#and no one SEES A FUCKING PROBLEM WITH THAT

[degenerateshinji]

free my boy he did it all but i forgive him

[sixeyesonathiel]

shy girls suck the best!

fratjo x nerd!reader, fluff & smut, m receiving, overstimulation, whimpering toru. 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

satoru gojo is experienced.

he’s cocky for a reason. he’s made girls scream his name more times than he can count, and he knows exactly how to make someone fold in under five minutes—ten if he’s playing nice. he’s all confidence, charm, and unearned a’s from professors who don’t want to deal with his antics. his reputation precedes him in every room, and he walks like the world’s already bent over backwards just to please him.

everything about him screams untouchable, and he’s used to people treating him that way. he wears his varsity jacket like armor, a walking billboard of fratboy glory, all swagger and smirks and lazy confidence that makes people gravitate toward him like he’s got his own gravity field.

but then there’s you.

the shy girl in glasses, always scribbling in your notebook with an absurdly cute pen, whispering apologies when you bump into people, hiding in the back row of class like you owe the world an explanation just for existing. you don’t talk unless spoken to, don’t make eye contact, and definitely don’t give satoru the attention he’s used to. it’s not that you’re cold—it’s that you seem like you live in your own quiet little world, and satoru’s never wanted to be invited somewhere so badly.

and maybe what undoes him first is that he sees you before you see him. you’re already there, present in the corners of his attention before he understands why he’s looking. he notices you one day during lecture, tucking your hair behind your ear as you underline a sentence three times with an intense little frown. it doesn’t seem like much. but something in him clicks.

at first it’s curiosity. then amusement. then it festers into irritation—because why the fuck aren’t you reacting to him like everyone else?—and then fascination. and then something deeper that coils in his chest and makes his throat tight every time he sees you. he tries not to care. he wants not to care. but you’re already rooting yourself in places inside him he didn’t know were hollow.

satoru notices you because you don’t notice him. not the way everyone else does. you don’t flutter your lashes when he smirks. you don’t laugh at his jokes like they’re scripture. you don’t even flinch when he calls you “baby” out of nowhere—just blink at him like he’s an equation you don’t understand. it bruises his ego. and for some unholy reason, he loves it.

the problem is, you’re not immune to him at all. you’re just hiding it better than anyone ever has.

because what he doesn’t know is—you’ve always had a crush on him. from the very first time he walked into class, sleepy-eyed and bright-smiled, wearing that damn jacket like it belonged on a movie screen. you just figured he’d never notice someone like you. so you admired from afar. watched him flirt with others, watched the way he filled a room with laughter, memorized the cadence of his voice like it was part of your playlist.

your crush was harmless. private. something you never expected to act on. you played it safe. after all, guys like satoru gojo don’t fall for quiet girls with awkward posture and color-coded notes.

but maybe that’s what draws him in—the absence of performance. the quiet genuine way you exist. no theatrics. no games. just you, completely unaware that you’ve started haunting his every thought.

it starts small.

he catches himself watching the way your hands move. the way your nose scrunches when you’re deep in thought. the way you roll your pen between your fingers when you're anxious. it becomes a loop, a soft little addiction. he remembers details he shouldn’t. what color post-its you use. your preferred snack during study sessions. your favorite seat in the library. you don’t change. he just tunes in.

and then, one day, he realizes he’s rearranging his life around yours.

he starts showing up everywhere you are. loiters in the library, conveniently always around during your shifts at the campus café, makes excuses to sit next to you in class. offers to carry your books, asks you about calculus even though he already passed it. satoru gojo, golden boy of his frat, reducing himself to extra tutoring just to see you smile. it’s humiliating in theory, but it feels like worship in practice.

and it’s not just your smile. it’s the way you get passionate when you talk about obscure theories. the way you light up when you don’t think anyone’s watching. the way you stammer when he gets too close, but don’t pull away.

you don’t feed his ego. you feed something softer. quieter. something he didn’t think he had in him. he tells himself it’s because you’re innocent. because you’re shy and sweet and you deserve to be treated right.

he wants to be good for you. slow, patient, gentle. he holds doors open. he listens. he lets you rant about your thesis for forty-five uninterrupted minutes and actually understands it. he even looks up the books you reference, reads them just to impress you. he takes an annotated copy of your favorite book. he starts writing your name in the corners of his notebook like some love-struck high schooler. you haunt him in the best way.

and then—you kiss him.

it’s after a late-night study session. the campus is quiet. the lights in the library flicker like they’re caught between timelines. your voice shakes when you say “thank you for walking me back.” you pause, fidget with the strap of your bag. and then, like you’ve been gearing up for battle, you rise onto your toes and kiss him.

it’s chaste. hesitant. warm. like you're afraid he'll vanish if you lean in too much.

you pull back like you’ve done something wrong, but satoru’s frozen, staring at you like he’s just been baptized. you’re blushing so hard he can feel the heat radiating off your skin.

“you… sure?” he whispers, voice ragged, leaning in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

you nod, barely audible: “i’ve read… a lot. i think… i wanna try. with you.”

and he short circuits.

he thought he’d lead. thought he’d ease you into it, kiss your forehead, hold your hand like a gentleman. but then your hands are on his chest, pushing up under his shirt—the varsity jacket creaking as it shifts on his shoulders, the cotton brushing your fingertips. your eyes are searching his like you’re looking for confirmation that he’s real. you study every reaction like a research project. when he shivers, you smile, barely-there, and go back to tracing the line of his abs with trembling fingertips.

it’s not even mischief.

it’s curiosity. slow-burning, chest-aching, and barely held together by your own hesitation. the sort of yearning that tastes like nervous giggles and the edge of something terrifyingly new. you pause between touches like you're checking your hypothesis, calculating the way his muscles tense under your fingers. each brush of your skin feels like a question he's too dazed to answer properly.

“does that… feel good?” you whisper, lips barely moving, as though you’re scared to break the spell.

“f-fuck—yes, baby, yeah,” he gasps, throwing his head back, one hand clutching the edge of the couch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

your lips trail down his throat, each kiss a trembling prayer, following a path only you can see. his skin is fever-hot, tasting of mint and salt, boyish charm unraveling under your mouth. when you press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, his pulse jumps, a twitch rippling beneath your lips. his breath catches, a sharp stutter that makes his chest lurch, and his hands hover, fingers flexing like he’s afraid touching you will break the spell.

satoru gojo—fratboy, golden boy, untouchable—is quiet. too quiet. his eyes are hazy, pupils wide and unfocused, lips parted like words have abandoned him. his varsity jacket is bunched at his elbows, leather creaking, shirt rucked up to his ribs, abs clenching under your trembling fingers. he could take charge, flip this with a smirk—he’s done it countless times, effortless and expert. but now? he just watches, reverent, like you’re a deity he’s too awestruck to approach.

he’s known mouths. polished ones with perfect rhythm, greedy ones that took without giving, bold ones that knew every angle. but yours? it’s hesitant, new, like you’re crossing a threshold you’re not sure you’re worthy of. the way you look at him—eyes flickering behind slipping glasses, wide with awe—shouldn’t hit this hard. shouldn’t feel this fucking intense. but your fingers, shaking as they tug at his waistband, send a jolt through him that makes his vision spark.

satoru’s hand grazes your cheek, a trembling brush of knuckles. “baby… keep going. please.”

you nod, glasses sliding, your breath hitching as your fingers slip under his jeans, easing them down. your eyes flick up, catching his—flushed, jaw tight, his whole body fighting to stay still. it hits you like a blade: he’s done this a thousand times, fucked girls who knew every trick, but you’ve got him like this. trembling. aching. satoru gojo, invincible, unraveling because of you.

guilt stabs your chest, sharp and fleeting. you shouldn’t have him like this, shouldn’t be the reason his hands clutch the couch like it’s his only anchor. he’s always cocky, untouchable, the center of every orbit. now he’s breaking, and it’s your fault—your lips, your touch, your fault. but the guilt only fans the heat in your core, makes your thighs press together as you lean closer, your breath ghosting over his skin.

satoru is used to being wanted. but not like this. not with this aching, earnest hunger that makes his chest tighten.

you press shaky, open-mouthed kisses to his hip, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. spit gathers at the corner of your mouth, a slick trail left behind as you suck softly at the sensitive skin just above his cock. he jolts, hips jerking before he catches himself, a low curse slipping free, his hands clenching until his knuckles bleach. the sound he makes—fuck, it’s a choked gasp, raw and ragged, like you’ve torn it from his core.

you shift lower, hands sliding up his thighs, fingers digging into the taut muscle. your kisses grow bolder, sloppier, your tongue dragging along the crease where his thigh meets his groin, leaving a glistening streak of drool that catches the dim light.

he tastes like heat and need, and the way his skin trembles under your mouth makes your own pulse hammer. you pause, lips hovering over his cock, spit pooling on your tongue, and glance up—his head is thrown back, throat bobbing as he swallows, a groan clawing its way out of him.

“holy shit—baby, you—fuck,” satoru gasps, eyes snapping open, blown wide as his hand grips the couch, fabric groaning under his fist.

you take him in your mouth, lips wrapping around the tip, soft and slick with spit that drips down his length. your tongue swirls, slow and deliberate, tracing the ridge as drool spills from the corners of your mouth, coating him in a wet sheen.

he’s hot, heavy against your tongue, and you hum—a low, vibrating sound that pulls a whimper from his throat. your fingers curl around the base, stroking in time with the bob of your head, slick with the spit that pools at his base, making your grip slippery. you suck, gentle at first, then harder, lips stretching around him as spit slicks your chin, a glistening trail dripping onto his thighs.

he’s panting, desperate, each breath a ragged plea. his abs flex, thighs trembling under your palms, and he’s biting back whimpers, trying not to overwhelm you. that restraint—fuck, it’s gorgeous, the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes flutter shut like he’s fighting to stay grounded. he doesn’t push, doesn’t guide, just moans your name like it’s a prayer, raw and broken. “that’s it, baby—fuck—just like that—your mouth’s so fucking perfect—”

the satoru gojo is unraveling, and it’s because of you. the way you glance up, glasses fogging, eyes glassy with effort, lips shiny and stretched around him, spit dripping down your chin in messy strings. the way your tongue flicks, catching the sensitive spot under the head, makes his hips buck, a choked sob escaping.

your hand slides lower, fingers brushing his balls, tentative but deliberate, slick with the drool that’s pooled at his base. you cup them, rolling gently, and his whole body seizes, a string of curses spilling out as his hand fists the couch tighter, the fabric creaking under the strain.

he’s had every fantasy, every trick, but this—your mouth, slow and reverent, full of wonder, messy with spit that coats him like a second skin—hits like a fucking freight train. it’s too much, too good. he wants to last, to let you explore, but you’re too fucking intent.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, tongue swirling in tight, wet circles, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as you take him deeper, throat tightening around him. he chokes, hips jerking as his control frays. “gonna—baby, gonna cum, wait, fuck—”

you don’t stop. your lips slide further, tongue flattening, taking him as deep as you can. it’s filthy—spit drips down your chin in thick strings, pooling on his thighs, your glasses fogging as breaths puff through your nose. you’re focused, watching his every twitch, adjusting when he gasps, slowing when he whimpers, like you’re mapping him.

his hand grips the couch, knuckles white, and he breaks with a sound that’s barely human—a shattered cry as he spills, hot and pulsing against your tongue.

you try to swallow it all, but it’s overwhelming—cum mixes with the spit already coating your lips, spilling past them in a slick, messy rush, dripping down your chin, onto his thighs, and pooling on the couch. you pull back, gasping, wiping your mouth with trembling fingers, but the slickness clings, smearing across your skin as your eyes stay wide behind crooked glasses. he’s trembling, chest heaving, shirt clinging to sweat-slick skin, pupils blown like he’s seen the divine.

you should stop.

you fucking should.

he’s wrecked, twitching, fucked out beyond reason. but the ache in your chest—the sharp, flickering guilt of breaking him—only makes you hungrier. you lick your lips, tasting the salty mix of him, and your thighs press together, a soft whimper escaping as you lean in again, spit still clinging to your chin.

“just once more?” you whisper, voice barely audible, like you’re afraid the words will burn you.

his eyes flutter open, unfocused, dazed. he groans, raw and low. “baby… you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

but he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t even try.

you start again, slower, your mouth softer but hungrier, lips wrapping around him with a reverence that makes him twitch instantly. he’s sensitive, still pulsing, and the second your tongue grazes him, he whines—a high, broken sound that makes your stomach twist. you suck lightly, lips gliding along his length, spit pooling at the base and dripping onto his thighs in slow, glistening trails. 

satoru buries his face in a cushion, muffling a sob. “s-sensitive—fuck, it’s too much—”

his thighs tremble under your hands, hips jerking as you kiss the tip, tongue darting out to lap at the bead of cum still leaking from him, your spit mixing with it in a slick, glossy sheen. you linger, savoring the taste, the way it coats your tongue in a sticky film, and he whimpers again, louder, his hand flying to his mouth to bite his knuckles.

your fingers slide to his balls again, rolling them gently, slick with the drool and cum that’s dripped down, making your touch slippery and warm. he arches, a desperate, “please—fuck—please—” spilling from his lips like he’s begging for mercy but craving more.

you don’t rush. your tongue traces every inch, slow and deliberate, swirling around the head before dipping lower, dragging along the vein with a wet, sloppy kiss that leaves a trail of spit in its wake. your breath is hot, teasing, each exhale making him twitch, and you pause to suck at the base, lips lingering as your tongue flicks out, tasting the musk of him through the sticky mess. his hand finds your hair, fingers threading loosely, not pushing, just holding—like he needs to feel you’re real.

you grow bolder, hungrier, your lips tightening as you take him deeper, throat fluttering around him, spit bubbling up and spilling over, coating his cock in a thick, glossy layer. you hum, low and vibrating, and he chokes, a wet, pathetic whimper breaking free.

your hand strokes the base, slick with spit and cum, fingers sliding in the mess, and you slide a finger lower, brushing the sensitive skin behind his balls, now slippery with the drool that’s dripped down. he jolts, a high, keening sound tearing from his throat, his hips bucking as his whole body trembles.

“baby—god—please—fuck, i can’t—” satoru’s voice cracks, raw and whining, as you suck harder, tongue swirling in relentless, wet circles, spit and cum mixing in a frothy mess that drips onto the couch. every noise is desperate—gasps, whimpers, sobs that he tries to muffle but can’t. his body arches, twitching like he’s unraveling at the seams, and you feel it: the moment he breaks again.

he cums with a wail, sudden and violent, hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. it’s messier, hotter, a flood of cum and spit that overwhelms you, spilling out in thick, sticky ropes that coat your lips, your chin, your glasses, dripping onto his thighs and pooling in the creases of his skin.

you swallow what you can, lips still wrapped around him, tongue lapping at the oversensitive tip through the slick mess until he’s twitching, a broken, “n-no more—please—” escaping as he clutches the cushion.

time slips. minutes? hours? you’re tugging his shirt, pulling him closer like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. ten minutes later, he’s gripping the sheets, praying, fucked senseless by every move you make. you flinch when he whines too loud, hands flying to your mouth, eyes wide with guilt—but then you lean in again, bolder, hungrier, chasing every twitch, every broken gasp of your name.

he’s never felt so cherished and so destroyed at the same time.

every touch is careful, but determined. you’re hesitant but thorough, like you’ve read the same passage in a smutty fanfiction a hundred times and are finally getting the chance to test it out. and the worst part? you’re good at it. really good.

your mouth, your hands, the way you watch his face for every twitch of pleasure—it’s enough to make him lose all sense of pride. the way you keep glancing at his reactions, as if adjusting your technique in real time, is insane. terrifying. he’s never been studied so hard. he likes it. he needs it. he’s suffering in the best way.

he’s never had to hold back like this. never had to breathe through it. never felt this fucking sensitive. he’s gripping the cushions like a man possessed. he’s whispering your name like a prayer. he’s not even sure he’s still speaking coherent sentences. you’ve wrecked him. utterly and entirely.

you pull back, panting, your hands shaking as you adjust your glasses, eyes glassy and wide. your lips are swollen, chin wet with a glistening mix of spit and cum, and you lick them, tasting him again, a soft moan slipping free as your thighs press together.

satoru is ruined—sprawled on the couch, shirt clinging to his chest, chest heaving like he’s fought a war. his hand is still in your hair, loose, trembling, and he’s staring at you like you’re a fucking goddess.

“thought you were the innocent one,” he chokes out, breathless, watching you nibble your lip and adjust your glasses with shaking fingers.

“i still am,” you murmur, face tucked into his shoulder. “kind of.”

he huffs out a laugh, dazed and wrecked. he can feel your heartbeat against his ribs. he doesn’t want to move. his hands are still trembling from how hard he tried to keep it together for you—and yet, you’re the one who took the lead. you’re the one who made him forget how to function. you kiss the edge of his jaw, soft and uncertain, and it undoes him more than anything else.

satoru gojo, campus heartthrob, ruined by a shy nerd girl who reads too much smut on her kindle late at night under the covers. who probably has a secret ao3 account and bookmarked folders. who looks like a timid schoolgirl but fucks like she’s been studying him like a midterm exam. and passed with extra credit. honors. valedictorian. summa cum laude of making him lose his damn mind.

he’s never been so obsessed.

and you? you’re already pressing your forehead to his chest, voice small, eyes wide with want and something raw and messy and needy as you look up at him.

“can we… try again? i think i missed a step.”

he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh, cry, or propose.

he’s never been more in love. and all he knows is he’s done for.

[ohtobeleah]

Chameleon // Jack Abbot

Summary: When Jack Abbot sees the love of his life has changed her hair colour…it doesn’t go as well as he, or the rest of the ER, would have hoped.

Warnings: Separated Reader x Jack Abbot. Jack Abbot x F!reader. OBGYN Reader. Marriage problems. Mental health issues. Mentioning of divorce. Age gap relationship. Younger female x older male.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: I’ve used this scene before in a series. But for this one-shot, it was perfect inspiration. I had to revamp and create this little one-shot for my Friday afternoon serotonin boost.

“You know, soon enough you’ll have to sit down and have a genuine discussion about the state of your marriage, brother,” Robby walked with Jack down the bustling ED corridor. The two were getting ready for handover, as they did every morning and night, like yin and yang. “Personally, I think the two of you can work through whatever this is, together. I don’t think a divorce is necessary.” 

There it was…that goddamn word that carried the weight of the world. ‘Divorce’, Jack Abbot hated that word. He always had. But he’d never hated it more than when it became relevant to his own marriage. 

“Besides, I hardly recognise you, all you do is work and go home and listen to that scanner. Then, come back as soon as the sun goes down.” Robby wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong in the slightest bit. But Jack still didn't appreciate it. 

“Who said anything about a divorce?” Jack growled as he caught the back of someone by the nurse’s station he couldn’t recognise. “Look, it’s complicated,” Jack paused his steps. Robby mimicked his friend's stance as the two continued to talk, all the while Jack never let the blonde in pink scrubs out of his sight. “I love Y/n, and I know she still loves me, because if she didn’t, we wouldn’t be in this mess trying to fix what I broke.” 

It’s an inevitable part of depression. The part where you tend to push people away. The part where self-isolation becomes a form of therapy. Jack knew the solace of being alone far too well. He knew it so well that he forgot that he was married��

And that broke your heart. Enough that the love you had for Jack couldn’t outweigh the pain of his behaviour and lack of affection. Attention. Understanding and empathy. He forgot you even existed. So…You left him. But not before you gave him everything you could. And not without explaining in great detail, why you were leaving. 

Jack needed time and space to better himself. You wanted him to come back to you when he was ready to love you the way you deserved to be loved. You wanted him to realise what he’d done to drive you away. PTSD, untreated depression. It all became too much. 

“You need help, Jack!” He can still hear your words echoing in his mind. “You save people all day and yet you can’t seem to understand that you’re slowly killing yourself with this fucking bullshit!” He knew you were right, you had been from the start. But at the time? Jack wasn't ready to listen. So he watched you walk out of his life instead. “I can’t keep waiting for you to jump off a building because you don't give a shit who you hurt as long as your pain ends, I can't watch you die because you won't let me help you.” 

It's a haunting reminder of his biggest mistake. Letting you go. But a reminder Jack won't ever forget. 

“Who’s the blonde from OB?” Jack followed up his statement with a question that hung heavy in the air. “There’s no blondes in OB? Did we get a new resident?” 

Robby doesn’t answer right away. He simply studies the way Jack's eyes examine every inch of the woman standing over by the nurse’s station. He has to know, right? It’s the woman Robby had only just seen in the elevator ten minutes ago. The woman who had just been sobbing on his shoulder about how much guilt she felt for separating from Jack. 

He needed it, though. Even Robby agreed that Jack had been teetering on the edge of a full-blown psychotic episode. Your separation was the best thing for him. He needed to realise that he was going to lose the one thing that mattered most if he didn’t get a grip on reality. 

“Uhh—“ Robby knew it was you, the blonde that was. You’d told him about your crash-out. The one that ended with a bottle of hair bleach and some not-so-professional measurements. You’d explained how you’d been missing Jack like crazy, but maybe it was time to think about divorce. You weren’t sure if he was ready to change. To help himself get back to a point where he could love you just as much as you loved him. It killed you every day that passed, but you knew if you went back now, Jack would only revert to his old ways. 

And he’d slowly, but surely, been making progress. Robby had mentioned to you that Jack had been seeing a therapist. He wasn’t sure for how long, but he had mentioned it. That gave you a little hope, and eventually stopped the tears from flowing before you had to get out of the elevator. 

“I’m not sure, but let’s—“ Before Robby could think of any excuse to remove himself, and Jack from your trajectory…the normally brooding attending was excusing himself with a smirk only reserved for mischief. 

“Excuse me.” Jack looked at his best friend with the intent to cause trouble before he walked off in the direction where you stood. Not knowing it was you. 

“Oh, well, now I recognise you,” Robby chuckled as he watched Jack saunter off. “This isn’t going to end well—” He groaned through mumbles as he looked anywhere but at the car crash about to happen right in front of him. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets with fear. 

“Hey—!” Jack started as he approached the nurse’s station. “Are you down here for a consultation? I’m not sure if we’ve met. I’m-“ It was worse than a car crash… it was like a double homicide. But not a soul could take their eyes off the scene before them. 

Emergency Room attending physician. Dr. Jack Abbot verves obstetrician and gynecologist Dr. Y/n Abbot. Separated spouses, who can barely work in the same hospital right now, let alone have a conversation face-to-face. 

As you turned around, Jack swore his heart fell out of his stomach. His heart raced inside his chest. You were stunning. He’d never seen you like this before. In all your years, you’d never been blonde. It looked…you looked beautiful. 

“Ahh!” Jack stepped back a little, fear was evident in the lines on his face. Holy shit, what was he supposed to do now? “What did you do to your hair?” Nope…That wasn’t what he should have said. But it was a question with many layers. 

Much like Jack Abbot himself. 

“I—I-I changed it.” You stumbled over your words as your husband, uh, ex? Husband? Separated spouse? asked with a tone you couldn’t tell was good or bad. Self-doubt immediately bubbled to the surface. “I uh, I coloured it.” You reach up and ran your hand through your blonde hair, not usually the standard issue colour. “I just—“ Then, as you stopped your mind from running off with the idea of shaving your head entirely, you caught onto what was happening... 

“Wait, you thought I was someone else?” Your heart sank. Jack didn’t even know it was you, yet here he was.

Jack immediately turned to look back at where he’d left Robby. Much to Jack's dismay…Robby had vanished into thin air. Shit. This wasn’t going to end well. He’d really put his foot in it this time. 

“You didn’t know it was me? And you were hitting on me!?” There was a tone in your voice that had everyone around you on edge. It made the blood in Jack’s head rush south…he liked you a lot when you were being mean to him. 

Langdon, who was only just getting situated with his patient pool for the morning, looked over at Jack with wide eyes and a shocked expression plastered across his smug face. He was so thankful it wasn’t him in Jack’s shoes right now. 

“No! No—“ Jack tried to explain himself. “No, I just thought you were, you know, some blonde.” But he had nothing to explain as he lowered his head and pressed his lips together. 

God help him. 

“Jesus, Abbot—“ You sighed. It was hard enough to love him enough as it was. Now, the idea of him running rampant around the Emergency Department, flirting with anything that moved, was going to ruin the small ounce of strength you had left. “You’re pathetic, and hypocritical—and slutty!” You whispered, shouted through gritted teeth. 

“And you are no blonde!” Jack retaliated, sending the Emergency Department into a buzzing gossip column. It was rare to ever see the two of you together anymore, let alone arguing like a married couple. 

“What did you just say to me?” It was a loaded question, like you were just daring Jack to continue. You stepped closer to where he stood, matching his intense gaze like you knew the way passed and into his heart. He fucking loved you. Being this close made his heart yearn for you. He just wanted you to be his again. 

You can’t pull that off, sweetheart.” The term of endearment slipped off his tongue like it was something Jack said every day. It was…But he wasn’t supposed to be calling you that anymore. Much like he wasn't supposed to be wearing his wedding band. 

It made your heart race. He still noticed you. He still wanted you and only you. He still cared. But not enough for you to trust he had your best interests at heart. 

“Blondes are either badass, or fun, and you’re—“ Jack paused, he was trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t inadvertently hurt your feelings. He was flirting, after all. “You’re a brunette.” 

“Fuck you, old grumpy bastard!” That was all you said as you collected your things and turned away with quick haste. You needed to leave. You were needed for a consultation, and that's what you were here to do. You weren't here to argue with your ex. 

“Damn—“ You heard it as you walked by. Langdon was looking at you like he’d just witnessed a public execution. “If you want my opinion, I think the blonde looks rad.” He smiled. 

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed with enough conviction that it had him thinking you might actually be venomous. 

“That didn’t end well, did it, Romeo?” Robby reappeared as Jack stood idly, watching you walk away. His heart ached, like he had a school-yard crush on the popular girl at school. 

“When did she dye her hair?” He asked softly, kicking himself for not noticing sooner. 

“Two weeks ago,” Robby replied. He knew Jack would take that as an answer he was hoping not to get. An answer to the question he secretly asked. The question was about your hair, but in reality, Jack had asked how long it had been before he noticed you. 

And the fact you’d been walking around like a totally smoke show for two weeks and Jack hadn’t noticed…made his stomach churn with guilt. 

“She’s too good for me,” Jack sighed. He knew he screwed it up. He knew he stuffed up your marriage. He just wanted to get back to you. “But holy shit, she looks good.”

“I think that’s what she was going for,” Robby smiled as he tapped his friend on the shoulder twice. “C’mon, we got hand over to get through Mr. Casanova.” Teasing, Robby coaxed Jack to follow him. 

Meanwhile, you watched on from where you’d run off to, secretly pining for your husband to flirt like that with you again any time. He was coming back to you. 

Slowly. But surely. Jack Abbot was coming back to life.

[explicit-tae]

Repent (4)

There's only one night left of the retreat and Jungkook is way too far into his head for his own good.

Word Count: 6.847

Warning: smut, skinny dipping, dirty talking, kissing, unprotected sex, nipple play/sucking, shower scenes, fingering, oral sex, degradation, bible verses?? lmao, creampie,

Part One | Two | Three

Jungkook finds that he enjoys eating you out.

At first, after the night you and he shared, he was a bit nervous to bring up the request again. He didn’t want you to think that all he ever wanted to do with you was sexual activities. But he’d be a liar if he said that he didn’t enjoy suckling on your clit. He’s gathered that in such a short amount of time, he’s sinned far too many times to count, he didn’t want to add liar onto his list.

There was something about the way Jungkook grew more and more insatiable when it comes to you. Each night you’d come into his cabin and join him beneath his sheets. You’d always say how cute he was and Jungkook would always intend on proving you wrong by eating you out.

The once shy and reserved Jungkook had turned into the being you knew he could be, the confidence he had buried within coming out little by little.

Especially in the way his hands would force your thighs apart as his tongue ravished your clit greedily. He would bob his head back and forth, fully enthralled with the act of eating you out that he never came up for air. 

Maybe it was your moans that gave Jungkook his will. He finds you entirely hot when you moan out his name, your hand tangled in his hair. You enjoyed what he was doing. Your thighs would shake and your face would be drawn with pleasure - it fueled his passion entirely.

However, all good things had to come to an end. It was the last day of the retreat and everyone had since packed to leave the following day.

“So let me get this straight,” Taehyung begins. “you haven’t fucked her yet?” Jungkook groans. He should know better by now then to call his friends for help as they almost never were any.

“You’ve eaten her out at least 50 times already.” Hoseok snorts. “Isn’t the retreat over tomorrow?”

“There isn’t any rush. If her grandmother goes to the same church, you’re bound to see her again.” Namjoon encourages. Jungkook can practically hear the smile in his tone.

“I say you fuck her raw dog and-”

Jungkook hangs up the phone entirely. His issue isn’t with having sex with you because, in all honesty, he’s positive that you’d say yes to him if he brought it up. 

Jungkook had a problem now. In a short amount of time, you’ve come and captivated him entirely in ways that he’s embarrassed. Not because he’s embarrassed of you, but of himself and how fast it took for him to acknowledge that he liked you.

In ways that’s more than just hooking up.

Jungkook isn’t sure if after tonight, would you and him be…friends? Would you go back to your regular life and forget about him entirely? Would you ever visit the church in hopes of seeing him?

Jungkook’s mind races as he makes his way out of his cabin. He has his camera in his hands as it was his job to take pictures for the Church, specifically on the last day of the retreat.

The children are restless, all playing outside. Their youth and obliviousness is nice and he wishes he could be a kid again where everything was easier. There wasn’t sin constantly clouding his mind day by day and a girl who he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Jungkook had just entered the large dining hall when he heard a soft voice. It’s Meana, who he only saw in passing the last few days.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, but he’s positive that he knows. He was so caught up in his head that he possibly looked ill, walking around moping at the thought of you leaving the retreat and never speaking to him again.

It was pathetic, truly.

“You look,” Meana tilts her head. “a wreck.” she concludes. She’s holding a bottle of water in her palms. “Is it about Y/N?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush at the sound of your name and Meana could only smile.

“You like her.” Meana states in a teasing voice. “I think she likes you, too.”

Jungkook’s ears perk a bit. “H-Huh?” he stutters, doe-like eyes widening a bit and dare Meana say she can see them sparkle under the dining halls white lights. “What do you mean? DId she say that to you?”

Meana shakes her head and Jungkook’s shoulders falter.

“But, it’s obvious, right?” Meana shrugs her shoulders. “You and her have been inseparable the last few days.” she states matter-of-factly.

That wasn’t a lie. While you could ignore the stares, Jungkook couldn’t. But he didn’t let them bother him. Being seen with you wasn’t something he was ashamed of. You were seen as the rebelling type who wore too tight clothing just because you wanted to spite whoever was watching. People held their tongue because of their love and respect for your grandmother, not for you.

Meana, however, finds it endearing how close you and Jungkook are. While she hadn’t spoken to Jungkook often since the kiss in his bedroom, she and you had. You had come to apologize to her if you made her uncomfortable and Meana had told you that everything was alright. Sure, her heart did pound around you and her cheeks would warm, but it wasn’t anything that was your fault.

“I’ll even say that you two look like a couple.” Meana teases further, knowing that Jungkook’s face would turn a dark shade of red, and when it does she couldn’t help her laughter. 

“I…I don’t even know if she wants to see me after the retreat.” Jungkook admits sullenly. “She doesn’t come to church-”

“Why don’t you just ask for her number?”

Jungkook is silent. He hadn’t thought about that. The more he thinks about it, maybe he has been quite dramatic.

“But what if-”

“You’re trapping yourself behind bars that are wide enough for you to walk through.” Meana deadpans.

Jungkook could laugh. Meana, after this retreat, has changed a bit, as well. She wasn’t as shy as she once was and he ponders if maybe you being around her has rubbed off like it did him.

“She hasn’t said anything to me about after the retreat.”

Meana shrugs her shoulders. She opens her water bottle. “Maybe she’s waiting for you to say something.” she says prior to taking a swig of it. “Do you ever think she’s tired of making the first move on you?”

Jungkook blinks. 

“No, you haven’t.” Meana giggles. “Because you’re caging yourself behind those too wide bars and allowing your own insecurities-”

“When did you become a therapist?” Jungkook crosses his arms. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. “I don’t remember you being this logical before.”

Jungkook knows that Meana is right, however. You had shown him time and time again that you were interested in him. Maybe not for something further than a friendship, but you were definitely interested in something.

Jungkook finds you sitting outside with a group of kids. They’re all talking at once, far too excited about something and you’re too nice to tell them to calm down and talk one at a time. Your eyes dance around the children as each of them talk and Jungkook finds it endearing.

Jungkook brings his camera up to take a picture of the sight. You only notice when the flash goes off, your attention turning to Jungkook. He lowers his camera and offers you a small smile that you return - one that causes his heart to jolt again.

Don’t be stupid, Jungkook thinks to himself. He thinks of what his friends told him. What Meana told him, but even now all he can focus on is how idiotic it is liking someone you met recently. There was no way in H E double hockey sticks that you liked him in the same way. 

Maybe Jungkook would have more faith in himself if he would just think Hell instead of H E double hockey sticks.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Jungkook blinks a few times to look down at a small child with folded arms. He raises his brows as the boy glares at him.

“Uh, what?” Jungkook nervously laughs, glancing up at you. You’re now standing.

“I already said I was going to marry her.” the little boy points his finger at Jungkook. “So you can’t have her!”

Jungkook blinks. “You’re like 6.”

“I’m 7 and a half!” 

“You’re too young for marriage.” Jungkook wants to slap himself for entertaining a child anyways. 

“And you’re getting too old!”

“I’m not even 30 yet!” Jungkook exclaims.

Jungkook is dragged out of his glaring match with the child when he hears you laugh. A hand is placed onto his bicep and his attention is immediately on you. His shoulders relax a bit. 

“You can’t fight the children, Kookie.” you joke.

“I-I’m not!” Jungkook’s cheeks return to their warm reddened color. 

After offering the young boy a pat on the head, you venture off with Jungkook. Since it was the last day, people decided on cleaning up, packing and eventually just hanging out until the following day. 

“Did you enjoy your time on the retreat?” Jungkook asks after a long stretch of silence. You and him had gone for a walk not too far from the cabins. 

“Of course I did.” you answer. “Dare I even say I had fun.”

Jungkook allows himself  to smile. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

Your eyes wander to him for a moment, lingering on his face. You believe he has more to say, though you don’t press him on the matter.

“What do you do, uh, outside of all of this?” Jungkook chuckles nervously. He’s sure that after tomorrow, he won’t be seeing you at Church.

You pretend to think long and hard about his question before answering. “I suppose what normal people our age do?” you shrug your shoulders. “I work often, but I have hobbies. What do you do?”

You stop walking to face Jungkook. He does the same.

“I have hobbies, too.” Jungkook murmurs, cheeks dusting pink. He isn’t sure what to say. He’s an open book. You know he attends the church just as often as your grandmother and he’s highly reserved with non-reserved friends encouraging him to, in words his parents would tell him, sin. “I, uh, enjoy drawing as you know. Painting. I go wherever my friends drag me.”

You hum,  lips twitching upwards. “Where do they drag you?”

Jungkook blinks. Were you actually interested in what he was saying?

“Uh, depends. Museums for some, arcades for others.” Jungkook swallows. “I’ve been dragged to clubs a few times, too.”

“Church boy Kookie in a club?” you pretend to be shocked, placing a hand over your mouth. You laugh mere seconds afterwards. “That’s a sight I’d have to see.”

Jungkook and you were far too consumed with one another that neither of you noticed how side by side you two were. You returned back to the cabins for dinner, him listening to you talk to Meana about a TV show he hadn’t heard before, but seems highly entertaining in “girl world” he likes to put it.

The young boy returned, glaring eyes at Jungkook before staring at you with such heart eyes that Jungkook would be threatened if the child wasn’t exactly that, a child. You were convinced by him and more children to do s’mores - an activity that you dragged Jungkook to, much to the little boy's dismay.

Even as the moon shone high above the dark sky, clear of any stars or clouds, Jungkook and you find yourselves by the lake. It’s quiet out as everyone had retreated to bed while you and him went for yet another walk. 

You find that Jungkook is talented in a lot of things. You already know how amazing he was at drawing. His photography skills, as well. He showed you the pictures on his camera that he’s taken - of the children all playing, Church goers. He even showed you some of his friends that appear high-quality and magazines like that you had to compliment him on how amazing it was.

“You’re not very spontaneous, are you?” you asked. You and Jungkook sit on the dock, your feet swinging back and forth at the edge right above the lake. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.” he admits. “Everything we’ve done,” he begins, that cute blush on his cheeks as he recalls the moments he and you shared. “is all a first to me.”

Jungkook and you had two different ideas of spontaneity, he’s sure. You offering him a blow job out in the open had to be by far his favorite - he couldn’t remember the last time adrenaline flowed through him like that.

You lick your lips. “The fun shouldn’t stop now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer and instead proceed to lift your shirt over your head. You throw it aside. “You ever gone skinny dipping?”

Widening his eyes, Jungkook shakes his head. You lift yourself up to take off your pants next, your panties going right along with it.

“Y-You’re serious?” Jungkook murmurs, looking around as if anyone is watching. You’re not too far from the cabins, but no one ever comes down to the lake at night.

You’re naked and Jungkook, no matter how many times he was blessed by the heavens above to witness you in such a state, he finds his eyes wandering to your nude figure. 

“You know I am, Kookie.” you offer him a wink. “It’s our last night here. We mind as well make the most of it.”

You don’t wait for Jungkook to respond. Instead, you jump into the lake. Water splashes his shirt a bit as he watches you emerge from the water.

Jungkook’s heart pumps as he looks at your smiling face.

Fuck it, Jungkook thinks. He can hear his friends in his mind clear as ever - to not pussy out (in their crude tone).

Jungkook does the same as you, though folding his clothes and placing them neatly beside your discarded ones before diving in right beside you. You laugh, clapping your hands when he comes up from beneath the water.

“10 points to you, church boy Kookie!”

The water is freezing, but Jungkook doesn’t want to look like a coward, so he holds the shivering to a minimum. That, and he does find this whole thing hot - the act of him and you being totally naked while everyone else is oblivious. Was this something spontaneous you did on the regular? 

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” you giggle. His teeth slightly chattered. “I’m cold, too.”

“Just something to get used to.” Jungkook chuckles. He swims a bit closer to you. The edge of the doc wasn’t too far deep into the water and the ground was touchable if he truly wanted to stand. 

You make the first move, but you know fully that Jungkook doesn’t mind. The little that you’ve known him, you know he was now going through an internal battle of if he should touch you or not.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s waist, your hands sitting on his broad shoulders. Jungkook’s hands place themselves onto your hips, feeling even more warmer now that you were so close to him. 

“You must really find working out fun.” you state, remembering what he said a few days prior. “You ever thought about getting any tattoos?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Yeah…but my mother would have a heart attack.” he chuckles. 

You hum. “I think you’d look hot.” you murmur, tightening your legs around him. “I was thinking about getting one.”

Jungkook swallows. Your chest sits directly against his and your hands now lightly rub the skin of his shoulders.

“W-What tattoo?” Damn him for stuttering like a school boy. To think that he’s eaten you out more times than he can count, but you still make him so nervous. 

“Hm…dunno.” you shrug your shoulders. “I want a tramp stamp. That’d be hot, right?”

It would be, Jungkook thinks. He only manages to nod his head because he’s positive that if he continued to think about it, he’d moan this time instead of stutter and he was done with embarrassing himself.

“You’re so…” you blink droplets of water from your eyelashes before smirking. “…cute.” you murmur. “You still get so shy around me.”

“I’m not.” Jungkook lies. It was pointless because you knew he was. “I’m just…not used to being around someone like you.”

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Jungkook inhales a breath. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.” 

“Is that so?” you lean in a bit, your cold nose touching his own. “I told you I wanted to fuck you on our first day here.” you murmur.

Jungkook’s ears are red. You had a point, he thinks, but still. You could always change your mind at nay given moment - even if you haven’t already.

Instead of responding, Jungkook places his lips onto yours. The familiar bubble in his stomach, followed by the quickness of his heart beat, Jungkook slightly moans into your lips. His eyes flutter close, his hands bringing you closer against him. 

Kissing you got easier over time, Jungkook thinks, but he cannot help how his body feels afterwards. Even in the cold water, Jungkook can feel his cock begin to throb. 

Your teeth sinks gently onto his bottom lip, tugging it playfully. 

“I intend on having you fuck me still.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flutter open. His hold on you tightens a bit at your words - words that cause his heart to continue to jolt, as well as his cock to throb with need. Just the thought of actually being inside of you.

Without warning, your legs hold onto his tighter, and your arms wrap around his neck. With all your force, you bring your body backwards and underneath the water, bringing Jungkook along with you.

A rush of sensation flows through Jungkook as he and you are enveloped underneath the water. Your legs loosen and so do your arms. You’re pulling away from him, he thinks. He emerges from under the water to hear your bubbly laughter. He wipes his eyes, blinking them a few times to look at you.

“Was that a trick?” 

Jungkook’s tone is playful, you note. You don’t have enough time to process before he’a coming for you. He dips underneath the water. It’s silent for a moment, your head dashing around in an attempt to find him underwater.

A loud screech comes from your lips when hands wrap around your frame and throws you underneath the cold water along with him. You don’t process the rushing of water before you’re being brought up above it once more.

Jungkook is behind you, your back against his chest. Your breathing is heavy when he wraps you in a hug. 

“Church boy Kookie,” you begin, breathing with each passing word. “you’re coming out of your shell nicely.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for you to feel his cock against your ass, it just happens. Maybe by the way you squirm in his embrace to further tease him. 

“I still want to fuck you.”

Jungkook’s lips are at your ear, warm breath tickling it. You’re already cold, but the way he speaks to you causes the exposed skin to prickle with excited goosebumps. 

“You have such a dirty mouth.”

Jungkook swallows. Dirty talk, he thinks - his friends' words flowing through his mind. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment right now, one that he admits is entirely hot. 

Jungkook places his lips at the nape of your neck, pressing several kisses. His hands roam upwards until they’re at your breast. He grips them in his hands needily, inhaling sharply against your neck.

“You love my dirty mouth.” Jungkook murmurs against your neck, his kisses now pecking upwards until he’s at your ear. “It’s what brings you back to me time and time again.”

Jungkook’s own confidence in his voice surprised even himself. 

“You’re right.” you murmur, eyes fluttering close.

It was a blur getting out of the water and dressing for the sake of returning back to the cabins. You and him had to be quiet as you entered the showers. You assure to lock the doors behind you as Jungkook makes his way to the nearest shower he finds. 

You and him are naked once more, underneath hot steamy water. Jungkook’s arms are around you again, bringing you closer as you and his lips lock together.

Doing all of this has his heart pounding even faster with adrenaline. 

“You okay?” you say against his lips, hands lightly tapping his shoulders as you make them down his wet arms. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with beginner level spontaneity.” 

Jungkook chuckles. His hands are on the low of your back. “I’m fine.” he murmurs. “Just…wanna touch you.”

You hum. “I’m not holding you back.”

Jungkook, no matter how many times he’s managed to touch you, always feels as if it’s the first time. His hands grip your breast once more, inhaling a sharp breath when his palms feel the way your nipples are so hardened. 

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, voice nearly inaudible due to the loud shower hitting against your bodies and the tiled floors. “Sometimes I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone…”

Jungkook’s thumbs press against your perky nipples, rubbing slightly. His cock is throbbing against your thigh, wishing that he'll hurry up and do what you want him to do.

You find Jungkook’s words endearingly poetic - it’s as though he believes that after tonight, you’d disappear into thin air; like a figment of his imagination. 

You didn’t laugh because you truly did find his words endearing. Your heart pumps once those words hit your ears, your already warm body heating up even more. His thumbs twirl your nipples, wet eyelashes blinking up to look at you.

“You’re acting like I’m going to disappear after all of this is over.” you lick your lip as Jungkook comes closer, pressing a kiss to your neck as his hands knead your breast.

“Are you?”

Jungkook told himself that he wouldn’t ask you this question. He doesn’t want to appear as if he’s too interested in you - even though he absolutely is. He’s positive that you know he is. But he understands that you and him are entirely different and for you, this is possibly just an act of spontaneity. 

Jungkook isn’t expecting you to respond so before you could - and possibly break his heart when you told him that you indeed weren’t going to stick around - his tongue strokes along your neck. His right hand roams down from your breast and past your stomach and right between your legs.

Your lips part to release a light gasp when his fingers are on your clit. He rubs them gently, his tongue continuing to swirl on your neck. You were beginning to like the confident side of Jungkook when he didn’t allow his mind to race a mile a minute.

Jungkook’s lips dipped further as his fingers continued to rub along your clit. He still cannot fathom how he managed to be entangled with someone like you - how you even managed to want to be around him. You didn’t mind that he was a bit inexperienced and shy and you were always willing to go easy on him.

If you called the way you came onto him time and time again “easy” - but Jungkook never complained or told you to stop.

Jungkook captures your nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls on the perky bud, droplets of shower water falling  into his face. His finger inches closer to your hole, wanting to sink them into you. The last few days, he has managed to gain a bit of an idea of what it was like to pleasure you - and each moment he could, he would. If that meant eating you out until you were begging him to stop, then so be it. Fingering you until your legs were shaking and you were making a mess all over his bedsheets, it was completely alright.

Once it was all done, your favorite thing to (think, not say) was how cute Jungkook was at seemingly learning new things that excite him.

“You’re getting better at this.” you lean your head back a bit when Jungkook’s fingers begin to enter you. Your thighs part wider, fully willing to take him.

Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth, boba-like eyes looking up at you. He doesn’t say anything, but your compliment gets to his head. He begins to pump his fingers and keeps a close eye on you for your reaction. He finds that he enjoys watching you - was that creepy? He enjoys witnessing your face be drawn with pleasure by something he was doing. Your words of encouragement were always welcomed, as well, and it actually made him feel good.

“Are you?” Jungkook repeats his question from earlier, picking up the speed of his thrusting fingers. He comes closer to your face now, shielding the water from yours as it now slides down the back of his head. “Are you going to disappear when it’s all over?”

You squeeze around his fingers, damp lashes blinking away. There isn’t a way Jungkook was going to allow you to not answer his question - or at least think about it. His free hand places on the low of your back, sliding you closer to him. 

“You can always-” you begin but halt when you feel his lips on yours. It’s full of hot need that has you shuddering in them. You wanted to mount him right now more than ever. “-can…always call me.” you finish when his lips lift for air.

Jungkook’s heart jolts again - that meant that you were interested in being friends, right? That after tonight, you and he would keep in touch and he had a chance with you - whatever chance you were willing to give him.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. In the words of his dear friend Hoseok told to him before, he had to lock in. He couldn’t scare you away like he had his ex-girlfriend. He would take you in whatever way you wanted him to if it meant that you’d come around again.

The shower didn’t last long. You couldn’t wait any longer and neither could he. After bathing the quickest either of you ever had - mainly because the once hot water that was burning your skin was now running cool - you and he had to sneak back to his room. You were thankful that it was nearly secluded from the rest.

You nustle underneath the covers along with Jungkook, immediately wrapping yourself onto him. You didn’t want to wait any longer - a week was long enough in your eyes. You wouldn't say you were the one to constantly sleep around, but if you saw something - or someone - you wanted, you were determined to have it. 

“What’s your number?” Jungkook blurts out when you nestle on top of him. You only got dressed enough to walk from the showers to his bedroom and immediately stripped down upon entering. 

You snicker. “Can’t we exchange numbers tomorrow?” you say, running your hands up his stomach, his damp shirt nearly sticking to his skin. 

“What if you forget?” 

You pressed yourself further against him. His growing bulge was evident, but his face was sternly cute. 

“Fine,” you let out a short breath, a smile on your lips. “852-0085.” you speak.

Your roaming hands are able to lift the shirt from his shoulders and throw it aside. You then lean down to press your lips onto his collar bone.

“You’re s-still missing the first two numbers!” Jungkook protests, though his voice softens with how good your lips feel against his flushed skin. 

“That makes it fun.” you say as you peck his chest. Your eyes flicker up to Jungkook to find that he’s already looking down at you. 

Jungkook’s chest rumbles a bit, but he doesn’t fight. He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes - this was a game to you. A game he was willing to play; unbeknownst to you he was always the competitive type.

You’re going lower and lower, sliding off of his lap to nestle between his legs. Your fingers hook on his underwear, the hard bulge making it no secret how content he was.

“I feel bad that you’ve eaten me out so many times the last few days.” you say, eyes glancing down to his cock. It’s as if in slow motion does it spring from his underwear, veiny and pink with oozing pre-cum. You lick your lips before glancing up at Jungkook. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Jungkook bites his lip, eyes unblinking. You wrap a hand around his cock and squeeze it. “N-No, it’s fine!” he assures quickly, swallowing a lump in his throat. The cum leaking out his tip was embarrassing - you hadn’t even done anything yet.  “I like…I like eating you out.” he admits, his cheeks heating up as blood rushes to his cheeks. “I enjoy making you cum, too.”

You want to say it. The urge to call him cute is at the tip of his tongue, but you understand Jungkook doesn’t like to be called that during situations like these. Instead, you poke your tongue out and lick along his slit.

If it’s one thing you did enjoy was watching Jungkook when he was on the receiving end of pleasure. He was so handsome for his own good and you should thank his parents for raising him to be so humble and kind.

And completely deserving of your interest.

Your tongue continues to roll on his tip, the salty taste of cum hits your taste buds. Your eyes continue to watch his face - the way his eyes flutter close and rosy lips part. His chest rises and falls and in the corner of your eye you see his hands grip the sheets. 

A low groan comes from Jungkook’s lips when you bring his cock deeper into your warm mouth. He nearly forgets how good you were at this. The first time it happened, it was hard to forget about it - so much so that he would have to force himself to think of something else so he wouldn’t get an erection while he was out in his room.

Jungkook proceeds to squeeze his eyes shut as your sucking increased. His knuckles had to be a pale white now with how hard he was gripping the cotton sheets. His breathing is ragged and he’s doing everything to not whimper aloud and appear like a loser - but it was hard. 

You blink a few times to rid yourself of the glossiness. Your head rises and falls, each time his tip hitting the back of your throat. Your hands rest on his tone thighs, tapping on them ever so softly just to continue to play with him.

“You’re so g-good at this.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a bright red at how weak his voice sounds. He’s added points to his mental score with how well he was doing at not sounding or appearing like a complete loser the last few days, and now - after whimpering - his points were erased.

Your throat vibrates as to answer him. There’s a pounding between your legs. Jungkook is so vulnerable right now, you think, caught in his own bliss. The amount of times you’d thought of this very cock splitting you open in a way you know he can if he’d just let loose.

Maybe you just had to bring it out of him.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth. Messily, saliva coats his thigh and a bit of your chest, but sex isn’t always clean.

Before Jungkook has time to react, you’re in his lap, again.

“Y/N-”

Jungkook doesn’t manage to speak before you’re sinking down on him. His eyes widen at the feel of your warm cunt gripping around his cock. So wet and tight - Jungkook ponders if he’s somehow managed to die and has gone to heaven.

Jungkook snaps out of his hallucination to place his hands onto your hips. “I-I-” he begins, cheeks becoming warm as he glances down to where you and he are connected fully. “-are we not supposed to wear a condom?” he questions low. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have a condom, he then remembers. This was a church retreat, after all. The more he remembered where he was at and what he was doing, the more he thought about how long he was going to have to pray for forgiveness.

“Don’t have any.” you murmur - uncaring - soft hands on his shoulders. You push him back a bit. “I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook’s chest continues to rise and fall rapidly as goosebumps form onto his skin.

“Is that okay?” your hips rise just to fall once more, knowing full and well that Jungkook wasn’t going to push you away.

Jungkook gasps. His fingernails dig into your skin. “Yes,” he says hastily. “it’s ok-kay.”

“Good.”

The smile you give Jungkook is so wholesome.

That’s until you begin to drop the sweet girl act and use Jungkook’s cock - the same cock you’ve wanted inside you since the very first day - to your advantage.

You buckle your hips, pouncing against him with little care. His cock is so deep, springing in and out of you heavenly. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, has a hard time handling this. Your pussy is too tight for him to not moan beneath you. It’s too wet for him to not want to feel more and more of it as you bounce against him. But he understands that even though his room is further than everyone else's, that didn’t mean it was sound proof.

“Slow,” Jungkook begins, gripping your waist. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes to witness your bouncing breast right in his face. “-down,” Jungkook manages to let out. 

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, leaning closer to him so that you and him are face to face and now chest to chest. 

Jungkook shudders. His right hand slides up your back, wanting to hold you closer to him. “I don’t want us to get caught.” he moans. He wanted  to savor this moment - and everything else after this. Getting caught wasn’t an option for him. “Your pussy feels good, too.”

Church boy Kookie and his dirty words had gotten better over the last few days - you had to give yourself a pat on the back for making him comfortable enough. His hushed tone added to the affect, your walls tightening around his cock more.

“Remember what you said the other day?” you ask, grinding your hips as your lips peck the corner of his mouth. “That you thought about the ways you wanted to fuck me?”

Jungkook nods his head. His hand has a mind of its own so while his right is on the low of your back, his left dips down to feel your ass in his palm.

“Tonight,” you begin, pecking his lips. “I’ll be mild. Next time I want you to fuck me in whatever way you want.”

You were going to be the death of him, Jungkook thinks. Something in his mind - so small and deep - tells him that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with you during a church retreat out of all places, but his desire for you outweighs whatever discernment he has.

“However I want?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask. He’s prayed about it before, asking for forgiveness for thinking about you so disrespectfully as what he wanted to do to you was anything but holy.

You nod your head, picking up the pace. You lean away from him, both of your feet laying against his bed as you begin to pounce. Up and down, up and down - Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes away from your body. Your wet cunt dripping with arousal all over him to the way your breast bounces in similar rhythm.

“Whatever dirty fantasies you keep hidden in your mind,  I’d  let you do to me.” you look right into his eyes as you speak, casting a spell upon him that Jungkook is fixed on you and you alone.

“Fuck.” Jungkook lets out, his stomach tightening at just the thought of being able to do whatever he wants with you - unholy acts that he was told were bad for the majority of his life. Adrenaline flows through him and without thinking, his hips begin to buckle to meet you halfway. “You’re…you’re such…”

You moan when Jungkook begins to thrust along with you, his cock hitting you even deeper. You were unlocking something in him you knew he possessed.

“...such a whore I’ve been told about all my life.”

Did you have a degradation kink, you think? The way your pussy tightens around his cock at being called a whore by Jungkook - the once soft spoken man who would apologize for even looking at you the wrong way. Now, his eyes are dark and unapologetic, his hips buckling to bury his cock deeper into you.

“Flee from sexual immorality,” Jungkook recants the verse he’s been told time and time again for years. “Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the seuxally immoral person sins against his own body.”

Maybe you were a whore. Why did that make you even hornier?

“Ever since you come into my life, all I can think about is fucking you.” Jungkook admits, his eyes glaring at you - but not because he hates that you brought a side out of him that he has buried deep within. “All I ever want to do is bury my face between your legs and taste your sweet pussy against my tongue.”

You’re left speechless - since when could he speak this dirty? You hadn’t noticed that you stopped bouncing and allowed Jungkook to take control until the room grew louder with skin slapping.

“You don’t know how hard it is to keep these thoughts about you out of my mind. Praying them away doesn’t work.”

Jungkook feels a shiver down his spine as he continues to thrust, nails digging into your skin. 

“The best way to get rid of the thoughts is to speak of them aloud.” you murmur, managing to hold his gaze. His cock is drilling into you in a pace that only someone like him - who finds the gym and exercising fun - could do.

“I don’t think you want to hear them.” Jungkook murmurs, his own eyes unblinking. He swallows as there’s now a churn in abdomen. “I still respect you, Y/N.”

It’s amazing how Jungkook can switch entirely, from being the church boy you know to the hot, degrading man who he traps away.

“Get up,” Jungkook rasps. “I don’t want to cum-”

“Just cum in me.” you state, tightening your thighs to keep him trapped between you. You proceed to wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close. “I want to feel it.”

Jungkook shudders once more. His eyes squeeze shut as his cock ruts in and out of you, hitting a sweet spot that causes you to moan with each thrust. He wasn’t going to last long and by the way you’re whimpering, neither were you.

With a few more desperate thrusts, warm cum fills you entirely. Jungkook’s thighs shake as he covers your wet walls with sticky cum, the feeling entirely euphoric that there’s no way that he hasn’t died and gone to heaven already.

You hum softly, the feeling of being full of him causes warmth to fill your body. You lay limp against him, your chest against his.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks a few moments later as his cock begins to soften. “I don’t think you’re a whore.”

You laugh when you hear the hesitance in his voice. You roll off of him and lay beside him. “I know you don’t.” you murmur. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks a few times before nodding his head. 

“You sure?” you ask, turning to face him. “Doesn’t this, like, go against whatever you believe in?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. “Well,” he begins, a bit amused. “I’ve sinned since the first day I got here. I prayed after every time.”

You laugh aloud, wrapping an arm around him.

“I hope we weren’t too loud.” Jungkook does the same, holding you close. He isn’t sure he can handle the judgmental stares from everyone if they knew what was going on. “Are you going to give me the first two digits of your number now?”

You close your eyes and yawn. “Not a chance.” 

Jungkook cracks a smile, he isn’t upset. He enjoyed a good game - even if it meant calling dozens of phone numbers if it meant that he would eventually find yours.

@investedreader @luvbug089 @azaood @smoljimjim @hoseokteardrop @sappy033 @renassaincesblog @myjungkookthighs @sweetlifeofjoy @iheeafkp @emmie2308

[oldermenfucker]

Hi! I'm not sure if your taking writing requests/ideas.. but I love your writing so I thought I'd ask!

My idea is that reader gets an occular migraine while working in the er and Abbot or Robby have to take care of her (either as reader × robby/ abbot, or as them being father figures for her).

If not no worries!

Omg bestie thank you so much!! It fills me with so much happiness to know you like my writing style🥹

I don’t have much knowledge about migraines by experience so I deeply apologize if something is incorrect! I did my research throughout the day and these are all based on what I’ve gathered from the internet<3

I’d love to take one shot requests but unfortunately I have too many ideas to write nowadays! Maybe one day I’ll open my requests but for now I’d like to go a headcanon/drabble type of thing with your idea!! I hope you like it🥹🩷

Also, headcanons & drabbles(at most 1k words) requests are open!

You’ve never had an episode in the ER before, you always took to your beta blockers, made sure you were hydrated, and slept enough between your shifts.

It was yet another chaotic day in The Pitt as usual, there were patients you coded for an hour, patients you prescribed a simple Tylenol for and sent some up into the OR.

So when a new patient comes through the doors with Princess, you start taking care of them in a second with Robby in toe, following you inside the trauma room.

You do everything you must do effortlessly, falling into a rhythm with Robby as he asks his questions and you answer them

So when you start to intubate the patient, he believes you’ve got it, and you think so too

But thinking is one thing and reality is another

Your vision starts to blur in one eye, but you ignore it, your mind not being able to comprehend what is actually happening while you are trying to focus on the patient

You believe it must be the lack of sleep, so you shake your head, blinking hard a few times before you look back down at your hands.

But it doesn’t stop there as much as you wish it did.

Not only your vision is getting blurry, but the light in the room turns burning bright, and your vision whitens in a second.

“Dr. King, intubate, now—“

The equipment in your hands is gone, and you feel how a strong pair of arms hands you by the waist, guiding you out of the trauma room in a hurry.

“I got you, sweetheart,” you hear Robby whisper, but you can’t see him with how tightly you are squeezing your eyelids, trying to get rid of the blinding spots in your vision.

He opens the door to another empty room, locking it before he pulls the curtains, turning off the lights quickly and leading you to the bed.

You grab his arm as he helps you up, your heart racing in panic but Robby’s protective touch calms you down at least a little.

“I’ll be right back, alright?”

You can only nod, sitting up on the bed as you blink a few times, groaning when you can’t do anything to prevent the coming pain in a few minutes.

“Are you nauseous?” He shuts the door and locks it again, sitting on the bed next to you as he hands you a glass of water and acetaminophen to help, “Dizzy? Perhaps a headache—“

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words come out in a harsh snap, and you cringe at your own tone, “It’s nothing, thank you, Robby.”

“You could be having a TIA—“ he tries to explain, his chocolate brown eyes filling with nothing but pure worry, “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

“It’s nothing like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes, knuckles turning white as an awful throbbing starts on the same side of you were having visionary problems, “It’s a retinal migraine—“

“Did you take your meds? Fuck, why didn’t you tell me— lay down, put this on your forehead,” he scolds you gently, lowering you on your back with a hand behind your neck, kissing your forehead before he replaces the cold compress with his warm lips.

“I didn’t wanna worry you,” you explain softly, squeezing his trembling hand as you try to relax, hissing at the coldness of the pack on your head, “Besides, it shouldn’t have happened anyway. I took my beta blocker this morning before I got here. I’m just unlucky it seems.”

“I’m gonna tell Dana to keep an eye on you for the rest of the shift—“ he tells you, pulling out a blanket to cover your body, “You won’t leave this room until I’m done for the day, alright, sweetheart?”

“I can work, I swear—“You try to sit up but his large palm pushes you back down with a softness you didn’t know he had in him, “Robby…”

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’ll rest. I don’t need you to hurt yourself, okay? You’re my patient now, and I’d hate to cuff you to the bed just to keep you from running after another incoming trauma.”

“I’m not Myrna—“

“No, you’re worse, sweetheart,” you chuckle and he cracks a smile, reaching to caress your cheek, “I need you to take care of yourself now, I’m gonna tell Dana to to put you on IV fluids since I’m pretty sure you’re dehydrated and running on three hours of sleep.”

“I don’t ever wanna be your patient again,” you try to joke while the pounding is still there but luckily the medicine is kicking in slowly, “I’ll be fine, go save some lives.”

“Fine, but I’ll probably be worried sick for the rest of the shift,” he leans down, pushing the cold compress aside for a second to peck your forehead then your lips, pulling back just a little to look into your eyes as you open them slowly, “Better?”

“The headache is manageable but my vision has been better than this,” you sigh lovingly when you see his worried frown, “Doctor Robby, I am going to be just fine. Now get out and let me rest in peace.”

“Holler if you need anything, or tell Dana. She’s gonna babysit you for the next few hours,” he kisses you quickly before he walks out and closes the door behind him.

[bullet-prooflove]

Mood: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Summary: Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Messy - John doesn't mind getting a little messy when it's with you.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

A Goddamn Miracle Worker - You always know the perfect way to take care of Jack.

Jack’s in a mood. He’s been in a mood ever since you woke him up and told him you need to get your asses to the airport because you’re flying to Ottobock’s clinic in Munich to get his new prosthetic leg fitted. He sits in the window seat of the plane, his arms crossed over his chest with a pout on his features that reminds of the early days of your relationship, when you thought your colleague hated you.

“You shouldn’t have surprised me like this.” He informs you, shoulders drawn up as he stares at the back of the seat in front of him. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not apologising for solving a problem that is literally effecting your day to day existence.” You inform him as you flick through the magazine you picked up in the airport. “So suck it up buttercup, this is happening.”

“It’s not fair of you to use your connections like this when there are hundreds of people ahead of me on the waiting list. Why is my need greater than theirs?” He argues and you toss the magazine into the empty seat next to you before you turn to face him.

“Because your current leg is slowing you down Jack. You know it and I know it.” You erupt, gesturing at the space where his prosthetic resides as months of frustration seeps out of you. “There’s going to come a time when it fails you, when you can’t get to that patient quick enough or you can’t do what you need to do and that is going to haunt you, it’s going to eat you up from the inside out and I do not want that! I don’t want you blaming yourself for a faulty piece of equipment that should have been replaced months ago!”

“It’s still not right.” He grumbles, collapsing back into his seat with a huff and staring out the window. "I don't deserve special treatment."

“Well you can spent the next nine hours being super mad about it or you can lift the armrest and we can nap together so we’re fresh when we get to the other side.” You inform him, removing your headphones and sleep mask from your carry on.

His jaw clenches, the corded muscles in his throat prominent as he swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the clouds outside.

“I don’t need a nap.” He tells you putting his elbow on the armrest, keeping it firmly in place. It feels like a slap in the fucking face, just like he intended.

“Fine you wanna be an asshole, be an asshole.” You say, jamming your headphones into your ears. “I’ll still be here when you decide not to be.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[for-a-longlongtime]

You Can't Chase Away The Queers & Gays & They's

aka: have your little delulu fantasies but don't you dare be a homophobic/queerphobic cunt about it.

I'm so fucking serious right now.

A certain amount of people are being absolutely psychotically ridiculous right now over that Pedro poem published in the project by Mustafa (the poem isn't new, he had this on his blog in the early 2010s, btw). Within hours, people are yelling in public comments tHiS pROveS hE iS iNTo pUsSY + hEArTbRoKEn ovEr a wOmAN, PLUS sending anons to me and other queers saying 'this poem proves he's not gay!', 'stop writing f***** shit about him now!', further speculating, wanting receipts whether he ever talked about specific genders, etc.

You're losing the plot. STOP IT.

I'm not even gonna go into how appalled Pedro would be to know there's literally a Straight Crusade group that has been scouting socials since forever just to post fake stories. No, my concern is about all the queers, gays, and they's (the LGBTQIAS2+ community) among us fans -- especially the young ones, who are seeing all that anti-queerness and homophobia happening. It's 2025 and in so many countries queer rights are under attack, queer youths are suicidal at much higher rates than straight kids, and it still happens every fucking day that queers coming out means they're losing family, friends, jobs, housing, custody of kids, etcetc.

Let me clarify: I don't give a shit about Pedro's sexuality or who he sleeps with/dates. I’m not the person you’re gonna want to ask about any of that. Do I as a queer feel (and a lot of others with me) like he's been doing plenty of queer signalling through the years? Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's gospel/fact, and I'm sure as hell not trying to prove it or convince other people.

What IS a fuckin' problem though is when people and blogs are whipping up other fans into a literal frenzy, making them think that they need to 'defend' P or prove he's not gay. Sure, disect the poem and whatever else, knock yourself out, but do not send other people - especially not queers - plain ass hate about it, just because you want to impose your POV on them. Because you are harming people by making them feel like it's not okay to be queer/gay, and you're using Pedro as a means to do so. That's fucked up.

I'm not here to police anyone, but I'm telling y'all to have some common sense if this is something that you have either inadvertently or deliberately been doing. This is exactly why there are so few gay and queer male fans active in this fandom, because they see how much negativity there is at and how obsessive the compulsory heterosexuality is in some corners of the fandom. This is exactly why queer and trans folks feel unsafe to reach out and get to know other fans. This is why a lot of writers (queer and straight) often feel reluctant to write mlm/gay fanfic (be it P Boy x male reader/male OC, or P Boy x P Boy, or P Boy x canon character). This is why new queer/gay fans feel hesitant to put out work with queer representation, because they're afraid of negative comments or anons. And that SUCKS, because they want to tell their stories as much as other writers do, but it's damn hard when you look at the queer/homophobia that has been on the rise in this fandom as well as in society.

Is your ability to like his work, to like him as an actor, or even just as a person who does a lot of good stuff for marginalized communities, actually DEPENDENT on his (perceived) sexual orientation? On who he sleeps with or dates/has dated? To the point that you feel like you need to 'defend' him or prove things to other people? Because, first of all, in case nobody told you and it didn't occur to ya: he's not gonna fuck YOU. Second of all: wow. Get it together.

Finally, I can't believe I need to make this point, but: just because you don't like queers, doesn't mean they're gonna go away. Why are you reading my blog or Erin's or anyone else's tumblr that's clearly about queer stuff (we actually do indicate that already in our bio/pinned posts, you know) if you don't like it? WHY are you reading gay fanfic (which is about Pedro characters, not even RPF/Real Person Fiction, and YES - that is a very big difference) if it makes you angry? Most of all, why do you feel like it's okay to act like a fuckin asshole?

Stop reading things you don't like. Block people you don't like. Dislike stuff all you want, but just don't be a homophobic piece of shit about it.

Also, go read Erin's post right here.

[beanarie]

i'm struggling to put into words exactly what it is that bothers me about eddie and buck's plot in this episode. i see what people are saying in that this fits with eddie's behavior when he's been at rock bottom, so i guess character assassination isn't the right term. i'm still shocked he put his hands on buck, and for far less provocation and less reason to be irrational than when chim fully punched buck. but, whatever.

my biggest problem is with the structuring. this isn't mad men or sopranos. firefam is allowed to be flawed but they're all supposed to be fundamentally good people that we're meant to root for. if they do something objectively shitty, the episode is supposed to have them make up for it by the end or put their actions in a different light. imo they failed at that tonight.

buck had done absolutely nothing wrong, was in fact doing his best to look out for the others while barely keeping his head above water. he was not shown being annoying or intrusive. just visibly sad (to the point where his voice sounded different. ostark the actor that you are). the only people showing appreciation for his feelings up to this point have been maddie a week before the funeral and tommy when it all went it down, and there's no indication that buck even knows he saw him which makes me want to scream.

eddie and hen seemed to care what was going on with buck, in a mainly casual, jokey way, and hen seemed more concerned about the impact of eddie returning to el paso on buck than his grief over bobby.

anyway the next thing we know eddie is going the fuck off on buck, just ripping him to absolute shreds about his self-centeredness while crying about how no one understands his pain and then lowkey blaming buck for not saving bobby. horrifying. this is us made an entire arc out of kevin saying that to randall, estranging them for like a year before they made peace. not that i expect or want 911 to be this is us. i'm just saying. they took it really fucking far. they did not have to. and eddie's sole accountability was "somebody was being a dick to you" before letting his child and his recovering aunt deal with nurturing buck.

that was not enough to get me back on board, show. not nearly enough.

[witchslove]

Thin Walls

Pairing: Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You stay over at Wanda’s one night after babysitting the boys, only to find out that the walls of her house are very thin.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda, top!reader, masturbation, fingering (w receiving), mentions of oral (w receiving), mommy kink, dirty talk

A/N: This came to me and I had to write it, it’s mainly smut with a little bit of plot. Enjoy my loves!

——————————

It was late when Vision came by to pick up the boys and it was even later when Wanda got home from her work meeting.

Technically your shift babysitting the twins was over as soon as Vision left with them, but you waited up for Wanda, wanting to make sure she got home safely and didn’t need anything else.

And maybe, just maybe, you really wanted to see the redhead before you went home.

You’d had a crush on Wanda since you met her at a family party. She was one of your mom’s friends from college who she’d reconnected with later in life.

Wanda was absolutely stunning and you felt butterflies in your stomach the first time you shook her hand. Everything about the woman was attractive and you couldn’t help but want her. You knew it would never go anywhere, but you couldn’t stop yourself from having feelings for her.

So of course, when your mom suggested you start babysitting her boys, you couldn’t say no.

Wanda thought it was a great idea and her eagerness to have you help her out made your heart flutter.

Now, here you were, curled up on her couch with a movie on while you waited for her to come home, knowing that you could’ve left the second the twins’ father had picked them up.

You heard the lock on the front door over the dull sounds of the movie you put on and when Wanda walked in, she was surprised to see you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! Are the boys still here?” She asked, looking around as she set down her things and took off her coat.

“No ma’am, Vision picked them up about twenty minutes ago,” you responded, feeling nervous as she looked over at you. “I- um, just wanted to make sure you made it home safe. I’ll be leaving now.”

“We’ve been over this, call me Wanda,” she corrected with a smile. “And that’s sweet of you, but it’s pretty late for you to be heading out. Why don’t you just sleep in the guest room for tonight?”

Your heart jumped in your chest at the thought of spending the night. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose,” you managed, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously.

“Of course! You’re not imposing, I’m offering. The guest room is already made up, you just make yourself right at home,” Wanda replied, heading down the hall.

“Okay, thank you Wanda,” you responded, making your way to the guest room to get situated for the night.

While you were putting your things in the guest room and setting up your phone charger, Wanda came in with some of her clothes for you to wear to bed, a shirt that smelled like her and a pair of sweats. She also gave you a spare toothbrush and let you know that you could use the toothpaste in the front bathroom. You thanked her again and she said it was no problem, smiling sweetly at you before saying goodnight.

By the time you finished getting ready for bed, you were beyond tired. It had been a long day taking care of the boys and doing schoolwork and your body was begging you for sleep.

As you laid in bed, ready for sleep to take over, you heard something strange. It was faint at first and you were almost able to ignore it, but then you heard it again.

By the third time, it was unmistakable.

You heard moaning - more specifically, Wanda moaning. You couldn’t believe your ears and you almost convinced yourself that you were making it up somehow.

But the longer it went on, the louder it got.

Wanda was touching herself with you in the house and you could hear it.

You felt a pang of arousal with every moan that came from Wanda’s room down the hall, feeling yourself grow wet at the sounds of her pleasuring herself.

When you heard her let out a breathy “fuck” you couldn’t stop yourself from sliding a hand down the front of your sweats - Wanda’s sweats.

You were already wet enough that it had seeped through your underwear. Just the sounds Wanda was making and the thought of what she was doing were enough to turn you on.

You pictured her in her bed, legs spread, touching herself as she moaned. You wondered if she was staying outside, making tight circles over her clit, or if she had two fingers stretching herself out, her palm nudging her bundle of nerves with every stroke.

You began rubbing yourself over your soaked underwear, getting off to her sounds and your imagination.

You were already close - it didn’t take much when you could hear the object of your desires touching herself in the other room. This was like a dream come true, you only wished you could be the one pleasuring her instead.

Her moans rose in pitch and you could tell she was close. You moved your fingers faster, wanting to cum with her.

She came with a long drawn-out moan, the sound bringing you over the edge with her. You wondered what she looked like when she came undone, back arched against the bed, face contorted in pleasure.

You stifled your own sounds as you came, not wanting her to know you were listening to her.

When the moment was over, the guilt hit you like a truck. You pulled your hand out of your pants and tried to ignore the sticky wetness between your thighs, your underwear clinging to you uncomfortably.

You had just touched yourself to the thought of Wanda with her in the other room. She probably had no idea you could hear her and you felt horrible for taking advantage of the opportunity.

With the heavy weight of the guilt of your actions, you tried to sleep, unsure if you’d be able to after what just happened.

The next morning, you’d barely rested, your mind racing all night with thoughts of Wanda until you eventually succumbed to sleep.

How could you look her in the eyes after what you’d done? After what you’d heard her doing?

You managed to get out of bed and use the bathroom before you trodded to the kitchen, still wearing Wanda’s clothes.

You were making yourself a cup of coffee when the redhead walked in, wearing only a silk nightgown that dipped low in the front and barely reached past her ass. You almost choked on your drink when you saw her, not expecting to see so much skin.

She looked divine, hair slightly messy from her sleep, face free of any makeup, curves on display in her skimpy nightgown. The task at hand of acting normal around her had just become significantly harder.

“Good morning Y/N,” she greeted, entering the kitchen. “How did you sleep?”

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I slept okay, thank you,” you managed to get out, still trying to calm yourself down. “What about you?”

“I slept great, I must’ve needed it after that work meeting,” she replied, making herself a cup of coffee as well.

“That’s good,” you said back, unsure of how to continue the conversation. You watched her as she moved around the kitchen and nearly whimpered out loud when she bent over to get creamer out of the fridge, her nightgown leaving little to the imagination.

You coughed to cover up the noise that almost escaped you and Wanda turned to you, coffee in hand.

“You know, Y/N, it’s not proper to listen in when a woman is having some alone time,” she started, a slight smirk on her face.

Your blood ran cold at her words and you tried to think of something to say back. “What?” you responded, your voice barely coming out.

“I know you heard me last night, detka,” she said, her eyes never leaving yours as you struggled to not look away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to cover up, heat rising to your cheeks as you spoke.

“Don’t lie to me honey, that won’t get you anywhere,” Wanda cooed.

You didn’t know how to respond, looking down at your lap awkwardly as she spoke again.

“I know you weren’t asleep yet,” she continued. “Did you like what you heard?”

You didn’t answer at first, dumbstruck. It felt like she was coming onto you but you couldn’t believe the older woman would reciprocate your feelings towards her.

You shook your head no, trying to save face.

“I don’t believe you sweetheart,” Wanda said, approaching you. “I think you did like it.” She stood beside you now, leaning in. “I bet you touched yourself to the thought of me when you heard me, am I right?”

You couldn’t help the sound that came out of you, something between a whimper and a groan.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” she whispered, reaching out to tilt your chin towards her so you were looking at her again. “Such a needy little thing, hm? You couldn’t help yourself could you? Did hearing mommy make you wet?”

Your mouth fell open at the title she gave herself and you throbbed at her words, feeling hot under her gaze. This time, you didn’t lie.

You nodded, still having trouble forming words, and she bit her lip, smirking.

“Yeah?” She asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “You poor thing, I bet it was hard knowing what I was doing in the other room and not being able to see for yourself. What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

Her words were turning you on. “You,” you breathed out, arousal clouding your thoughts.

“Be more specific,” she demanded, still looking at you intently. “What did you imagine?”

You mustered up the courage to tell her the truth. “I imagined it was me making you feel good instead,” you mumbled, somehow managing to hold eye contact with her.

“Yeah? You imagined it was your hand on my pussy instead of my own?”

You moaned at that, nodding again. At this point you were panting. You felt humiliated admitting all of this to Wanda, but at the same time it made you incredibly wet.

“You wanna make mommy feel good, detka?” She asked, her own arousal increasing with every honest answer you gave her.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Oh good girl, those manners will get you everywhere,” she said, smiling. You felt a gush of wetness at the praise, your pupils dilated and your breathing heavy.

She backed away from you until she was leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

You obeyed eagerly, feeling excited for what was to come. You couldn’t believe what was happening, still not entirely sure this wasn’t a vivid dream you were having in the night.

Wanda slipped her panties off and lifted her nightgown, showing you her glistening pussy. Your mouth watered at the sight and you felt your ego inflate at the fact that she was so wet for you.

She grabbed your hand and brought it to her dripping cunt, letting you feel the wetness you caused.

“Fuck,” you muttered, mesmerized by the feel of her soft folds under your fingertips.

“Go on baby, make me feel good,” she encouraged, wanting more from you than just the featherlight touches you were giving.

Your gaze was locked onto where your fingers grazed her pussy, unable to look away. You brought a finger up to her clit and began to rub circles into it, causing her to moan softly against you.

The sound snapped you out of your haze and you looked at her, wanting to see her while you brought her pleasure.

You picked up the pace, touching her with purpose now, wanting to see her cum for you. Her mouth fell open, eyebrows furrowed, gasps and moans falling from her lips as you pressed down harder.

Her clit throbbed under your fingers, her hole clenching around nothing as you stimulated her hardened bud.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you whispered, in awe of the sight before you. “Even prettier than I imagined.”

“Yeah? What else did you imagine?” She asked, wanting you to tell her all of your fantasies about her.

You slid a finger into her opening and she gasped, hips jerking forward. “This,” you said, sliding another finger in alongside the first, feeling her walls clench around you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Wanda moaned, moving against you as she tried to get more, your fingers fucking into her slowly. “Tell me more,” she panted out, practically riding your fingers. “What else do you want to do to me?”

“Fuck mommy, so many things,” you admitted, lost in the moment, her breath catching in her throat at you using her title. “I want to fuck you every way I can think of,” you started, almost losing your train of thought when you realized you could hear the wet sounds of her pussy as your fingers moved inside her.

“I want to taste you, I think about it all the time,” you said, fucking into her harder. “You sound so wet right now and all I can think about is having you in my mouth.”

She moaned at your words, her eyes closing in pleasure as you brought her closer to the edge. “Be a good girl and make me cum, and that can be arranged,” she managed, hips bucking against you. “Fuck, I’m close.”

You watched as one of her hands came down to rub at her own clit, your cunt throbbing at the sight of her touching herself for you. The sight of her masturbating was even better than you could have imagined the night before, when you were desperately trying to picture what she would look like with her hand between her thighs.

“I’m gonna cum,” Wanda cried out, her pussy spasming around your fingers, trapping them inside as she barreled towards her orgasm.

You leaned in to kiss her neck, making your way towards her ear. “Cum for me, mommy,” you said, your breath in her ear making her shiver as she reached her peak.

“Fuck!” Her body shook against you and she moaned loudly as she came undone, her walls tightening around your fingers and her wetness dripping down to your palm.

You continued to fuck her as she rode out the aftershocks and she continued her stimulation on her clit until it was too much. You slowed your pace, bringing her down as she opened her eyes. She looked at you tiredly, her body spent from the intense orgasm as you pulled out of her, your fingers wet.

You were too busy committing the sight to memory in case you never saw it again to notice the way she looked at you, love and adoration in her eyes.

After a few moments, her breathing evened out. “I knew you could hear me,” she began, catching your attention. “I wanted you to hear me.”

She bit her lip teasingly, waiting to see how you would react.

“You… you wanted me to hear?” you repeated her words back to her, your brain trying to process what she was telling you.

“Mhm,” she said, a lazy smile on her face. “I see the way you look at me, I’ve known you wanted me for a while now,” she explained. “I waited to see if you’d make a move on me, but you never did. So I took matters into my own hands… literally.”

She chuckled at her own joke and you joined her, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought,” you mused, thinking back to all the times you thought Wanda had almost caught you staring.

“No baby, not at all,” she responded. “You look at me like you’re desperate for me.”

You blushed at that, groaning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” you started, but she cut you off.

“Don’t apologize, detka. It’s cute. It makes me feel wanted, desired,” she spoke, her words becoming breathier. “It makes me so wet.”

You groaned, feeling arousal shoot through you at her words. “Fuck Wanda, you drive me crazy.”

“Keep fucking me like that and I’ll do more than drive you crazy,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Deal,” you replied, your heart beating a little faster at the thought of doing this again.

“What was it you said earlier?” She pulled you in closer until your bodies were flush, your faces centimeters apart. “Something about wanting to taste me?”

You grinned, understanding what she was getting at, before slowly dropping to your knees. It was going to be a long morning, you thought, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[fmnxpl]

Oh..

Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!reader

Warning: angst, mentions of Yelena's alcohol problem obv, a lilll fluff !!SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS!

Summary: You come home to Yelena drunk and bruises, both mentally and physically.

Word count: 1,409

A/N:just recently watched Thunderbolts and i just HAD to write for her! There are such few fics for her so this is my contribution:) This is based off of the scene where she falls into the void and sees herself drunk in the bathroom:p also i slmost have 50 followers?????? This is incredibly huge to me thank you so much!!!!!!!

!English is not my native language!

The second your key turned and the door creaked open, you got hit with a strong, pungent smell.

As you pushed the door further open, your eyes wandered around to see your apartment almost fully thrashed. Glass shards all over the floor, blood drops here and there, clothes discarded, and several—too many—empty alcohol bottles, including your more expensive ones you had originally saved for a special occasion you and Yelena could drink together.

Granted, you hadn’t been home in a week due to a mission, but you most certainly did not leave your home in this state.

“Yelena?” your voice came out far more hoarse than you initially intended it to be. You opened your bedroom door to find nobody. Your eyebrows furrowed as your steps started to speed up in search of Yelena. Had she come here after a nasty mission that Valentina gave her? Maybe you were too late and she was bleeding out somewhere? Maybe she’s d—you didn’t even have time to finish the thought before your eyes landed on Yelena sunken on the bathroom floor, leaning against your tub with an empty bottle in her hand.

Your eyes scanned her, and you noticed multiple bruises and cuts that were far too deep to be left uncared for. As you squatted in front of her, you tightly closed your eyes and ran a hand over your face. Maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d wake up from this horrific dream and enjoy coming back home to bask in the warmth of your safe, happy, and definitely-not-drunk girlfriend.

When she had picked up this habit, you had no idea. At some point, you started to return home to her drunk more and more, and every single time you tried to talk to her, she would either blatantly ignore you or start yelling at you in Russian. And although you didn’t understand the words, you could still tell they were extremely vulgar. You tried to help her—many, many times—but she just wouldn’t let you. What was the point of living together and being together if she wouldn’t even let you help her? For God’s sake, she wouldn’t even let you clean a cut on her finger the other fucking week.

When you two first got together, it was just after she had lost Natasha. She found refuge in you and your warmth. You held her during the nights, comforted her when she cried after a nightmare, or when something reminded her of her past. You did everything you could—and you still would—so where did it all go wrong? What had you done that made her spiral so quickly?

Your hand, still slightly shaking from the anxiety you previously felt, brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. Before you could pull back, her hand darted up and harshly grabbed your wrist. She tumbled herself over you with the bottle raised in her other hand, ready to strike down—

“Yelena…” you said, voice harsh and warning as your other hand darted up to stop the bottle from crashing down on you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” your voice rose with every word.

Her mouth fell open, eyes skidding from one of yours to the other. She remained so still, you could’ve sworn the Statue of Liberty seemed more alive. Her hand holding the bottle dropped immediately to the ground, chucking it away from you as she scrambled off. Mid-motion, she tumbled over herself, grabbing her shoulder where you now saw blood seeping through what looked like a two-week-old hoodie that she definitely hadn’t washed.

A small groan escaped her as she threw her head to the side, avoiding your gaze completely. By then, you were leaning back on your elbows. Your eyes drifted to the ceiling and a deep exhale left your lungs. You stood up to grab the first aid kit. “Where are you going? Are you leaving alrea—I’m sorry, I didn’t—” “No, Yelena, I’m not leaving. I’m getting the damn first aid kit. You almost have a full Santa Claus outfit with how fast your blood is seeping through your clothes.”

After that, she once again fell fully silent.

You managed to drag her to your bed, which surprisingly remained fully intact—as if she’d never even laid a finger on it. You slowly helped her out of her dirty clothes and into clean pajamas before sitting behind her to tend to her shoulder injury. It looked nearly fully infected, and you let out a sharp exhale of disbelief.

“Yelena, what the hell have you been doing since I was gone? Did you even touch this wound at all with, like, anything?” Your tone was sharp, and although you didn’t mean to sound harsh, it came out that way regardless.

Silence. Nothing. You weren’t even sure if she was still awake. You let out a sigh and placed the gauze down. Your forehead dropped onto the back of her neck as your arms wrapped around her waist.

“Yelena? Please talk to me…” you whispered into her skin, peppering small kisses along her neck and back. She raised her head and turned to look at you—and now, up close, you could truly see her. The deep purple eye bags under her bloodshot eyes, the downturn of her lips into a trembling C-shape. She looked like she was about to break into a million pieces… or cry.

Your hand went to cradle the side of her face, your thumb gently wiping away the tears on her cheek. “I know, baby… I know,” you whispered, nodding with the words.

She moved to turn fully toward you, ignoring the stinging in her shoulder as she buried herself in your warmth. You felt her trembling beneath your fingertips even before your arms wrapped around her—one hand on her head, the other around her waist, mindful of her wounds. “I just… I can’t stop this feeling an—and I don’t know—I don’t know what to do.” She took sobbing breaths between each few words, but you understood her. You always did, and she knew that.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated into the skin of your neck, thick with her accent, slipping into Russian phrases your brain couldn’t translate.Your hand scratched gently at her scalp to calm her. You couldn’t say for sure if it helped, but you kept doing it anyway.

You had recently convinced her to cut her hair short, and although now wasn’t the moment, you absolutely loved it. You had made sure she knew how much when she came home after cutting it.

It took some time, but finally, she stopped trembling. She simply moved fully on top of you as you held her. Maybe if you held her tight enough, she’d be able to feel your love—feel your warmth in your heart—and take it for herself.

You let out a sigh near her head, opening your mouth to speak, but no words came. Frustrated, you nibbled at your lip and lowered your head to meet hers, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. You began rocking the both of you side to side slightly to help her calm down. Then you felt her raising her head to look at you. Her bloodshot eyes met yours as you looked over her face—the tear-streaked cheeks, the overly red lips from crying and biting them, the runny red nose.

Your eyebrows furrowed. She was barely holding herself together.

You hated this. You hated seeing her so disheveled, so out of your reach even when she was right there in your arms.

“Yelena…” you whispered, gently running your thumb under her eyes to catch the tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

[bluehawkdustorm]

Urge surfing is extraordinarily powerful once you learn how to do it.

I typically find the "peaks" become a lot easier when I'm able to delay gratification -- "I really want this thing *now*, but right *now* my first priority is to XYZ, once I'm done XYZ then I can fulfil the urge as much as I want". It becomes an exercise in masking, or in prioritisation.

I originally learned to do that in theatre, where there's usually no option to put a toe out of line until your scene is done and the audience can't see you. "I really need to pee!", too bad, you're in character. Remember your lines, hit that high note, and then enjoy the sheer relief when you've got ten minutes for a costume change. The same applies if I had the flu last week and need to cough every five minutes: I learned to mask it real fucking good.

The problem was that I started taking that into my normal life, and now in my 30s I have a bunch of repression and masking trauma specifically to do with urge surfing. Urge surfing no longer works for me, and after about 15 years of being unable to use it without hitting the trauma buttons, I'm still devastated by the loss.

The lesson here is not "urge surfing bad". The lesson here is that urge surfing is POWERFUL, so powerful, in fact, that I used it to override my basic needs and instincts and effectively scoop out my core sense of self with a spoon. I was an undiagnosed AuDHD kid desperately trying to grow into a neurotypical adult, and I tried to use urge-surfing (and a bunch of other things) to do that.

In order to be a good tool, it must first be powerful enough, or specialised enough (ideally both) to do the job.

Any tool can be misused, or used for doing jobs that should never be done. The good ones all the moreso.

Couple urge-surfing with safe spaces to meet your needs, and it can take you a long, long way. But for fuck's sake, use it wisely.

PRACTICE URGE SURFING

[naga16]

Prompt 2: Fate

Just another idea for the Batkid/Danny. Like imagine if Danny dated any of the batkids without knowing that they're rich rich. Not noticing /minding the simple signs that says they have huge bucks like branded clothes, cars, fancy date, gifts and all that stuff while his s/o firmly believe that Danny knows. Like who doesn't know the Wayne's! They have their faces on billboards, magazines, news and gossips, no one knows nothing about the Wayne's and that's just simple fact. Sadly Sam, Tucker and Jazz are of somewhere and so Danny loss his source of basic knowledge to social media and social cues.

So fast forward to the part where let's say Tim, introduce Danny to the family and they introduce themselves but due to nerves, Danny doesn't process their names well. They have dinner, little talks, small interviews, tiny interrogation and all that and then mid bite Danny's spoon dropped.

Danny: Fuck, you're all Wayne's...

Batkids: Ah, yeah, we told you in our introductions?

And he just create a mumble storm cause how did he not realize it? Then he goes.

Danny: This has been a wonderful experience and Tim, I'm breaking up with you.

And the Batpham was so shocked by that news that their brain screech to halt while Tim jumped up immediately and starts his 'why's' and 'what's'.

Just Danny running away from money when it's his fate. Like, Sam's family is a millionaire, Tuck's a Pharoah and has received his inheritance from his previous reincarnation, his parents are scientists with multiple patented invention, Vlad is a billionaire and has already signed him as his successor against his will, and now you tell him that his boyfriend is also rich rich?

Can't you see he's over about that? Like sure, it's a weird problem to have, worrying about having to much connections with people who shits money but he's done. He's tired. He's already rich enough and he doesn't want more. Get your dollar paw off him

[confuzing]

I'm playing a game I just made up called "Does my AU Shen Yuan look like Shen Jiu?"

Omegaverse AU when SJ is SY's mom: Oh yes very much so. It gets SY both into and out of trouble.

That one AU I've never posted anything about: This is another one where they're directly related (brothers) so yes.

Liu Yuan AU: No actually. Liu Yuan looks like his Liu siblings. He's exactly in the middle of their appearances not that most people know because of Mingyan's veil.

PIDW Apartment Transmigration AU: Yep. They look like they could be siblings. Airplane and SQH too.

Mobei Yuan AU: I think he does actually? But no one on Team Demon ( this includes LBH and SQH) see it at all. Mobei Yuan and his brother both look like their mother which causes it's own problems in the Northern Desert Court. (So I think that means in this AU Mobei Jun also looks like SJ a little??) Meanwhile the other humans who meet A-Yuan are like... Huh. He's kinda ... *pointed look at SJ*

The situation is not made better when SJ meets him and demands to know his full name and Mobei Yuan panics and says his name is Shen Yuan. SJ absolutely thinks SY is fucking with him.

I would love to see other people play this game.

[beewildered]

Makeup is morally neutral, it's basically adult face paint. The people pushing women to wear makeup all of the time otherwise they'll look "ill" are the problem, it's not the product. I don't use makeup to fit someone else's beauty standard, I use makeup because I have the ability to highlight what I want people to see in my face, and I think that's badass. I use purple colour corrector to accentuate my eye bags because I think they look sexy. I use contour to emphasise the jawline and nose that I already have, not to make it look like someone else's. I have designed avant garde style makeup looks entirely around my freckles, because I have three of them on my cheek that line up just like Orion's belt and I find that super cool.

But I also use green colour corrector to hide my rosacea, because it's a pain in the ass to try and make my face a blank canvas when there's bright red peaking through my base. I use brow gel and brow powder to make my eyebrows look more even, because I've a weird patch on one of my brows that pisses me the fuck off every time I see it, because it isn't technically a bald spot, my brow hair just bends around it for some strange reason. I use acne patches and concealer over my spots because I need to cover them up — not for anyone else's sake, for my own, because if I leave it out in the open, I'll pick at it until it bleeds and then we've a whole different problem on our hands.

Yes, some of that would be deemed "fitting in" to beauty standards, but it's what I want to do to my own face. I make my face look how I want it to look on any given day — and how I want it to look changes all the time. Sometimes it will align with how people think I should look like, sometimes it absolutely won't, I don't care. It's my choice to make, and at the end of the day the vast majority of women are choosing to put makeup on their face, and we should be attacking the companies that are pushing for sameness and not the people who are affected by it. There is no shame in accentuating your features, and there should be no shame in hiding them either.

face makeup is evil. i don’t care. like eyeshadow can be a fun and creative thing and it’s not like anybody is going to think you genuinely have purple eyelids but face makeup that’s made to look “natural” just ends up making you think your normal skin is something to be covered up and distorts your perception of your face. the whole “it makes ppl more confident!” thing is a lie because it’s not that the makeup itself is making you feel confident it’s that it creates an association with confidence and the results of that is you end up hating your face which is the opposite of building your self-confidence.

[astrogirlythings]

I see a zodiac dom & I judge / roast :

Astrology Observations Part - 9 :

Geminis dom : Witty. But not emotionally intelligent. Y'all should seriously think before you make a joke.. cause y'all r just mean with ur humour.

Virgos dom : Know-it-alls. Stop being too critical about every fucking thing. My friend who is a virgo dom... she makes everyone feel insufferable with her constant nagging and complaining... about things that are not even a problem.

Sagittarius dom : These assholes... I have a love-hate relationship with them. Their optimism is infectious.. but.. just like Gemini.. they don't think before they talk.. they come off insensitive.. more insensitive that Geminis.

Aries dom : Although they r extremely friendly.. these people throw fists all the damn time.. u people seem so unapproachable because of this one quality. Competitive af as well. It's almost awkward how competitive these people r.. y'all make people feel uncomfortable with how competitive u r.

Leos dom : we get it.. u r the king of the jungle. Y'all r loyal friends. But being humble is very important.

Taurus dom : will kill their best friend for a burger in McD or a donut in Dunkin. They sleep their worries away. Good to chill with but they will eat u if u r stranded on an island with them. And they r scary when they r angry.

Cancer dom : such sweet hearts.. but they r also extremely manipulative.. I don't think that they can control that.. emotional manipulation is as normal as breathing for them. They r clingy af.. as a friend or a parent or a lover..

Pisces dom : They daydream all the damn time. Every time I look at a Pisces they r either zoning out or doodling their crush's name. Such lover boys / girls.

Capricorn dom : They mastered resting bitch face. But people feel safe to open up about everything with them... These people don't judge or gossip. They r very serious about life.. they don't have time for bullshit. I love y'all Capricorn doms. They have this mentor / father figure energy. 💖✨

Aquarius dom : Weirdos. Outcasts. They don't play by the book. They crave freedom more than anything.. they may be incredibly loud about supporting causes or LGBTQ.. or being vegan.

Scorpio dom : Joe Goldberg af. Still check up on their exes.. get over it man. Love is very uncomfortable and extremely painful with these natals. Secretive af.. here is an advice: If u can't respect someone's boundaries / if u want to know everything about someone.. learn to fucking open up about urself. It's only fair.

Libra doms : I almost forgot about this zodiac sign.. lmao. 😂 Y'all r gorgeous af.. so beautiful / handsome. Conventionally attractive.. but y'all r so forgettable. But everyone appreciates ur charm.. and eye for fashion.

[gossipgurlingursht]

CRITICAL READING CHECK!

By 2009, male enrollment in veterinary schools had plummeted to 22.4%

The fact that male enrollment is a smaller percentage of total enrollment than the previous year tells you NOTHING about the amount of enrollment!!! The lower percent men enrolled could mean:

The number of men enrolled stayed EXACTLY the same, or even went UP, but a bunch more women applied, so men's percent is smaller

The overall number of people enrolling in vet school plummets, with both men and women fleeing, but men leaving faster.

This means I'm also mad about this sloppy statement:

the reason fewer men are enrolling in veterinary school boils down to one factor: the number of women in the classroom.

NO!!! If you're saying that men flee above 60% women, then it is NOT the NUMBER of women in the classroom, but the PERCENT!! If there are 100 women in the room that's not a problem, men see it as a problem when there's "only" 100 men as well, and not 200.

The key factor is this statement:

For every 1% increase in the proportion of women in the student body, 1.7 fewer men applied.

This is what they're trying to say- the higher PROPORTION of women, the lower NUMBER of men.

I generally thing sexism & misogyny is a huge problem, and I'm not sure if this sloppy writing is from the scientists or science journalists, but I would want to see the study for myself. We're trying to fight misinformation here folks, let's not half-ass this stuff.

Also, what the fuck is this hot bullshit??

Scanning through Reddit and Quora threads,...

Oh great, good work team. Yeah, next maybe you could scroll through Fox news comments & see if any of them think college is a waste of money, report back to us.

Why aren't we talking about the real reason male college enrollment is dropping? (Celeste Davis, Oct 6 2024)

"White flight is a term that describes how white people move out of neighborhoods when more people of color move in.

White flight is especially common when minority populations become the majority. That neighborhood then declines in value.

Male flight describes a similar phenomenon when large numbers of females enter a profession, group, hobby or industry—the men leave. That industry is then devalued.

Take veterinary school for example:

In 1969 almost all veterinary students were male at 89%.

By 1987, male enrollment was equal to female at 50%.

By 2009, male enrollment in veterinary schools had plummeted to 22.4%

A sociologist studying gender in veterinary schools, Dr. Anne Lincoln says that in an attempt to describe this drastic drop in male enrollment, many keep pointing to financial reasons like the debt-to-income ratio or the high cost of schooling.

But Lincoln’s research found that “men and women are equally affected by tuition and salaries.”

Her research shows that the reason fewer men are enrolling in veterinary school boils down to one factor: the number of women in the classroom.

For every 1% increase in the proportion of women in the student body, 1.7 fewer men applied.

One more woman applying was a greater deterrent than $1000 in extra tuition! (…)

Since males had dominated these professions for centuries, you would think they would leave slowly, hesitantly or maybe linger at 40%, 35%, 30%, but that’s not what happens.

Once the tipping point reaches majority female- the men flee. And boy do they flee!

It’s a slippery slope. When the number of women hits 60% the men who are there make a swift exit and other men stop joining.

Morty Schapiro, economist and former president of Northwestern University has noticed this trend when studying college enrollment numbers across universities:

“There’s a cliff you fall off once you become 60/40 female/male. It then becomes exponentially more difficult to recruit men.”

Now we’ve reached that 60% point of no return for colleges.

As we’ve seen with teachers, nurses and interior design, once an institution is majority female, the public perception of its value plummets.

Scanning through Reddit and Quora threads, many men seem to be in agreement - college is stupid and unnecessary.

A waste of time and money. You’re much better off going into the trades, a tech boot camp or becoming an entrepreneur. No need for college. (…)

When mostly men went to college? Prestigious. Aspirational. Important.

Now that mostly women go to college? Unnecessary. De-valued. A bad choice. (…)

School is now feminine. College is feminine. And rule #1 if you want to safely navigate this world as a man? Avoid the feminine.

But we don’t seem to want to talk about that."