slowly, he pushed forward, the pressure building as his cock slid inside her inch by inch. Jieun moaned, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed, allowing him to stretch her ass open, filling her completely.

For the first time that night, she felt it. That fullness. That overwhelming sensation of being filled in both her pussy and ass at the same time. It was exactly what she had been craving, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips as she settled into the sensation, her body shuddering with the intensity of it.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her voice breathless as she looked between the two men. “Start moving. I want you both to fuck me... like the dirty slut I am.”

Jongsuk didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he began to thrust into her ass, his cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes at first. Meanwhile, Minho started moving beneath her, his cock thrusting up into her pussy as he gripped her waist, the two men finding a rhythm as they fucked her in unison.

Jieun’s body rocked between them, her hips grinding down onto Minho’s cock while Jongsuk’s cock filled her ass from behind. She felt the delicious stretch of her ass, the fullness in her pussy, and for the first time that night, she was starting to feel something close to the satisfaction she had been chasing. The sensation of being used by both of them at once, her body caught between two cocks, was exactly what she needed.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, her voice desperate, urging them on. “Fuck me harder... I want you both to use me... treat me like your dirty little slut.”

Jongsuk groaned, his hips slamming into her ass with more force now, his cock driving deeper into her with every thrust. Minho matched his pace, his cock filling her pussy with the same urgency. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, their grunts and groans, filled the room as they fucked her mercilessly, giving her exactly what she had begged for.

Jieun’s head fell back, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as they fucked her from both ends, her body trembling with the sheer intensity of it all. This—this was what she had been craving. This raw, primal need, this feeling of being completely overwhelmed, filled to the brim, fucked by both of them at once. She wasn’t pretending anymore.

Jieun's body was the picture of bliss, her lips parted in moans as Jongsuk and Minho relentlessly pounded into her, filling her from both ends. Her eyes rolled back, her breath ragged, and for a brief moment, she thought she had finally reached it—euphoria. Being stuffed by two men, her holes stretched and used, should have been enough. It felt like it should have been enough. But as the minutes ticked by, and the rhythm of their thrusts became predictable, Jieun’s pleasure slowly, cruelly, began to dull.

She tried to keep the fire alive, pushing herself to find satisfaction, to demand more from them. Her lips parted to speak, to command, "Harder… fuck me harder, do better..." But the words barely escaped her mouth before Minho grunted above her, his voice tight and strained.

"I’m close," he breathed, his thrusts losing their power.

Jongsuk, behind her, echoed the same. "Shit... I’m almost there too..."

Inside, Jieun sighed, feeling the disappointment weigh heavy in her chest. Her pussy clenched instinctively, trying to draw out any last pleasure from them, but it was too late. They were already on the edge, and she knew it was over. She would never get the satisfaction she had been chasing, not tonight. But she couldn’t let them know that.

So she bit down on her frustration and plastered a look of lust across her face, throwing her head back as if she were on the brink of orgasm herself. "Mmm, yes, I’m gonna cum too," she moaned, her voice sultry, playing the part of the satisfied lover to perfection. "But when you cum... pull out. Cum on my face... in my mouth," she panted, giving them the fantasy they were craving.

The two men grunted their assent, their pace quickening as they chased their release. It didn’t take long—Minho was the first to pull out, his cock slick with her juices as he scrambled off the bed, hand furiously jerking his shaft as he stood over her. Jongsuk followed, his cock twitching as he withdrew from her ass, standing next to Minho with the same desperation in his eyes.

Jieun slid off the bed, positioning herself on her knees on the soft carpet, looking up at them with wide, slutty eyes. She opened her mouth, tongue out, her hands squeezing her tits together as the two men jerked their cocks inches from her face.

"Come on," she whispered, her voice low and teasing, "give me your cum. Cover me. Fill my dirty little mouth."

It was all they needed. Minho was the first to erupt, thick ropes of cum spurting across Jieun’s beautiful face, coating her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She moaned as it splattered onto her skin, licking her lips seductively, making a show of how much she loved being covered in their release. Jongsuk followed almost immediately, his load joining Minho’s, his cock jerking in his hand as he shot his cum into her waiting mouth. Jieun moaned louder, letting the hot, salty liquid pool on her tongue before swallowing it down, opening her mouth to show them the remnants of their pleasure.

"Fuck, yes... such a dirty slut for our cum,” groaned the men. Jieun moaned, her voice thick with arousal as she scooped the stray drops off her face with her fingers, licking them clean like it was the sweetest treat. She glanced up at them, her expression still one of pure lust, even as her mind was already elsewhere, trying to reconcile the empty ache that lingered inside her.

Once they were done, their bodies spent, Jieun made a show of licking their cocks clean, sucking gently on the heads, making sure there wasn’t a drop left. When she finished, she smiled up at them, her face still smeared with their release. "Just wait here," she said sweetly, getting to her feet. "I’ll be right back."

As she walked to the bathroom, Jongsuk and Minho collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted and drained. Jieun glanced at them over her shoulder, her face still a mask of seductive satisfaction. But the moment she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, her expression shifted. She leaned over the toilet, spitting out the cum she had held in her mouth, her stomach twisting in knots. The aftertaste lingered bitterly on her tongue as she flushed it away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The mirror caught her eye, and she stared at her reflection, her face smeared with cum and her eyes reflecting back confusion and frustration. Two men, she thought bitterly. I had two men, and still... The dull ache of dissatisfaction gnawed at her, a cruel reminder that no matter what she did, no matter how wild the night, it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough.

She turned on the shower, letting the warm water wash away the cum on her skin, her mind racing as the water cascaded over her. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied? She scrubbed harder, the water mingling with her frustration as she tried to cleanse herself not just of the night, but of the emptiness that followed her every encounter.

Once she finished, she wrapped a towel around her body and stepped back into the bedroom. Jongsuk was still lying on the bed, his eyes following her as she moved across the room. Minho had already risen and was heading to the bathroom to shower, knowing he wouldn’t be staying the night with the couple.

Jieun smiled sweetly at Jongsuk, climbing into bed next to him. "Did you like it?" he asked, his voice soft, hopeful.

She didn’t hesitate. "Of course," she lied easily, giving him a reassuring smile. "It was amazing, baby." She leaned in, kissing him gently. "Did you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking relieved. "It was... really something."

"Good," Jieun whispered, nuzzling against him, hiding the conflict swirling inside her. They snuggled together on the bed, Jongsuk’s arm draped over her waist as he sighed contentedly. But Jieun’s mind was already far away, drifting through the haze of unsatisfied desires.

Minho finished showering, emerging from the bathroom with a smile. "Thanks for tonight," he said, his voice friendly, but tired. "It was... incredible."

The couple thanked him in return, and Jongsuk offered to walk him out, but Minho waved it off. "Nah, man, look after her," he said with a grin, clapping Jongsuk on the shoulder before giving him a quick, friendly handshake. "See you around."

Jieun watched him go, her smile never faltering until the door closed behind him. And then, as silence settled over the room, she leaned back against the pillows, Jongsuk’s arm still around her, her body warm from the shower. But her mind buzzed with one burning question.

Why wasn’t it enough?

Jieun watched as Jongsuk disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence left in his wake. As soon as she was alone, she exhaled sharply, biting her bottom lip—not from arousal, but from the growing frustration that had been gnawing at her ever since the threesome had ended. Why hadn’t she felt satisfied? Two men—two cocks—her wildest fantasies lived out right in front of her, and still, that dull ache of emptiness lingered.

She could feel it clawing at the back of her mind, an unresolved hunger that no amount of sex tonight had managed to quell. What’s wrong with me? she thought, her fingers restlessly drumming against the sheets. She couldn’t understand why, after everything, she still felt so hollow inside. But then... a thought bubbled up from the recesses of her mind.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Jieun reached for her phone, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen. She knew what she was looking for—the video. That certain video. It had been sitting there, teasing her thoughts ever since she’d first stumbled upon it. She quickly found it in his saved videos, and before she could second-guess herself, she pressed play.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the screen, and there they were: two massive, hulking black men, their dark skin gleaming under the lights, their muscles rippling as they towered over the woman between them. Their cocks—fuck, they were enormous, long and thick, stretching the woman’s holes to the absolute limit. The sheer size of them filled the screen, pounding into the woman relentlessly, taking turns fucking her ass and pussy in a way that made Jieun’s breath hitch.

Black men.

She’d watched this video before, but somehow, tonight, the sight of those bulging muscles, that dark, gleaming skin, and those impossibly thick cocks made her pulse quicken in a way that nothing else had. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily as her body responded, her pussy slick with wetness.

Was it not just the threesome that had been missing? Was it them? The size, the intensity, the raw power behind every thrust? As she watched those two men use the woman, filling her up in ways Jieun could only dream of, her fingers instinctively slipped down between her thighs, parting her slick folds as her breath quickened. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

The sound of water running in the bathroom faded into the background as Jieun’s fingers circled her clit, her body responding faster than it had all night. She followed the rhythm of the video, the wet slaps of the men’s cocks echoing through the room as they drilled the woman mercilessly. Jieun’s pussy squelched as her fingers worked faster, mirroring the pace of the black men’s thrusts.

Her thoughts became a chant—fuck, fuck, fuck—echoing in her mind as she imagined herself in the woman’s place, stuffed full by two impossibly large cocks, their dark skin pressed against hers, their deep voices groaning in pleasure. The wet, filthy sounds filled the room, and she was so fucking close—closer than she had been all night.

Her fingers moved faster, her hips bucking against her hand as her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in quick, desperate gasps. Just as the men in the video slammed into the woman one last time, Jieun’s body tensed, her fingers slipping deeper into her wet cunt. She let out a soft, muffled squeal, covering her mouth with her free hand as her body spasmed in release. Her juices gushed out over her fingers as she squirted, her whole body shaking as the orgasm tore through her like a wave crashing against a rocky shore.

Jieun’s mind went blank for a moment, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her fingers were slick with her own cum, and the phone lay abandoned on the bed, the video still playing in the background. She blinked, dazed, her breath ragged as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had just come—harder than she had all night—and it was all from watching that video.

A video of a woman getting fucked by two black men.

Jieun gasped softly, the realization crashing into her with full force. Was that what she wanted all along? Was it not just the idea of a threesome but... them? The size, the dominance, the way those cocks filled the woman completely? Her pulse quickened again at the thought, the wetness between her legs already threatening to return.

Before she could fully process it, she heard the bathroom door open, and Jongsuk emerged with a towel slung low around his waist, his skin still damp from the shower. He was smiling, walking over to her as he rubbed the towel through his hair. "Hey," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. But when he saw the look on her face, his smile faltered slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Jieun quickly composed herself, forcing a smile as she shook her head. "No, nothing’s wrong," she lied smoothly, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. She kissed him again, more softly this time, before hugging him tightly, her body pressed against his. But as her lips brushed his, she couldn’t stop thinking about those massive black cocks from the video, filling up the woman in ways Jongsuk could never compare to. Her body was already betraying her, the thought alone making her wet again.

They both got ready for bed, slipping under the covers of the king-sized bed they had paid for, Jongsuk snuggling up against her. His arm draped over her waist, pulling her close as he kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, baby," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"Goodnight," Jieun whispered back, forcing another smile as she lay in his arms. But even as his body pressed against hers, warm and familiar, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was buzzing, her thoughts racing. She bit her lip, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration—it was because the memory of those black cocks filled her head, and with each passing second, the ache between her thighs grew harder to ignore.

Is that what I need? she thought, her pulse quickening once again. Big, thick, black cocks... She pressed her legs together, trying to stave off the rising desire that pulsed through her, but it was no use. Her body was betraying her, and no matter how hard she tried to stop herself, her mind kept wandering back to that video. To the sight of those two men using the woman, stretching her to the limit.

Jongsuk’s soft breathing filled the room as he drifted off to sleep beside her, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling in Jieun’s mind. She lay there, wide awake, biting her lip as the thought of being fucked by men like that consumed her thoughts. The ache between her legs refused to go away, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized—that might be what she needed after all.

But what did that mean for her and Jongsuk?

.

.

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a/n: hiiii! I haven't released anything in a while. With how busy I got and other things, but I was preparing this project series- yes it's gonna be a series- for a while now and I thought it's high time it should see the light of day haha. well that's all for now. I hope you'd look forward to the next chapters! do like and reblog if you enjoyed it mehehe. oh and i'm always open to constructive criticism so feel free to leave some if you want~

[theorphicangel]

“𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?” | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you have a valentine’s date tomorrow and you’re somewhat excited for it. but there’s just one thing you’re unsure about…thankfully your trusted roommate can help. right?

tags: roommate au! (Here we go again), smut, 18+, oral (m.receiving), blowjob, praise, mutual pining, these mfs are in DENIAL smh

PART ONE.

“You have a valentine’s date?”

“God, O’Hara don’t even try to hide the surprise in your voice, why don’t you.”

You cross your arms, frowning at your roommate who was currently sitting next to you on the couch. The two of you were watching a remake of a new movie that had come out recently. An hour or so had passed, the both of you stuck within a comfortable silence before your words had distracted him.

“How could you blame me?” He begins, his gaze still on the television screen. “I’ve never seen you bring anyone home before.”

“So you keep notice on who I bring home?”

A pause runs between the two of you.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Miguel clears his throat. “It’s none of my business anyways, what you do.”

After a few beats of silence, Miguel speaks again, this time with a teasing tone. “I wouldn’t want to be like you anyways, keeping track of who I sleep with.”

“I do not keep track!” you exclaimed.

“How come you remembered Cindy’s name then?”

You hesitate, stuttering off. “You–you talk about her a lot.”

“Bullshit.” A grin creeps up across his lips.

“You jerk, I was gonna ask you for a favor but since you wanna play that game, nevermind.” You crossed your arms, turning your attention back to the screen. Simultaneously, you had just sparked off Miguel’s own curiosity.

“What’s the favor?”

“I don’t want to ask you anymore, I’ll ask someone else.”

“Like who? Peter?”

“Don’t be mean, mig’.”

The movie continues to play in the background for a minute or two before Miguel starts getting restless.

“So who's the guy then? Someone you paid?” Miguel’s grin doesn’t have the time to stretch across his lips this time as you throw a pillow to his face.

“Hey!”

“Watch your mouth, O’hara.”

The two of you had been roommates for just under a year. You had moved in due to an emergency situation. A few troubles with your finances, student loans and the loss of your job resulted in you desperately responding to a roommate advert posted on the internet. Moving in at the beginning was awkward, the two of you avoiding each other, minimal conversation revolving around the weather and who would take out the trash.

But all it took was one night for the both of you to open up to each other, a shift in your realization that Miguel wasn’t as bad as you thought. A few too many drinks one night led you to learn a lot about each other. Like how he didn’t like the dark yet had a weird obsession with space. You found that he had a brother, a few years younger than him who was almost a spitting image. For him, he learned how you once had wanted to be a painter but soon switched career paths to psychology as well as taking up a foreign language.

Ever since that night, you’ve managed to maintain a good friendship with Miguel, completed with a little teasing here and there. On some nights, when you were left alone in your room, you laid back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about him. Particularly, thinking about him and the girls which he brought home. Your mind wandered to the possibilities of what he would be like with them. Imagining what it would be like to be in their position.

How would he touch you, feel you, look at you? Would he be gentle and take his time or does he rush, his passion taking over his whole body? It was questions like these that plagued your mind. You began to create a fantasy in your head, touching yourself at the thought of him touching you; imagining his movements to be slow and cautious, taking you all for himself.

Speaking of, you’ve recently noticed his lack of…visitors lately. Instead of hiding away with them in his room, he’s recently been spending a lot of late nights in your company.

“What’s your plans for Valentine's Day?” you queried, trying to maintain a casual tone. “Taking Cindy out for a romantic dinner?”

Miguel scoffs, shaking his head a little. “Why don’t you ask her out yourself, since you’re so obsessed with the woman?”

A small wave of ease flows through your mind at his answer. Yet it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted. You pat Miguel on the chest mockingly.

“I knew she said no to you. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here you kno—” Unfortunately you weren’t able to finish your sentence as a small scream left your mouth, as Miguel pinched your thigh.

“Watch it, imbécil.” he glared, before changing the topic. “But I’m serious, who's the poor guy then?”

You shoot an offended glare back before repositioning yourself on the couch, turning your body to face him properly.

“Someone asked me from work.”

“And you didn’t have to get on your knees and beg them first?” Playfully, you hit him on the arm and he lets out a fake wince of pain.

“Shut up. And no, for your information, I didn’t.”

Miguel hums, his eyes quickly glancing back to the television screen as he tries his best to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his lower abdomen. Guess he should cancel tomorrow then.

“But I had a favor to ask you.” you turn your body, shifting your position to face him. Miguel merely raises a brow, humming deeply again with his eyes still glued on the screen.

“I was wondering if you’d…show me how to—uhhh how do I put this? Suck someone off.”

Miguel froze. Oh, now you had his attention.

“¿Qué?”

You freeze, clearing your throat as his eyes snap back to you. “I mean it was just a suggestion– I-I’ve watched a few videos but I’m still kinda—I just— I mean, I don’t–”

“You don’t know how to give a blowjob?”

It was a bit more blunt than you had wanted to put it but…yes.

You nodded silently, now choosing to avoid eye contact. “I just wanted some tips, y’know? What do guys generally like? I’ve read that some like it differently than others so…”

“Why are you asking me?”

Ah yes, the million dollar question. Why were you asking your hot ass roommate for blowjob tips? You had the choice to ask anyone: your best friend, or another friend or even a random stranger on the internet. Why him?

“You’re…experienced.” was all that you could come up with. “And not in a bad way!” You quickly correct. “ but I can assume you’ve had your good shares of…that.”

Miguel raises a brow again, swallowing thickly. Anxiety was now bubbling at the base of his stomach. You were asking him how to please a man and immediately his mind jumped at the thought of you with your valentine’s date at the end of the night. Ah, you were asking for your date.

“Well, did you just want tips or did you…” he trails off without finishing the sentence, thinking how weird it would be to finish the sentence that had popped up in his mind.

“ ‘Or did I’ what?” You repeat, tilting your head ever so innocently.

“Or did you want to practice on me?”

/

And that’s how you got here. Kneeling on the floor between the thighs of your very own roommate whom you have only known for less than a year. Was this what you were expecting when asking for advice? Of course not. But there was a sense of excitement that grew in the pit of your stomach and you weren’t going to complain about it.

“So how do I start?” You glance up at Miguel, your eyes wide with innocence and curiosity to learn. Just from the way that you looked at him, he was already beginning to get hard.

“Well, you just start.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, doofus. So you expect me to just get into it? No foreplay or anything?”

“There’ll probably be some foreplay with your date and stuff but…we don’t have to do that.”

For a split second there’s an aura of hesitation between the two of you; him regretting his last words and you almost wanting to reject his assumption. Mutually, there’s a little voice inside of you that tempts you both to take the chance and do this properly.

But of course, this was a lesson.

A mere, innocent favor from a roommate. With no strings attached. Or feelings for that matter.

Even if it killed you both to suppress them.

You nod silently, taking mental notes. Miguel raised his hips a little to pull down his sweatpants, enough so that you could access him with ease. Now you’re starting to get nervous. Your heart was palpitating so much that you could hear your own heartbeat thump in your ears. “I-”

“If you don’t want to, we can stop.” He quips quickly, noticing your hesitation.

You pause, reflecting for the final time whether or not you wanted to do it. Once you made your decision, you glanced up at Miguel.

“It’s not like I have much time left to practice, right?”

Miguel raises a brow. After all, Valentine's day was tomorrow so you needed all the practice that you could get. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” you vocalized, trying to sound more confident in this way.

“Okay, lemme just–” Miguel mumbled to himself as tugs down his boxers. You noticed the way the bottom of his shirt hiked up a little, presenting his happy trail; a dark bush of hair leading all the way down to his…

Oh.

It’s big. Bigger than you thought. And he’s not even hard yet.

Miguel seethes a little, his cock only semi-hard. He pumps himself a few times before removing his hand, leaving it up to you. His arms now rest on the back edge of the couch, widening his thighs a little more for accessibility.

‘Holy shit’, you think to yourself, how the fuck were you supposed to deal with this?

Miguel caught onto your expression, panic drawn all over your face. “We can–”

“No.” you interrupt him, reading his apprehension too. His concern for you is more than obvious. “I want to.”

Miguel chuckles a little, “I was going to suggest to take it slow but yeah, if you’re still up for it.”

You swallow thickly, edging nearer before planting your hands on his thighs. This is so alien to you. After many months of tiptoeing around him at a distance, it was scary how fast you found yourself in a position of intimacy with him.

Sure, many times before have you fantasized about what it would be like to get close to him. With the sounds of moans coming from his bedroom late at night, it wasn’t hard for you to figure out how much of a woman pleaser he was.

Slowly, your hand wraps around his cock, feeling him get harder and harder with every second that passes. You think back to the videos that you had watched previous to this, noticing that most of the women decide to give a few strokes before going in with their mouth. You imitate them easily, watching your hand move.

You take in every fine detail: every vein, every twitch, every shade leading from the tip to the base. The crown of his cock is thick, becoming redder with every stroke as juices of pre-cum subtly spilling away.

“Jus’ like that.” Miguel murmurs and you notice how his tone is a little lighter than before. “When you’re ready, you can lick the tip a little, warm yourself up to it.”

You hum in response. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet at least.

Once again, you think back to the porn videos you had watched, imitating the women by tracing little circles across the tip of his dick. Miguel lets out a drawn out groan and little by little you can feel his body relax as you continue on. It tastes salty. The tip of his cock is reddened and soft.

For a minute or two you continue to trace circles, closing your eyes in the moment, allowing yourself to relax and get rid of any nerves or doubt. Miguel says nothing more, his teeth softly biting down on his lower lip, he watches as you hesitate, unsure of how to continue from here.

Miguel’s hand soon reaches for your chin, causing you to pause and tilt your head up towards him. His hand cups right under your lips and your face turns to confusion for a split second before he lets out his command.

“Spit.”

For some reason, your body listens to him without a second thought.

“It’s okay if it gets messy,” he advises, “the messier the better.”

You make a mental note of that.

You make sure to be careful with your teeth as your lips part around his cock. Once again you take it slow, letting your mouth adjust to his size. He’s bigger and thicker than you had expected, barely halfway before he already fills up your mouth. Your eyes water as you attempt to take him whole, a decision which you realize quickly was too hasty as you reach your gag reflex.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t– mierda!” Miguel sits up a little, trying to pace you. Your eyes water and saliva continues to pool out of your mouth, dripping down to his balls. Your cheeks are full of his cock and as if following his instincts, Miguel almost wants to hold your head there. It takes all of his resilience not to place his hand at the back of your head. He let out a grunt at the warmth of your mouth, coaxing him to stay a little longer. But unfortunately if he does, then he may cum sooner rather than later.

You feel his fingers tap your shoulder, “Hey–” he manages to draw out, “brea–breathe through your nose.” You attempt to do so, just letting off a few inches of his dick, letting your hand stroke whatever you can’t take. With you, you can build up a pace more freely, bobbing your head up and down. You close your eyes, concentrating on keeping your rhythm, a steady pace for now.

Fuck it, Miguel gives into his instincts, letting a hand cup the back of your head ever so lightly.

“Fuck, keep going… you’re doing so well.”

Miguel’s praises boost your confidence, the simple phrase removing past doubts that had cast over you. You pause to allow yourself to breathe, your hand stroking his length in the meanwhile and Miguel seems to cup your chin again.

“Mírame.”

One simple order and he has you hooked and, god, you have a gorgeous view.

His dark brows are deeply furrowed. Chest rising and falling heavily, His hands are now by his side, prominent veins from his other arm lead to the back of his hand which currently grips a pillow on the couch. His eyes are beginning to droop, with his head tilted back slightly. You notice how his Adam apple bobs in his throat with every guttural hum that he makes. His mouth is just about agape enough for you to spot his pink tongue peeking out at you.

And as for him? The sight of you is more wondrous than he could ever imagine. Your eyes are also heavy-lidded. Lips plump and wet with saliva dripping down your chin. This is a side of you that he’s never seen before. Your eyes glow with submission, the innocence and inexperience peeling off of you. If you keep looking at him with that expression, he’s not particularly confident that he’ll be able to hold on for that long.

“Don’t stop looking at me, okay?”

You hum a little before your lips open wide to wrap around his cock again. Yet this time, you manage to keep eye contact. Another unrestrained grunt leaves Miguel’s mouth, his lips parting once more.

You’d say that you’re confident now, relaxed more than ever – confident enough to begin exploring. Keeping his cock in your mouth, you begin to bob your head at a rhythmic pace and at the same time a free hand reaches down to his base, lightly tracing over his balls.

A sharp inhale leaves his mouth. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that, nena?”

You hum in response, the vibration of your mouth causing a helpless moan from your roommate. You focus near the tip of his cock, returning back to tracing circles over the slit. One hand still pumps the rest of him whilst the other gently teases his balls with your fingertips.

He’s closer than you think. And you can tell by the way that his hips begin to shift a little as if he’s trying to get more of your touch. He tilts his head back, chest rising and falling at a more dramatic pace. “Shit–shit–shit-m’gonna, m’gonna cum– if– if you keep going… oh fuck!”

“Wan’ me to swallow it all?”

You’re practically teasing him at this point. Fuck, he’ll do anything, anything. And this time he doesn’t hold back in vocalizing this, the words ‘yes’ falling from his tongue, pleading, begging you to continue. “Yes, yes, don’t fucking stop.”

You decide to grant him his wishes, turning to a faster pace as you stroke his length with your hand. You can feel his cock twitching, thick veins rubbing against your palm.

“You close, mig’?” you taunt, watching as he closes his eyes in pure euphoria. He nods, inchorant words fall from his lips in a babble as his hips jerk upwards and his thighs tense around you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck m’cumming! M’gonna–”

Miguel manages to cut himself off with a deep groan, lifting his hips up as you wrap your lips around him for the last time. His cock twitches, veins pulsating as your mouth is filled with his white seed. You swallow as much as you can, trying to bear the salty taste. His cum is thick, spurting so much out you think you won’t be able to keep up. Some leaks out, dripping down his shaft. As soon as you’ve swallowed, you lap up what you missed.

“Fuck, wait, wait–”

“M’cleaning you up.” you mumble. You can tell how sensitive he is. Just from your tongue lightly licking his length so as to not waste anything, his cock twitches. Once satisfied, you pull away, your tongue licking at your bottom lip.

Apart from the sound of the now forgotten movie playing in the background and the sound of light panting coming from Miguel, there’s a silence between the both of you.

You lean back, resting on your heels as you begin to grow aware of your actions.

You’ve just sucked off your roommate. Correction. Your hot ass roommate.

Neither of you know what to say. You begin to avoid his eye contact, feeling the awkwardness creep in. Yet, it fails to fully entrap you as Miguel chooses to bite the dust and speaks first.

“For someone with a mouth that doesn’t shut up, I’m surprised you know how to use it well.” he mutters, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants.

All tension from your body begins to evaporate, a slight smile appearing on your lips.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” you frown, wiping off remnants of his cum mixed with your saliva from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Nothing, nothing. You were just…good for someone who hadn’t done anything like this before.”

Unlike when you were sucking him off, his praise causes heat to rise to your cheeks, your face burning up. And like a few moments ago too, you continue to avoid his eyes.

Clearing your throat, you move to stand, gesturing that you’re about to go to your room. The movie is just about over but neither you nor him were worried about that anymore.

“Any other advice that I should take?” you say.

Miguel frowns, taking a few moments to think deeply. If he’s being completely honest with himself, that orgasm has crushed him. Leaving him with nothing but thoughts of you and that sweet mouth of yours. Just thinking about it almost makes him hard again.

A part of him almost dares to tell you to forget your date tomorrow and to go out with him tomorrow. The card and flowers addressed to you, wait patiently in his room, a last-minute gift after weeks of building up the courage to ask you. All that courage is lost now though.

He’s too late.

“No.” He says, finally, going against his instincts. “Just do exactly what you did for me.”

“No complaints?”

“No complaints.” He clarifies. A deep pit of regret and hurt builds up again in his lower stomach, a feeling that he’ll have to start getting used to. He deserves it, he thinks, for not asking you sooner. He has no right to be jealous that someone else beat him to it. Not when he wasn’t dropping enough signs to prove that…

he’s falling in love with you.

Before entering your bedroom, you pause, the door leading to your bedroom slightly ajar. “Hey.”

Miguel glancing up to look at you.

“Thanks.”

Miguel says nothing more and really he should be the one thanking you for the heaven that you’ve just taken him to. He waits until he hears your bedroom door close and lock before letting out a sigh that he didn’t know he was holding in.

After he’s sure that you won’t return, Miguel pulls out his phone, tapping his screen until he reaches a certain page.

‘Are you sure you want to cancel your reservation for a ‘table for two’ on the 14th of February ?’

After a mere moment of hesitation, he confirms. His thumb clicking on ‘yes’.

part 2.

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

[writingduhh]

Hii, i was wondering if you were able to write something for hansumfella (tyler) ? I was thinking he talks about him having a girlfriend but no body believes him until he finally brings her into a stream and everyone is amazed because they thought he was joking !! but anything works haven’t rlly seen hansumfella content !! 😅😅

YES!!!!!! Hope this is alright! It’s my first hansumfella fic so I’m super new at this….

Hansumfella || Stream Surprise

You and Tyler had been openly dating for several months, thoroughly enjoying the simplicity and joy your relationship brought into your lives. However, as Tyler's online alter ego, HansumFella, began to skyrocket in popularity, it became clear that managing your private and public lives would need some recalibration. Out of mutual concern for privacy and the unpredictable nature of internet fame, you both agreed it would be best to keep your relationship out of the public eye for the time being.

During one of his lively Roblox streams—a session filled with laughter and playful banter—Tyler unexpectedly let a secret slip, a revelation that even surprised him.

“And yeah, for those wondering why I’ve been a bit off-schedule lately, I’ve been spending some time with my amazing girlfriend,” he mentioned casually, taking a sip of water as the chat erupted into a frenzy.

“You what now, Tyler?!” one viewer exclaimed, their message quickly engulfed by a wave of shocked and curious reactions.

“HE HAS A GF?!”

“NOOOO 😭”

“GIRLFRIEND REVEAL”

“I knew it Ong”

“Proof or it didn’t happen.”

Despite the disbelief, Tyler merely chuckled and steered the conversation back to his gaming strategy, his relaxed demeanor doing little to stop the onslaught of comments.

“Alright chat, calm down I didn’t even say anything! You’re just imagining it! You’re gaslighting yourself. Let’s focus back to absolutely destroying children in best dressed” He jests in his usual dry sense of humor.

In the weeks that followed, each stream dedicated a few minutes to viewers probing for more details about you. Tyler kept his answers vague, strategically revealing just enough to maintain interest without confirming anything definitive.

“What does she look like?”

“Favorite thing about her?”

“I still think he’s lying.”

“Well she looks absolutely gorgeous. Absolute smoke show.” He playfully remarks before continuing.

“Favorite thing about her? Oo that’s a hard one, there’s so much to love. I’ll say sense of humor.”

The curiosity and incessant questioning from his fanbase eventually led Tyler to plan a significant reveal. On a crisp summer evening, his usual streaming time, Tyler adjusted his webcam to capture more than just his usual gaming setup.

“Alright, everyone,” Tyler announced as he started his stream, “tonight is a special night. You've all been incredibly patient—or incredibly nosy,” he joked with a wink at the camera. “I think it's time you meet someone very special to me.”

He reached out and extended a hand off-camera. After a brief moment, another hand appeared, and you stepped into view, your smile bright yet slightly shy as you waved to the camera.

“Hello stream! Is that what I call them?” You ask, a little overwhelmed with the situation

“You can call them whatever you like, babe.” He chuckles, pulling you to sit down beside him.

The chat paused for a split second before erupting.

“OMHH SHES REAL?!”

“She’s so beautiful!!”

“HE WASN’T LYING 💀”

“Literally how did he land her?”

“She’s ours now”

Tyler’s grin widened as he read the comments aloud, his arm comfortably encircling you as you sat comfortably on his lap.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s the reason I’ve been so distracted, so you can blame her for the lack of content.” He jests, earning a playful eye roll from you.

The stream proceeded exceptionally well. You were a natural, laughing and engaging with the chat as if you’d had been a part of the community for years. Tyler felt a mix of pride and relief; not only did his audience adore you, but him as well.

A few weeks after your debut on his stream, Tyler decided it was time to make your relationship Instagram official. He chose a candid photo of you two together, taken during a sunset hike. Both laughing, bathed in the golden hour light, capturing a beautiful moment.

Tyler uploaded the photo with the caption that simply read, “Mine ;)” and tagged you.

The post received thousands of likes and comments in no time. Fans and friends filled the comments section with hearts, congratulatory messages, and more than a few playful jabs at having doubted him in the first place.

Tyler leaned back, watching the notifications pop up one after another, you sitting beside him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Was it worth the wait?” Tyler asked, his voice a soft murmur.

“Definitely worth it,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

[curiositysavesthecat]

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[ponett]

Whenever I complain about graphic or dark content in media I watch, I keep hearing people retort with this apparently very popular opinion that people who enjoy comfy, wholesome things are actually more likely to be raging assholes than people who love things like death metal and gore. As someone who seems to enjoy comfy, wholesome things yourself and likely met many others who enjoy similar such things, do you agree with this opinion? If so, why do you think this happens?

So I've been sitting on this ask for like a week, not knowing whether or not I wanted to touch it because it kind of feels like being handed a live grenade

For one, I don't like being pigeonholed as someone who just likes "comfy" or "wholesome" things. Yeah, I enjoy My Little Pony and Animal Crossing. I made a game with cute furry characters and lots of bright colors. I also enjoy things like Berserk and Chainsaw Man and Doom and violent crime dramas and punk rock with vulgar lyrics and porn. Variety is the spice of life

Anyway: I generally don't think it's a good idea to make sweeping statements about peoples' moral or intellectual character based on what genres of story they enjoy, regardless of what direction you're coming at it from. But this is a very leading question that kind of skirts around the root problems

There's frequent (perhaps a bit exaggerated) pushback these days against people who prefer their fiction to be a warm blanket, a form of escapism meant to distract you from the real world. In particular, the dreaded "person who only watches kids' cartoons" is a form of this that gets brought up a lot. I don't think the root problem here is what media people enjoy or don't personally enjoy - taste is subjective, and I don't think it's a moral obligation for everyone to have diverse tastes in TV shows - but I do think some folks should try to get out of their comfort zone a bit more. Sometimes stuff that seems like it won't be for you on a surface level will really end up speaking to you, but you won't know until you give it a shot. Trust me, I've been there many times

It becomes a problem when people demand that media ONLY cater to that "warm blanket" attitude. And I think that's part of the reason why that stereotype you mentioned about fans of ""wholesome""" media being assholes exists. People who view dark or violent content as an inherent flaw because it's not what they like. People who yell at creators when they make bad things happen in their stories, because how dare you do this to my comfort characters? People who say movies should never have sex scenes. People who want "problematic" moral complexity stripped out in favor of black and white moral instruction. People who seem to hate any sort of interpersonal conflict in fiction at all

These attitudes can be the result of many different cultural factors, factors that can't all be traced back to Tumblr or what shows you like, but sometimes it's definitely because of that lack of broader perspective on media. You can tell when someone's opinions on The Right And Wrong Ways To Write Fiction were shaped almost entirely by, like, Steven Universe discourse. (Yes, this is a jab at Lily Orchard.) And when these people are very loud about their opinions, well, it becomes a trend people notice

Like. I don't know you. You sent this anonymously. But when you say you "complain about graphic or dark content in media you watch"... that could mean a few wildly different things! Maybe you're just venting about something that unexpectedly triggered you, and that's totally fine. But the wording could also imply that, like, you take issue with these things being present at all, and that you expect a person who likes "death metal and gore" to be more of a "raging asshole" than someone who likes the "wholesome" things you like. So... well, maybe you're more dismissive or judgmental of things outside your comfort zone than you realize?

Unfortunately, in case it's not already obvious, on the internet this shit quickly becomes a proxy battle over dozens of intersecting cultural issues at once where everyone is kinda just talking past each other. So it gets messy

For example, I have no reason to believe that the people who run the "Wholesome Games" showcases have anything against games that are dark or violent or contain adult themes. (They've outright said they don't. Many times!) But when you see people going "why is Spiritfarer allowed in the showcase? That's a game about DEATH and that's NOT WHOLESOME, why would you make me think about death?" or "Ugh, why does Disco Elysium have to be about a cop? Why can't we apply these systems to a game about a young witch who's trying to find a lost cat in an idyllic village instead?" it... Well, it makes me sympathetic towards the indies who don't feel comfortable with the "Wholesome Games" label and consider it limiting. But it also doesn't make me think that devs catering to a demand for more chill, nonviolent video games are categorically facilitating fascist censorship from the Christian right

It's complicated! The written word is imprecise and the internet is a nightmare

I've kind of gone off on multiple tangents here. Basically: I do think that people can kinda turn fans of "comfy" media or "adults who only watch Bluey" into an overblown boogeyman these days. I think people online generally have a habit of swinging too hard in one direction or another in their stances on certain things, overcompensating based on what group of people online are currently annoying them the most and turning said group into like The Main Problem With Society Today. But I also think that boogeyman only exists because of very real examples of people demanding that everything cater to their narrow comfort zone. Go like what you like, but also, y'know. Don't be that person

[joannechocolat]

On why women’s rage is a superpower

My mother hates my new book. I gave her a proof just a few days ago, and although she’s still only halfway through, she can’t wait to tell me all the ways in which she hates my novel.

“Is this science fiction?” she says. (She detests science fiction.) “Were you ill when you wrote this?” (I was.) And repeatedly, she says: “Why are the women so angry?”

I get it. She’s out of her comfort zone. At 83, with no internet, no interest in pop culture and a deep-rooted hatred of anything close to horror or the supernatural, she wasn’t my target audience. And yet it’s never easy to hear such criticism from a loved one. But in some ways, she isn’t wrong. Broken Light is an angry book. It came from a time of lockdown, when social media was my only window onto the world. It came from a place of trauma, when I was fighting cancer. It came from a place of corrupt hierarchies, self-serving politicians, anti-vaxxers, Covid deniers, victim-blamers, and those eager to blame all their woes on minorities. And of course, it arose against the background of the #MeToo campaign and the Sarah Everard murder – a murder that shocked the nation, not least because the murderer turned out to be a serving police officer with a reputation for sexual misconduct - which unleashed a collective howl of protest, as well as an ugly, misogynistic backlash. Even so, my story came as something of a surprise to me: the story of a woman’s rage, and, on reaching the age at which women often feel least valued, her coming into her power.

It surprised me, most of all because I wasn’t an angry person. At least, I didn’t think I was. Those who know me describe me as someone who tends to flee conflict, who generally tries to find common ground, who gets upset when people fight. And yet, writing this story, I found myself saying and feeling certain things on behalf of my heroine, Bernie Moon; things I might not have said for myself, but which felt right and urgent, and true, and strangely liberating.

Anger has a bad press. A woman’s anger, especially. While men are encouraged to express feelings of justified anger, women are often criticized when they try to do the same. Angry women are often portrayed as “harpies,” “banshees,” “Furies.” It suggests that a man’s rage is righteous, but that a woman’s is unnatural, making her into a monster. Male anger is powerful. The God of the Bible is one of wrath. Seldom is he ever portrayed as expressing any other emotion. In the same way, men and boys are often led to believe that expressing emotion is weak - except for anger, which is seen as acceptably masculine.

In comparison, women are often criticized when they show aggression. Angry women are hysterical, shrill, out of control, unreliable, unattractive, unfeminine. A perceived lack of “femininity” makes a woman less valuable, less worthy of respect and of protection. The Press coverage of women victims of violence is a case in point. A victim of violence needs to be attractive, white, gender conforming and virtuous in every way if she is not to be overlooked, or worse, portrayed as somehow having contributed to her misfortune. When trans teenager Brianna Ghey was stabbed, the Press were very quick to state that her murder was not thought to be a hate crime, whilst at the same time obsessing over – and questioning - her gender. When Nicola Bulley disappeared, police felt obliged to divulge details of her struggle with the menopause, as well as her alcohol issues, even though this was privileged information and of no public relevance. When Emma Pattison, the Head of Epsom College, was murdered alongside her daughter, the Press immediately assumed that her husband George must have felt “overshadowed” and “driven to distraction” by his wife’s prestigious job. In all three cases, the victim falls under the hostile scrutiny of the Press, while the perpetrator is given an excuse. In all three cases, the victim – one trans, one hormonal, one better-paid than her husband - is effectively portrayed as “unnatural”. Subtext: Unnatural women do not deserve the protection of the patriarchy. Unnatural women come to bad ends.    

Once you start to acknowledge it, rage grows at a surprising rate. Over the past three years, I have found myself growing increasingly angry. Angry at the injustices committed by our Government; t the greed of corporations; angry at the prejudice extended to those who are different.

Connecting with others on social media has made me more aware of the lives and experiences of those from different backgrounds to mine, and with different levels of privilege. For a long time I’d been resistant to calling myself a feminist. Feminists are angry, I thought. What right have you to be angry?

Growing older, I realize that this was my mother speaking. A woman of a certain generation, who although she was aware of the challenges of living in a patriarchy, still had a level of privilege that many women do not share. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the luxury of choosing not to be angry. White, professional, cishet women can sometimes have the illusion of equality. But feminism isn’t only for just one kind of woman. A feminist must look beyond the limits of their own experience. And that’s where the anger really starts: anger at injustice; anger at corruption and lies. Most of all, anger at the prejudice against certain people for just being themselves; for being transgender, or Black, or old, or simply not conforming to what a white, patriarchal society expects and values. And once you start seeing injustice, you start to see it everywhere. It’s like an eye, which, once opened, cannot unsee inequality.

My anger flourished in lockdown. A time of growing divisions. Masks are invaluable in a pandemic, and yet they inhibit connection. They serve as a kind of reminder of who can speak, and who is to be silenced. While Boris Johnson was urging the public to trust the police, a vigil for Sarah Everard was broken up, with violence, by officers citing lockdown laws. While elderly people were dying alone; while I drove for four hours just to go for a half-hour walk in the park with my son; while I sat alone in my chemo chair, politicians were partying. Billionaires were enriching themselves. Behind the mask, the eye opened wide. I caught myself making faces behind my disguise at strangers. There was something weirdly liberating about this; as if, behind the piece of cloth, I could express myself at last. Not unlike writing a book, in fact. On screen, the eye opened wider. Bernie Moon, my heroine, was unlike like me in many ways, and yet anger connected us. The anger that comes from helplessness; from seeing others mistreated. Anger at a society that propagates inequality. And the anger that comes from hormones – those mood-altering chemicals that everyone produces, and yet which allegedly make women erratic; unreliable; hormonal.

In his novel, Carrie, Stephen King tells the story of a girl, whose telekinetic powers are unleashed by her teenage hormones. Carrie is unpopular, bullied, isolated. Her rage finds an outlet in her power. Driven to breaking-point by the bullies, she becomes a monster. Of course she does: after all, the author of this tale is a man, writing from the perspective of a couple of thousand years’ worth of patriarchal inheritance. In literature, a woman’s anger is unnatural; monstrous. It leads to terrible, unnatural things: makes murderers and infanticides of Clytemnestra and Medea; monsters of Medusa and Scylla. Unnatural, monstrous women are always punished in literature, even while acknowledging that they are often the victims of men. And unnatural women are often seen as physically repulsive – a reminder that, to be valued and loved, women must be young, and pure, and conform to the standards of beauty set out by their society. In literature, just as in life, those women who do not conform tend to be less valued, less seen, and when they do appear, do so as wicked witches, evil stepmothers, ugly crones and hideous travesties of womanhood.

But what would happen if a woman took control of the narrative? In recent years, we have observed a number of retellings of Greek myths from the point of view of the monster. Stone Blind, by Nathalie Haynes; Medusa, by Jessie Burton; Circe, by Madeline Miller. In both cases, the monstrous woman is seen from a different perspective; her rage absorbed and justified; her narrative reclaimed from a patriarchy that seeks to tame and subdue a woman’s rage, even at the cost of her life.

My new novel, Broken Light, comes from the same process of reclamation. It owes a debt to Carrie, but I have avoided the explicitly paranormal theme of the original, as well as the girl-on-girl bullying and the psychopathic mother. In my version, Carrie lives; marries her childhood sweetheart; internalizes all her rage and suffocates her power. Until the menopause – a topic which until recently has been largely misunderstood and taboo – at which point her power returns, and with it, a new kind of freedom. Freedom from the male gaze; from the responsibilities of motherhood; from the largely impossible expectations of society. Unlike puberty, menopause is triggered by a lack of certain hormones; and yet the symptoms can be just as dramatic and isolating. Loss of libido, exhaustion, depression, emotional outbursts as well as unpredictable and alarming hot flashes – my version of Carrie’s pyrokinesis. Whether my heroine’s powers stem from any kind of paranormal source is very much up to the reader to decide – after all, paranormal is only a step away from unnatural. And what counts as unnatural is in the eye of the reader – an eye that has been opened, I hope, to a series of new possibilities.

One is that rage is natural. Living in a patriarchy, women have a right to their rage. In fact, it seems more unnatural to me when women are not angry, given how much misogyny remains in our society. And growing old is natural. Being hormonal is natural. Differences are natural; so are disabilities. All women matter; whatever their age, or colour, or sexual orientation, or marital or reproductive status. The value of a woman’s life should not be defined by her popularity, or her age, or her looks, or her kids, or her value to the patriarchy. And no-one else gets to decide what a woman ought to be. A woman is not what, but who - a person, not an object; an active participant in her world. Women have lived too long behind the mask. They deserve their own stories. Stories in which they are allowed the full range of human possibility. So, to answer my mother’s question: Why are the women so angry?

Because it’s a superpower.

[anemoiashifts]

a collective shifting reading.

hi guys :) if you’re seeing this on tumblr that means you’re getting this three hours early but 7.10 is the anemoiashifts tiktok accounts first birthday 🎂🤍 !

i wanted to do something special & originally i wanted to talk about the first time — and only time — that i have shifted but i don’t think im ready to share something that personal to hundreds of strangers on the internet. then, i was going to do a q&a but i thought that would be a little lazy, then i thought about going live & doing live shifting readings on tiktok but im a pretty shy person so that idea went out the window as quickly as it came. so i hope this video will do :) !

this is a collective shifting reading for all of my followers or anyone who comes across this. this reading is going to be a little longer then my previous ones because i want to provide as much clarity as i can to try & help you guys ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

who this is for ₊˚ෆ

this reading is for everyone who has shown me support within the past year or decided to stick around for whatever reason; even if this video magically stumbles upon your path. but here are some specifics that ive picked up on:

star or heart shaped jewelry (rings, bracelets, necklaces, etc.) specially, silver jewelry or silver in general. maybe you’re someone who doesn’t take well to criticism. if you have a connection to foxes, mice / rats or house cats. shiny & holographic clothing. soft makeup shades (baby pink, nudes, baby blue).

reading ₊˚ෆ

your biggest “blockade” is your over commitment to your desired reality & shifting as a whole. there needs to be balance or you are pouting yourself at risk for losing your sense of self & going into a downwards spiral. your relationship with shifting is filled with limerence instead of taking control of your life & looking at your life (here or in your dr) long term. you may have multiple dr’s which only fuel that fascination with shifting as a concept. you want to experience so many different things, but you can’t do everything all at once. you have made too many commitments at once. to provide that clarity to yourself, focus on one place at a time. the reason you are so disconnected to your dr is because you’re trying to simultaneously connect with the ten others that you have in that works.

you already understand what doesn’t serve you, doesn’t serve you. weather that be patterns or methods or mindset. you have already let go of them. you don’t need to rehash what you already know. while nostalgic, the era of 2020 / 2021 shiftok has ended & looking back on the past is pointless. because of this looking back to this era with such a yearning to re-spark that initial excitement that you had when the idea of shifting was shown to you, it can quickly become a distraction; reminiscing instead of reigniting.

if you feel stuck, it’s because you feel directionless in your shifting journey. you have so many ideas & so much you want to do but feel lost at sea. you are struggling yo see progress or success. without looking back on what no longer serves you, go back to what you want to get out of shifting. to get out of this never ending cycle, you need to take responsibility for yourself & journey. you also need to recognize the power you already hold. nothing separates a “successful” shifter from a non successful shifter other then how you personally choose to define it. this could be a reflection of your lack of self confidence & be a sign to honoring yourself. how your view yourself, dictates your relationships with other people & how you show up in the world. you could be repressing traumas & emotions & trying to put a band aid over them though shifting. if you feel shame or stupid for putting in energy to reality shift, don't. if it brings you joy then know anything that brings you happiness is worth it & never a waste.

thank you for reading & i hope this resonated with you & you were able to maybe see your journey in a new light or get some clarity. i love you so very much !! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀ !!

[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - You And Me

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Internet hate, emotional struggle, lack of communication.

Proofread while I was tired and delusional :)

—————————————

We were both young and distracted. Both on top of the world with our new occupations and the luck increasingly coming our way. Jack got drafted and I got my dream job in New York. We shared our excitement with one another simply because of our eventual close proximity.

I grew up going to school with the Hughes boys. I knew them well. I knew Luke the best, mostly because my little brother was friends with him. Which was really how I met Jack and Quinn in the first place. I gravitated toward Jack the most, due to his outgoing attitude and love for most things. We were always best friends. Strictly best friends.

It came as a shock to none when we got together. People were expecting it. Anticipating it. Jack and I dated, and at first we loved that, but eventually we saw through the cracks in our facades. We were playing “glorified friendship.” Jack didn’t love me like that, and I didn’t love him like that either. Sure, the fans and those on social media loved us, but they really only saw what we considered a best friendship. We may have kissed in a few photos and held hands, but Jack and I agreed that it just never felt right.

To say the least, we were both relieved and happy to have it over and done with when we broke up. We went back to fake gagging at each other and often teasing one another with comments about, “oh I can’t believe I ever kissed you,” and “why did we ever do that?”

Those comments though, had to be put on the back burner, when I met Trevor. Luke invited my brother and me out to the lake house one summer for a time. I almost turned down the offer, but my brother insisted, and I knew Jack would be there.

What I didn’t anticipate, was all of his friends being there too.

When Jack was too busy, I usually gravitated toward Trevor. Who always seemed to find me as well. He liked to ask what I was doing, drinking, eating, reading, watching.. god he just always wanted to know what I was up to. I thought it was nice.

I especially liked it when I would slip out on the back deck in the mornings to relax in the chill air, and Trevor would bee-bop out not long after, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pouch and glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. He was often the least talkative, and I’d even venture to say shy, in the mornings.

Trevor and I became close after that. I could tell it made Jack nervous, but in the end when I asked him about dating Trevor, the middle Hughes gave his blessing.

The next summer, Trevor and I spent most of our time together at the lake house. And away from it. I took him on midnight drives. Introduced him to the wonders of rolling the windows down and screaming. He took me to his favorite mini-golf places and ice cream shops. We shared our hopes and dreams, and eventually our feelings.

Then I moved back to New York.

Long distance was shit, but Trevor visited whenever he was close enough to do so, and I visited whenever my schedule permitted. Then the second year of our relationship came, and after much discussion with my boyfriend, I made the decision to move to Anaheim.

Which was how we were eventually outed as well. People got photos of Trevor and I moving my things in just down the block from his and Jamie’s place. Which might not have looked overly suspicious, if those photos weren’t accompanied by one of us kissing too.

At first, people were happy. At first meaning maybe two days. Then I started getting comments on my social media. I started seeing people making videos and posts about how I’d dated Jack previously. People compared photos of me kissing Jack, to the one they had of me kissing Trevor.

Each new piece of content made me feel sick. Then it made me angry. Angry at Trevor’s fans, angry at jealous girls, angry at myself. Because in what world did I think this would slide by without having any issues? I was dating my exes best friend.

“Can they just shut up about it?”

I knew it hurt Trevor too, because the crazy fan girls called me a slut, but the other boy obsessed fan girls called Trevor a horrible friend. Everybody was choosing sides online. It was either;

Team Jack; which included shitting on Trevor for breaking bro-code

Team Trevor; which meant tearing Jack down for supposedly, ‘hurting me’ or ‘treating me wrong.’

Then there was simply Team Puck Bunny; where everybody attacked and berated me for jumping from guy to guy.

I wouldn’t consider it a team, more like an angry mob.

I often responded with,

“I’m sick of it too, bud. You’re not the only one.”

We went for days being frustrated, weeks even. Things simmered and simmered, then they came to a boil when I got publicly insulted in a book store.

“This is it?” I could tell the young woman had a tone in her voice, but I’d worked retail before. I knew some days just required a little bit of a hard attitude. It wasn’t until she looked up at me for the second time, that she decided to pop off.

“Did we bring Trevor’s card today?”

I was shocked. My expression spoke volumes, not to mention the way my posture quickly changed.

“What does that mean exactly?” The people behind me grew impatient, and usually I wasn’t one to cause a scene, but this girl wasn’t going to get away with such words.

“Means yours probably ran out of money after you and Jack broke up. Had to hop along to the next hockey player.”

Hop along. What a fucking joke.

I pulled my credit card back into my purse. I’d dealt with the hate for so long that at some point, I began to wonder if I did use Trevor’s money too much.

Did I talk about him too much? Mention his name too much at work? Did I get friends just because of him? How often was I really buying things and not arguing more about him handing his own card over? Was I really using him? Was Jack really upset with me?

I tried my hardest to hold back the tears as I abandoned my books at the counter. I climbed into my car, put on a pair of sunglasses, and finally let it out as I drove back to my place. It felt like I was trapped. Trapped under a microscope I didn’t want to be under. So alone. Put on a pedestal only to be laughed at. I knew Trevor was experiencing the same thing to some degree, but it wasn’t the same. The hate on him had calmed. People got over it. When would they get over me? Why couldn’t they just understand that Jack and I wanted to be friends? That we’d never been in love.

The second I got into my home, I discarded every piece of technology I had on myself. My phone, my watch, I ignored the tv and my iPad- my laptop. I made a straight line for my back deck. And when I got outside, I slammed the sliding door as hard as I could. And I cried.

I was using Trevor. Maybe people were right. Maybe I needed a normal boyfriend, with a nine to five job. Somebody who I couldn’t use and take advantage of. Somebody in my league. I just needed to hop my way out of his life and forget about him. I lowered myself into one of my deck chairs, leaning back and raising a hand to wipe at the tears on my cheeks.

Trevor needed a girl who wouldn’t accept his card. Who wouldn’t let him pay for things or gift give so much. He needed a girl who’d take care of him as much as he took care of her. That couldn’t be me. It wasn’t me. Everybody said so.

I focused in when I heard the sound of a door opening, my thoughts forgotten in a flash as I grew concerned about somebody being in my home. I sat still, and waited patiently, until I heard the glass door open. I whipped around, only to relax at the sight of Trevor. He was supposed to make things better.. did I ever make things better for him?

“Hey! I saw you pull in.. I was waiting for you to get back from the book store.” His bashful smile was one I always loved. He hated admitting that he waited for me sometimes.

Trevor quickly presented me with a small box. My face fell.

“I got you something.”

“Trevor.” I sighed out, my hand pinched the bridge of my nose. “You can’t keep buying me things.”

I turned my gaze up to him, frustrated and exhausted.

“It’s just something small. Open it.” He quickly sat down next to me, and when he held the box out, I pushed it away.

“This is the shit they hate me for, Trevor!” I shouted, I quickly took note of the hurt look on his face. “They can’t stand me-“ my voice broke. “Because they think I use you. I don’t use you!” I couldn’t tell if I was trying to convince myself at this point, or the entirety of his fan base.

Tears quickly fell down my cheeks, my face red as I tried to hold in my sobs.

“Hey, hey-“ Trevor set the box aside and pulled me into his side. “I know you don’t use me.” He cooed, his hand rubbing my back while the other grasped my thigh.

“I do. You always pay for things- and.. and I used Jack to get to you.. and I hurt Jack- I hurt Jack because we’re together,” my hysterical bumbling was nonsense. Lies I began to believe because they’d been preached too much. Trevor let me go. He let me go and get it out for as long as I needed to, listening to any and every insecurity and concern. He listened well after the tears settled and I found my composure.

I eventually turned my body to face his own, and buried my head into his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna use you, Trevor,” I choked out. “I love you so much.” He was careful in pulling me into his lap.

“You don’t, baby.. I promise you don’t use me. I love buying you things. And Jack is always telling me about how much you talk about me when he calls. He always tells me it’s nonstop. He’s happy for us. And my team is happy. Hell.. Gibby loves you.”

“Because I’m with you.”

“No. Because you’re so sweet to everybody. Because you treat them all like family, and they love having you around when we have events.”

I gripped the back of Trevor’s t-shirt with one of my hands.

“Why do you love me?” I sniffled, and lifted my face to wipe my tears on my arm. I was certain I looked like shit, but Trevor still lifted my chin to look at me.

“Because there’s nothing to hate.” It sounded extremely cheesy and cliche, but in the moment it calmed me. Nothing worked better than hearing my boyfriend say such kind things.

“There’s a few things,” I argued softly, sniffing again. Trevor cupped my cheeks and wiped the excess tears away with his thumbs.

“Nothing worth hating. Maybe disliking, but not hating.” Trevor stood his ground with a teasing tone. “I couldn’t hate a single piece of you.”

“What about the money?” I lifted my hands to grip his wrists, prying his hands from my face. Trevor sighed.

“It was never about the money until they made it like that. Why’d you start liking me?”

I paused to think, my gaze flickering around the back yard.

“Because you were easy to talk to. And eccentric.” Trevor chuckled.

“Exactly. You never cared. We’ve never even had a discussion on how much I make. I just offer to buy, and you give me such a hassle about it before I win, and I pay.” Trevor paused and smirked. “Most of the time.” My expression softened.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” I released his hands, and Trevor brushed my hair aside with one, while the other went back to wiping away my tears. “We can just ignore all the shit for a while. Try and do one of those social media breaks or something?”

“I think I can do that.” Who was I kidding? I knew I could do that. A social media cleanse with Trevor didn’t sound like such a bad thing. Time to forget about all the stress and focus solely on one another.

“There’s only two of us in this relationship. It’s not me, you, and the world. Yeah?” I never thought of it that way. I quickly nodded.

“When did you get so wise, Zig?” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the bridge of my nose.

“Since I started dating a book worm. You learn a lot from books.”

Who would have thought you could learn from books?

“So..” I sighed out. “One big social media cleanse?”

“You betcha.”

“All apps?”

“All apps.”

“Just me and you.” That wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A newfound relief.

“Just you and me.” Trevor responded as he leaned in and kissed me. After a moment, we pulled away.

I nodded, leaned into him once again, and sighed. Just us. Only us.

“This might be a weird time to ask, but what did you get me?”

“Oh.. yeah it was nothin’ big. Just a Ring Pop in a box. I thought it would be funny.” I stared him down. I narrowed my eyes.

“Fuck you. I want the Ring Pop!”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[mr-double-downer]

So since a jerkoff tonight wanted to mention “entry level positions” here’s the starting pay for grade 1’s/2’s for the waste water industry here california.

For a small fee of 99 dollars at my local community college (where I saw a flyer for this since I had gone in to take my Brit Lit final) I can take a three hour online course from 9am to 12 pm for a duration of four months. I’ll get my credentials for my grade one and will be eligible to take my grade 2 immediately. Even the minimum starting salary at 60 grand a year is very much doable to live on my own and save up to buy a house, even around here. There are five grades for operators as well as other types of positions for plant management and leadership that require a degree.

My father makes last time I checked 52 an hour as a grade two (he can’t pass his grade three because he’s not good at taking tests) along with all sorts of other benefits due to working for the city/county. He has no education higher than a high school diploma and he’s been doing this for over two decades. In fact the only reason why he learned about the job in the first place was because he knew a guy.

So what’s my point?

Opportunities like this in spite of the seeming ease of entry, are hard to come by. If I hadn’t taken a class in the building this flyer was posted in, I might not have seen it, and if my dad didn’t know a guy, he never would’ve found a breadwinner job so easily.

And sure 99 dollars isn’t much of an expenditure for me, but someone who is actually living paycheck to paycheck might have to think about it, even though it pays well because they’re always hiring operators as they build more plants. 9am to 12pm might be hard for some people to schedule around as it is kind of awkward time placement wise, and unless you have a laptop or computer (which can be another couple hundred dollar investment that some people might not have money to spend if they’re making minimum wage and living paycheck to paycheck) you’re going to have to find a public library with good internet access and hope they have computers available if at all, and honestly online classes really aren’t for everyone especially if you get distracted easy or find the lack of direct access to an instructor discouraging.

Social mobility/advancement has always been gatekept by money, because a lot of time to make money you need to spend money you might not have. This is really nothing to me money wise because I’ll be the first to admit I’m privileged in a lot of ways but a lot of people aren’t me. People don’t even talk about wastewater as industry because it’s also dirty work, the kind of work people turn their nose up to because you work with literal shit and shit water and piss and all sorts of other gross stuff.

Yet the entry level position that requires a 99 dollar enrollment fee and spending 3 hours a week for four months pays a lot better than most jobs that require a degree or trade school/apprenticeship.

So when people say entry level positions shouldn’t be livable I’m going to share this, and say “I bet you feel real stupid now huh?”

And some will say “but downer waste water is really important work our society couldn’t function without it!” yeah you’re right so would every other entry level wagie shit because I doubt most people have the means to live on their own without having to go to the grocery store every couple of weeks. Not even that but people lose their shit about not having access to caffeine, and if you have a pet especially an exotic one like a snake that requires mice whether dead or frozen how are you going to feed without some schmuck like me grabbing it for you?

now never did I say wagie shit needs to be a high paying career cause I’m a firm believer in a job being a job till the next one, but if people take me saying what amounts to “I don’t think people should have to struggle to live even a little comfortable” as some kind of… attack? then I really don’t know what to say other than go fuck yourself and develop real issues to be angry about.

[dearestro]

hii, I'm sorry I wasn't very clear in my request, 😅 but I had in mind a story that would be similar to the one in the episode if possible. Anyway, sorry for my lack of precision

Thanks love!

Oh Baby!

Author's Note: Thanks for clarifying! This is incredibly long, so I'm going to post it in parts and it'll be finished as soon as possible! I'll link each part to each post. Sorry it's taken so long!

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, innuendos, and crude language. Sorry if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: I know nothing about childbirth, healthcare, diseases, etc. I read a case file on the internet about the disease I wrote about. Almost everything I wrote I got from the internet, so I apologize if I messed up.

Summary: Having a baby is hard enough as it is, having a baby when your husband's best friend is House? Even harder. Unfortunately, things are just getting started, and the worst has yet to come.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Coming Soon...

Your Pov

"Push! Push!" James shouted over my screams of pain. His arms were wrapped around my upper body, trying to help me sit up more. 

"You say push one more time, and I'll push you!" I threatened. I had been in labor for hours. I was exhausted, sweaty, and damn sure I was never doing this again.

"Right! Sorry sweetheart." He kissed the crown of my head and tried to soothe me. 

"I see a head!" The doctor shouted. I nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

"You're almost there, baby." James wiped my hair out of my face and cooed. "Then we have a literal baby." He smiled, but I could see the tears in his eyes. I tried to smile back, but it was interrupted by another sob of pain. "Just keep pushing. You got this. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you." He kissed my forehead again, and I was filled with a new sense of energy. Let's get this over with.

I kept pushing and pushing until I thought I might pass out. And with one final big push...the room filled with screaming and crying! I fell backward onto the bed after sitting up most of the time. It was done. James hugged and kissed me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

"It's a girl! Congratulations, Dr. and Mrs. Wilson." They handed her over to me so I could see. I smiled.

"She's perfect." I tried to hold back the cascade of tears but to no avail. James leaned in closer.

"Just like her mama." He kissed my temple. "My two beautiful girls." I laughed lightly. Finally, after all that work. It paid off! The nurse took her away to get cleaned up while the doctor finished everything that was happening down there. James and I just hugged each other. I swear I would've passed out had I not been so excited. 

We eventually got settled into a room, and I got cleaned up a bit. Our baby girl was resting in her crib. I was still on strict bed rest, so James had gone down to the cafeteria to get some better food. He insisted ‘his girls’ rest. I was lying in bed just watching her sleep peacefully when James came back.

“How are my girls?” He whispered so as not to wake the baby. I laughed lightly and motioned for him to come closer. He set down the food and moved the crib closer to the bed. I picked her up and cradled her closely while James sat behind me and looked over my shoulder. He held up a small stuffed bear so that she could see it.

“We’re ok. Aren’t we baby girl?” She yawned and attempted to stretch, although being swaddled hindered her movement. We had yet to figure out a name.

“You know we could just call her baby if we don’t find anything else.” I looked at James, his eyes fixed on our bundle of joy as he made the bear dance around her and caress her cheek. Clearly, he was too distracted to realize how awful an idea that was, but I just patted his cheek and remained silent. 

“She’s so perfect. I can’t think of a name that could do her justice.” I smiled at the small creature while James started to rub my back.

“I can.” I looked back to see his eyes sparkle and him smile at me. I raised a brow, silently asking what he had in mind. “Y/n.” I giggled and shook my head. Even when I had just been through what some might call a hellish experience, he could still make me feel special. 

“No way.” 

“Why not, I’m quite fond of the name.” He bit back a laugh.

“I’m quite attached to it as well, but there’s no way we’re naming our daughter after me!” I laughed back as he kissed my forehead. 

"Fine, we'll continue this discussion later. I brought you lunch." I smiled and gently put the baby back in her crib before resituating myself on the bed as James moved a table over and unpacked the food.

We sat on opposite ends of the bed eating and talking for a while. Just enjoying each other's company.

"You know I saw this thing. They recommend new dads take off their shirts-" James looked at me surprised, and I laughed. "Not like that, my love." He let out a small oh and motioned for me to continue as I giggled at his disappointment. "As I was saying. The new fathers take off their shirt and hold the baby so that they get that skin to skin contact that mothers naturally get. It helps them bond with the baby, supposedly. I know it seems a little silly but-"

"Yes!" I looked up, shocked at his outburst, and raised my eyebrow. "I mean, yes, as in, I'd love to do it." He quickly explained, his face a little flushed. I smiled and grabbed his hand.

"Great. I only brought it up because I thought you might like the sweet experience." 

"Yes, of course!" He then paused, and a look of worry came over him. "She’s not gonna mistake my nipple for one of...yours...is she?" I laughed at the imagery of the hypothetical and shook my head.

"No, I'm sure your nipples will be fine, babe. I'll make sure she's been fed beforehand." He blushed thinking about his silly worry but relaxed when I said that.

It was the beginning of day three (our last day) in the hospital, and baby girl Wilson had still not been named. I was relaxed in bed while James cradled our baby in the rocking chair. He was currently trying out the bonding exercise, and the baby seemed to be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat and humming. I know I said I would never do this again, but if this is the scene you're rewarded with? Maybe just one more time.

I continued to watch my little family rock back and forth, but the moment was soon interrupted when House came in.

"What the hell are you doing?" I rolled my eyes at his lack of pleasantries. James looked up a little shocked at the sudden noise, and frowned once he realized where or should I say who it came from.

"I'm spending time with my family. Something you might wanna try." He deadpanned, clearly already sick of his friend’s bullshit.

"Without a shirt? Look, I know you like to take on other people's 'burdens' because you have a savior complex, but it's pretty much physically impossible for you to breastfeed." He paused his rant. "Plus, it's weird. I mean, be a man! Am I right?" He looked to me as if he expected me to back him up, but I just gave him an unimpressed stare. James rolled his eyes.

"House, is there something you need? You know besides a better personality?" House turned to him and nodded.

"Yes." We waited for him to elaborate, but of course, he didn’t. 

"And am I supposed to read your mind?" James asked.

"No, but I was hoping you'd put a shirt on and follow me." James looked to me, and I nodded.

"You can go, babe. We'll be ok." He looked hesitant but eventually got up and handed the baby to me before buttoning up his shirt. 

"Ok, but if anything happens. And I mean anything. Call me, page me, tell a nurse, hell have Cuddy request me over the loud speaker-" I pushed my finger to his lips before he could worry anymore.

"I got this. Ok?" He nodded against my finger, and I smiled. "Good. Now have fun. I love you."

"I love you both, too." He leaned in to quickly kiss us both before being ushered out by an annoyed House. Once again, it was just me and the baby.

"And that, babygirl, would be your Uncle House." I sighed as I watched them walk down the hallway, James turning to look back at the room every so often. I smiled and looked down at our baby, caressing her little cheek with my finger. "Don't worry. He'll get used to you soon enough. And when that happens? I bet you two will be the best of friends." She yawned before nuzzling closer to me. What a wonderful life.

Wilson's Pov 

I didn't want to leave my girls, but knowing House, he wouldn't stop bothering us until he got what he wanted...so I followed him. We got to the end of the hallway and waited for the elevator.

“Where are we going? If you hadn’t noticed, I'm off duty!" I asked, getting more and more agitated. I want to be with my wife and our baby, but even then, House manages to pull me into one of his schemes.

“I’m saving you. You should be thanking me. I saw the look in that little monster’s eye. It was about to bite your nipple off.” He said as we entered the elevator while I scoffed and rolled my eyes at his comment.

“First off that ‘monster’ is my little girl. Secondly, she is not an ‘it’, and thirdly, we were bonding, something you might want to try with literally any living thing.” He only rolled his eyes. 

“Not likely.” 

“What are we even doing? Because if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to spend time with my family.” The elevator doors opened, and he turned to me.

“Fine, spend all the time you want with the little rugrat. After we have lunch.” He exited the elevator and started the trek to the cafeteria. I hurried to catch up with…for a cripple he was remarkably fast.

“And when you say ‘have lunch’ you mean I buy your lunch and you condemn my life choices?” He stopped and turned to me once again, holding out his cane so the end was at my chest.

“Yes, but also because after the scene I just walked in on, you desperately need testosterone.” He mocked before continuing the walk to the cafeteria. I rolled my eyes, sighed, and looked at my watch. I suppose I could spare a few minutes…unfortunately.

[phireco]

Why I think that voting is pointless. Vote with your dollar. Stop buying from Amazon and Walmart. And take the time that you spend trolling the internet to put out intellectual writing for others to absorb, instead of memes, that provide a unique point of view. We can't all possibly think either point A or point B is right. That motion is completely ridiculous if you have any respect for probability and math. The people that are running do not represent us and we have been stupid enough as a citizenry to put them back in office again and again.

I've been to over 20 countries and traveled all over this world and seeing all different ways of living it I'll tell you what, we are looking less and less like one of the Premier places to live. I give it 20 years before I would like the places I've been in Southeast Asia where you look to your left and right on the bus, and you see a goat in a chicken. There's already more tents in the major American cities than there are good jobs. God forbid the Democrats or the Republicans have a solution. The Republicans have the same man running in his third consecutive presidential election representing half of the country. The Democrats have a ANOTHER First time nominee that no one thinks is the best their party has to offer.

So I'm not even going to blame the awful selection of people that represent us. I'm going to blame the idiots that register Democrat and Republican which make up the vast majority of this country. All of you are willing to make up your mind on an issue before you even hear it based on which party is arguing in the issue's favor. Anyone who makes up their mind before they hear an issue is a moron. And our country, in both parties, is chock full of moron!

It’s not the politicians we should criticize anymore. Consider how they pander to people whose interests they consistently neglect. They represent none of their true needs, yet still, half of the population admires them while the other half despises them. The opposing figures experience the same divided loyalty—this cycle is fundamentally flawed.

The blame doesn’t lie solely with the politicians; it rests on us. We should have demanded better a long time ago, even rising up for change. It’s not the politicians who are at fault; it’s the public that deserves scrutiny. Let go of hope for a moment.

If the politicians were truly the sole problem, where are the bright and principled individuals who should be stepping up to lead this nation with integrity? In truth, we seem to lack such visionary leaders in our society. Most people appear consumed by trivialities, distracted in shopping malls rather than engaging with the critical issues we face. For my part, I’ve accepted a personal resolution: on election day, I stay home. I do not vote. My reasons are twofold.

First, voting feels meaningless. This country was bought and sold long ago. What transpires every four years is simply a reshuffling of the same rhetoric.

Secondly, I’ve come to believe that those who vote relinquish their right to complain. Others often suggest that abstaining from voting strips one of that very right—a notion I reject. Where's the logic in that? If you cast your ballot and elect dishonest and incompetent leaders who mismanage the country, then you shoulder the responsibility for their actions. You bear the weight of our current state, the dismal future we hand our children, and the decline in intellectual capability that increasingly permeates society.

I, having not participated in the electoral game—staying home on election day—hold no responsibility for the choices made by those in power. I know that shortly, there will be an exciting election that many seem to relish. I’ll be at home that day, doing very little, but I know one thing: the only difference between me and the people that vote is that I'll actually produce something that represents my interests, even if in a small way.

I don’t vote. I see through the charade. It's a diversions that distract us from the journey of intellectual growth. When confronted with the issues of low intelligence and poor decision-making, people often leap to the conclusion that education is the remedy. They call for more funding—more books, teachers, classrooms—believing more resources will solve everything. Yet when we point out that despite these efforts, children continue to struggle academically, the response is often to lower standards instead. This results in a temporary boost in passing rates, making the school look good while the national IQ quietly declines. Before long, gaining access to college might just require possessing a pencil, and understanding the complexities of the end that writes versus the end that erases.

And then we scratch our heads, wondering why 24 countries produce more scientists than we do. We wonder why we are no longer in the top 25 and overall quality of education. Barely the best in this continent. We're just one slot above Mexico.

Politicians know how to wield the word “education,” and they often shield themselves behind three pillars: the flag, the Bible, and children. They tout programs like “No Child Left Behind,” yet it wasn’t long ago they were advocating for a “head start.” Are children gaining ground or losing it?

There is a fundamental reason why education falters, and it's not going to improve. Don’t expect a miracle; accept the reality as it is. The true owners of this country—wealthy business interests that orchestrate decisions and maintain control—are not interested in an educated populace capable of critical thinking. They benefit from a workforce obedient enough to follow orders, yet just intelligent enough to operate machinery and handle paperwork but not to challenge the deteriorating quality of their jobs, benefits, hours, or retirement security.

They have their sights set on your social security funds, too, seeking to reclaim that money to line the pockets of their Wall Street allies. They will achieve this eventually because they own everything—your future, your choices.

This is a vast, intertwined club, and neither you nor I are included. It’s a club that beats its members over the head with messages on what to believe and consume. The playing field is uneven; the game is rigged, and it appears that few notice or care.

Good, honest people from every walk of life—whether blue-collar or white-collar—continue to elect wealthy figures indifferent to their plight. The owners count on this ignorance, banking on the fact that Americans remain blissfully unaware of the injustices they tolerate.

The truth is simple: the American Dream exists because you must be asleep to believe in it.

When the terrorists attacked our country on September 11th 2001, we United as one and vowrd to never forget. Never in a million years did I think that's what we actually met was that, we're going to commemorate the anniversary of the year but they will accomplish their goal and destroy America and everything it stands for by knocking down a few buildings and killing a couple thousand people. Are teenagers have killed more since with guns. And don't mistake me. I'm not downplaying that tragedy. I'm saying that the terrorists knew what they are doing and we are playing right into their hands by standing here divided. Check out my video if you want to flash back to hell it felt To be an American in the weeks following that awful day.

[turbulentscrawl]

I hope you dont mind me sending a req and it should be angsty right?

I absolutely adore your modern reader and i very much like andrew. So do you mind me sending a request about the modern reader with andrew part 2? To connect with the angsty part, personally i want you to write something about how the modern reader feels lonely for being the only one who comes from the modern timeline, like feeling alienated or estrangement from everyone who comes from the past and struggling with the no internet or new media to consume (personally i think anyone who is from our time could probably feel a withdrawal of internet. I know i do. It suck and i look crazy when it happened.)

Ooo.. considering how our mannerism, fashion, and hygiene routine differ a lot from the past can also cause friction with others can be a good angsty idea. And also food, assuming the reader come from a well off family, their food would looked like what royalty ate. With salt, pepper, cinnamon cost a fortune back in time. You can go wild, i am sorry if this is a long req, i merely gives suggestion. Dont mind me if you dont want to write it.

I think this is the longest individual scene I've written so far! I got carried away ahaha. Actually, this might need to become a multi-part series. ewe

Warnings: fem reader (it was relevant for this), hurt and comfort

Another day of staring at the wall. Or the garden, as this particular moment would have it.

It had been about three months since your arrival now, according to Freddy. (Tracking the days was the one thing he was good for outside of matches, as far as you were concerned. The guy was meticulous with records-keeping, you’d give him that. But he was also a dick.) Three months of boredom, monotony, and a critical lack of stimuli.

The first few weeks had been fine, if only because you were too busy trying to survive a potential witch hunt. Turns out, being hated and blamed for everything has a way of distracting the mind from its homesickness. But the worst of that had passed now, leaving you to take in the reality of your situation: you were more removed from your old life than anyone else here. Your entire way of life was gone.

There was no internet, no television. There was a library, but it was only ever added to at the whim of the man named Orpheus. There were no cars, and there was nowhere to go. There wasn’t even a washing machine—everyone took turns doing their clothes by hand. The stove in the kitchen was gas, and fickle. The doctor, Emily, and Luca made efforts to introduce you to the ways of this more ‘primitive’ environment, but the sheer disappointment of it all made it hard to make an effort. The hygiene standards were different, too, and it was jarring to see what some of these people considered ‘clean.’

“What are you doing out here?” A voice calls. You jump a bit, rattling the chains of the bench swing you’ve occupied. When you turn around, the ‘Gravekeeper’ is behind you in his dark casual wear. The moon is but a sliver in the sky, so if it weren’t for the paleness of his face and hair you might not have seen him at all in the darkness.

“What does it look like?” you ask in response and face forward again. ‘Andrew’ isn’t a bad person, from what you can tell. He doesn’t seem to hate you like some of the others do. But he’s defensive, sticks his foot in his mouth a lot, and you’re too tired for an argument.

“…It’s past curfew,” he says, voice moving around the swing slowly. He’s in your periphery now, hands folded over his chest like he’s still holding that shovel of his. It’s some kind of comfort item for him, you think, but he doesn’t have it with him.

“Luca said that’s just a suggestion,” you reply. “And even if it’s not, you’re out here too.” Andrew pauses after you say that, awkwardly shuffling in his spot, looking between you and the garden. There are no birds, no crickets out. You can hear him swallow thickly in the silence.

“I saw you from the upstairs window,” he says slowly. “I…thought I should come check.”

“Why?” You’re waiting for a ball to drop. To be tricked.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Andrew says, wiping his hands on his pants. Sweat, maybe. “When you first showed up…I thought you were really loud. You and that little box both…. You used to play that terr— eh, that music on it all the time. But I haven’t heard it in a while.” Your eyes are drawn to him as he explains. You can’t help it, you’re stunned. Not many of the other survivors bothered to show concern for you, and they often weren’t around because they had their on things to attend to. Luca had his inventions, Ada had Emil’s treatments, Luchino his research. You didn’t know Andrew paid any mind to you. He mostly kept to himself.

“I’m stewing,” you whisper, answering his initial question.

“…Do you…need to talk about it?” he asks.

“You don’t want to hear it,” you reply quickly. Andrew scoffs, a flash of his attitude returning.

“I asked didn’t I? I may not understand half the stuff you say but that doesn’t mean by ears don’t work,” he snaps weakly. It sounds like something someone back home would say. It sounds genuine. You look at Andrew again, now with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.

“I feel gross,” you croak. Andrew was scowling for a second, but your words shock his face back into something more relaxed. He shifts around again, awkward, unsure, and steps towards the bench. You stop rocking it long enough to let him join you and he sits closer than you would have expected. “I hate it here.” Andrew nods, watching your face, your fidgeting hands, your bouncing knees, and everything spills out like vomit.

“It’s all gone. Everything I knew. There’s nothing to do here besides survive, necessities and shit, and everyone fucking hates me here. No one talks like I’m used to, or behaves like I’m used to, or treats me like I’m used to—but I’m the odd one out so it feels like it’s all my fault that I don’t fit in. I miss my friends, my clothes, my room, my food. I miss my movies, I miss my technology, I miss my products—you guys don’t even treat hygiene the same way we did back home for fuck’s sake--” You’d learned early on that it was considered odd to bathe daily. Water reserves weren’t a concern in the manor, but everyone mostly stuck to the routines they knew. The only saving grace was that you hadn’t had a menstrual cycle since before you arrived. One less thing to worry about, at least.

“—and thank god, because none of you even KNOW what a tampon is!” Andrew makes a face that’s something between embarrassment and horror. You can tell from the way he’s subtly looking himself over that he wonders if he seems gross to you, but you’re too deep in your own misery to bring it up right now.

“And I’m sick of how some of them men here treat me! I don’t give a fuck what it was like for you all, I’m an equal to you all, god damn it, not a punching bag, or a whore, or unpaid maid! Like—I get that you all don’t realize what you’re doing—I get you haven’t been told it’s bad yet, but I’m gonna crack Edgar’s glass jaw if he suggests I wear a skirt ‘like the other ladies’ one more time!”

“If it helps,” Andrew says quietly, “I think that’s just him liking skirts. He’d probably wear one himself if he had an excuse.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp, grabbing Andrew’s forearm suddenly. He tenses under your touch, blushes. “It’s—it’s just all of it together! Look, I-I already feel bad being so angry! I understand why I seem scary, and I understand the world was a different place for me, but I hate that I have to say goodbye to all of it just because no one wants to learn about how things were for me! Fuckin—Emily was interested in how I lived through Covid, but all that got me was being treated like a plague rat. You guys don’t even get sick here! And Norton asked about the economy, but now he thinks I’m some rich bitch when I wasn’t even middle class! And Fiona acts like I’m some beast because of how I talk and curse so much! And Kevin asks about me feeling safe, but then he treats me like a damsel who needs constant rescue! I just…I just….it’s always something! I just want someone to treat me like I’m normal again.”

You crumple into full sobs, forehead landing on Andrew’s sturdy shoulder. He’s completely silent while you break down. His free hand eventually comes up to hold the back of your neck, a gesture that tells you it’s fine for you to be there, against him. Andrew is not a man of many comforting words, but this is enough, you decide. It’s an effort, which feels like more than you’ve gotten in some time.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, but when you finally calm down Andrew suggests you get some sleep.

“I’m not tired,” you croak. You are. It’s a lie. But if you sleep it will be tomorrow instead of being this moment of rare comfort. Andrew hums an acknowledgement.

“Alright. Neither am I," he says.

You think that’s a lie, too.

[cindylouwhooo]

Chapter four

Gigi’s POV

Lando Norris sent you a message

“Let’s watch a movie instead.” I suggest. “Maybe ‘Cars’. It’s fitting.”

Francisca rolls her eyes and drops down her makeup bag. “No. We said we’d get you out of the house and both you and your manager agreed the Grand Prix is the perfect distraction. Imagine how much you need this for your manager to tell you you need a distraction.”

I plop down on the bed behind her, silently sulking. It’s not that I don’t want to go. Seriously, under any other circumstance I’d be jumping up and down like a teenager at the chance of going to a GP.

But the crippling terror that rips through my belly and rises to the top of my chest at the thought of leaving my studio…it kind of ruins the whole experience.

Kika, sensing my hesitation, drops the brushes on the makeshift vanity and places herself in front of me. “I love you and I’m telling you, I wouldn’t force you to do anything that could possibly be wrong for you.”

I fake a smile, wanting to show her I appreciate her. If she notices the lack of honestly on the shape of my mouth, she doesn’t call me out on it. In fact, she gives me a moment to myself, turning to the mirror and starting her makeup routine.

My body lays flat on the mattress, my heart going a mile a minute when I remember the interesting notification that popped on my screen in the morning.

Pondering whether I should actually

send this message. Your friend

scared the shit out of me when I asked

for your number.

Yeah, she’s protective

like that. ‘S why I love her

No I get it,

Not sure if I can smoothly make

this conversation go on so, I’ll

just get to the point.

Should I be scared?

Absolutely not, I don’t bite.

Bummer:/

seen

I wait a few seconds in the chat, giggling at the little seen word underneath my last sent text. Adorable, how easy it was to leave him speechless—my heart starting to pound against my chest for a completely different reason.

My mind cannot come to terms with how my body and emotions react to this stranger. Sure, he’s attractive. Funny and charming—at least in his interviews. He’s got that British accent that drives me insane and the facial hair that contrary to popular belief, suits him incredibly.

But none of that justify the whole situation. It’s a magnetic force that I cannot ignore and that pulls me out of that bed and on my feet; grinning and mind spinning with the excitement of a new Internet crush. My favourites.

“So, what’s the plan exactly?” I ask.

“We go watch FP1, have a drink, talk to some people—Lily, one of the driver’s girlfriend, has the gossip to tell me, apparently.” I smirk, wondering when was the last time I cared enough for drinks and good gossip. “Then we’ll just drop by Alpine, say hi to Pierre, maybe force him into introducing you to some engineers. And then we can come back to the hotel, eat, wait for the end of FP2 and then…”

She draws out the last word, for the dramatic effect. “And then?”

“Then it’s night out with the boys.”

Lando’s POV

My heart drums inside my chest yet it feels like it’s stuck inside my throat. I try to swallow it down, pretend as if I’m not going crazy over being left on delivered for the past hour—or that the girl who’s been occupying my mind lately is quite literally twenty steps away from me.

She’s here with Kika, Pierre’s girlfriend, smiling and socialising. Talking to everyone but me.

She knows I’m here, she’s seen me. I know it, because I’ve been playing the moment her eyes met mine over and over again in my head.

Fuck, I sound like a fucking teenager.

Reporters and journalists, drivers and other celebrities have tried to get a moment with Gigi Santos who’s enamoured every single person attending the Monaco FP1 session. She’s constantly circled by someone—everyone.

And I just…I just stare like some fucking wanker, unable to move a muscle towards her.

And then she turns her head, putting a stop to her conversation with someone whose name I should know, but don’t, and looks at me.

And fuck if my heart doesn’t jump to the heavens.

I don’t know how, but that woman sees me, like no one ever has. She hasn’t spoken to me once, hasn’t fully, officially I traduced herself. But under her gaze I feel like she sees me. Her lips tilt upwards and her slender fingers rise to the side of her beautiful face; in a second, they start dancing and it takes an embarrassingly long time to realise she’s waving at me, and it’s my time to wave back.

Someone is speaking to me, but I can’t fucking focus on anything else other than Gigi.

Her eyes are—fuck, she’s just—

Gigi giggles, and turns her head to continue talking with her friend and I frown at the loss of contact.

“Lando, it’d be great if you could come back to earth long enough to listen to me.” The voice of my PR manager’s voice snaps me out of my haze. “You’ve got to get into the car in five.”

I nod, even though I haven’t registered what she’s said.

Damn is this session going to be hard.

~ ~ ~

My brows are lowered in concentration, listening to my engineer explain the situation. FP1 was slightly upsetting, the car not wanting to turn properly, clipping the tight walls of Monte Carlo more that once.

But the second session seemed to be going better, until the voice of my engineer was heard fifteen minutes in, ordering me to come into the pits because the car shows to have an issue. Hydraulics, they suspect.

Guilt shimmers in my chest as I allow myself to leave the garage earlier than most—overpowered by my negative emotions and wanting to get away from the scene.

I open my phone, a fairly distraction, and come face to face with a wonderful surprise.

Maybe today won’t be so bad after all…